“Yes, ma’am. He left Georgia to get some distance from his family and figure some stuff out, but then he met my mama in St. Augustine and didn’t want to leave her. I guess he had trouble sortin’ that out.”

“Makes sense,” Matilda said, fanning herself with her straw hat.

“What was Daddy like back then—if you don’t mind saying?”

“Well, like I said, he was a sweet, quiet boy. But there was somethin’ else goin’ on. Couldn’t quite put my finger on it. He said somethin’ that stuck in my mind. I told him I thought it took a awful lotta courage for a boy his age to ride all the way from Georgia to the Keys. And he said, ‘It didn’t take courage to come to Florida; what’ll take courage is goin’ back to Georgia.’ I asked him was he scared o’ gettin’ in hot water with his folks, but he said ‘no ma’am.’ I started to ask him more but decided that would be pryin’ an’ ill-mannered, so I just let it go. But I never forgot about Marshall Cabot. An’ I never quit wonderin’ what that sweet boy was facin’ in Georgia.”

Peyton gazed out the kitchen window, overwhelmed with sadness and regret for his father. He felt Matilda’s hand on his arm.

“Was it wrong in me to tell you, Peyton?”

“No, ma’am,” he said. “I think I already knew. But it helps to hear it from somebody else. Guess Daddy realized he’d never get to make his own choices if he went back to Georgia, but he figured he’d be letting his daddy down if he didn’t. That’s a lot to put on somebody the same age as me. Don’t know how I’d handle it. I guess part of him just wanted to hide from it—make it go away.”

“Islands ain’t for ever’body,” Matilda said. “Some of us needs one and some of us don’t. Somethin’ tells me you might be somewhere in the middle. Marshall, though—I never seen nobody need an island the way he did.”

“Makes me feel so sad for him.”

“Well, now, it wasn’t all bad, was it?” Matilda asked. “Sounds like he was pretty taken with your mama.”

“They were happy together.”

“And where do you figure in?”

“I reckon I’ll have to sort that out somehow.”

Matilda took a sip of her lemonade. “You been loved, Peyton. I can tell. It just shows in a person. You coulda been off havin’ all kinda adventures, but here you are takin’ the time to talk to a old lady in her kitchen.”

Peyton pointed a finger at her and grinned. “You bribed me with lemonade.”

“Ha!” Matilda gleefully slapped the table with her hand. “That I did.”

Matilda’s clock on the wall ticked away before she said, “Your daddy stayed the night with us—with my husband and me—back then. He wasn’t goin’ to till we told him about a little fishin’ shack on Sykes Creek back here behind us. I reckon he wasn’t comfortable stayin’ in the house with strangers. You in a big hurry, or you want to have supper with me and stay the night out there like he did?”