Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Anna
Anna woke the next morning, dreading the day in its entirety.
She knew that her Aunt Claudia had the best of intentions, but Anna wasn’t really feeling it at all.
She understood why her mom had holed up in her house, in her bed, and shut the rest of the world out for the last year, because that’s exactly how Anna was feeling right now.
If it weren’t for the kids, she wouldn’t have gotten out of bed at all today. The last month, after learning that Luke’s jet went down, Anna had felt exhausted and overwhelmed with worry and fear.
She took a deep breath, put one foot in front of the other, and made her way outside to the pier. She needed that thirty minutes alone by the ocean this morning, more than she had since they’d arrived and she’d learned about Luke’s accident.
She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer, sending it up into the sky. There was something almost religious about sitting by the ocean and watching the sun rise over it. Almost as if she were close enough for her conversations to be heard by God. She hoped that was true, anyway.
When she was finished, she went back to the house and showered. She was right back into her schedule before she could talk herself out of it.
By midmorning, Vineyard Haven had already begun to transform.
The once-quiet harbor front was alive with a buzz of activity as families, vendors, and volunteers gathered for the solstice celebration.
Anna had always loved this part of the island, the way the breeze swept off the water and carried the smell of salt and blooming roses through the streets.
Today, that air was tinged with excitement, and she welcomed it.
It had been years since she’d attended a solstice party. She remembered holding her dad’s hand as they walked around, and he’d fill her and Cody full of cotton candy and funnel cake.
“It’s a once-a-year event, Lily. They can splurge a bit,” he’d say.
When the twins were about four years old, Lily and David had come out to Colorado to see them and took them all out to a nearby carnival. Her dad repeated those same words to her when she protested about how much chocolate and sugar he was feeding them. She smiled at the memory.
As soon as they pulled into the parking lot, Blaze was one of the first out of the car, sprinting ahead toward the open field where long rows of white tents had already been raised. “Come on, Mom!” he shouted, waving her forward. Nora trotted behind him, arms full of streamers.
Anna chuckled as she followed, her canvas tote bouncing against her hip, filled with clothespins, markers, and extra sunscreen. The kids were eager, genuinely eager, and for the first time in days, she didn’t feel like she was holding her breath.
The entire community had turned out. Tables were being set under string lights strung between trees and poles, colorful paper lanterns waiting to be hung.
Long rows of picnic tables lined the park’s edge, covered in bright cloth held down by jars filled with wildflowers, an idea Jess had found on Pinterest and executed beautifully.
Claudia was a whirlwind of energy in linen pants and a wide-brimmed hat, directing traffic like a general at war.
“Put the lemonade over there, closer to the shaded tents! No, no, no…not next to the seafood! I don’t want sweet and briny clashing in the air!
” she barked, though there was no true bite to it.
Anna spotted her mom near the bandstand, helping Cody string bunting.
For a moment, Lily looked like herself—laughing at something Cody said, her hair tucked under a ball cap, hands on her hips, assessing the decorations.
Anna’s chest ached with a quiet, fierce gratitude. They needed this. All of them did.
The kids had been conscripted by Claudia into “official junior decorating assistants,” and they took their titles seriously.
Nora darted between adults, offering ribbon choices with a dramatic flair, while Blaze had taken charge of handing out zip ties to secure banners and signs.
The two of them made a game of it, sprinting back and forth to “supplies headquarters,” a blanket spread with crafting tools and boxes of décor.
Vendors set up booths selling everything from handmade candles and soaps to locally grown produce and baskets of blueberries. The ice cream cart had a line before it even opened, and the air carried the scent of kettle corn popping in a giant cast-iron drum.
Jess was near the harbor walk, photographing details for the solstice social media campaign. “Hold that sign a little higher, Blaze!” she called, then snapped a picture of him holding a hand-painted board that read Summer Begins Here. He grinned, missing both front teeth.
