Blog

Marianne marveled at the contraption in James’s hand, a brass triangle with what appeared to be a miniature telescope and magnifying glasses connected to it. “Is that a Steampunk protractor?” she asked.

“It’s my great-grandfather’s sextant.  It measures the stars for navigation” James replied excitedly as he manipulated each of the sextant’s moving parts.

“We’re just going to the end of the cove” Marianne laughed

“You don’t know where you going, not really.” James argued. Marianne had to agree, everything about the journey they were about to embark on was a mystery.

She was grateful to have James with her as she entered her living room.  Although James was practically family, her Aunt and grandmother would at least attempt a semblance of normalcy around him.  They quickly walked past the room where Nellie’s body resided.  Her father was in there, speaking softly to her. Marianne was not interested in talking to him or her aunt, not while they were keeping secrets from her.

Nellie and Marrianne’s rooms were across the hall from each other. Nellie’s room faced the water and Marianne’s faced the town. The small room Nellie was staying in now was their only guest room which meant that her aunt Mildred was staying in her sister’s room. Marianne was not happy about that. She scowled as she entered. Nellie was notoriously disorganized. Her clothes and make-up were often strewn about. Mildred had tidied the room in such a way it would be unrecognizable to her sister.

When the apartment was first built, property was taxed on how many bedrooms each one had, however, a room was only considered a bedroom if it contained a closet, so all but 1 of the upstairs rooms were “dens.” This meant that for clothing storage, the family would use large shelving fixtures that were once
a part of the general store.

Against the far wall stood a large oak armoire that once sold tobacco and a small display hutch where she kept her toiletries, usually strewn about nonsensically. Mildred had purchased a plastic organizer for it all. “A place for everything and everything in its place.” Was her go-to saying. Above the hutch was an
old map of the cove, yellowed by years of exposure to tobacco smoke. Against the window was an old sewing table that Nellie used as a desk. This too, was now organized with pencil holders and mouse caddies.
Nellie’s four-post canopy bed was the only piece of furniture that was not a reclaimed store display. The bed, along with the yellow and white floral display was a wedding present that had once belonged to her parents. Her father gifted it to her for her 13th birthday.

Atop the hutch, Mildred’s organizing had made visible a framed photo of a smiling raven-haired toddler in pink tulle dress sitting atop the lap a beautiful woman with glimmering green eyes, fiery, wavy red hair cascading down her shoulders, shining brightly off her forest green dress, showing a hint of a baby bump as she knelt down amongst a sea of daffodils to hold the young child.
Marianne never knew her mother. She passed away on her first birthday, during the midsummer festival. Her father didn’t like to talk about her so Marianne’s only knowledge of her mother was through Nellie’s stories. She would talk about how their mother would sneak them out in the middle of the night and take them to the woods behind town to “dance with the fairies.” It was then where Nellie
discovered her love of dance, and after her mother’s passing, she threw her soul into the world of dance, as a way to stay connected to her mother.
Marianne walked to the hutch and looked at the picture, it was remarkable how much she looked like a green-eyed scarlet-haired version of Nellie. They had the same radiant skin and high cheekbones, and wide smiles.

“Remarkable” said James. Marianne nodded in agreement until she realized he wasn’t looking at the photograph, but instead at the on the wall above. Marianne looked quizzical. James extended his index finger to a dotted outline on the map, which indicated the exact place where the mysterious island now stood.
James rubbed the spot with his index finger, then turned it towards Nellie, revealing a black smudge.

“It’s drawn in ink” he said. He climbed on top of the hutch and used the magnifier from his sextant to
get a closer look. “There’s something written here” he said and started to read off letters “C.. U… M?.. A.. R… T… A… C…H…

“Cumartach?” said Marianne. “Is that the name of the island?

“Maybe…” replied James.
“What does it mean?”
“Islands around here are usually named after explorers or ingidinous tribes that the explorers killed off.
I’ve never heard of an explorer or tribe named Cumartach. We’ll have to look it up.”

