7 Where the World Ends
7
Where the World Ends
“Everything started with a woman who wanted to put her life in order.” If my adventure in that part of the world had been a novel, it would have begun with those words.
When I awoke, the sun was coming through the half-drawn curtains and leaving little quivering circles of light on the ceiling. The light penetrated every corner of the room, so bright and white that for a few moments, it blinded me. Blinking, I checked the time on my cell phone and was surprised to see it was after nine.
I jumped out of bed, feeling rested for the first time in ages. I opened a window, and fresh air shook the curtains. A blue jay flew just a few inches in front of my face and scared a yelp out of me.
Just beyond the porch was an explosion of color: a blanket of green grass, a beach of reddish sand, a blue sea with shimmers like diamonds. The sky was a softer blue, the scattered clouds were white, and the entire scene left me speechless. It was stunning!
I couldn’t wait to go closer.
I dressed in blue shorts and a gray T-shirt and pulled my hair back into a ponytail. I was worried about what I’d find on the island—not the landscape, the air, or the neighbors, but rather what I’d find inside myself when there was nothing outside me telling me what I should be or forcing me in any direction.
It was time to be honest with myself.
To be me, just me.
But my enthusiasm waned when I found the empty pantry and fridge. There was nothing in the cabinets, not even a can of soup. I would have eaten anything just then. So I changed my list of priorities, moving saving myself from starvation to the top. When I went outside, the salty air struck me in the face, and I heard the loud sound of breaking waves as droplets of foam touched my lips and cheeks.
The house was prettier than in the pictures, with its cedar shingles so dark they were almost black. The rest of it was of a yellowish wood, except for the white pine of the gables, the windows, the columns, and the stair rail.
Now I knew why Scott had fallen in love with the place despite its seclusion, and why it had meant so much to my sister. It looked torn from a fairy tale and plopped down there. It was magic, perfect.
I took a few turns in the car, some wrong, and managed to make it to town. I parked in front of Ridge’s bar and opened the door. The air inside smelled of rich coffee, bacon, cinnamon and sugar. During the day, with natural light coming in, the bar wasn’t as fusty as it had seemed the night before, and I realized my mood had colored my first impressions. In fact, the place was clean, well lit, even pretty by island standards. I guess the word that would best describe it is authentic .
Ridge came out of the kitchen and waved when he saw me. I smiled back at him as I approached the bar.
“Hey! I see you found your way back.”
“Not without difficulties, but yeah, here I am.”
“Did you sleep well?”
I nodded. “Yeah. It was hard to get used to the silence at first, but I was so tired that I crashed almost immediately.” Only now did I notice how handsome and dreamy his eyes were. “You think you could fix me some breakfast?”
“Sure, what would you like?”
“I don’t know. What have you got? Never mind,” I said before he could respond. “Just surprise me.”
“Sure. Take your pick of the tables. It’ll be out soon.”
I sat next to a window with a view of the port. The boats and ships moored there shook with the breeze, now softer, now harder. Clouds were crossing the sky, mingling, leaving behind white strips as they broke apart.
I was scared of the storm that was coming. If it was really about to strike the island, I’d need to buy lots of stuff: water, food, a flashlight, batteries, candles. Or maybe just a ticket for the next ferry to PEI, where I could change the date on my airplane ticket and go back home.
“There you go.”
Ridge set down a plate of eggs and bacon, toast, and sauteed mushrooms. He’d sprinkled something on them that smelled delicious. I thanked him and bit into a strip of bacon as he sat down across from me. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply.
“This is delicious!”
Ridge smiled, somewhat startled. “Thanks. You can have seconds if you like. On the house. I think you’re the most enthusiastic customer I’ve ever had.”
I smiled and kept chewing. I like to eat, and even though I’ve never had a talent for cooking myself, I can tell when someone else does, and he did.
“Who’s Emma?” I asked. “This is called Emma’s Place, right?”
“Yeah. She’s the old owner. When I decided to stay here, the first thing I did was look for a job. Emma lived by herself on the island. Her whole family had moved to Quebec, and she was starting to feel the years and wasn’t keen on running the place on her own. She hired me for three months on a trial basis and then signed the place over to me.”
“Just like that?”
“Yeah, it surprised me, too. I tried to pay her, and she threatened to break the deal, so I shut my trap.”
“Smart.”
“Emma’s still on the island, though. I always ask about her family and when she’s going to join them, and she always says next spring or next summer, and she’s been saying that for three years now.”
I stopped chewing and asked, “Are you sure she has family? That it’s really that she doesn’t want to go?”
“Yeah, they’ve come here a few times trying to take her back with them, but it’s impossible. You know what? You might end up meeting her. She comes around often to give me a hard time.”
I laughed and had to cover my mouth to keep from spitting out my breakfast.
