Chapter 12
S arah stirred the sugar in her glass and then took another sip of her lemonade. Sitting on the porch swing at the Key Lime Garden Inn, her mother joined her as they waited for Emma to arrive.
“You must be over the moon excited to see Emma again,” Maggie said.
Sarah smiled. “I really am. She and I took different paths in our lives, but here we are, having another chance to live and share our lives in the same state for a change.”
Maggie chuckled. “I know what you mean. Being a National Geographic photographer and reporter kept her away for years, and now that she’s about to have a baby, I wonder how that works with her love of travel.”
A silver SUV pulled up, crunching on the shell gravel. Before the engine had even stopped, the passenger door flew open and a woman with auburn hair jumped out, waving enthusiastically at the porch.
"Sarah!" she called, her voice carrying across the garden.
Sarah bolted down the steps, breaking into a run. "Emma! You made it!"
The two women embraced, laughing and talking over each other in the way of friends who had years of shared history.
"Look at you!" Sarah exclaimed, stepping back to take in Emma's appearance. Her friend's flowing sundress did little to disguise her very pregnant belly. "You're absolutely glowing."
"I'm absolutely enormous," Emma corrected with a laugh, resting her hands on her rounded stomach. "The doctor says any day now, though we're officially still two weeks out."
The driver's side door opened, and a tall man with sandy hair and thoughtful eyes emerged. He stretched slightly before walking around to join them.
"And here's the proud papa," Sarah said, giving him a warm hug. "How are you, Gareth?"
"Good to see you, Sarah," he replied. "The drive from Naples was longer than I remembered. Someone," he glanced fondly at Emma, "needed to stop every thirty minutes."
Emma rolled her eyes. "Try having a tiny human using your bladder as a trampoline and see how long you can go between stops."
Sarah laughed and linked her arm through Emma's. "Come see Mom, she’s been just as excited as I’ve been to see you both.”
As they started toward the inn, Gareth opened the trunk to retrieve their luggage. "I've got this," he insisted when Sarah moved to help. "You two catch up. I imagine there's a lot to cover."
"You have no idea," Emma said, her eyes twinkling. "Sarah's been texting me about the mysterious guest staying here."
"Merritt. She's...interesting. Very quiet, but Maggie says she plays beautiful music on her guitar late at night. They went on an island tour yesterday."
Maggie met them at the top of the stairs. "Emma! Gareth! You made it!" She hurried down the steps, arms outstretched. "Oh, Emma, look at you! When is this little one due?"
"Two weeks, give or take," Emma replied, accepting Maggie's gentle hug. "Though Gareth has been packing the hospital bag in the car every morning, just in case."
"Better safe than delivering on Alligator Alley," Gareth defended himself with a smile, setting down the suitcases to give Maggie a one-armed hug.
"Well, you're in the right place now," Maggie assured them. "Dr. Wallace is just ten minutes away in Sanibel if anything happens, and she delivers all the island babies."
"Hopefully this little one waits until we've at least seen some houses," Emma said. "I refuse to make a major real estate decision without personally inspecting every closet and cabinet."
"You're really going through with it?" Sarah asked excitedly. "Moving to the island?"
Gareth nodded, his expression softening as he looked out over the palm trees swaying in the breeze. "This place holds a special spot in our hearts. It’s where we first met and fell in love. It feels right. Like a fresh start."
"Plus," Emma added, "I can't think of a better place to raise a child than somewhere with warm winters and beaches within walking distance."
"What about your work at National Geographic?" Maggie asked, leading them toward the inn.
Emma smiled. "I've already arranged to continue my research consulting remotely. And Gareth can write from anywhere."
"Speaking of which," Gareth said, a hint of pride in his voice, "the new book's doing rather well. The publisher's already talking about a tour next spring."
"Which you will have to do without me and the baby," Emma interjected firmly. "I'm not dragging an infant to twenty cities in thirty days."
They reached the wide porch, and Maggie gestured for them to sit while Paolo appeared with a tray of iced tea and lemon cookies.
"Perfect timing as always, Paolo," Sarah said, taking a glass.
"It's my superpower," he replied with a wink, setting the tray on the table. "Welcome back to Captiva, Emma, Gareth. The island's missed you."
"We've missed it too," Emma said, easing herself into a wicker chair with a grateful sigh. "Naples is beautiful, but it doesn't have the same...I don't know..."
"Magic?" Maggie suggested.
"Exactly." Emma took a sip of her tea. "So, tell us everything that's happened since we left. Sarah's texts are entertaining but woefully incomplete."
"Well," Maggie began, settling into her chair, "where to begin? Linda St. James is still terrorizing the book club, Chelsea's considering opening her own food truck..."
"And there's Merritt," Sarah added, with a meaningful glance at Maggie.
"Ah yes, our newest guest," Maggie acknowledged. "Checked in three days ago, booked for two weeks. She plays the guitar beautifully but mainly keeps to herself."
"Sounds like someone who's figuring things out," Emma said, her eyes softening with understanding.
Gareth, who had been quietly observing, nodded thoughtfully. "Sometimes you need distance to gain perspective."
"That's what I think," Maggie agreed. "Something tells me she's at a crossroads in her life."
Emma shifted in her seat, adjusting her position with the careful movements of late pregnancy.
"Well, now I'm curious to meet her. I can relate to staying at the Key Lime Garden Inn for a spell while trying to find your way. I don’t know what I would have done without this family’s support… and my own family, of course."
As if on cue, they heard footsteps on the shell path leading from the beach. Merritt appeared around the corner of the house, sand clinging to her bare feet, a peaceful expression on her face that quickly shifted to surprise when she noticed the gathering on the porch.
