Chapter 29 #2
Lily walked out of the house and back outside with the kids, and Anna followed.
She stepped out into the golden hush of late afternoon, the screen door sighing closed behind her.
The hum of laughter drifted from the yard where the kids were playing with Max, his fluffy tail wagging wildly as he bounded around like a pup half his age.
She didn’t say a word, just made her way over to and settled onto the porch swing.
Its old hinges gave a familiar creak beneath her weight.
She folded her hands in her lap, watching her children run barefoot through the grass, their laughter mixing with the rustling leaves and Max’s occasional joyful bark.
A few minutes passed before June came up the steps holding a small plate of cookies, clearly warm from the oven.
“I made cookies,” June announced.
She hesitated at the top of the steps, then made her way down, offering one to Anna with a tentative smile.
“Thanks,” Anna said, taking it.
June nodded and sat on the porch swing, resting her plate in her lap. She glanced out toward the kids before her gaze lowered, thoughtful. The quiet stretched, companionable but heavy with unspoken things.
After a minute, Anna spoke. “How are you liking the Vineyard?”
June glanced back over her shoulder. “It’s nice. Calmer than I expected.” She hesitated, then added, “It’s kind of surprising how… close-knit everyone is. People are showing up, checking in, and making meals for you. I didn’t expect that. I’m not used to it, honestly.”
Anna gave a soft hum of agreement. “I grew up here. Spent most of my adult life leaving to different duty stations with my husband, but I always came back. And somehow, the town has always made room for us again.”
June turned toward her, her expression a mix of curiosity and admiration. “That’s cool. That you can leave and come back, and people still welcome you like you never left.”
Anna smiled faintly, taking another bite of her cookie.
June looked out over the yard again. “Was it hard? Coming back to your mom’s house, I mean. Any issues between you two?”
Anna shook her head. “Not really. My mom’s stubborn, and she was pretty lost in her grief for a while. But we’ve always been close. I think getting her out of that has been the biggest stumbling block, honestly. Why do you ask?”
June’s mouth tugged into something like a smile. “No reason,” she said quickly. “Just wondering.”
Anna knew that June was fishing for something, but she wasn’t sure why she wasn’t just asking. Anna could tell that the woman was timid for some reason, but she also thought maybe she was looking to connect with her about something.
Anna tilted her head, studying her. “I noticed your dad seemed… surprised to see you. Are you two close?”
June chuckled, the sound quiet and self-deprecating.
“We used to be. When I was little, he could do no wrong. I thought he hung the moon. But when I hit my teenage years, it was like I couldn’t do anything right.
My mom… she was the peacemaker. I was really close to her.
” Her voice softened. “When she died, it was like neither of us knew how to talk to each other anymore. Like we both forgot how.”
Anna’s eyes softened. “I get that. I really do.” She looked toward the yard, then back at June. “It was a big step, coming back here.”
June shrugged one shoulder, eyes still on the kids. “I didn’t really have a choice.”
“Maybe not,” Anna said gently, “but you still made the right one.”
June didn’t say anything, just nodded and reached for another cookie. The swing kept moving, creaking in the quiet, as the sun dipped lower in the sky and the laughter of children continued in the yard.
“My ex-husband is a cop; they always talked about how tight-knit a group the wives are, but I never saw anything like this. He…he got hurt in the line of duty, and it was just me there taking care of him. That was hard. I wish we had a community like this,” June said quietly.
“Yeah, I’m really grateful for it,” Anna murmured softly.
She felt that there was more June wasn’t telling her, but she wouldn’t pry. She didn’t have the capacity for it, but she also felt like June would tell her when the time came, and she’d be ready for that.
That night, after stories and snuggles and the sound of tiny breaths fading into sleep, Anna returned to the beach.
This time, she brought a notebook.
Under the moon, she sat and began to write.
My love,
They found the jet. They know you ejected. I’m holding onto that like a lifeline. I picture you building a shelter, lighting a fire, surviving like I know you can. We’re okay here. The kids miss you. I watch the moon for both of us, keeping the shore in sight. Come home. Please come home.
She pulled out the piece of paper, folded the letter carefully and pressed it to her heart. The tide whispered its endless rhythm beside her as if it were playing a soundtrack for her.
She closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and whispered into the wind:
“I’m waiting.”
There wasn’t a lot she could do in this moment, but writing the letter, and speaking to him like he was right there, was the only thing that was keeping her sane.