Chapter Twenty-Four
Diana
Diana didn’t have anyone flying out to celebrate with her. The only person she’d have wanted was Leanne, but she was in New York wrapping up a big book deal—not dissimilar to the one Diana was supposed to be writing. But it didn’t bother her. This trip had never been about her—until it had been.
She sighed, then continued applying mascara in the mirror.
Her time on the island had revealed some unsavoury truths.
She wasn’t happy with her life, not really.
Some big changes and difficult conversations were needed when she returned home, not all of which she felt prepared for.
But people rarely have the luxury to be ready.
Life tends to throw us overboard, headfirst, straight into the deep end without asking questions or whether we have a carefully calculated plan.
She’d certainly never planned any of this with Faye. They’d successfully avoided the topic of the future; not that this was Diana’s finest hour, but she still didn’t know what she was going to do when the night ended. Her stomach flopped, claws hooking into her ribs.
Finishing things here, the way they were supposed to, would probably be doing Faye a kindness. Diana’s life was busy and hectic. The idea of long distance had never appealed to her, and the numbers didn’t lie—they were more likely to end in failure than success.
Yet the possibility of continuing this with Faye in the real world made the weight of all the pending changes easier to stomach. Faye had that effect on her. Like everything would work out alright if you just willed it hard enough.
But how could it? If Molly found out, all the progress they’d made on this trip would be torn to shreds, shattered beyond repair.
So why was it so damn hard to stop? The idea of saying goodbye to Faye forced those claws deeper and deeper into her ribs until she couldn’t breathe.
A knock at the door snapped her spine straight. She blinked at herself, her reflection mirroring the sharp edges inside her.
With a deep breath, she morphed her expression into something neutral and answered the door.
Molly came into her cabin with a spin, curls bouncing, yellow dress fanning outwards.
“Well, don’t you look nice!” Diana commented, remembering how Molly used to enter in exactly the same way home from school with exciting news of a school disco or a class trip.
“So do you.” Molly beamed her gap-toothed grin. “You look like you mean business.”
That hadn’t exactly been Diana’s intention when she wore one of her pantsuits. Nerves about the ceremony had been nibbling away at her, so she’d opted for something more familiar rather than a dress. Was she overdoing it?
Molly’s eyes flicked to the envelope resting on the dresser. “Did you finish writing the letter?”
Diana’s gaze followed, feeling the weight of her words penned inside it. “I did. Late last night.”
Sleep had eluded her for many reasons. Yet this overwhelming urge to see this through had caused her to rise from her bed and put the pen to paper. A tired hand and six sheets later—front and back—she’d fallen to sleep in a matter of minutes.
“I’m proud of you.” Molly crushed her in a hug. The gesture took Diana by surprise, but she wrapped her arms around her, breathing in her strawberry shampoo and planting a kiss on her head.
“Thank you. I’m proud of you, too.” She pulled back, keeping her hands on her shoulders. “Proud of you for really trying with this trip and spending time with me. I know you didn’t want to, but I’m glad you did.”
“I am too. I’ve seen a different side to you. More fun, less robot.” Molly shrugged, laughing, as she laid her hand on the door handle. “Now let’s end this thing in style.”
Dusk fell over Sandy Springs in purples and blues, the last of the sun’s rays streaking orange streamers across the sky. The steady beat of a drum carried on the sea breeze as they neared the courtyard, and the sound of clapping grew louder.
The courtyard, lit by blazing torches, had been completely transformed.
Huge garlands of purple, orange, and white flowers hung from the wooden beams and lined the pathway into the centre, where a large stone firepit awaited lighting.
Intricate carved logs ringed the fire for seating, each with a basket filled with bundles of herbs and plants on either side.
A band played a steady beat under a canopy of flowers at the back as locals gathered across the stone flags, smiling and greeting the arrivals.
“Wow,” Molly breathed. “This is amazing.”
And it was. But Diana’s pulse kicked up, overwhelmed by the sights and sounds, and all the hungry eyes. Her gaze passed over the crowd of strangers, faces dancing in the flickering light. She wished then that she’d invited someone she knew.
But then she saw her.
A beacon in green and gold, like someone had turned up all the lights and shone them on her.