"Oh, sorry," she said, pausing at the foot of the steps. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
"Not at all," Maggie said warmly, waving her up. "Merritt, come meet our friends. Emma and Gareth just arrived from Naples. They're looking to buy a place on the island but will be staying in the cottage for a bit."
Merritt hesitated, then climbed the steps.
"Emma and Gareth are not only former guests, but Emma and Sarah were college roommates and best friends," Maggie explained. "Emma was actually working here temporarily when she met Gareth."
"It was a confusing time in my life," Emma added with a warm smile. "I was considering joining a convent if you can believe that."
"And I was..." Gareth paused, his eyes reflecting a past pain, "working through some things of my own."
Merritt nodded politely, but Maggie noticed how she subtly shifted her weight, as if ready to retreat.
"Merritt's from Maine," Maggie offered, trying to ease the tension. "Kennebunk."
"Beautiful there," Emma commented. "All those rocky shores and lighthouses. Very different from here."
"Yes," Merritt agreed quietly. "Very different."
Emma shifted slightly in her chair, making room on the wicker loveseat beside her. "Join us? Unless you've got sand to wash off."
“Thanks,” Merritt answered.
"So what brings you to Captiva?" Gareth asked, his tone casual, non-probing.
Merritt's fingers twisted together in her lap. "Just...needed a change of scenery."
"I understand that," Emma said softly. "When I came here, I was running away from expectations. My family had my whole life planned out." She placed a hand on her rounded belly. "Funny how life takes unexpected turns."
Something flickered in Merritt's eyes—recognition, perhaps, of a kindred spirit who understood the weight of others' expectations.
"Merritt plays guitar," Maggie interjected. "Beautifully. We've been trying to convince her to play at one of the cafés in town."
"You should," Emma encouraged. "The island has a way of helping people discover—or rediscover—parts of themselves they've buried, and nothing helps that better than music."
Merritt's gaze dropped to her sandy feet. "I've never really played for an audience before. Just...for myself. And my mother."
The mention of her mother caused a subtle shift in Merritt's expression—a tightening around the eyes that didn't escape Maggie's notice.
"Sometimes the hardest audience is the one we're closest to," Gareth said quietly.
Merritt looked up, meeting his eyes briefly, something unspoken passing between them—two people who understood carrying the weight of others' expectations and disappointments.
"I should get cleaned up," she said finally, gesturing to her sandy feet. "Nice to meet you both."
As she disappeared into the inn, Emma turned to Maggie with compassionate eyes. "She reminds me a bit of myself when I first arrived. Carrying so much, but not sure how to put it down."
"That's exactly it," Maggie agreed. "I get the sense she's running from something back in Maine. Something to do with her mother, perhaps."
Sarah nodded thoughtfully. "She mentioned canceling something the other day when she was on the phone. Sounded like she was explaining why she wouldn't be somewhere she was expected."
"Give her time," Emma said, her hand resting protectively over her unborn child. "The island has a way of helping people find their voice. It certainly helped me find mine."
Gareth reached over and squeezed Emma's hand, a gesture of understanding between two people who had walked through their own shadows to find the light.
"So," Sarah said, breaking the thoughtful silence, "tell us about these houses you're going to see. Are we talking beachfront or bay side?"
As they began discussing real estate options on the island, Maggie felt her thoughts drifting toward Merritt.
The brief interaction with Emma and Gareth had revealed more than all the polite conversations they'd had so far.
The mention of her mother, the subtle tension in her posture when Emma's pregnancy was evident—pieces of a puzzle were starting to form.
Paolo refilled their glasses, adding a sprig of fresh mint. "I hear the old Maxwell cottage just came on the market," he mentioned to Gareth. "Three bedrooms, right on the beach. Could be perfect for a growing family."
"We have an appointment to see it tomorrow," Emma confirmed. "Along with two others on Sanibel."
"Islands are funny places," Paolo mused. "People either feel trapped by all the water or freed by it."
"I felt freed," Emma said, her eyes bright with memory. "Like the causeway was a bridge between my old life and what was possible."
"For me, it was the sense that the past couldn't follow me here," Gareth added quietly. "An island feels like a fresh page."
Maggie nodded, thinking of Merritt. "I wonder if that's what our newest guest is hoping for."
Sarah tilted her head thoughtfully. "You know, when I was walking near the beach this morning, I heard her playing guitar and singing something about bridges burning and waters rising."
"Original lyrics?" Gareth asked.
"I think so," Sarah replied. "It was beautiful. Sad, but beautiful."
"Music can be healing," Gareth said. "A way to say what we can't otherwise express."
Maggie's eyes brightened with an idea. "Maybe that's what Merritt needs—not just to play her music, but to be heard. To have her story acknowledged, even if it's wrapped in melody and metaphor."
"Like a release valve," Emma agreed. "When I was sorting through my own confusion, I needed to speak it aloud to make sense of it. For her, perhaps that happens through song."
"I wonder if she'd play for us," Sarah suggested. "Nothing formal. Just here, on the porch, one evening."
Maggie considered this. "We shouldn't push her, but...an invitation might be welcome. From what little she's shared, I get the sense she's used to putting others' needs before her own."
"I know that feeling," Emma said softly, exchanging a glance with Gareth.
Paolo cleared his throat. "For now, though, our guests need to settle in. The cottage is all ready for you two." He smiled at Emma. "With extra pillows for proper pregnancy support, as requested."
"My hero." Emma sighed gratefully, allowing Gareth to help her to her feet. "I swear my back has forgotten what comfort feels like."
As they gathered their things to head through the garden path toward the cottage, Maggie caught a glimpse of movement at one of the windows.
Merritt, hair damp around her shoulders, watching the group with an expression that might have been longing.
When she noticed Maggie's gaze, she quickly stepped back from view.
Yes, Maggie thought, there was definitely a story there. One that, perhaps, the island would help Merritt be ready to tell.