Suddenly there was a knock on the door.
“Annie, James!” came Mildred’s voice from across the all. “Please come downstairs. Lee will be here soon.”
Marianne and James stood frozen. Although not specifically forbidden, Marianne knew there would be hell to pay if Mildred found them snooping in her room. They held their breath until they heard footsteps retreating down the hallway and back downstairs.
“Honestly mother, I don’t think it’s right for Annie to be up there with a boy with the door closed.” She said as she returned downstairs.
“It’s just James” her mother chuckled.
“Yes, I know, but friends can become lovers in an instant.”
“Mildred, she’s just a kid”
“What would the neighbors think?”
“Which ones?” her mother inquired. “Mr. Henderson who’s living in sin with a woman half his age, the Joneses who’ve been divorced three times each, or the ‘old witch’ as you call her who’s leasing the apartment next door for the summer?”
Mildred scowled as the doorbell rang.
“Judge not lest ye be judged” her mother replied as she went to answer the door.

Lee held the large cast-iron pot like a shield as he stood on the doorway, anxiously. He was slightly relieved to see Nellie’s grandmother at the door. Their relationship had always been cordial, but professional, and she maintained that courteous demeanor as she greeted him.

“Welcome Lee!” she said, as she opened the door widely to let him in. Lee remained on the porch, frozen.
“What do we have here?” she asked, indicating the large pot in Lee’s hand.
“My mother made it. She thought you would like some comfort food” he replied uncomfortably, as he handed over the pot, his arms extended and eyes lowered to the floor, like a peace offering.
“Do come in” the grandmother insisted.

Absent his shield, Lee squeezed his palms together as he followed the grandmother towards the kitchen.
“I’ll heat this up.” She said and turned to indicate the adjacent room. “She’s in there” she said.
Lee’s eyes widened and his heart began to palpitate as he looked at the open doorway. He took several deep breaths and clenched his fists by his side and walked towards the room. When he reached the doorway he stopped dead in his tracks.
Nellie’s father was seated beside her, his large hands enveloped around hers, making her petite, slender frame seem even more fragile and delicate. He was starting at her intently and speaking a strange dialect Lee had never heard before. He jumped up with a start when he noticed Lee.
As the 6’5” bohemouth of a man, stood, his face was stoic but it could not mask the pain behind his deep blue eyes.
“Come on in” he said to Lee, indicating the chair he had just vacated. Lee ventured nervously and sat down next to the comatose body of the girl whom he’s once thought to be the most radiant, lively creature to ever walk the earth. She was still beautiful, despite all the tubes attached to her face.
“The doctors say talking to her helps, that she can still hear you.”
Lee awkwardly touched Nellie’s cold, clammy hand, as a lump began to grow in his throat.
“I miss you” he whispered, her face was immobile, but peaceful. It was then he noticed the gold chain around her neck.

Last summer at the festival he and Nellie made their way through the tents that adorned First Street, admiring the wares of the local artisans. One booth in particular had Nellie captivated. A local crabber
had created “reclaimed” art out of treasures he’d uncovered in his pots, including seaglass, silverware, glass fishing floats, and old metal boat parts. The item that had drawn Nellie’s attention was a large vintage brass key hanging on a gold chain.
“There’s something so romantic about old keys” she smiled at Lee. “The secrets they hold, those they have welcomed with access to secrets and treasures, those with ill intent they have kept out…” she gazed at Lee dreamily.
“It shall be yours” said Lee as he reached into his pockets for cash.
“How much?” he asked the merchant in the booth.’
“For the Queen of Fairies, no charge” replied the Merchant.
“Thank you so much” said Lee as Nellie laughed. She was still in dressed in her costume from the earlier performance of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” where she had played Titania, the Fairie Queen. The town performed the play every year to mark the start of the Midsummer festival. Last year was Nellie’s
first time playing a lead role, and she looked the part perfectly with flowers in her hair and bells around her ankles that tinkled lightly with every step.
“I wonder what it opens?” she said as she pulled her long black locks forward, allowing Lee to fasten the chain around her neck.
“I know exactly what it opens” he replied coyly.

