Page 17 of Island Girl

She took the picture. Then another. Then a third, just to be safe.

The spoonbill lifted its head, and for a moment, it seemed to look right at her. Then it went back to feeding, dismissing her as unimportant.

She smiled and whispered, “Pay no attention to me.”

She stood there for a long time, watching. Other birds came and went. A great egret landed nearby, its white feathers bright against the dark water. A small green heron crept along the edge of the mangroves. But she kept her eyes on the spoonbill, this impossible pink creature that looked like it belonged in a dream.

Finally, her phone buzzed with a notification. Low battery. Time to go.

She walked back to her car slowly, reluctantly. She wasn't ready to leave this place. But she'd be back. That was the gift of living here. She could come back whenever she wanted.

She drove the rest of Wildlife Drive, stopping at a few more observation points, watching the birds, reading the signs. By thetime she reached the exit, it was nearly noon and her stomach was growling.

She pulled into the parking lot of a small café she'd noticed on the drive in. Island Grounds, the sign said. Coffee and light fare. She went inside and ordered an iced coffee and a turkey sandwich to go, then sat in her car with the windows down while she ate.

When she finished, she pulled out her phone and texted her father the picture of the spoonbill.

Found one. You were right. They're incredible.

His reply came almost immediately.

A roseate spoonbill! Look at those colors. Where did you see it?

Ding Darling. I spent the whole morning there.

That's my girl. Did you see the observation tower? You can see the whole refuge from up there.

I missed it. Next time.

There will be plenty of next times. That's the beauty of living there.

She smiled at the screen.

How are you doing, Dad?

Fine. Tom and I fixed the deck board yesterday. Margaret brought another casserole. Tuna this time.

You hate tuna.

I know. But she means well.

Merritt laughed. She could picture him, standing in the kitchen, staring at yet another casserole he didn't want but would eat anyway because he was too polite to say no.

I miss you,she typed.

I miss you too. But I'm glad you're there. You sound happy.

She thought about that. Was she happy? She wasn't sure happy was the right word. But she was something. Something better than she'd been a week ago.

I'm getting there,she wrote back.

That's all any of us can do.

She put the phone away and glanced at the guitar case in theback seat then looked around for a quiet place to sit. Instead of staying she decided to look elsewhere to enjoy her coffee and free time.

She drove back toward the center of the island, past the shops and restaurants, looking for something she couldn't quite name. She didn't want a beach. Too many people, too much noise. She wanted somewhere private. Somewhere she could play without anyone listening.

She turned down a side road she hadn't noticed before and found herself in a quieter part of the island. Residential, mostly. Small houses tucked among the trees, gardens spilling over with tropical plants.