Chapter 27 #2
She made friends at three fudge shops, talking with the owners and tourists alike.
Annabelle smiled and laughed easily. Even while dead, she seemed to exude a natural charm that was heightened now that she was out in the world of the living.
She touched everything she could, feeling the textures of knitted scarves for sale and poking her finger in her square of fudge.
I touched her every chance I got, trying not to think about how short the time we’d have together in the real world would be.
“Bicycles,” she said as we passed a rack stuffed with at least twenty of them in all different sizes. “So many bicycles.”
“Do you want to ride one?” I asked. “I bet Sage would let you borrow theirs.”
We were only a block away from the small office where customers went to book Mike’s horseback rides and carriage tours.
“Oh, no.” She held up her hands and physically backed away from the row of bikes like they were snakes ready to strike.
“No thanks. I’d rather ride that lovely lady.
” She pointed to a woman riding a brown-and-white horse.
It was bigger than Medium Sebastian but smaller than Sage’s horse Joan.
“But I don’t want you anywhere near a horse. ”
I shrugged. “Suit yourself.” I grabbed her hand, shifting her shopping bag to my other arm. “This is your day.”
Her smile was as bright as the sun overhead.
We took a series of selfies at the beach, then I took a dozen photos of Annabelle posing by herself.
She marveled at the giant bridge in the background while the wind whipped her hair and the sun kissed her cheeks.
In the bright daylight, I noticed that she had a little cluster of pale freckles across her nose.
I offered to trudge up the hill to the fort, but she shook her head.
Shading her eyes, she scrunched her nose and regarded the imposing white building. “It looks basically the same as it did then. Let’s get lunch.”
While we walked up the hill to the Grand Hotel, Annabelle pointed out the flowers and native plants she saw.
Her knowledge was a combination of experience with the island before it saw a burst of development during the Victorian era and many years afterward in which all she had for company was botany books.
She was delighted by the Secret Garden and the view from the porch at the hotel.
The stuffy formal atmosphere of the place made my skin crawl.
But Annabelle, who was beautiful and looked gorgeous in her new clothes, fit right in, so I followed her as she admired the architecture and furnishings of the old-fashioned resort.
I nudged her in the direction of the lunch buffet, self-conscious of my casual attire.
But I needn’t have worried because ahead of us in line was a group of at least twenty tourists in cargo shorts and sweat-stained shirts.
What I could see of the main dining room looked fancy as fuck, and I wanted to see Annabelle’s reaction to it.
She could finally sip tea in a setting that was worthy of her.
But after twenty minutes standing behind the tour group, my feet ached and my stomach growled.
Annabelle took my hand and led me back outside, past the line that had formed behind us.
“But, Marley, you wanted to have tea,” I protested.
She shook her head. “I wanted to have tea, yes, but I’d be just as happy to have it with you in the kitchen, sitting on worn-out old chairs and drinking out of cheap mugs.”
I smiled, wondering if she would ever believe me when I said I didn’t like tea.
***
We searched for it but couldn’t find where Annabelle’s father was buried in the Post Cemetery.
Most of the graves from that era in the island’s history weren’t marked, and Annabelle couldn’t remember the exact location.
We didn’t talk much as we wandered through the stone markers.
Annabelle’s face was serious but not pained.
She walked through the cemetery, lightly touching the headstones, lost in thought. I let her be.
After half an hour of wandering through the plots, Annabelle nodded and said, “Thank you for taking me here. I’m ready to go.”
I took her hand as we left through the iron cemetery gates.
We passed the sign for Fort Holmes, but she didn’t react one way or the other, so I let her lead me through the island’s lush interior paths.
We climbed up the steep steps to Point Lookout.
Sweat stuck to my back and dripped from my elbows as we climbed.
At the top of the small hill, we could see the weird rock formations that dotted the island, surrounded by dense green forest. Beyond, the water went from jewel green to stripes of brilliant blues that led up to the horizon, where the sky met it with its own shades of blue.
Annabelle breathed in deeply, turning her face to the sky. She reached for me, and I pulled her into a hug from behind, looping my arms around her neck.
“Are you ready to go home?” she asked.
“Yes.” The question was as complicated as it ever had been. The answer was simple and clear.