Panic was replaced by calm and then by pleasure and no small degree of pride. She was swimming, really swimming. She’d learned a new skill. The sea was in control, she knew that. But if she was careful, they could coexist.

Next to her Lizzy splashed and swam, chin raised like a dog out of the water, and Emily murmured words of encouragement, telling her to keep going, keep kicking, and she wasn’t sure if she was saying the words to herself or the child.

They swam halfway along the cove before Lizzy declared that her arms were too tired, and Emily stood up, feeling the reassuring pressure of the sand beneath her feet. The water was still at midthigh but too deep for Lizzy, and she scooped her up and held her tightly, safely out of reach of the water.

“You swam so well.”

She felt Lizzy’s arms creep around her neck and the softness of her curls brush against her chin. She breathed in the smell of salt and sea and closed her eyes, rocked by the tight squeeze of those skinny arms and the priceless gift of trust. Something inside her that she’d thought had died sprang to life and bloomed. She wasn’t sure how it happened or even why, but at some point holding turned to hugging. The deep chill that had become part of her slowly thawed as they stood, tangled together, intertwined and close.

“I like living here.” Lizzy’s voice was soft, and Emily felt her eyes sting.

“I like living here, too.”

“Can we have a puppy?”

Eyes stinging, Emily started to laugh. “Let’s take this a step at a time, shall we?”

“A puppy would be the best thing ever. I love Cocoa, but she’s Agnes’s best friend, so we can’t have her.”

“No, we can’t.” A puppy. Realizing she was actually considering it, Emily shook her head in disbelief. “Let’s go indoors and wash off all this sand.” Holding Lizzy on her hip, she waded back to shore. “Oh, wait, let’s finish our sand yacht.”

By the time they’d finished their impressive structure, the sun was dipping down below the horizon and clouds were gathering.

They ran indoors trailing sand and laughter into the house, showered, changed and then picked blueberries from the bushes in the garden and made a pie.

“Push your hands into the flour—” Emily stood Lizzy on a chair, and together they weighed and stirred and mixed while outside the sky darkened and thunder rumbled.

“Will we live here forever?” Lizzy had somehow managed to cover every available surface and herself with flour.

Emily poured the blueberries into the pie dish. “Castaway Cottage isn’t ours. It belongs to Brittany, my friend.”

“If she comes home, where will we live?”