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Authors: Terri DuLong

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“Really? Your birthday is in June?”
“June twentieth, the summer solstice. At least this year it will be, but most years it's on June twenty-first. I've always admired the Wheel of the Year. It shows time as cyclical and the progression of birth, life, decline, and death as experienced in human lives.”
I nodded. “And this is echoed in the progression of the seasons.”
Saxton removed his glasses and turned around. “And so . . . do you practice Wicca as a religion?”
I shrugged before answering. “Not really, although I do believe in some of their views and theories.”
He took a sip of coffee and nodded. “And your mother? Obviously she must have had the same views to bring this back from California?”
“She did and so did my grandmother.”
“So you weren't brought up with organized religion?”
I laughed. “Oh, but I was. Catholic Church and even Catholic school for eight years, but when I reached high school, all three of us stopped going. I'm not really sure why. All I know is that we seemed to drift more toward being spiritual rather than religious. My grandmother used to go every single day, rain or shine, down to Derby Wharf. She'd sit on one of the benches there overlooking the water and claim that was her
church
.”
Saxton smiled. “Your grandmother sounds like a wise woman.”
“She was,” I said as a strong feeling of nostalgia washed over me.
Saxton glanced at his watch and took the last sip of his coffee. “I really hate to leave, but I'm afraid I have to get home to take Lola out. I very much enjoyed this evening, Berkley. Very much. You're not only special; I think you have a bit of mystery that I've yet to discover.”
I laughed as I walked him to the door. “Oh, I'm not sure about that.”
He placed his hands on each side of my face and kissed me. As I reached up to encircle his neck I knew he was
every
bit as special as he thought I was.
12
I
was putting the last of the items into the picnic basket when Chloe knocked on the door.
“Come on in,” I hollered as I placed potato salad and coleslaw on top of the fried chicken, biscuits, and blondies.
I looked up when I heard her laughing. “What's wrong?”
“Good Lord. We're only going out to Atsena Otie for lunch, aren't we? Looks like you have enough food there to last a week.” She held up her own picnic basket. “And along with the food I'm bringing, we could probably survive longer.”
I joined her laughter. “Well, I know Saxton has a healthy appetite and maybe Doyle does too. So we don't want to run out of food.”
Chloe settled her basket on the table. “I don't think there's any chance of that. Anything I can help you with?”
I looked around the kitchen. “Nope, I think I'm all set.”
“Great. Let's get this stuff loaded on the golf cart and head over to the marina.”
 