“Oh really?” replied Nellie
“Of course” he nodded and turned towards the street. Nellie grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
“Are you going to tell me?” Nellie laughed “Or are you keeping it shrouded in mystery?”
Lee took Nellie in his arms, and gently brushed the hair from her face as he gazed into her inquiring teal eyes.
“It’s the key to my heart” he smiled flirtatiously. Nellie laughed and kissed him.
Back in the room, Lee held back tears as he touched the key around her neck. “You will always have my heart” he whispered to her frozen body.
“You should have that” said the voice behind her. Lee turned around stunned as he faced Nellie’s father.
“I couldn’t possibly” he replied.
“Please.” Her father insisted. “She would want you to have it, to keep a part of her with you. You can return it when she wakes up.” He said.
“Thank you” said Lee as he removed the chain from Nellie’s neck and placed it around his own. “I will keep it with me, always” he said.
“I know.” Her father nodded. “That’s why you should have it.”

The intoxicating smell of garlic, fermented bean curd, and chicken wafted through the air and filled the apartment. Marianne smiled at the smell. The last time they had Congee was over the winter holiday when Lee’s family invited the Gallagher’s over for dinner.
Lee’s parents owned a restaurant in town famous for their crab cakes, yet his mother’s best cooking, in Marianne’s opinion, was Dakjuk, the Korean chicken and rice porridge she would make on dreary winter days.
Unlike much of her other Korean cooking, which was spicier than Marianne could handle, this porridge was soft and creamy, the food equivalent of a long hug from an old friend.
Marianne bounded downstairs at the smell, forgetting for a moment the quest they had planned for after dinner. James, on the other hand was still busy researching the meaning of the words scribbled on the map. After a few failed search results, he believed he found his answer…

Marianne stood in the doorway and sighed.  The faint smell of incense drifting from the chapel blended with the combination of Bath and Body Works, Axe body spray, and teenage hormones wafting from the classroom.  The laughter and high-pitched squeals came to a deadening stop ad Marianne slowly made her way to her desk, her eyes shifted downwards, focused on her patent-leather Mary-Jane’s. Her grandmother was appalled when Nellie originally picked them. “Those shoes are so shiny boys could look up your skirt!” she exclaimed. “That’s a bit ridiculous, Mother. I think she looks lovely,” her father replied.  Nellie always got her way when it came to their father.  Marianne, however, was provided her hand-me downs.  By the time she acquired the Mary-Jane’s they had enough scuff marks for her grandmother’s argument to be moot.

Marianne’s stomach churned with anxiety and her palms began to sweat as she took her seat.  She could feel every eye on her as she leaned down to remove her pencil, calculator, and notebook. As she bent over, this action caused the gas bubble that had been building up inside of her to release with a slow and audible brrrraaaaaap. Marianne froze as she realized what had occurred. The snickering started from the back of the room and soon amplified into stereo as the entire room of  teenagers erupted into laughter.  Marianne face matched the crimson of her uniform as she sunk low into her chair.

“Nice one Batman!” came the voice from the seat beside her. She turned and glared at it’s owner.  Several years prior, Marianne’s PE class was playing tee-ball.  Athleticism, or anything involving coordination was not Marianne’s strong suit. When it came her turn to swing, she surprisingly made contact with the ball, but also released the bat in the process, sending it flying and hitting the teacher.  The students cheered, and this of course became the top news story in elementary school that day, which and earned her the nickname Batman.  Most of the students returned to calling her Annie after a few weeks.  Not James though, he continued to use the moniker much to Marianne’s chagrin.

At this moment however, Marianne was also grateful that something had eased the tension in the room, even if it was embarrassing. The class quieted as Ms. Yamamoto entered. She was a petite woman with a stern face and kind eyes that could shoot daggers when occasion called for it.  She glided to the front of the class, her head remaining perfectly even despite the 3 inch heels on her maroon suede boots.

