Chapter 34

Jim returns from the police station at three in the afternoon, alone.

I’m sitting at the edge of the dock, where I’ve been since Kellie left, and I turn around when I hear the creak of his footsteps on the dock behind me. Boat Street is changing; I can feel it.

He slips his hat off and holds it to his chest. “Hi,” he says.

I stand, and my eyes sting with tears. “Where’s Gene, is he—?”

“They’re keeping him for questioning.”

“Jim, I’m so sorry,” I say. “Please, believe me, it wasn’t my intention to—”

He holds up his hand. “No,” he says, looking out to the lake through misty red eyes. “No, this needed to happen. You should have seen him at the station.” He turns back to me. “It’s like a burden was lifted off his shoulders.”

I think of what that might feel like—his secret, like a lead vest worn every day, peeled away—and I’m relieved for him, even if it means spending the rest of his life, however short it may be, behind bars.

“And will they make a case against him?” I ask. Penny deserves justice, but I can’t help but worry about Gene’s age, his health.

“The officer told me they’d look out for him,” Jim says, rubbing his brow. “They’d treat him kindly.”

We don’t say anything for the next few minutes, and I try to imagine what Jim must be thinking about this place he’s called home for so many years.

“What’s next,” I say, “for Boat Street? For you?”

He kicks a pebble into the lake and it makes a tiny splash. I think of Penny out there still. I think of Jimmy’s hazy childhood memories, his pain.

“I thought I’d take a trip,” he says, “on the Catalina. For Penny.”

“She’d like that,” I say, smiling. “Where will you go?”

Jim takes a deep breath. “Well, first Catalina Island, and then, well, I don’t know. Wherever the wind takes me, I guess.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Truth is,” he continues, “I probably should have made this voyage years ago. Guess I was worried about Mom and Dad, worried about . . .”

“Go,” I say. “If Gene should need anything, well, I’ll give the officers my contact information. And Alex and I will look after Naomi.”

Alex and I. I like the sound of it.

Jim thanks me and walks up the dock to his houseboat. When he’s gone, I study the planks beneath my feet, remembering how I felt when I first arrived, how I fell to my feet and wept until I hadn’t a single tear left. I think of my journey, and Penny’s, and this dock we both have called home. Home.

I look up, and I see Alex walking toward me. Gracie skips along beside him. She’s wearing pink leggings, a gray sweatshirt, and those purple UGGs, which Ella would have loved. The ensemble is punctuated, of course, with a fluorescent yellow life vest, courtesy of her daddy.

“Oh, good,” Alex says, smiling with his keys in his hand. He must be coming from the parking lot. “We were hoping to find you.”

I look down at this beautiful child. Wisps of her blond hair fall out of her ponytail. Her smile is big and joyous, just like Ella’s used to be.

“Hi, honey,” I say, kneeling down.

“Ada,” Gracie says, “did you know my daddy has a crush on you?”

Alex tugs at her hood. “Hey now, are you trying to embarrass your poor old dad?”

Gracie grins, then runs ahead.

“I talked to Kellie,” I say.

His eyes narrow. “You did?”

“She gave me her blessing,” I continue. “It’s funny, but I needed that. I needed to know that I wasn’t crossing any boundaries. When kids are involved, that’s important.”

He nods and wraps his arm around my waist. “I’m relieved,” he says. “I thought she was going to warn you about my allergy to housework, which I assure you is only a part truth.” I grin as we watch Gracie silently for a moment, and he tucks his hand in mine. “I know your lease is up soon,” he says cautiously. “What can I do to get you to stay?”

I look away from him for a moment. It’s tempting. I want to stay. I’ve promised Jim I’d be here for his parents. But . . . I also feel a tug at my heart. It’s a restless, unsettled feeling, and I consider the fact that I might carry it with me forever. In some ways, I wish my burden were as easy to part with as Gene’s. I wish I could simply confess it away.

Alex kisses my hand. “What’s holding you back, Ada? Is it him?”

