The One Who Stays

by Blake, Toni

  The words hung in the flat, gray morning air, the silence that followed them broken only by the distant call of a seabird. Say yes. Say it would make you happy, too. Say it’s what you want. Me. Forever. That nothing else matters. Just once, let me feel that cherished.

  “Meg,” he finally began, “I do want to make you happy, but... I told you, I can’t give up my work that way. I can’t give up my whole way of life. I wouldn’t even know how to. It’s a part of me.”

  A short, perfunctory nod from her. “Okay,” she said. “That’s fine.”

  He lowered his chin, squinted slightly. Seeking the clarity she’d just gotten. “And by fine you mean...”

  “I mean I understand if that won’t make you happy. But it leads us to an impasse.”

  He blinked uncertainly. “What do you mean, an impasse?”

  “It isn’t enough anymore.”

  Again, his spine went ramrod straight—with surprise, she guessed. “What are you saying, Maggie May?”

  She swallowed back the lump in her throat and pushed words past it. “That part-time love isn’t enough for me.”

  He let out a sigh, looked confused, maybe a little disbelieving. “Just because I’m gone a lot doesn’t mean the love is part-time. The love is there all the time, Meg. You know that—surely you know that. I mean, I’m always there for the big things. And I always will be.” Aunt Julia, he meant. And yes, yes, that was so truly important, and relevant—but still...not enough.

  She bit her lip. She knew this would be hard, but she needed to explain herself to him, had to make him understand as best she could. “Being there through bad times is important, Zack, but...what about being there when I want someone to have dinner with, or take a walk with on a summer night? What about having someone to share life with? Really share it. Every day. All the ups and all the downs and everything in between.”

  She stopped, shook her head. “I’d spend all the time you’re away knowing you only want to be with me part-time, and you’d spend that time knowing you’re not making me happy—just like now. It doesn’t seem like a winning proposition for either one of us. And I don’t want to go on like this anymore.”

  And even as she said the words, it was hard to believe she was really letting him go, this man for whom she felt such passion, and compassion—but she’d given him one last opportunity today to show her things could change. And now that she knew they couldn’t, any future with him seemed fraught with heartache—and she deserved a chance at better.

  She’d been looking past Zack the whole time she’d spoken, focused on a piece of fishing net draped over the side of the boat. And when she gathered the courage to meet his gaze now, he appeared...lost. “Are...are you serious, Maggie May? You’d really...end us? Because... I don’t know how...”

  He trailed off—but she felt the words he couldn’t say. He wasn’t sure how he’d...be without her, live without her, get by without her—something along those lines. Dahlia had implied that losing Meg would crush him—that somehow she was saving him, that without her he was a broken man. And she’d never really believed it, but regardless which was true, it was time to quit feeling like she’d never come first with him. Even if it felt, in a strange way, like abandoning him. Maybe every breakup on the planet was a sort of abandonment—a necessary evil to moving on.

  She swallowed. “I’m not the one ending us really. You could fix this and you aren’t. And that’s...okay.” No, it actually wasn’t okay—it was closer to heartbreaking and gut-wrenching—but it was better than him making a promise he couldn’t keep. “You need the water more than you need me—that’s all.”

  He stayed quiet. It was as if he’d heard the truth in the words but just wouldn’t admit it.

  Yet then he found his voice, enough to protest. “Meg, please don’t do this. It doesn’t make any sense. If I haven’t said I love you enough, I’m sorry. If I haven’t ever told you this, I’ll tell you right now—honey, you’re like...my family. The only place I really want to come home to after I’ve been away, you know?”

  She tried to take a deep breath. Part of her had thought maybe he’d just let it be, let it happen, that pride would make him act like it was no big deal—the same way he’d always treated his departures from her. But now, instead, he was making it harder—for both of them.

  “You’re like my family, too,” she whispered sadly, her heart breaking. Because how did you cut someone like that out of your life? How did you say goodbye to a man you love like he’s part of you? Even if he’s deeply flawed. Even when you’ve given him the road map to making you happy and he won’t follow it. Her eyes began to burn. “But it’s the fact that I’m always waiting for you to come home that’s the problem.” A hot tear rolled down her cheek. “And you don’t want to fix that.” She shook her head. “And, truly, I wouldn’t want you to if it wasn’t your choice. We both just have to accept that we want different things. I want steadiness and dependability, and you...want to be someplace else.” She stood up, tears wetting both cheeks now, and held out her arms. “This boat is your home. I don’t know why, and I probably never will, but it’s the truth. You’re happier here than anywhere else, including with me. I’ll always love you, Zack, but...okay, I guess you’re right—I am ending us. It has to be that way, once and for all. I love you.”

  And with that, she stepped off the boat and walked away. Put one foot in front of the other as she moved up the dock, watching the sun-bleached planks pass beneath her. Her heart was in pieces, but it was over.

  And as she made a left turn back onto Harbor Street, now beginning to teem with bike and foot traffic even on this grayest of days, she remembered something her grandma used to say. When you try to make something grow and it doesn’t, you might as well quit watering it.

