—- Chapter 7 In the days that followed, Leila didn’t appear in front of me again. Instead, the neighborhood wives started showing up more often, bringing vegetables they’d grown themselves or inviting me to comb the shore for shellfish after the tide had gone out. Time passed in a quiet, unhurried rhythm. Slowly, I found myself falling in love with life on the island. Things between Blake and me grew steadier, more settled. Everything seemed to be heading in the right direction.
But for some reason, a strange unease lingered in my chest, like something was off-kilter, though I couldn’t say exactly what. Then one day, I returned home with a bag full of freshly gathered oysters, grinning with satisfaction, only to find Blake pacing anxiously by the courtyard gate, his brow furrowed. He held something in his hand, glancing down at it now and then, his whole —- body tense with worry. The moment he saw me, he rushed over and grabbed my arm. “Oh?
Gone for just a little while and you’re already this worried?” a neighbor teased. “Looks like Joyce is areal lucky one, huh, having such a devoted husband. ” The nearby wives chuckled and tossed out a few playful remarks. But something about Blake’s expression wasn’t like usual. I brushed off the jokes and quickly pulled him inside. Before I could even ask, he held out what he was carrying. “Honey, you never called home after we got married, did you?
This looks like a letter from your parents.” At his words, my hand slipped. The oysters I had so carefully collected spilled to the ground, forgotten. Because I knew my fate might be worse than those oysters’. —- I opened the letter with trembling hands. Sure enough, no matter how graceful Sarah’s handwriting tried to be, it couldn’t mask my mother’s wrath boiling beneath the lines. Switching grooms without notice-Strike One. Running off and getting married on my own-Strike Two.
Then vanishing without a word to the family-Strike Three. The kind you don’t come back from. By the time I reached the end, where Blake was frowning hard at the page, a strange sense of calm settled over me. Whatever. If the sky was going to fall, let him hold it up. Me? I knew nothing. I was just living a good life. Besides, Sarah mentioned in her closing lines that things with John were going well. Their marriage was sweet, and soon I’d have a little nephew or niece to look forward to. Last time around, she spent her whole life tangled up
—- with Blake, with no children and no peace. I ended up divorced and threw myself into work until I died alone. But this life… this life was different. “Hey,” Blake said suddenly, his arms slipping around my waist from behind, his voice low against my ear, ” your cousin already has a baby on the way. When do you think we should have one?” lignored the warmth at my ear and shot back without missing a beat, “Shouldn’t that depend on you?
If you were any good, I’d be pregnant already.” He didn’t get mad. In fact, he glanced sideways at the fallen oysters, then laughed under his breath. “Alright,” he said, his voice deep and amused, “I’ll make sure to catch up tonight. We’re getting on schedule.” I won’t get into how that night turned out, but for quite a while after that, I didn’t dare bring oysters home again. Even when I found them while combing the beach, I’d hand them off to the other wives.
—- One day, after another round of teasing, Kristen from next door suddenly changed the subject. “Hey, guess who I saw yesterday?” We all looked at her curiously. With a proud smile, she continued, “I went out looking for my son last night and just happened to see Leila and Vince Grady walking hand in hand through the coconut grove!” Another neighbor, Ava Maddock, immediately shook her head. “No way. Vince has a wife and kids.
No matter how crazy Leila gets, she wouldn’t go messing with a married man. He’s old enough to be her father! Kristen slapped her thigh, clearly annoyed by the disbelief. “Tsk, don’t believe me if you don’t want to! Just wait and see. Judging by how they looked last night, I doubt they can keep it under wraps much longer.”