I spotted Saxton on the pontoon boat as soon as Chloe pulled into the parking lot. We grabbed our picnic baskets and headed down the walkway to the slip.
“Hey there,” he hollered, reaching over to give us a hand. “Welcome aboard.”
“Good morning,” Doyle said, standing up from the cooler where he'd been arranging water bottles and cans of soda. “Great day for a boat ride. Thought I'd take you gals up around North Key, out toward the airport, and then we'd head back to Atsena Otie for lunch.”
“Sounds great,” I told him as I settled myself on the leather seating beneath the bimini.
“It sure does,” Chloe said. “And thanks so much for inviting me.”
Chloe sat beside me as Saxton untied the ropes tethering the boat to the slip. Doyle sat behind the wheel and started up the motor. He expertly put the boat in reverse and positioned it to head toward the channel.
He was right. It was a perfect day for a boat ride. As we cruised under the bridge toward the channel the wind teased my hair as the sun warmed my skin.
Picking up speed, Doyle headed out, and I glanced across the water toward my hometown.
“Looks different from this perspective, doesn't it?” Saxton said.
I nodded as I saw his house on First Street, and we curved around where the Beachfront Motel now stood empty. Another example of the poor economy our country was experiencing. Guests at the Faraway Inn sat in the pavilion and waved to us as we cruised past.
Doyle shifted in his seat to face us. “There's a nice beach at North Key. We'll stop there for a bit.”
I looked over to my left. “Isn't that Seahorse Key?” I asked. “Could we make a stop there too?”
Doyle shook his head. “No, I'm afraid not. It's a wildlife refuge and bird sanctuary. There's a three-hundred-foot buffer zone around the island and it's closed to the public from March first through June thirtieth. That protects the nesting birds from human disturbance.”
“That's really great,” I said. “But what about that lighthouse there? Nobody uses it?”
“Oh, no, it's used,” Doyle informed me. “Since 1951 the lighthouse has been leased to the University of Florida. It's used as part of the Seahorse Key Marine Laboratory. The lighthouse itself serves as a dormitory with six bedrooms and twenty-six bunk beds. See the boat dock over there?”
I looked to where Doyle was now pointing and nodded.
“The laboratory is located near there.”
“During Seafood Festival weekend in October, it's open to the public,” Saxton said. “Maybe Doyle will take us over there in the fall.”
Doyle nodded. “Yeah, we could do that. It's definitely worth visiting.”
“Great,” I said, and gave him a smile. I liked this fellow. He had an easy way about him, and I could understand why Saxton enjoyed his company.
After Doyle pulled the boat onto the shore, the four of us got out to walk the beach on North Key. We spent quite a bit of time searching for driftwood, shells, and whatever else the tides had brought in. Heading back to the boat, I stopped for a few moments to breathe in the salt air as Chloe, Saxton, and Doyle walked ahead. There was something primal about being on this barrier island surrounded by the Gulf of Mexico. I looked up and saw puffy white clouds floating by, and was suddenly overcome with an intense feeling of my mother's presence. Closing my eyes for a moment, I felt her spirit surround me. Odd, since this was the first time I'd experienced this sensation since she'd passed away four months before. When I opened my eyes, I saw that Chloe and Saxton were back on the boat and Doyle was standing nearby waiting for me.
I jogged toward him and saw a smile on his face. “Like it here, do you?” he asked.
“I do. I almost feel like a castaway. It's so peaceful and calm here.”
He nodded. “That it is,” he said, before heading to the boat.
By the time we reached Atsena Otie, the four of us agreed we were ready for lunch. After Doyle had positioned the boat along the shore, Chloe and I set to work filling the table with plates and food.
I felt Saxton's arm around my shoulder and smiled as the boat gently swayed.
“Well, now . . . you two ladies are welcome to join us sailors anytime when you bring food like that.”
Doyle placed bottles of water on the table and nodded. “I agree. That sure does look good, and when we're finished Saxton and I will take you around the island.”
I settled myself on the seat beside Saxton while balancing my plate. “Is it safe to walk in there?”
Doyle laughed. “Well, there are snakes of course, but there's a trail and we'll stick to that.”
“This is my first time visiting Atsena Otie also,” Chloe said. “I heard there's a cemetery in there.”
“There is. A small one, but there's still a few stones. The remains of the Faber Pencil Mill are also there. During its peak in the 1880s, the mill employed about a hundred people.”
I took a bite of chicken and nodded. “Oh, I'd read about that. I got a book at the bookstore on the history of Cedar Key. You're a great historian, Doyle. Saxton told me you were born and raised here.”
“Actually, I was born in Bronson, but when I was just a baby my folks came to Cedar Key. Been here ever since. My parents ran a restaurant over on Dock Street. My dad and I were fishermen and provided all the fresh seafood for the customers.”
“Has the island changed much since then?” Chloe asked.
“Oh, not that much. Certainly not like other Florida towns,” he told her, and then directed his gaze at me. “And you're originally from Salem, Massachusetts? Your family still up there?”
“No, I'm afraid I was the last one. My grandmother passed away over a year ago and then my mother in November.”
He nodded his head before lifting his water bottle to his mouth. “What brought you here? Had you visited here before?”
“My first time visiting Cedar Key was last spring. I was looking for a small town to relocate.” I took a bite of potato salad, waiting for Doyle to say something else, but when he didn't, I continued. “I had never been here before last year . . . but my mother had been.” I went on to once again share my story.
When I finished, Doyle remained silent for a few moments. “I see. And how do you feel about that?”
“You mean about her coming here and leaving me behind?”
“I mean about the fact that she never told you
why
she came here.”
I shrugged. “It was certainly her right to never mention the reason. I do understand that. But none of it ever made sense to me.”
“And you're trying to make sense of it all these years later?”