  * * *

  ZACK SAT FROZEN on the boat for a few long minutes, his heart pounding so damn hard it hurt. He tried to imagine going after her, telling her he’d do things her way. He tried to imagine this life she kept wanting with him—this life full of dinner at home every night and a good woman to sleep next to and love and be there for.

  But he didn’t go—instead he just sat there.

  Sat there waiting to give her time to get back to the inn.

  And then he strode briskly back to his apartment and methodically packed a duffel bag, the same he always used, with everything he took for a few weeks—or more—on the water. He changed into working clothes and locked the door on his way out.

  He’d nearly made it past the café when his aunt came running out. “Zack! Are you leaving?”

  He glanced over to find her wide-eyed—but he kept his voice low, trying to dial back the drama and just get to where he was going. “Looks that way, doesn’t it?”

  Her expression was one you give to a man you think is making a huge mistake. “Meg was looking for you a little while ago. Did she find you?”

  He nodded. “Yep.”

  “And now you’re leaving?”

  “Yep.”

  “Maybe this once, Zack, you should stay.”

  He took a deep breath, let it back out. Spent a second appreciating her love, and then another wanting her to mind her own damn business. “Nah, it’s time for me to go. I’ll see you later, Dahlia.”

  She reached out, grabbed the hand that held the duffel, and squeezed it tight. Despite himself, his heart beat harder than it should.

  “Don’t worry,” he told her. “I’m fine.” The words came out rough, raspy, and he wasn’t sure they were true—but he’d be fine soon enough.

  When she let go, he turned and strode back to the Emily Ann. He focused on stashing his bag in the wheelhouse, then untethering the boat. He’d need to get gas—maybe at Mackinac rather than here. Hell, maybe he’d grab a few provisions there, too—since he’d taken off without eating or thinking about food, and he’d be on the water all day and overnight at the very lea
st until he could get some nets set and bring in at least a small catch.

  He went through all the motions of pushing off from Summer Island same as any other time—the same except for his heart still pumping too hard, the same except for not quite understanding what the hell had just happened with Meg.

  He had thought...things would be okay. He’d thought he loved her enough, and that she loved him enough, for things to just go back to the way they’d been—but better.

  Maybe...she’d change her mind. Maybe the next time he came home they’d work things out. Maybe.

  But all he knew was that as the boat got farther from shore, and as Summer Island grew smaller and smaller in the distance, he began to breathe easier, as always when he took to the water. He began to feel safe again, as always when he took to the water. Maybe she was right—he needed the water more than he needed her. Even if he hated himself for it.

  * * *

  MEG HAD STRODE boldly back to the inn, head held high, tears at bay because she refused to let any more fall. She’d cried too much over Zack in the years he’d been in her life, and as hard as it had been to let him go, she knew it was the right thing to do. And besides, she had an inn to run. Despite the weather, all her guests had been up and out early, headed for bike rentals and day hikes, so she suspected the house lay empty—but she couldn’t be sure.

  She somehow felt stronger walking in the door just knowing she’d no longer have to wait, or to wonder when he would come home. When someone invited her someplace, she’d no longer wonder whether or not Zack would be with her; and she wouldn’t have to try to explain his absence away like it was nothing.

  A part of her would be missing now and it would take a while to get over that—she’d meant it when she’d said she’d always love him. But at the same time, she felt...free in a way. Free of the worry. Free of the neglect. Free of feeling less-than and second-best to a ratty old fishing boat. His wounds were no longer hers to suffer for.

  And as she stepped into the parlor and glanced out the window to catch sight of the Himalayan lilac she and Seth had planted yesterday...she suddenly knew what she wanted.

  I trust him now.

  That trust was tenuous, as new and fragile as that freshly planted shrub, and it would need to strengthen over time—but she was ready to take that chance. It would be...perhaps the first real chance she’d taken since she’d come to Summer Island to recover from leukemia.

  And she didn’t want to wait.

  She headed for the stairs, ready to change out of flip-flops and into tennis shoes so she could bike around the island to Seth’s cabin.

  Only when she whisked into her bedroom through the open door, her eyes were drawn to a sheet of paper on her pillow. She walked around the bed, picked it up.

  Wanted to let you know I’m leaving the island, darlin’. Have some things to take care of. But I’ll see you soon.

  Seth

  That was all. Just those few, short, mysterious words. Just when she’d thought there were no more mysteries. Her heart dropped as she let out a heavy breath.

  Wow, Meg. Way to go. How do you lose two men in one day? One hour, in fact. It seemed almost a miracle to her that she hadn’t passed Seth leaving or seen him boarding the ferry. Timing was everything in life.

  He said he’d see her soon, but that seemed unlikely. A nicer way of saying so long—nothing more and nothing less.

  She stood there for a moment, too stunned to move. A certain familiar numbness set in. Drew had left her a note, too. I’m sorry, but I just can’t do this. An invisible hand squeezed her heart tight as her throat thickened with impending tears.

  But before they leaked free, her mind raced—and she found herself turning to the dresser, and the jewelry box. She lifted the lid and looked inside.

