Page 77 of Island Girl

“Trying to save someone who isn't ready to be saved.”

The words hit her like cold water. She opened her mouth to protest, but nothing came out.

“I watched my daughter do the same thing,” Crocker said. “Annette. Justin's mother. When June got sick, Annette dropped everything. Moved back here, gave up her career, her friends, her whole life. She was convinced that if she just tried hard enough, loved hard enough, June would get better.” He shook his head slowly. “She didn't. June died anyway. And Annette spent the rest of her life carrying that weight around like a stone in her chest.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be sorry. Just listen.” Crocker leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “You can't save people, Merritt. You can love them. You can be there for them. You can leave the door open and hope they walk through it. But you can't save them. That's their job, not yours.”

“I wasn't trying to save Ray. I just wanted to help.”

“Same thing. Same impulse.” He looked at her sideways. “Your father said you spent a long time sacrificing everything for your mother. Gave up your music, your friends, your own happiness. And at the end of it, she died anyway. All that sacrifice, and you couldn't change the outcome.”

Merritt felt tears prick at her eyes. She blinked them back.

“So now you're here, and you've found this broken man sitting in the corner of my bar, and some part of you thinks, 'Maybe this time. Maybe if I just reach out, just say the right thing, I can make a difference.'” Crocker straightened up. “But Ray's been broken for too many years. Whatever's wrong with him, it's not going to be fixed by a pretty girl with a guitar and good intentions.”

“Then what am I supposed to do? Just ignore him? Pretend he doesn't exist?”

“No. You keep playing. You keep being kind. You keep leaving the door open.” Crocker's voice softened. “Your music isn't medicine, Merritt. It's not going to heal anyone. But it matters. It reaches people. Ray hears something when you play, something he hasn't heard in a long time. And maybe, someday, he'll be ready to follow that sound back to himself.”

“And if he isn't?”

“Then he isn't. And that's not your failure. It's just his path.” Crocker stood up, brushing off his pants. “You did what you could. You reached out. He pushed back. Now you give him space and you wait. That's all any of us can do.”

Merritt stayed on the bench, looking up at him. The mockingbird had moved to a closer tree, still singing its borrowed songs.

“How do you know all this?” she asked.

“Because I've lived it. Because I watched June die and Annette waste away and Justin show up on my doorstep two years ago looking just as lost as you do right now.” He almost smiled. “I'm old, Merritt. I've seen a lot of people try to save each other. It never works the way they think it will.”

“So what does work?”

“Time. Patience. Showing up, day after day, without expecting anything in return.” He held out his hand to help her up. “You're not responsible for Ray. You're not responsible for Gregory. You're only responsible for yourself. For living your life, playing your music, being the person you want to be. Everything else is out of your hands.”

She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. They stood there for a moment, two people who barely knew each other, connected by grief and circumstance and the strange ways life brings people together.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Don't thank me. Just remember what I said.” He released her hand. “Now I have to get back to the bar before Justin burns the place down. You should go home. Rest. Take care of yourself for once.”

He walked away, his boots crunching on the gravel path, leaving Merritt alone with the fountain and the mockingbird and the warm Florida sun.

She sat back down on the bench and stayed there for a long time.

Crocker was right. She knew he was right. She couldn't save Ray, couldn't save anyone. She could only love them, be there for them, leave the door open and hope they walked through it.

But knowing and feeling were two different things. And right now, all she felt was the weight of her own helplessness, pressing down on her like a stone.

Gregory was gone. Ray was missing. And she was sitting on a bench in a run-down park, trying to figure out how to live in a world where love wasn't enough to fix anything.

The mockingbird sang. The fountain gurgled. And Merritt sat in the sunshine, learning to let go.

CHAPTER 25

Justin showed up at the bungalow that evening with a bag of takeout and a bottle of wine.

“I'm not checking up on you,” he said when she opened the door. “I just thought you might be hungry.”