“Welcome back Miss Gallagher.  I trust you’ve been keeping up on assignments?” Ms. Yamamoto preached the importance of daily Algebra.  “As essential to existence as water” she would say. Marianne nodded as her teacher placed a paper in front of her.

The pit in Marianne’s stomach grew as she looked down at her quiz and saw the dreaded phrase “show your work.”  Marianne didn’t hate Algebra, she loved it in fact.  Every problem was like solving a new mystery.  Every number had it’s own personality, 9 was of course the arrogant alpha-male, 8 was the the beautiful but aloof femme fatale, and 7 was the cunning rogue, always trying to swoop in and keep things exciting.   Marianne composed stories in her head as her characters interacted, switching allegiances in the search for the elusive X. Marianne was great at finding the right answer, but she struggled to map it out on paper, and of course properly showing her work was worth half the grade.  She sighed as she joined her fellow students banging on their calculators and scribbling on their papers.

As the day dragged on, Marianne’s mind drifted back to the mysterious island, and what she saw in the water the afternoon of May 1st.  The bright flash of light that looked like a doorway opening, the music and voices that seemed to be coming from within, the faint smell of honeysuckle. It took all the attention she could muster to finish classes that day, anxiously awaiting the trip she had planned with Lee after school. She was halfway out the door when the final bell rang.

“Hey Batman!  Wait up!” yelled the voice behind her as he scrambled to catch up. James was a slight boy with strawberry-blonde hair and hazel eyes that peered out from a sea of freckles. James was Marianne’s oldest friend, though the friendship had been forced upon them, as James’s mother, Jane, was a frequent babysitter when she was growing up.  As they grew older Jane began working at the general store. Their families remained close, so James and Marianne didn’t have much choice but to be friends.

“I know, I know, you’re all gassed up and ready to get tootin'” James said as he caught up to her.  Marianne sighed and rolled her eyes.

In addition to bad puns, James was partial to computers and fantasy role-play games.  He regularly wore t-shirts with obscure gaming references few people in their small town understood. As kids, James and Marianne often pretended to fight dragons and cast spells in the woods behind his house.  Nellie would join them occasionally, playing the damsel in distress or a magical princess.  Marianne preferred to be the wild huntress, and James would be the architect. He designed and built a tree fort with a wide array of traps and weapons using a various combination of ropes and pulleys. “Ropes and pulleys can build anything!” he would proclaim.  As she grew older, Nellie got bored and stopped playing. Eventually Marianne and James stopped as well, James instead turning to computer and board games to digitally construct his fantastic creations.

“I’m not going home today” Marianne replied to James.

“What are you doing?” James inquired.

Marianne hesitated. She desperately wanted to tell James about the mysterious island and her plans to sail out there after school but, for now, she felt the need to keep it secret.

“I’m meeting a friend” she sputtered, awkwardly.

“Who?” he persisted

“Just… somebody… it doesn’t matter.”

“Can I come?”

Marianne again hesitated, trying to think up an excuse when the purr of a motorcycle interrupted her thoughts.  Marianne’s heart raced as the green and white vintage BMW headed towards them and stopped in front of her.  The owner, still straddling the bike, with one leather boot on the ground, removed his helmet to reveal Lee, with wild windswept hair and his dashing face alive and radiant.

“Hey kid!” Lee smiled brightly at James, then turned to Marianne, “I have some errands to run, so I can’t go out right now but I’ll take you out after dinner I promise.”

Marianne’s heart sank as he drove off, knowing she had several more hours to get through before she could continue her quest for answers.  Meanwhile James was staring at her, quizzically.

“What are you doing Marianne?  What are you hiding from me?” he pleaded. To his knowledge, Marianne had never kept a secret from him before.

Hearing her full name, especially from James felt strange and distant. She acquiesced, and pulled the postcard out of her bag. She told him about the mysterious island that seemed to appear one day without anyone noticing.  James was unusually silent as she she described the bright doorway, the music and voices that filled the air for a brief moment before suddenly disappearing again. She told him about the strange conversation she overheard between her father and aunt. As she finished James continued to stare at her, dumbfounded.

