Oh, Lord, Nancy says when Ethan finds her on the porch. August twenty-sixth, Ethan? That’s next week. I know, he says, I know. She flutters both hands in the air. How can we possibly even make that ship? We’ll have to leave tonight, that’s all, we must leave right now. She needs to pack and say goodbye to her friends and I’ll want to get her some new clothes for traveling and, really, she should get her hair cut and, oh my goodness, there’s just too much to do. Ethan reaches over and grabs Nancy’s arm to stop her from pacing. Sit, he says, sit down, and she does, collapsing into the rocking chair.
She looks into his eyes, something she hasn’t done in a long time, searching for an answer. How will we tell her, she says, I don’t think I can do that. How will we tell the boys? We’ll manage, Nan, Ethan says. We all knew it could happen anytime. I know, she says. But you need to tell her, okay? I’ll just be swimming in tears.
Yes, ma’am, he says, and he reaches out his arms and she moves over to sit in his lap, resting her head against his chest. She closes her eyes and listens to the rhythm of the waves, which seems to match the rhythm of his steady breath.