Faye laughed at something Quin said next to her, then her gaze lifted and locked with hers.
Everything else fell away. Like the courtyard had opened up for Faye to lead them in the Portuguese dance. Like it was just the two of them alone in Diana’s room. Like the crowd had disappeared, and it was that first night again in the bar.
So much had changed. She felt so much weaker. She felt so much stronger. Her emotions continued to wrestle each other as she joined the others waiting by the fountain, where Senhor Arenoso took centre stage. A beautiful owl headpiece, with intricate beading, sat atop his head.
The drum continued to beat, hands clapping in time to the rhythm. Anticipation ate at her. These few weeks all boiled down to this moment. The mark of a new start, the end of an old one. Diana didn’t know if she was ready, but time had officially run out.
Senhor Arenoso brought his palms together and bowed, and the music and clapping fell into a silence that hung too loudly in the space.
“Welcome, everyone!” he greeted, in a booming voice that echoed through the courtyard.
“Thank you for joining us. Today marks the crossing of our latest group as we award them with their familiars and guide them into their next phase of life.” He led the way through the parted crowd, commanding all the attention in the courtyard as he approached the firepit.
“Every second of this life is precious. Some people forget this. Some wish the seconds away or waste them on things that don’t bring them happiness.
When we find the things that make our soul happy, we let fear take the reins.
Fear of judgement, fear of change, fear of failure—but do you know what I say to that?
” He received a flaming torch from Riley and beamed. “Live!”
He lowered the torch to the base of the fire, and flames burst skywards, drawing a collective gasp from the crowd. The fire burned bright and fast, popping and crackling and sending wisps of smoke into the darkening sky. Enthusiastic applause and cheers filled the courtyard.
Instinctively, Diana found Faye again. They smiled at each other, their own fire flowing between them, then Faye mouthed, “You look beautiful.”
She let her gaze lower over Faye, dark hair long and straight past her shoulders, a beautiful green dress hanging on her tall frame, then mouthed back, “So do you.”
A burst of adrenaline licked up her spine, and she wished then that she could tell her everything. How she made her feel—the good, the brilliant, and the terrifying.
But Senhor Arenoso’s voice captured everyone’s attention.
“Fear is natural. But we can’t let fear of life stand in our way.
We have to have faith, take back control, make space for the changes in our lives.
” He gestured to the fire, his features darkened by shadows.
“I invite each of you to give a gift to the flames. Fire is cleansing. It clears the old and makes way for the new. Say goodbye to something that doesn’t serve you anymore.
Anything you’ve been holding onto.” He lifted his hands.
“Let go and live life with love in your heart and peace in your mind. Let’s celebrate this new step together! ”
The crowd roared with applause, and the group lined up to take turns giving their offerings. The weight of the letter was heavy in Diana’s pocket. She knew it was time.
She pulled it out, tracing the smooth paper with her fingers. The words inside flowed back to her like water running downstream.
Mum,
I miss saying that. Even at forty-one. I’ve been trying to write this letter for weeks.
It’s ironic how I had so many things I wanted to say to you, but trying to express them in words feels like an impossible task.
Nothing is important enough, but every detail is important too.
In a way, we’re strangers now. I suppose I should at least reintroduce myself.
The group moved forward as Louis and Charles threw their offerings into the fire, the flames roaring.
Diana thumbed the envelope. Once she’d started writing, she couldn’t stop.
She’d told her mum about Jason, her pregnancy with Molly, the disagreements with her dad, and how lonely she’d felt once her mum died.
There was so much of herself in these pages. So much she’d never said.
I was angry at you for leaving me. As an adult, I understand you didn’t choose this for yourself. But I was still angry. I think parts of me still are.
She gripped the letter tighter.
I feel guilty, too, for denying parts of myself that remind me of you. Did you know I didn’t step foot on a beach after you left? It hurt too much. I didn’t want any more happy memories tainted with the pain of losing you.
She’d cried last night. Curled herself into a ball and let the feeling consume her.
How did she have any tears left? The last thing she wanted was to break down in front of all these people in a grief-stricken epiphany.
But the words kept coming back to her as the line in front continued to move, the rounds of applause barely touching her ears.