Oh, James, can I share my heart, my life, with anyone other than you? Naomi and Gene’s houseboat is to our right; I look at her potted flowers. A green morning glory vine has wrapped its tendrils around one of the terra-cotta pots. It bursts with the white flowers I’ve come to love on the dock. I think of Penny then, and wonder what she would have said at the sight of the blossoms, what she would have felt.

Before I can respond, Gracie waves from the end of the dock. “Daddy!” she calls. “Look what I found.”

Alex and I walk down the dock hand in hand.

“Look!” Gracie says again. She holds up a piece of driftwood with a hollowed-out center, like a boat. “It just needs a sail and it could be a sailboat! A real sailboat!”

“Honey, if you’re interested in sailboats we should have Jim take us all out in a real sailboat tomorrow,” Alex says.

Gracie grins. “A real sailboat?”

“Yep,” he says, pointing to the Catalina. “That one over there.”

Gracie sits down, cross-legged, on the dock and plants her cheek in her palm. “I wish I had my own sailboat.”

I think of Ella’s precious Aggie and her newfound twin, Mary Joe, in my bag. “Wait,” I say, fiddling with the zipper.

A moment later, I hold up the little sailboat Dexter gave me. “Would you like to play with this one?”

Gracie’s eyes are big. “Really?”

“Go ahead,” I say, handing her the tiny craft. Its white canvas sail has yellowed, just like the one on Ella’s prized Aggie.

I watch her as she sets the boat in the lake and leans over the edge. She pulls the little sailboat back and forth.

“She loves it,” Alex whispers to me.

I nod, wrapping my arm around his waist. “It belonged to Dexter Wentworth.”

Alex looks confused.

“I’ll explain later.”

“Daddy,” Gracie says, “what does this writing mean on the sailboat?”

Alex turns to me. “Why don’t you ask Ada?”

I hold the little boat in my hands and read the words painted on the side, for maybe the one thousandth time. “Leighton Shipping Company,” I say. “My daughter had a sailboat just like this one, and we could never quite figure out where it came from, but we used to like to say the name.” I smile. “Leighton. It’s kind of a neat word to say, isn’t it?”

“Leighton,” Gracie says, then giggles. She’s quiet for a moment, then looks up at me thoughtfully. “You have a daughter? What’s her name? Why doesn’t she live with you?”

Alex puts his hand on my shoulder. I know he’s worried about me, but I feel stronger now. “Yes,” I say. “Her name was Ella. She doesn’t live with me now because she’s in heaven, with her daddy.”

Gracie looks up to the sky as if she’s trying to envision Ella’s face, then she turns back to me. “Are you very sad?”

“Yes,” I say honestly. “And I might always be a little sad.” I glance at Alex. “But I’ve learned that I still have so much in life to be happy about. Besides, I’ll see her again.” I point up to the sky where Gracie’s looking.

Alex kisses my forehead lightly. “I promised Gracie ice cream,” he says. “Want to join us?”

A wave of emotion rushes over me. It’s thick and consuming. It makes me want to crawl back into the quiet, solitary place I existed in for so long before coming to Seattle, the cocoon I built for myself. Suddenly, I think of the day of the accident, how I promised Ella ice cream. I hear her voice. “Chocolate, with sprinkles.”

I look beyond Alex, and at the top of the dock near the stairs that lead to the street, I see her suddenly, standing beside James. They’re barely there, just a hologram, glimmers of their former selves. But I see them, and they’re smiling. They’re happy. James nods at me. He’s saying, “Go ahead, my love.” Then Ella waves. My eyes fill with tears, and then they’re gone.

Alex looks at me cautiously. “If you’re not up for ice cream, we can—”

“No,” I say quickly, wiping away a tear. “I want to. I never want to be the kind of person who says no to ice cream. Not anymore.”

Alex squeezes my hand.

“Look,” Gracie cries. “Ducks!”

We watch as Henrietta swims by, with Haines beside her.

The three of us walk ahead. It’s Monday, and there’s a chance of rain in the forecast, but it’s OK. And with each step along Boat Street, the old wooden dock lets out quiet creaks of approval.

I have finally found my way.