“I suppose so,” I said, but had the distinct feeling that Doyle Summers considered me a snoop. “Wouldn't you want to know if it were you? Sometimes the not knowing can build resentment.” I heard the defensive tone in my voice.
He nodded. “Very true. I'm not judging you. I was just curious.”
Chloe effectively changed the subject by asking more questions about Atsena Otie, but Doyle had left me wondering if perhaps I should let well enough alone.
By the time he'd steered his boat back to the marina later that afternoon, my doubts had disappeared. If at all possible, I was going to find out what I could about my mother and the reason she had fled to Cedar Key. I strongly felt that if I was meant to know, the information would be revealed. And for now—all I could do was let go of it.
It had been a great day, spent in the company of people I liked. But the highlight of the day was when we returned to the marina and Saxton invited me for dinner on Friday evening.
“I'll pick you up about seven,” he said. “We'll go to the Black Dog first for a glass of wine and then walk over to the Island Room. Would that be okay?”
Okay? That would be more than okay. “Perfect,” I said, as I climbed into the golf cart beside Chloe.
13
B
y the time that Arts Festival weekend arrived the following month, the women in the knitting group had managed to make fifty scarves to sell at our vendor's table—and every single scarf sold, which gave us an even one thousand dollars to present to Leigh Sallenger and her two daughters, Paula and Paige.
Since Monica employed Paula, it was decided that she would be the one to invite them to the yarn shop on Thursday evening. Monica only told them that the knitting group had a surprise for them.
All of us were assembled when Leigh arrived with her two daughters. The look of surprise on her face with the number of women gathered told us that she had no idea what was going on.
“Come in, come in.” Dora greeted them at the door with a smile and then went around the room introducing us.
“First of all,” Dora said, “we want to give you an official welcome to Cedar Key. We're aware of your situation and know it must be difficult for you financially. Therefore, we took it upon ourselves to have a little fund-raiser for you. All of us knitted scarves that we sold during Arts Festival weekend.”
The expression on Leigh's face showed confusion.
“Right,” Chloe said, extending an envelope to Leigh. “And here's a check for the amount of the sales. We hope it will help you a bit with living expenses.”
Leigh remained silent as she reached for the envelope, opened it, saw the check, and burst into tears.
Paula and Paige peered over their mother's shoulder and looked at us with the same confused expression their mother had displayed.
Dora put an arm around Leigh's shoulders as Chloe passed her a tissue.
“I'm overwhelmed,” Leigh said, attempting to compose herself. “I think this is the nicest thing that anybody has ever done for me.” She blew her nose and gave a weak smile. “But . . . you don't even really know me. Why would you do such a kind thing?”
Dora laughed. “Well, that's what we do, I guess. We try to take care of those that have less. Even though we don't know you very well, we knew you could use some help. It isn't much, but we do hope it'll help a little.”
“Oh, my goodness. You have no idea how much this will come in handy and how much I appreciate it. I begged Paula not to leave school during her senior year, but she insisted.” Leigh reached for her daughter's hand and gave it a squeeze. “Because of my divorce, I'm afraid both girls have suffered, but we're determined to make a new life for ourselves.”
“And from the looks of it, you will,” Chloe said. “Divorce is never easy and sometimes it's more difficult for some. But I heard you now have a job waitressing at the Pickled Pelican.”
Leigh nodded. “Yes, I was very grateful for that and it certainly helps. Paula will be starting classes soon to get her GED, and if things go well, maybe she'll be able to attend Santa Fe Community College to receive a degree.”
“Oh, that's great,” I said. “Do you know what you might want to major in?”
Paula gave us a shy smile. “Well . . . I'm thinking about childhood education. My mother would like to . . .” She shot a glance toward Leigh as if looking for permission to share some news, and I saw Leigh nod. “She'd like to maybe open a day care center here on the island.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful,” Monica said. “Sign me up. With triplets, I'll be your first customer.”
The room broke into laughter.
“I'm not sure it will happen, but that's my goal. It's something that I know I'd enjoy doing and hopefully something that would be beneficial for the town. And Paula would be my assistant.”
“I do believe that type of service would be very beneficial for many young couples with children. With the economy down, I know of many young mothers that would love to supplement the family income, but they have nobody to care for their children.” Dora patted Leigh on the back. “So I say good for you, and if there's anything we can do to help make this happen for you, just let us know.”
“Thank you so much,” Leigh said, tears glistening in her eyes as she held up the check. “And thank you so much for this. I hope you know how much we appreciate it.”
Dora nodded and smiled. “Okay, and now it's time to socialize. Help yourself, ladies,” she said, pointing to the table behind her that held assorted cakes, cookies, tea, and coffee.
After getting one of Dora's lemon squares and coffee, I seated myself beside Leigh on the sofa as the room erupted into chatter.
“You have two great daughters. Paula had come to my chocolate shop looking for work, and I felt bad that I had none to offer her.”
“Oh, you're the owner of the chocolate shop. Thank you so much for the chocolate you sent home for Paige. She really enjoyed that treat. And yes, my girls are great. I don't know what I'd do without them. As tough as it's been, I'm convinced I made the right decision getting away from my ex.”
I thought of my own mother and the decision she'd made not to marry my father. I couldn't help but wonder once again what her reasons may have been.
“Physical abuse on a spouse is the one thing I knew I could never tolerate in a marriage,” Leigh said. “I knew that abuse could easily be directed at the girls. My only option was to leave and file for divorce.”
I still marveled at the difficult decisions women faced, and somehow most of them had the strength to make the right decision and go forward.
I reached over to pat her hand. “And you certainly did the right thing,” I assured her.
 