“Do I seem delusional?” she asked, after a moment of awkward silence.

“I’m going with you” he declared.

“James you really shouldn’t…” Marianne protested.

“If you actually think for one minute that you’re going to go one some adventure to a mysterious island without me, then you really are delusional” he smirked. “Besides, you need me” he persisted “I’m the only one who knows how to use this” he continued as he pulled a strange bronze object out of his pocket.

 

 

 

 

The Gallagher general store sat on the corner of Front Street and Main, overlooking the Wharf,  just a stone’s throw from the Marina. When Marianne’s grandparents first purchased the store the clientele was mostly farmers and servicemen stationed at the Naval Base nearby. Over time the sleepy town became a popular tourist destination and the item selection changed from bags of seed and chewing tobacco to saltwater taffy and novelty license plates. Marianne’s grandfather had been a central figure in town.  His charisma and quick wit made him popular with tourists and locals alike.  His wife however, was the shrewd business woman.  She embraced opportunities to purchase more space, eventually owning the entire block, renting out shop space to local merchants and the adjoining upstairs apartments to tourists.

Once her husband passed, so did her interest in the business. The floors began to creak, the once-white exterior was now a dingy grey, and a light green mold now thinly veiled the blue and white striped awning.

“We have to schedule a pressure washing before the festival” Mildred sighed, gazing down at the awning from the upstairs window.

“The tourists are here for the scenery, they don’t care about a little mold” her mother replied, begrudgingly.

“The medical bills are getting expensive” Mildred turned to face her mother. “We have to start planning for the summer season or you won’t possibly make budget for the year. It’s time we re-opened the gallery as well.” The closed sign had been hanging on the shop adjoining the general store ever since the accident.

“How on earth can you talk about money at a time like this?!” her mother replied, stunned.

“We have to talk about it at some point. The bills are piling up, the building needs repairs. We at least need to up the rent for the apartments this summer.”

“Mrs. Hearne has already booked the East Unit for the summer.”

“That old witch is just going to have to pay more…” her daughter responded sternly.

“Mildred!” her mother scolded. “You watch your mouth.”

“It’s true.  She is a witch, that’s what she calls herself!  She does tarot readings and everything.”

“I meant old” her mother replied, rolling her eyes. “The woman’s at least a decade younger than me.”

“And you would be?” Mildred and her family had been trying to guess her mother’s age for years.  It was her most closely guarded secret, and with her smooth Irish skin her mother was often mistaken for her sister, a fact Mildred was not fond of.

“Legal age” was her mother’s classic reply. “You’re here to support your family Mildred, not run my business.”

“Mother, I know this is hard. I’m sorry, I really am. I’m only trying to help.”

“If you really want to help” replied her mother as she walked over to the mahogany console table in the entry hall.  She paused as she placed her hand on the ornate silver box which bore her family’s crest, sighed as she lifted the lid and pulled out a long strand of deep read glass beads connected to an intricate silver crucifix.  She gently rolled the beads between her fingers as she rejoined her daughter at the window. She stood next to her and gently nudged her shoulder so her daughter would face her. Although Mildred was in her late 40’s and several inches taller than her mother, she cowered like a child as her mother forced the necklace into her hands.

“Take your rosary, and pray for a miracle.”  She gave her daughter a firm look as she walked back into the room containing her comatose granddaughter.  Mildred sighed and slipped the rosary into the pocket of her apron.  Her mother knew she hasn’t been to a mass in years, but neither of them spoke of it.

Mildred returned to the window to look out at the wharf. “We need to at least get Annie back to school.  It’s been three weeks and all she does is sit out there.  It’s not healthy and it’s certainly not helping her studies.” she called out to the empty room, and was met with silence.  As she gazed out the window she saw her niece running down the pier.  “Now what on earth is she doing now and who is that with her?”

