And with that, she was gone.

No sooner than Kate set foot inside the passenger cabin of the interior, Captain Bob Sheppard sounded the ferry horn. She tripped over the threshold in shock. “Old jackass,” Kate mumbled beneath her breath, lunging out to steady herself on the back of the nearest chair. So she’d held up the ten o’clock to East Island for a few minutes? Big whoop, Bob…

Attempting to catch her breath after running the length of Mornington Pier to make it, Kate glanced around. Had anyone seen her trip through the door? For the ten p.m. trip, the cabin was fairly empty. There were a few East Island residents on board, but most were outside enjoying the warm night, or puffing away on the lower level.

Across the cabin, Kate locked eyes with a woman seated by the open door opposite. She was older than Kate’s mother, but younger than the sisters of St. Joan’s. On the seat beside her was a large checked bag, filled to the brim. Kate couldn’t help but notice the sole half-unstuck from the bottom of her heel. Beside her tattered shoes, a square sheet of creased cardboard had fallen to the floor. Kate couldn’t see what was written on it—it was face down—but she could only imagine that it read the kind of message that would prompt Tilly to invite this woman into her home and offer her a meal.

Headed for the other side of the ferry, Kate crossed the cabin and stopped by the door. The woman looked up, curious. Kate dipped her hand into her pocket, feeling for the notes she’d shoved low when she’d bought lunch for Karlie and herself at the hospital cafeteria. She pulled out a twenty. “I think you dropped this outside,” she whispered.

Their gazes held. After a moment’s deliberation, the woman reached out and plucked the red note from Kate’s hand. “Thank you.”

Kate just hoped the woman had somewhere to stay when the ferry reached East Island.

She ventured outside. The moonlight was strong. From her spot on the deck, she could see her car parked at the end of the beach by the café loading zone. She’d been so late for boarding that the car ramp had already been drawn—she’d had no option but to leave her car behind at Mornington.

Resting back against the exterior wall of the cabin, she inhaled deeply. Is this too soon? She stared up at the Southern Cross. Give me a sign…

When Kate had asked for time, she hadn’t just asked for Tilly—she’d also needed time to come to terms with the complicated mess of it all. On New Year’s Eve, the prospect of them being together had seemed nothing short of a risk. Perhaps it was still too soon. Perhaps Tilly still wasn’t ready. But there was something about Sister Mary Monica’s words that had encouraged Kate’s burning impulse to run to Tilly and never look back.

Things were changing, shifting again just as they had twelve years ago when she’d been handed a diploma and lost her best friend. This kind of love only came around once in a lifetime—of that she was sure. And Tilly? She had turned up in Kate’s life twice. That had to mean something.