I loved Marco. I knew that. I missed him. How do you explain that deep, passionate love? To me, it’s a heart-to-heart thing. Your hearts are reaching for each other. They match. They have found their heart partner, exactly as Johnny said.

I wiped away tears and then stopped. I felt my breath catch. I could hardly breathe.

I thought about the premonition in which Marco dies. When he falls off the boat in a storm after he cracks his head. I thought about the devastation, the loss, the hysteria. It was the worst premonition ever.

But Sundance was on the boat with us.

Sundance was dead.

The premonition would not occur. The drowning would not occur. We had passed it. We had passed the time of the storm and the sinking.

Oh. My. Goodness. Marco would not die on the boat.

I closed my eyes. I put my hands on my chest. I rocked back and forth with relief. With joy.

Could I be with Marco now?

He knew about the premonitions, the depression, the anxiety, saving people, my need to be alone. I could be my blender-twisted self with him.

“We can be a mess together, Evie,” he had said.

I could do messy, couldn’t I? I envisioned us together. Once I went out with him, I think we’d take the street down to marriage. The avenue that doesn’t end. The cul-de-sac that keeps coming home.

I had almost died in an accident. Johnny had made me see how much I would regret not being courageous enough to be with Marco. He asked me if I loved Marco more than myself. Waaaay more. I loved Marco beyond love.

I would call Marco tomorrow and ask him to have dinner, pie, cake, and tea with me. I would be brave and put my favorite roses on the table. Then I would ask him if he wanted to spend the night.

That would be fun!

* * *

“Hi, Gayle, it’s Evie, is Marco available?” It was early, and I’d hardly slept.

“He’s gone, sugar,” Gayle said.

“What do you mean he’s gone?” My hand gripped the phone.

“He left for a vacation this morning.”

“Oh. Where is he going?”

“Alaska.”

“Alaska?”

“Yes. He’s going to meet his brothers there. It’s a fishing trip.”

“Do you know what ferry he’s taking?”

“The nine o’clock.”

“Thank you.”

* * *

I flew into Esmerelda like a mad woman and headed for the ferry landing.

This was reckless. I would look like a damn fool.

What did I care about being reckless, though? I had been a damn fool many times and I was still standing, wasn’t I?