Marianne meanwhile was struggling to keep up as she raced down the pier towards town.  Lee was on the high school swim team and an active jogger.  Marianne wasn’t very active at anything. By the time she figured out his intended destination, her father’s gallery, she could barely catch her breath.

Lee paused at the closed sign and tried to jiggle the door handle to no avail.  He turned to his companion.  “How do you get in?  It’s your father’s shop, don’t you have a key or something.?”  Marianne shook her head, unable to speak as she tried to recover her breath.

“Is there a back way?” he asked, desperately.

Marianne’s eyes lit up as she nodded. She motioned Lee to follow her next door, to the general store.  She walked in and waved a quick hello to Jane, the woman behind the counter who worked in shop most evenings. She escorted Lee to the backroom, maneuvering around the piles of unopened shipments.  She motioned him to help her move a couple boxes out of the way, revealing a trap door built into the floorboards.

“My grandmother says this was built to smuggle whiskey during prohibition.” she informed him as she opened the trap door.  She made her was down the ladder and pulled a chain that illuminated the single light-bulb. Lee was overpowered with the musty smell of mildew and sawdust as he followed her down the ladder.  He looked around to see piles and piles of fixtures from old displays.  Faded cardboard advertisements for bubblegum that had since gone out of business rested upon a giant metal sleigh from a former Christmas promotion.

“Nelly and I used to play here all the time” Marianne smiled.  “We called it ‘the dungeon.'”

“Fitting name” replied Lee, looking around at the broken pieces of former advertisements. He followed Marianne under pipes and around at least a dozen rat-droppings before he saw another ladder leading to what appeared to be a second trap door in the ceiling.  Marianne pressed her finger to her lips as she slowly pushed the door open.  She tiptoed up the ladder and motioned for Lee to follow.  As Lee made his way up the ladder he held his breath, partially to stay quiet but primarily to keep out the smell. As he lifted his head out he was once again face to face with Marianne, her finger still to her lips as she motioned to her right, to the studio behind the gallery where her father was pouring over photographs, his back turned to them.

Lee stealthily made his was to the bins of prints against the wall and quickly began thumbing through them.  Marianne kept her eyes towards the studio, watching her father deeply focus on a photograph in front of him.  Suddenly he stood up and Marianne emitted a small gasp.  He lifted his right hand, his eyes transfixed on the photo in his left as he pawed around the various instruments on the shelf next to him.  Eventually they landed on the object he sought, a magnifying glass, which he picked up and held to the photo in his left hand.

Suddenly Lee emerged beside her, shoving a postcard of the wharf into his pocket.  He too was watching her father’s peculiar behavior when a voice called out from upstairs “Sam?  are you down here?” Suddenly footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs as her father quickly scrambled to hide the photograph. Lee grabbed Marianne by the arm and pulled her back down into the dungeon, the trapdoor closing just as Mildred reached the bottom of the stairs and entered the gallery.

“Sam your daughter appears to be to be cavorting with some teenage boy.”

“Huh?” replied Sam, confused.  “That’s probably just James.  They hang out all the time.”

“It wasn’t James.  I know James.  This boy was older” she protested to her brother as he continued to shuffle photographs around, covering the one that had transfixed him earlier. Mildred sighed, seeing she wasn’t getting through to him.

“ANYWAY” she emphasized, exacerbated, “I’ve contacted Annie’s teachers and she will be returning to school tomorrow. Summer’s not far off and we don’t need her failing the 8th grade on top of everything else. ”

“No no, of course not,” replied Sam, distracted.

Mildred paused and lowered her voice.  Marianne, hidden under the floorboards cupped her ear to listen.

“Midsummer is almost upon us” her tone was ominous. “Perhaps it’s time we told her.”

“Told her what?” questioned Sam.

“Everything” replied his sister

“Don’t be stupid” replied Sam through gritted teeth.  “There are things she’s better off never knowing.”

Marianne’s face was stunned.  “Tell me what?” she mouthed to Lee.

“Do you have any idea where she is?” questioned Mildred, changing the subject.  “I saw her running this way with some boy.”

