For the next month when Mrs. Weatherspoon wasn’t baking cakes on a tide of celebratory sugared frenzy, she was taking the Jeep on the long trek to the nearest city and having money transferred to Canada for the girls, getting Fiona a cell phone, making sure papers and passports were in order, and at home, helping Fiona pack. Mrs. Weatherspoon was staying behind to clean and close the jungle cottage before flying home herself. It was a busy time but finally with many instructions and warnings and Saran-wrapped cake slices, the children were put on the plane to begin their journey.

“Will there be pine trees?” asked Charlie. “It’s called Pine Island.”

“Big trees,” said Natasha. “I looked up British Columbia in the school encyclopedia. Firs and Sitka spruces and pines.”

“Ancient rain forests,” said Marlin, who had also looked it up.

“Full of wild beasts,” said Charlie. “I knew it.”

“Some actually,” said Natasha. “Wolves, bears, cougars.”

“I doubt they’ll come into town, Nat,” said Fiona. “I doubt they live in St. Mary’s By the Sea.”

“Aunt Martha said she lives outside town,” said Charlie.

“Great-Aunt Martha,” said Marlin.

“That’s too many words to say,” said Charlie. “I’m going to just call her Aunt Martha.”

“Me too,” said Natasha.

“All right, me too,” said Marlin.

“It will be beautiful, Charlie,” said Fiona. “It will be like no place we have ever been, you wait and see. Remember how you were worried about snakes in Borneo but you were never bitten?”

“Hmmm,” said Charlie, who was never so easily convinced, and opened her comic book.

It was many planes and many jet-lagged hours later that the girls arrived finally at the Shoreline airport. It was a small airport without even Jetways. The girls exited right onto the tarmac and walked inside. They had already gone through customs in Vancouver so they went straight to the baggage carousel, where their great-aunt had said she would meet them. But no one came to claim them. They looked hopefully at any old lady who walked by but no one recognized them or came forward.

“She must have been held up in traffic,” said Fiona. “We will collect all our bags and sit here and wait. And call Mrs. Weatherspoon to let her know we got in okay.”

“Shouldn’t we wait until Aunt Martha arrives?” asked Marlin.

“No, let’s call now so that when Aunt Martha comes we can just leave,” said Fiona. “I can’t wait to be horizontal. Trying to sleep upright on planes is always so horrible.”

So Fiona called and Mrs. Weatherspoon said, “Well, my dears, I am glad you are having your happy ending. There is no branch of the church on the island but you can always write to me if you are in need of spiritual guidance. I will never consider it an imposition. Tell your aunt.”

“Yes, we will,” said Fiona.

“And call me if you need anything.”

“Thank you for everything, Mrs. Weatherspoon.”

“It’s been a pleasure, dear,” said Mrs. Weatherspoon, and they hung up.