It’s not just a hunger for food that he’s awoken. My mind continues to conjure the feel of his lips, the smell of him, what might have happened if he hadn’t stopped the kiss. Wanting to get my mind off these ridiculous schoolgirl thoughts, I grab the scrapbook and make a plan to return it to Jim, but only after I take some photos of the articles so I have my own copies.

On the ride over to the marina, I notice the Swann cottage. My mother and father used to be friends with the owners, Suzanne and Walt Swann. It looks as though it’s been maintained all these years, and the Swann name plaque is still nailed to the boathouse. I wonder if they might have some information about the disappearance of my father. Suzanne and my mother were quite close at some point. Hell, she might even know some of my mother’s secrets.

Jim is busy at the marina with a lineup of customers wanting gas, so I just put the scrapbook on his desk, wave, and mouth a thank you before getting back in my boat.

Heading home, I slow down in front of the Swann cottage, looking for signs of life. Summer doesn’t start officially for a few days, which means most cottagers aren’t even up yet, but there’s some furniture out on the dock, so somebody might be around. What harm could it do, just a friendly drop-by from an old neighbor?

I take my time tying up the boat, waiting to see if anyone has noticed my arrival. Standing at the edge of the lawn, I call out a hello just to give some warning, but when I get nothing in response, I make my way up to the cottage.

The only sound is the gentle toll of wind chimes, no dog barking protectively or people talking. The Swann cottage is not so different from mine, the same age and of similar style, but because it’s been diligently maintained over the years, the place looks brand-new compared to Avril Island. What a waste, I think to myself, a surge of annoyance at my mother rising up yet again.

“Hello?” I call through the screen door, and then knock loudly. There’s the sound of quick footsteps on the stairs, and a woman appears. She’s roughly my age, short and stout with a head of wild, gray curls, wearing a loose sundress that looks like it came from Thailand or Malaysia. Not the person I was expecting to find.