Page 74 of Island Girl

He didn't respond. She wasn't sure he was even awake anymore. But she kept talking anyway, filling the silence with the world he couldn't see anymore, bringing the beach and the sky and the water to him one word at a time.

When she finally stopped, his hand had gone slack in hers. His breathing was even and slow, the deep rhythm of dreamless sleep.

She sat with him for a long time, watching his chest rise and fall, memorizing the lines of his face. He'd trusted her with his bungalow. He'd trusted her father to take care of it. He'd askedher to come visit, to tell him about the birds, and she had. She'd kept that promise, at least.

But she couldn't shake the feeling that this was the last time.

A nurse came in to check on Gregory, and Merritt slipped out into the hallway. Paula was there, leaning against the wall, her face drawn and tired.

“I thought I'd find you here,” Paula said.

“I came to see Gregory. He's not doing well.”

“I know. The staff called me this morning.” Paula pushed off the wall and fell into step beside Merritt as they walked toward the exit. “They're not expecting him to last much longer. A few days, maybe. A week at most.”

Merritt felt something crack inside her chest. She'd known it was coming. Gregory was ninety-one years old, and his body had been failing for months. But knowing and accepting were two different things.

“Have you found Ray?”

Paula's expression tightened. “No. His truck showed up at the dock this morning. He'd been sleeping in it, from the looks of things. I talked to one of the fishermen there. By the time I got there, he was gone again.”

“He's avoiding you.”

“He's avoiding everyone. That's what he does when things get hard. He runs.” Paula stopped walking and turned to face her. “This isn't your fault, Merritt.”

“Everyone keeps saying that.”

“Because it's true. Ray's been running for a very long time. Long before you showed up. You're not the first person who tried to reach him, and you won't be the last.”

“But I'm the one who pushed him over the edge this time.”

Paula was quiet for a moment, her sharp eyes studying Merritt's face. Then she sighed.

“You want to know the truth? I'm glad you said something. I'm glad you tried.”

Merritt stared at her. “What?”

“I've spent far too many years tiptoeing around my brother. Being patient. Giving him space. Letting him be.” Paula's voice cracked, just slightly. “And you know what it's gotten me? Years of watching him disappear, one piece at a time. Watching him sit in that corner at Shorebirds with a glass of whiskey he looks at but never touches.”

“But he was getting better. He was talking. He was coming out of it.”

“Was he? Or was he just finding a new way to hide?” Paula shook her head. “I don't know anymore. I don't know what's helping and what's hurting. All I know is that something had to change. And maybe your mistake, whatever it was, maybe it was the thing that finally cracks him open.”

“Or the thing that breaks him completely.”

“Maybe. But he was already broken, Merritt. He's been broken for a long time. At least now there's a chance for something different.”

They stood in the parking lot, the Florida sun beating down on them, the smell of salt and exhaust mixing in the humid air. Merritt wanted to believe what Paula said. She wanted to believe that her mistake might lead to something good. But the weight of guilt was too heavy, and the absence of Ray was too present, and she couldn't see past the damage she'd done.

“I should get back to work,” Paula said. “But I'll call you if I hear anything. And Merritt? Don't give up on him. He's still out there. He's still fighting, even if it doesn't look like it.”

She watched Paula walk back inside Seaside Gardens, then got in her car and drove to the bungalow. The seafoam-green French doors welcomed her home, but the house felt empty in a way it hadn't before. She walked through the rooms, touching the shells on the windowsill, the vase on the table, the wind chime by the door. All the pieces of a life she was building. All the evidence of a home she was making.

But it all felt hollow now. Tainted by the knowledge of what she'd done and what it might cost.

Her phone buzzed. A text from her father.

How are you doing? Haven't heard from you in a few days.