“Of course you do, dear,” she said, so calmly. “I’ll always schedule you to be the last person here. I’ll have to leave, to go home to . . . uh . . . uh . . . to talk to my cats, which will leave you and Marco alone, dear Evie. You and Marco alone. All by yourselves.”

That day, after the shots were given to my cats, to their utmost outrage, shrieking and meowing, Gayle said with a smile, “See you tomorrow, Marco. Bye, Evie. Tell your mother and aunts I said toodles.”

Marco was polite, friendly, after the cats’ appointment was finished. They were irritated, but they’d get over it.

“Want to watch the sunset?” he asked.

Yes. No. I did! I couldn’t. I shouldn’t. I should leave. “Yes, I’d love that.”

Marco had an area in his clinic for cats to play, and we left the little devils to their own devices. Ghost glared at me one more time for making her get her shots, then she bounded off while Mars wrapped himself around my leg, insecure and shy. Funny how animals have people characteristics.

We walked toward his house, the sun on its way down to sleep.

“Do you want wine?”

If I drank wine I’d probably end up wrapping myself around Marco like a drunken, naked nymph. “No, thanks.”

“Want to watch the sunset from the deck or the beach?”

How about your bedroom? Can we lie on the bed? “Let’s walk to your beach.”

We chatted as we walked down a dirt trail, over a couple of rocks, to the sandy beach. We sat side by side on a log, watching the sun head down. There is nothing more peaceful than watching a sunset on the island. The sun’s rays reflect on the water, the waves roll, the trees sway so gently, like a greeting to each other, the spray from whales shooting into the sky on lucky days, the other emerald green islands a postcard in the distance.

I closed my eyes and breathed. It is only here, on San Orcanita Island, that I get this peace. It’s why I don’t want to leave the island again, or as little as possible. I can be alone in nature yet have the people I love best, my mom and aunts, Jules, Marco, and my animals all right around me.

We sat in silence and watched that magical, moving painting. I teared up because I am a sap.

“You okay?” Marco asked.

“Yes. Sunsets make me cry.”

“I understand. I try to watch as many sunsets as I can,” Marco said.

“I do, too. Each one is like the last gift of the day.” I turned to him and could see the emotion in his face. “I’ve had a lot of practice staring at sunsets to calm my brain down.”

“Same here. There are a lot of nightmares that I battle with pretty regularly. Some are worse than others.”