If there are memories for him to weather this year, regrets to process, I’m sure he’d rather do it far from home. I understand, but I wonder if it’d be better for him to mourn here among people he’s known all his life. That seems to me to be the very purpose of this odd ritual, after all, remembering all the Lute islanders who’ve passed, generation after generation, from Neolithic times to now.

“So much for our anniversary trip.” I sigh.

“I hope Hugh thought to get a refundable travel package.” A glint of humor flashes over Jo’s expression, too quick for me to interpret.

Emma reaches out with both hands to frame Jo’s Afro like a halo. My daughter loves me, I know she does, but when she draws stick figure queens and fairies, they have my friend’s dark skin and cloud of curled hair and sometimes even a cup of tea, a nod to the café that Jo runs up-island.

“You’ll fall, darling. Careful.” Jo laughs as she sets Emma gently down.

She’s always helped me with the children implicitly, like this, following Emma as she toddles off to climb the low jetty wall without even a blink back to see whether I need the extra hands. It’s the way of things here, I know, but her help feels different from everybody else stepping in to cater to us as the Lord and Lady of Lute. Jo has always felt like another family member, a new big sister to blot out my real one.

“Maybe they can fix it,” I murmur.

Jo’s glance back is almost pitying.

I draw a breath as I walk to the dock and exhale peace, kindness, support, archetypal wifey-ness. I’m exhausted by the time I climb on deck.

“It’s the same damn fuel we’ve always used,” Hugh is saying. I reach for his shoulder, a calming touch, but he barely seems to notice. The mechanic gives me a respectful nod, wincing as if with a sudden headache as Hugh launches in again. “I don’t understand—”

“The engine’s overheating. That’s all I can say. There ’int no rhyme nor reason for it.” The mechanic swipes his brow. “You know. It might be…”

His face floods. He shakes his head.

“What? It might be what?” Hugh’s eyes go wide. He glances at me as if noticing me here for the first time.

“Might be the island playing tricks? All those folks just left for Sunnan over there, maybe that’s it, that’s all it’ll allow.”

Hugh stalks away with a snarl, and the man stares down at the deck, still shaking his head, muttering something like he’s cursing himself.