Within an hour after Rusty told me he would never leave, I’d packed my car and driven the four hours to Bayside. The gate to Birdie’s driveway was closed. I punched in the code and drove down the gravel way to the front of the guesthouse. I’d called her to tell her I was coming; she’d told me to just let myself in. Surely I still had the key. Yes, I did.

Summer heat had finally begun to take its toll on the foliage, which was wilting. I parked next to the guesthouse with evening light settling over the lawn and the bay. My suitcase was light as I carried it through the front door.

Birdie’s house lights came on one by one: the kitchen, the living room, her upstairs bedroom. I stood on the front porch of the guesthouse and watched and I waited. And then when the back porch light turned on and a candle flickered, I made my way across the lawn. I found her sitting on the rocking chair waiting for me, as I knew she would be.

Her hug filled my heart, and we sat facing each other. “Are you okay, my dear?” she asked.

“I think so, yes.”

“I’m sorry for all you’ve been through. I know this has been an incredibly difficult summer for you in many ways.”

“Miss Birdie,” I said, “I know about Cotton.”

Birdie closed her eyes.

I continued, “He didn’t tell me. I figured it out and then we talked.”

She opened her eyes and nodded. “It wasn’t my place to tell you.”

“I know,” I said.

“It was an awful time, Ellie, and it was before you. Your mother loved you greatly.”

“I left Rusty.” I flinched.

“I’m sorry.” She reached out and took my hand.

“I don’t understand all of it yet, but I know I had to go.”

“As if anyone can understand anything in the middle of living it.”

“Maybe I won’t understand at all, but at least I’ll have given it my best shot.”

“Yes, you do that. You give it your best shot and maybe you’ll end up living it while you’re spending all this time trying to understand it.”

“Speaking of giving it my best shot—I want to ask you if I can stay here for a while. I’ll pay rent. I just can’t go home. I know leaving him is awful, so please … no lectures.”

“Lecture you? My God, Ellie. I was going to say how strong you are. How doing the awful thing is sometimes the only thing we can do to save our souls.”

“Oh … this was not my dream when I stood at the altar in a white dress.”

“Dream?”

“Plans … divorce was not in my plans.”