Page 94 of Island Girl

“It's home. More than Kennebunk ever was, in some ways.” She glanced at him. “Is that a terrible thing to say?”

“It's an honest thing to say. That's never terrible.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “Kennebunk was where you grew up, but this is truly where you belong. It makes sense that you'd need somewhere that was just yours.”

They arrived at the bungalow, and Merritt showed him some of the changes she’d made since he was last in Florida.

Richard stood on the deck for a long time, looking out at the Gulf.

“You did good, sweetheart,” he said. “Finding this place. Building this life. Your mother would be proud.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.” He turned to face her. “She worried about you, you know. At the end. She was afraid you'd given up too much, that you'd lost yourself somewhere along the way. I told her you were stronger than she thought. I told her you'd find your way.”

“Did she believe you?”

“I think she did in the end.”

They had dinner at Shorebirds that night. Merritt had the evening off, a rare luxury, and she sat at a table with her father instead of working behind the bar. Crocker came out to shake Richard's hand, and Justin brought them menus and recommendations, professional and warm in equal measure.

Ray was at the bar, working on his Coke and cheeseburger. When he saw Merritt with an older man, he nodded once, a small acknowledgment, then turned back to his food. It was the most interaction they'd had since his apology, and somehow it felt exactly right.

“That's him?” Richard asked quietly, nodding toward Ray. “Paula’s brother?”

“That's him.”

“He looks better than I expected. From what Paula described.”

“He's working on it. Going to the VA twice a week. It's helping, I think.”

Richard watched Ray for a moment, something thoughtful in his expression. “Some people need to hit bottom before they can start climbing. Sounds like he finally found his foothold.”

“I hope so.”

Their food arrived. Grilled mahi for Richard, the coconutshrimp for Merritt. They ate and talked, catching up on all the small details that got lost in phone calls. His new book was going well, a project about coastal erosion and the people fighting to save their shorelines.

The closing went smoothly the next morning. Signatures and paperwork and a surprisingly emotional moment when the lawyer handed Richard the keys. They drove back to the bungalow together, and Richard pressed the keys into Merritt's hand.

“It's yours,” he said. “I'm just the name on the deed.”

“Dad.”

“I mean it. This is your home. I'm just making sure no one can take it away from you.”

She hugged him, the keys digging into her palm, and for the first time since Gregory died, she let herself believe that everything might actually be okay.

Richard stayed for three more days. He met Paula for coffee one afternoon, a meeting Merritt pretended not to notice and definitely didn't read anything into. He came to Shorebirds to hear Merritt play on Tuesday night, sitting at the bar next to Ray, the two of them nodding along to the music.

When he left on Friday, Merritt drove him back to the airport and hugged him at the security line.

“Come back soon,” she said.

“I will. Sooner than you think.”

She watched him disappear into the terminal, then drove back to the island, to her bungalow, to the life she was building one day at a time.

The sun was shining. The birds were singing. And somewhere in the distance, the Gulf kept rolling in, steady and eternal, the same way it had for thousands of years.

CHAPTER 30