“I haven’t seen her.  Try next door.” Sam replied as he sat back down next to his work.
“And please keep that door locked!” he yelled back at his sister as she exited.

Lee once again grabbed Marianne’s arm as they made their way across the dungeon.

He was climbing up the stairs as he heard two female voices murmuring on the sales floor.  He could see two sets of feet in front of the swinging door.  One of them turned towards the door, and it began to open towards them.  Marianne was still scrambling to reach the ladder when her aunt appeared in the stock room.

“Well who on earth are you?” Mildred questioned a stunned Lee.

“I… uhm..” he stuttered.

“That’s Lee” replied Jane, appearing behind them. A knowing look appeared over Mildred’s face.

“Ah, so you’re the famous Lee…” she looked him up and down.  “Are you here with Annie?” Mildred looked around.

“Yes.. uhm. she’s uhm..”

“She needed to use the restroom” Jane again replied.

“Ah.” said Mildred.  “Well, when she gets out do send her up for dinner.”  Mildred took a few paces towards the back door as Lee sighed with relief.

“Lee… would you care to join us?” Mildred turned back suddenly.  “We’re having lasagna.”

“I should be getting home.” he replied quickly.

“Tomorrow then.” Mildred looked at him firmly.  “I do so want to get to know you.”

“Uhm, ok…” Lee stammered. Mildred turned sharply and exited back to the store with a flourish, Jane following quickly behind.

Marianne then emerged from the trap door, her face stricken.  “What is happening?” she whispered.  Lee suddenly remembered the postcard.  He pulled it out of his pocket.

“When did your father take this picture?” he pressed the postcard into her hands.  Marianne studied it.  “Last summer I think.”

“You think? or you know?” Lee urged her. Marianne studied the card until she had a moment of recognition.

“Yes he took it last year, a week before the festival” she recalled.  “Why?”

“Do you notice anything different?”

Marianne studded the postcard.  “No, I don’t think so”

Lee pointed to a spot in the water, close to where the accident occurred.  “What do you see here?”

“Water?” said Marianne, confused.

“Exactly” replied Lee as he headed out toward the shop.  Marianne again following, confused.

He waved a thank you to Jane as he made his way outside, Marianne following closely.  He walked up the street, past the gallery and towards the marina, looking out onto the cove.

“Look!” he motioned towards the water. “That island wasn’t there before.”

Marianne’s jaw dropped as she looked out at the massive moss-covered rock jutting out of the sea and again back down at the photo she was holding of the same spot, sans the island.

There is something mesmerizing about the smell of the sea.  It’s not sweet and delicate like the morning dew or wild and refreshing like a rainstorm. The sea is not clean.  It won’t absolve you of your sins and provide you with a fresh start.  The sea knows all and it never forgets, it clings to you.  It has carried us across continents and in the process taken its share of sailors to their final resting place.

With every inhale Marianne became more transfixed, breathing in the memories of her ancestor’s sacrifice.  She’d spent most of her days out on the wharf, gazing out at the Strait that connected her small peaceful cove to the vast ocean.  It was her only source of comfort since the accident.

She absentmindedly twirled her light brown hair, which sparkled blonde in the sunlight. Her hair was wild and frizzy, making her already round face appear even wider.  “It’s just baby fat” her grandmother would say.  “Lay off the candy and it will go away.”  That was easier said than done, seeing as her grandmother owned the general store in town and provided unlimited access to sweets.

“Sometimes I wish I was more descriptive” Marianne whined in front of the mirror one day.

“What on earth do you mean?” replied her sister, Nellie, bemused.

“My hair’s not blonde or brown. I’m not fat or thin.  I’m not short or tall. I have a dimple on my right cheek by not my left.  My eyes aren’t even one color.  They’re some assorted mix of blue, green, and grey.” she sighed. “It’s like whoever created me ran out of ingredients and so they just threw a bunch of random stuff together.”

“Being in-between a bunch of things is what makes you unique.” Nellie laughed.  “By being ‘non-descriptive’ as you say, that means you get to decide who you want to be.”

