Page 89 of Island Girl

“When? Right after you got back? When you were too proud to admit you needed it?”

He didn't answer.

“The Lee County VA is thirty-three miles from here. Off-island. Nobody from Sanibel would see you coming or going. They have programs specifically for combat veterans, people who specialize in exactly what you're dealing with.” She paused. “I'm not asking you to commit to anything. I'm just asking you to consider it.”

“Paula.”

“One appointment. That's all. Just go and talk to someone. See what they have to offer. If it doesn't help, fine. But at least you'll know you tried.”

The heron took flight, its massive wings carrying it low across the water. They watched it disappear around the bend, neither of them speaking.

“I said some terrible things,” Ray said finally. “To that girl. Merritt.”

“I know.”

“She was just trying to help. I knew that, even when I was saying it. But I couldn't stop myself.” He rubbed his face with his hands. “I've spent so long pushing everyone away. It's the only thing I know how to do.”

“You can apologize. She'll understand.”

“Will she?”

“She's been through her own things. She knows what it's like to carry weight you can't put down.” Paula touched his arm. “She's not angry at you, Ray. She's worried about you. We all are.”

He was quiet for a long time. The sun had shifted, the shadows growing longer, the heat starting to fade. Somewhere in the mangroves, a bird called out, a high, lonely sound.

“One appointment,” Ray said.

“One appointment.”

“And you'll stop looking for me? Stop worrying?”

“I'll never stop worrying. You're my brother. That's what sisters do.” She smiled slightly. “But I'll give you space. As long as you keep in touch.”

“One text a day. So you know I'm alive.”

“That's all I'm asking.”

He nodded slowly, something in his shoulders loosening. It wasn't much. It wasn't healing or transformation or any of the dramatic breakthroughs Paula had sometimes imagined over the years. But it was something. A crack in the wall. A door left open just wide enough to let in a little light.

“I'll go back to Shorebirds,” he said. “Tonight. I need to apologize to that girl.”

“You don't have to do it tonight.”

“Yes, I do.” He met her eyes. “I've been running for days. If I don't go back now, I might never go back at all.”

Paula understood. The hardest part of any journey was taking the first step. If Ray waited too long, the fear would build up again, the walls would grow higher, and he'd find a hundred reasons to stay hidden.

“I'll be there,” she said. “If you need me.”

“I know you will. You always are.”

They sat together for a few more minutes, watching the water, not needing to speak. Then Ray climbed down from the truck bed and walked around to the driver's side.

“Thank you,” he said, his hand on the door. “For not giving up on me.”

“Never. Not ever.”

He got in the truck and drove away. Paula watched him leave, putting her hand to her heart.