I didn’t take back my maiden name; for over half my life I’ve been Ellie Calvin, and it’s also my daughter’s name. In these months since I’ve walked out of our family home, the anger, hurt, and insanity that rose from the depths of our marriage during the divorce were so horrible that many times I almost gave up or gave in for the sheer pain leaving involved. I often reminded myself—and Lil—that the things Rusty said about and to me were from anger, not real hate. She didn’t believe me. I wasn’t sure I believed myself.

I live half the time now in Birdie’s cottage and the other half in my childhood home with Dad. I’ve started teaching kids’ art classes at the studio in Bayside and have added adult classes, forming friendships. I believe it’s a miracle in life when you find people who care about and desire the same things you do, and creativity does that—brings those people together in one place.

In the beginning of those dark days right before the divorce, I’d gone to Hutch, and although he’d been kind, he’d also told me that he wouldn’t and couldn’t be used as a consolation prize. I’d kissed him good-bye and understood that this was my payment and my redemption—learning to live without his love.

The Summer House was the cover story for the “House Legends” article, and I sent a copy to Hutch with a note inside that read only, “Now that was a great day. xo, Ellie.”

Two days later I received the same torn article in the mail with a note that read “Nice Memory. Hutch.” I smiled and knew that we had torn and sent the article on the same day, and he would be opening his envelope even as I had just opened mine.

Lil often comes to Bayside to see me, and when I go home to see Dad, she stays with Rusty in her childhood bedroom, which is where she should be. The first few times I went home to Atlanta I was constantly reminded about the wrongness of what I’d done: “Women,” I was told, “do not leave a marriage for no good reason.” When Rusty began to date Sara Matthews, the chastisement died down. “Oh,” they began so say, “maybe there was more to the story.” For me, that part doesn’t matter. Maybe there was more to Sara and Rusty that I knew but didn’t know—but my reasons for leaving had nothing to do with a possible affair, and everything to do with not closing my heart off for good and all.

I had seen only two ways to live: stay and begin the slow, agonizing process of closing my heart, or leave.

It’s not like I don’t understand the consequences of broken vows. I do understand.