Marianne gave her a halfhearted smile. Nellie never had an awkward phase.  She was an adorable child that blossomed into a gorgeous teenager without ever having so much as a pimple. Her skin was milky white, she had long straight raven-colored hair that made her round teal eyes even more captivating. She was a natural artist, adept at everything she touched.  Their father used to brag that in kindergarten Nellie walked up to the chalkboard and drew a perfect circle.  At 13, the closest Marianne had come was with the help of a compass, and even that was shaky.

Nellie had a tall and slender dancer’s body, with the poise and grace to match.  Even though she was only 16 she had already landed the lead in the school’s spring production of Brigadoon.

Yet none of that mattered now, as Nellie’s body was stuffed full of tubes, clinging to life in a little room above the general store.  The doctors had moved her home, hoping that some familiar surroundings might help her wake up.  It had been three weeks with not so much as a blink.

Marianne hated it there.  Seeing her sister once so full of life now on the brink of death was too much to bear.  So she spent her days on the wharf, the waves lapping against the pier and the sun on her neck lulling her into a state of quiet contemplation.

“I’m surprised to see you here” declared the voice behind her. Marianne smiled for the first time in weeks as she turned around.

“Where have you been?” she exclaimed.

Lee’s face was downcast.  His brown, almond-shaped eyes had lost their usual twinkle and his usually roguishly disheveled black hair was matted and greasy.

“I haven’t been able to face you since…”  Lee looked out at the sea, at the spot that had transfixed Marianne

“It wasn’t your fault.  The investigators said it was an accident.”

“I could’ve saved her” he said, tears welling up in his eyes.

“You couldn’t have known.  None of us knew.” Marianne retorted.  “She was a strong swimmer, we’ve been swimming in these waters our whole life. It was an accident.” she emphasized. She motioned for him to sit next to her, and he obliged, giving her a half-smile.

Lee gazed back out at the sea. “How often do you come here?”

“Every time I can escape” she answered.

“It’s that bad huh?” He asked.

“There’s people there, all the time, and lasagna.  We’ve had so much lasagna even Garfield would get sick of it.  That’s apparently the only dish people in town know how to cook! The most frustrating part is I know that many of these girls that come over weren’t even her friends. Here they are crying and arguing over who loved her the most. They’re acting all nice to me, even though I don’t think one of them even knows my name. It’s disgusting and I don’t want to be a part of it.”

“God Nellie would hate that.” Lee smiled.  “I hope she wakes up and reads them the riot act” he laughed for a moment.  It was strange sensation.  For a millisecond his heart wasn’t heavy as he imagined his girlfriend calling out all the ‘posers’ as she called them.  Nellie was the most genuine person he had ever known, and the moments she would get the most impassioned were when people were disingenuous.  She couldn’t stand that, and he loved her for it.  He looked back out at the cove, at the spot where it happened, and once again his heart grew heavy.

“I hope she wakes up” he muttered.

“You really ought to come see her.” Marianne gazed at him, her eyes were now a steely grey, with the same stubbornness and determination as her older sister.

“I know” he said and returned his gaze to the sea.

“We don’t blame you, but you should come see her.” Marianne continued. “Also, I could use an ally.  My Aunt Mildred is staying with us and she’s driving me crazy, and Papa is useless, spending all of his time in the studio…” As Marianne prattled on, happy to finally have a friend to confide in, Lee shifted his gaze towards the horizon.

“It looks different now” he said.

“Yeah” Marianne agreed.  “It feels different too.”

“No, it doesn’t  just feel different!  It IS different now.” Lee shot up with a jolt.  Marianne looked up at him, bewildered. He grabbed her by the shoulders and bent down, looking her straight in the eye, his face more determined and sober than she had ever seen it.

“Annie… Did you see something that night?  Something… unusual?” he asked her.  Marianne’s eyes widened.  “You saw it too?” she asked, stunned.

“Come on!” Lee grabbed her arm, and started running towards town, Marianne stumbling to keep up.