Page 33 of The Price of Protection

“Honestly?” the guy said, shaking his head. “My reading comprehension is terrible. I’ve forgotten everything.”

Willow laughed, surprised at how open he was. “I’d probably be the same way,” she said.

“I’m addicted to my phone.” The guy shrugged.

“We all are. It’s sad.”

The man smiled. A beat passed. “Maybe this is forward,” he said. “But do you want to go on a walk with me?”

Once outside, Willow noted that the chilly winds no longer bothered her, that she felt warm in the orbit of this stranger who was fast becoming not a stranger. He said his name was Andy, and he was here on the island to take photographs.

“I keep meeting photographers,” Willow said.

“Well, come on. Look around you,” Andy said. “Isn’t it one of the most beautiful places you’ve ever seen?”

Willow had to admit it was, although she might have said yes to anything Andy said.

When midafternoon hit, Willow was shocked to realize they’d been talking and walking in circles for nearly three hours. Her heart swelled with excitement, but her hands and feet were cold.

“Is it too early for a glass of wine?” Andy asked, rubbing his hands together.

Willow laughed. “We’re on vacation, I guess. Let’s do it.”

They entered a shadowy wine bar not far from the water, where they sat at a cozy wooden table in the corner, right beside the sleeping black lab who seemed to live there. The owner came out and introduced herself and the dog, Reggie. “He’s old,” she said, rubbing his belly. “But he likes to get in everyone’s way.”

Willow and Andy laughed.

“He deserves to do whatever he wants,” Willow said.

“Don’t let him hear you,” the owner said.

The owner came back with two glasses of red wine, and Willow and Andy clinked them. Willow spun with nerves, then laughed them off. She was on a real date with a guy, a seemingly successful and artistic guy, who’d already taken real interest in her music career, both the therapy and the artistry of it all.

“I feel like I’ve told you all about me,” Andy said then, counting out the details on his fingers. “I told you about losing my parents. I told you about growing up in Michigan. About the Great Lakes. About Superior and how cold it is and the massive ship disasters through there and all that.”

“I’d love to go there one day,” Willow said, thinking of Lake Superior, of all she couldn’t understand.

“I’ll have to take you,” Andy said. “But now, I want to know about you. Where are you from? What are your parents like?”

Willow hesitated. While it was true that Andy had shared nearly everything about himself, or as much as he could cram into a few hours, it was clear that he was practiced in that telling, that he was always willing and able to open up. By contrast, Willow had hardly dated anyone in years. She’d mostly kept to herself, making sure she had enough time for her ailing mother and her music therapy patients.

How could she describe to Andy all she’d been through and what she suspected about her past?

“Well,” she began, eyeing the worn table between them, which seemed to be about a hundred years old. “My mother recently passed away. Dementia. It was really hard.”

“Oh.” Andy leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. If Willow wasn’t mistaken, she sensed he was losing interest in her. Maybe her loss was too much for him.

But she’d already begun her story, and now she couldn’t stop. “But I found out she wasn’t my real mother. Not biologically. And I’m here in Nantucket, searching for my origin story. It sounds nuts, but it’s true.”

At this, Andy leaned forward in his chair, rapturous. “You’re kidding.”

Although something about this felt off to Willow, she suddenly leaned away from him; it was exciting, too, to be looked at like she’d just said something so strange and exciting that she was actually worth Andy’s time.

“Do you know who she is? At all?” Andy asked.

Willow shook her head. “Actually, I’m thinking about giving up.” For some reason, she decided not to tell Andy about Eleanor Pike, about how belittled she’d felt when she’d gone to see her.

Andy was quiet for a moment. He sipped his wine and turned to look at the dog as Reggie lolled back and forth, his tongue out.