My Own Island by Wendy Silk

Author:Wendy Silk [Silk, Wendy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2018-10-23T18:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13: Alice

The early fall colors had given way to a cold and wet November. At this time of year, we all began to get tired of the gray clouds. No longer were they a comfortable embrace from the sky, now they represented just another soppy, muddy day.

At least, that was how I had come to anticipate November back in my old life. If I’d been teaching public school, my students would be moaning about having wet sneakers after they stepped heedlessly through puddles while running late every morning. They would have been anticipating the Thanksgiving break, eager for a chance to sleep in and forget what they’d been learning.

Here on Whidbey Island, I found a new appreciation of the darker, wetter months. There was always the view of the water, waiting for me outside my windows every morning. The ocean lapped at the shore with a regularity that came to represent certainty in my life. The days were shorter and the walking trails that I’d begun to frequent were puddled and mucky, yes. But the slower pace of life here made those things enjoyable in a new way for me.

Into that sense of tranquility that I relished here, into my new feeling of fitting into the nature of a place, would come my possessive, bossy, self-centered ex-fiancé. I struggled with myself about the meaning of his phone call that I had taken on the balcony that day. It had already been a day of high temper for me: I had blown up at Grant for nothing more than offering a stupid sort of male apology. I knew he was sorry that he’d ditched me. Apparently, I was going to have to ask all the men that had done that to stand in line so they could say they were sorry.

When David called me, he caught me off guard. I confess that it was tempting to believe he wanted me back. It was most definitely pleasing to my ego to hear that Vicky had dumped him in such short order. Perhaps it was only Schadenfreude on my part, but I had very much enjoyed his story about her taking money from his bank account and running away with the drummer from the band she liked to see on the weekends.

Today was the day that David and I had arranged for his visit to Blue Shore. I was pathetically grateful that he’d even bothered to call and set it up with me in advance. His old way would have been to just show up when it was convenient for him, then talk to me in his superior way about why I found it hard to take time off work to spend time with him. Perhaps he had changed.

When I met him in the lobby, I had to smile. He looked like a dear friend that I hadn’t seen in months. Was it too much to think that he was exactly that? What if this was part of our journey together as

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