Ridge didn’t seem in a rush to get back to work, and he told me more about his life. He’d studied marine biology at Dalhousie University, specializing in marine mammals and habitat preservation.
During his last year, he was invited by a group of ecologists to take part in a program about climate change in the arctic tundra and its impact on the oceans. Seeing the risks of deglaciation firsthand made him realize this was his calling, and after graduation he committed to the struggle against global warming.
He felt guilty about leaving his girlfriend behind, but even though it took him a long time to get over her, he eventually realized he’d made the right decision. Through the distance, his perspective on their relationship changed, and he finally had to admit it had never worked between them. They were different. They had different dreams.
Three years ago, soon after his twenty-fifth birthday, his life changed again. He fell completely in love with Petit Prince and its inhabitants. And now he was happy. Sometimes—not often, but sometimes—he felt a little lonely. But he didn’t regret a thing. He hadn’t given up, and he’d wound up where he wanted to be.
I finished my eggs and toast, enchanted by the way Ridge’s eyes lit up as he told me about the islanders and their life there. He said there were no supermarkets on Petit Prince, just a few shops owned by families or individual residents where you could find almost anything you needed. There was a pharmacy, a post office, and even a bank with an ATM, which must have been a major step forward, given how enthusiastic he seemed about it.
I had the feeling I had stepped back to a previous era, that I might be accused of witchcraft if I pulled out my cell phone.
As Ridge told me about his neighbors, spicing his story up with a bit of gossip, he served me more coffee along with some oatmeal and cranberry cookies he had baked himself.
He was so nice that it seemed almost false. And he was handsome—not cute, but handsome. Every time he smiled at me, his charm hit me like a warm wave. But then I’d cross eyes with Carlie. As she wiped off the tables, the look on her face told me she might die of boredom at any second.
By the time I left, I knew practically everything there was to know about the place.
I felt less worried about being far from civilization. In the daylight, the place looked very different. I saw big green fields, houses painted in bright colors—green, yellow, red, white, gray, blue… Unpaved roads twisted off in every direction.
My cheeks were hurting from so much smiling. I didn’t remember the last time I had smiled for so long.
I still wasn’t quite oriented, and as I drove away, I tried to memorize every crossing and building. I soon found the main road, the only one that was paved and the only one that led to the port. Ridge had told me it passed through the center of town, and most of the businesses bordered it.
There was a little shop with a wooden sign nailed to a post in front and a parking lot to the right where I stopped.
When I pushed the glass door, I heard some bells ring. The air inside smelled of smoked fish and cheese. The owner had an inviting expression as she sat behind the counter talking to two of her customers about the storm. Soon a chorus of voices was wishing me a good morning. I smiled at their warmth and their peculiar accent. It was funny, the way one island was so different from another. The people on this one had their own special tone.
I grabbed one of the baskets stacked by the door and paced past the shelves of beans, canned goods, soaps and cleaning products, pet food, newspapers, and magazines, filling up on anything I thought I might need. I continued toward the cash register, where I saw a little display of chocolates. That’s my second addiction, right after coffee. I grabbed a couple of bars, and five minutes later, I was traveling back to Old Bay.
I put everything away and inspected the house more closely, discovering that there was a pair of double doors in the back leading to a small garage where I could park my rental car. I had been worried about it getting damaged if the storm was as bad as everyone said.
There was dust everywhere, and the garage smelled of damp. There was a gas-powered generator back there, and a couple of cans of fuel—of course there would be! A bike was hanging on one wall: yellow, old, with a wicker basket on the handlebars. With nothing better to do, I took it down, thinking I might go for a ride. But when I got it down, I abandoned the idea because the chain was broken.
I went inside, and the feeling of boredom was soon eating at me. No one ever told me how hard it is to do nothing. And I mean nothing at all. I had free time. I wasn’t in a rush. And I was used to running around everywhere: from home to school, from school to work, with an endless flood of jobs, classes, exams…
I entertained myself putting candles all over the house, each with its own matchbook next to it. I had also bought a flashlight and batteries, which I left in a drawer in the kitchen. I eyed the wood-burning stove, wondering if that was going to be something I needed to figure out. Then I went upstairs and unpacked my suitcase.
Hayley had left some clothes in the closet: long-sleeved shirts, a knit sweater. If it got cold, I’d have something to wear. I’d only packed summer clothes.
I made a sandwich and ate it standing up in front of the window in the living room. On the table next to me, my cell phone beeped. It was running out of battery. I plugged it in and stared at it, wanting to check my messages and missed calls, but I forced myself not to. I was on vacation!
Vacation!
I tried to hold on to that idea and to remind myself why I was there.
Come on, Harper. Get it together! You’ve only got a week to decide what to do with the rest of your life.