her skin, and if something in him might be responding to her the same way he had so many years ago. “You know you need my help.”
The silence continued, and she thought Owen must be angry, but his eyes were sober. “Okay, come with me,” he said. “You and Noah.” His voice was low and intense. “Then I’ll know I’ve done something. More than just put words on a page.”
She felt a prickling along her spine, a thrill that was half fear, half triumph. “What about Rachel and Henry?”
“There’s room enough if they decide to come,” said Owen.
Sarah stared up at the varnished wood of the cabin, the clever net baskets swinging in the corners, and the high bookshelf with its metal railing. How many other major life decisions had she made this way—vertiginously, emotionally, seemingly in reaction to what other people expected of her? Quitting school to work on the farm. Running away from Living Tree. Having Noah all by herself. But it had been years since she had done anything risky, since she had managed to overcome the ever-present doubt that hung over her life like a fog. It was exhausting, to always be second-guessing herself. Besides the handful of people who had never let her down, there was nobody she really trusted. Least of all herself.
But the idea of leaving Elliot behind began to spread across her body like a heat rash. She would ask if he could come with them, but she knew that as long as there was a job to do in the city, something he still construed as a duty, he would want to stay. Closing her eyes, Sarah exhaled slowly. The slight sway of the boat didn’t help with the bright dizziness ringing in her ears. A trip with a near stranger, a man about whom she had many misgivings. But the dangers on land were clear and certain. She opened her eyes. “I need to protect my son.”
“This is the best way,” said Owen. “I’ll tell Dory I need you to keep me on track writing the sequel.”
“The continuing adventures of David Gellar?”
“David Gellar on a beach,” said Owen, his voice ironic. “David Gellar making friends with the dolphins. David Gellar…still crazy after all these years.”
“It’ll make a great story,” she said, thinking of the publicity plan.
“A great escape,” said Owen, correcting her. “A great life.”
October 9, 2020
Without prejudice
Lambert, Chase, & Rider
Attorneys-at-Law
206 Florence Street
Lansdowne, M.A.
Re: CEASE AND DESIST
Dear Mr. Grant,
Please be advised that this office represents Rachel and Henry Levinson. Kindly direct any and all communication concerning Rachel and/or Henry Levinson to our attention at the address listed above.
As you are aware, Ms. Levinson has declined to respond to your emails and calls since your marriage was dissolved and a divorce granted on January 28, 2016, by the Supreme Court of the State of New York. While she acknowledges that your messages may not originate from a desire to cause harm, she nevertheless finds them emotionally distressing and an intrusion on her privacy.
Ms. Levinson has further asked us to advise you that she has received your invitations of September 30, October 4, and October 8 to join you on a sea voyage departing October 12, 2020. On behalf of herself and her son, Henry Levinson, she unequivocally declines said invitation. You can expect this to be her final communication to you.
Sincerely,
Monica Rider, Esq.
EMMA
DECEMBER 1999
Domenica was running along the beach, away from Buona Fortuna and her family. She sprinted across the shore, her bare feet compressing the sand with every step, so that it looked to Emma as though her sister was running and sinking at the same time. As though she were intent on speed to avoid becoming trapped in the shoreline.
Was it quicksand? Emma was eleven and still excited by the thought of quicksand, which was every bit as real as tornados, man-eating sharks, and Komodo dragons. Ogres and black magic might be fairy-tale inventions, but the world was still wild and untamed, full of danger and possibility.
Domenica was almost at the water. As she stopped running, her golden hair blew forward over her shoulders. Emma stumbled after her, clutching at her aching sides, knowing her sister would never turn around and acknowledge her, never stop to let her catch up. But Dom was so still and elegant standing there at the edge of the ocean—her cotton dress white and pristine against the deep bronze of her skin—that Emma’s heart ached with the beauty of it. Domenica