Daniel had become part of my life slowly, the way trustworthy things do. Coffee after harbor mornings. Help replacing a stubborn winch. A walk on the beach that turned into dinner because neither of us wanted to stop talking. He never pushed. Never performed suffering to demand softness. Never mistook my independence for a problem to solve. Maybe it would become love. Maybe it would remain the lovely beginning of something not yet named. Either was fine.
That was another thing the storm taught me.
Not every future has to be forced into meaning on day one.
I eased the tiller and looked back once toward shore.
From here, the land was just shape and color. The cottage somewhere among the bluffs. The marina tucked into the curve of the bay. The city beyond that, with all its gossip and lawsuits and memory. Small now. Manageable.
I thought of the dress, hanging in a charity boutique for some stranger to buy and wear to a gala or anniversary dinner or maybe just because it made her stand differently in a mirror. I hoped it gave her joy. I hoped none of my old ghosts fit her.