Anna paused to take it all in. The children’s laughter. The cheerful arguments over balloon placements. The scratchy hum of guitars warming up at the bandstand. For just a heartbeat, it felt like everything was going to be okay. Not fixed, not untouched, but okay.
By late afternoon, the crowd had nearly doubled.
Music poured from the stage, an upbeat folk band playing covers of classic Vineyard favorites, and couples swayed barefoot in the grass.
Anna stood behind a booth with her mom and Cody, handing out paper fans with the solstice schedule printed on them.
Every time someone smiled and thanked her, she felt something in her ribcage loosen.
Blaze and Nora had made a group of new friends and darted between booths, collecting stamps on their Solstice Adventure Map—another Jess invention.
When Anna caught sight of them dancing with Max, who wore a ridiculous sunflower-patterned bandanna, she laughed, really laughed, for the first time in what felt like years.
Dinner was potluck-style. Tables groaned with platters of grilled corn, baked clams, summer salads, watermelon slices, and Claudia’s famous strawberry shortcake. Neighbors sat elbow to elbow, paper plates in hand, swapping stories and recipes. The sun hung low in the sky, dipping toward the water.
Claudia stood near the bandstand as golden hour set in, microphone in hand.
“Thank you all for coming,” she began, her voice ringing out clearly.
“This solstice party is something we’ve done for years, and I think we all know why it matters.
It’s a time to celebrate light. To welcome summer, to remember those we’ve lost, and to hold close the people we still have. ”
A hush fell over the crowd. Kids quieted, adults straightened, and even the band stilled their instruments.
Claudia’s voice softened. “The lantern release began generations ago, right here on the harbor. It was a way for the families of lost fishermen to send their love into the sky, to help guide their husbands and sons back home. Whether you believe in the stories or not, it’s a tradition rooted in hope. In holding on. In remembering.”
Anna swallowed hard, her eyes blurring. She looked down at the lantern in her hands, its pale shell fluttering gently in the breeze. It bore her father’s initials in her handwriting, the ink still drying.
Claudia stepped aside, and volunteers began moving through the crowd with lighters, helping families ignite their lanterns. The sky had deepened to a velvety indigo, and a few early stars twinkled above.
The first lantern lifted off the ground slowly, uncertain in the breeze. Then another. And another. Soon, dozens of glowing orbs rose into the sky, golden and flickering, each carrying a name, a message, a memory.
Anna helped Blaze and Nora with theirs, steadying the base as the hot air filled the lantern and it lifted from their hands. She didn’t speak, none of them did. The moment felt sacred.
Beside her, Blaze whispered, “Do you think Daddy can see it?”
Anna bit the inside of her cheek, nodded, and whispered back, “I think it’s going to help him find his way.”
She lifted her own lantern last, watching it float up toward the heavens. Her hand remained raised long after the lantern had disappeared into the sky, as if holding the moment itself.
She thought of Luke, of his strength, his stubborn optimism, the way he always brought her back to center. She pictured him seeing the light from somewhere far off, like a sailor spotting shore through a storm.
“Keep sight of the shore,” she could almost hear his voice whispering the words in her ear.
Please come home, she thought. The shore is still here. We’re still here.
As the final lanterns rose, the harbor glowed with their reflections, golden trails shimmering on the water like paths to the stars. The whole town stood together, backs straight, eyes lifted.
It was the most beautiful thing she’d seen in her life.
She’d seen it a dozen times before growing up, but in this moment, it felt completely different from how she’d ever felt before.
It was almost a spiritual movement. She could feel her heart getting lighter, opening, and almost calling out to her husband.
She closed her eyes and kept the tears from falling down her cheeks.
It’s almost as if she was willing Luke to see the lights in the sky and know that it was her and the kids, reminding him to keep the shore in sight.
And in that moment, Anna felt that fragile but unmistakable tether that kept them all connected. Through grief. Through joy. Through the longest day and the darkest night.