Walking home from the yarn shop, I let out a deep sigh. The evening had gone well, and it had been nice getting to know Leigh Sallenger and her two daughters. There was also a feeling of satisfaction in being able to give back.
I was greeted by Sigmund when I entered my apartment.
“Hey there, fella.” I leaned over to scoop him up in my arms. “You're such a handsome boy.”
I placed Sigmund on the sofa and walked into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. Walking back into the living room, I glanced at the urn resting on the credenza and proceeded to open the rolltop desk, removing the tin box containing the postcards.
Settling myself on the sofa, I began sifting through them. Pictures of Dock Street were on the front of some, looking much the same as Dock Street still looks over forty years later. I flipped one over. From my grandmother to my mother. Addressed to:
JW PO Box 456 Cedar Key, Florida.
 
Berkley is fine and I hope you are the same.
Tourists to the shop are keeping me busy this summer.
We both miss you. Much love.
All in all, a pretty generic message. Most of the others contained similar sentences. None of them contained a salutation or a signature. But it was my grandmother's handwriting, and there was no doubt the exchanges were from her.
Had I missed my mother? I vaguely recalled that yes, I had. Blurred memories returned of me questioning my grandmother as to where she was. That answer never came. Instead I was told, “She'll be back soon.” But
soon
had stretched out to include an entire summer without my mother, and it was that sense of aching and loneliness that still gnawed at me.
I picked up another postcard sent from my mother.
 
Dear Mom, I'm doing okay. As well as can be expected.
People are kind to me. Job going well.
Much love to both of you. “J”
 
The message was like a secret code of sorts. For somebody without further information, it was difficult to decipher its actual meaning, but reading it this time, two things jumped out at me: As well as can be expected? What did that mean? What had happened to cause her to indicate all had not been well? And I noticed that she did actually mention a
job
. So she was working while living on Cedar Key. But where? For whom?
I let out a deep sigh and took another sip of water. Was I crazy for thinking that I'd ever solve my mother's puzzle? Probably. But a deep, gut feeling told me to keep going. To keep trying as much as I could to find answers, while at the same time not understanding exactly what those answers might do for me.
As I was replacing the postcards the phone rang, and I felt a smile cross my face when I heard Saxton's voice.
“Hey, Berkley. Hope I'm not disturbing you.”
“Not at all. What's up?”
“Well . . . I wanted to share something with you. I took a chance this evening. I've written to my daughter.”
I heard the uncertainty in his tone. “I think that's a good thing,” I told him. “You found her address?”
“Not exactly. I'm sending it addressed to Resa but at the address I have for Muriel, and I'm hoping she'll get the letter to our daughter.”
As silly as it sounds, a sliver of jealousy coursed through me. It was one thing to contact his daughter. But did he have to use his ex-wife as the vehicle to make that happen?
Shoving aside the momentary jealousy, I said, “I think that's great, Saxton, and I really hope you'll get a friendly answer from Resa in return.”
“Me too. Hey, any chance you could join me for dinner tomorrow evening? I'm craving some of those great burritos at the Blue Dessert.”
“Oh, gee. Tomorrow evening is the surprise going-away party for Grace at the yarn shop. I'm sorry.”
I was positive I heard disappointment when he said, “I understand,” as a thought came into my head.
“Hey, I have an idea. I've been wanting to have a little thank-you dinner for you and Doyle taking us out on his boat. How about if you ask him if he's free next Friday and I'll ask Chloe. Nothing fancy. But it might be fun.”
His voice now had a definite sound of happiness. “Great idea. I'll get with Doyle tomorrow and give you a call after I speak with him.”
As I prepared for bed with my usual ritual, I felt a smile cross my face. For the first time since my mother had left me that summer, I felt that perhaps even if I never discovered her secrets, there might be another reason why I was meant to also make my way to this island.

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