  The ring was gone.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  SHE STOOD STARING at the empty space in the jewelry box. Unlike the last time the ring had disappeared, she didn’t bother looking anyplace else for it, wondering if she’d moved it and forgotten. He’d seen her put it there. She’d trusted him enough not to keep that a secret. Foolish. Apparently he changed his mind and decided the money was more important than being with her. And more important than being the good man he claimed to want to be.

  She’d known making a change like that would have to be hard. Like a tiger trying to change his stripes. She realized she had been gullible to even think he could, to even believe he wanted to. And she supposed anyone who heard this story would think the whole thing had somehow been a con to begin with and that she’d fallen for it—hook, line, and sinker.

  But she didn’t believe that. He’d told her things he’d never had to if none of it was real. She knew in her heart that he’d tried to be that better man—and failed.

  A glance out the window brought the departing ferry into sight, en route to St. Simon, leaving every hour on the hour this time of year, yet seldom so full that anyone had to wait. Sorry she could almost feel him getting farther away from her, bit by bit, second by second, same as every time she’d ever watched the Emily Ann float away.

  Maybe he’d go to his grandpa’s. Maybe she should call Mr. McNaughton, tell him what happened. Maybe somehow it would get her grandmother’s ring back.

  But no. It seemed more likely that Seth would sell it long before reaching Pennsylvania. Maybe a returned shame or embarrassment would keep him from contacting his grandfather right now anyway. And even as special as the ring was to her—it had been lost a long time and maybe it would be easier to just pretend it had never been found than to try to chase it, and him.

  Hell, if she wanted to chase after it, she could call the police in St. Simon and have them meet the ferry when it arrived—it was a half hour trip to the mainland. She could call the ferry runners, too. Or she could get a ride there—she knew at least a dozen people on the island with boats who would do that for her in a heartbeat. There were a lot of ways she could try to get her ring back. But if the money was that important to Seth that he’d steal it a second time, from a woman whose happiness he claimed to care about, then she’d just let him have it.

  She picked the note back up off the bed, crumpled it in her hand, tossed it in the trash.

  Two heartbreaks in one day was admittedly tough to take, so she crawled under the covers, knowing she had most of the day before new guests were due to arrive, and that she deserved—for a little while—to curl up in a ball and mourn. Losses of all kind. And one more abandonment.

  But even as she finally let herself dissolve into tears, the covers pulled over her head, she knew she’d be stronger than she’d been when she’d first met Seth. And not because what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger—but because somewhere along the way, somehow, she’d changed. Maybe it was herself she’d been watering, more successfully than Zack.

  The outcome? She’d gone through this whole relationship with Seth without actually worrying much about when it would end or what would happen. Now it was over, but it had been better for the not worrying—she’d soaked him up, just like the scent of lilacs, while she could.

  * * *

  THE WILD HONEYSUCKLE at the edge of the brook was fading along with June. But the enormous tulip tree that dipped over the water from the far bank suddenly bloomed with large yellow flowers rimmed in hazy sunset orange, reminding her that things were always changing—dying, blooming, season after season. This too would pass.

  She looked up from where she walked along the gurgling stream when the inn’s back door opened.

  “Good morning, Mr. Keller,” she called, her cheerful innkeeper’s smile in place. Time marched on and her guests deserved her hospitality. And it lifted her up a little to give it.

  The older man—slight, balding, and wearing wire-rimmed glasses—laughed. “Closer to noon, actually. Afraid I overslept.”

  She smiled. “Sometimes that’s wh
at vacation is for.”

  Another chuckle from her guest. “Helped myself to some coffee—and thought I’d explore these grounds a bit while the wife primps for the day. Think we’re going to see about getting a tour of the island from that horse-and-wagon fella.”

  Meg nodded. “You’ll enjoy it—Anson gives a lovely tour. And the sun is back out today.”

  “That it is, that it is.” Mr. Keller and his wife had been among yesterday’s late day arrivals, and the gray billows in the sky had persisted even then. Today they’d dissipated, leaving behind the friendlier, white fluffy ones that Meg considered part of a perfect day.

  “If it’s almost noon, then I’m off to a lunch date. But if you or your wife need anything, just leave me a note in the foyer.”

  And with that, she made her way around the house and up Harbor Street to the café, where she was meeting Suzanne and Dahlia for lunch. She could have taken a few days to lick her wounds, but life was short, and it was time to get things back to normal around here—as much as possible anyway.

  So she’d texted them both and made the plan. And even if an unavoidable sadness pressed on her chest as she walked up the lakeside street, she looked forward to seeing her friends.

  Both women waited for her at a table on the deck overlooking the water when she arrived. White masts and rigging towered in the near distance at the marina as gentle waves lapped at the pilings below. Neither woman knew the recent developments in her life, but the air felt weighted with the knowledge that something had changed. Lots of things, it turned out.

  “Thanks for getting together on such short notice,” she said, sitting down, taking a sip from the iced tea already there for her. “A good lunch with good friends is exactly what I need today.”