Bell Island lay suspended in the vast body of water, having not enough. Lacking. Wanting. Although the island was surrounded by the blue-green sea, the worst drought in its history was upon it. The sea grass had burned and withered into brownish clumps, and people walked about with matted hair and deep wet circles under their arms. There was no relief; even showing had been limited to three times a week because of the water rationing. The island was being baked dry, and piece by piece, its colorful history and promising future broke off and fell into the restless, swirling sea.
The relentless sun beat down on Joshua McKeon’s bare back as he deftly hoisted the frayed fishing net over the boat’s edge. He wiped the sweat from his brow and leaned over the net to consider his catch. Disappointed by the scaly, paltry group of fish, he picked them from the net and dropped them into the stained plastic bucket filled with seawater. Joshua looked toward the glaring sun and decided there wasn’t enough time for another run. Not if he was going to make his date with Isabelle.
He grinned at the thought of her wild, red hair, pale face and patches of freckles she considered a curse, and he longed, as he did so often now, for things to be as they were when they first met. A year ago, he would have walked into her bookstore and found her immersed in one of the hundreds, perhaps thousands of books on the shelves, and she wouldn’t have known he was there until he wrapped his fish-stained arms around her. She would have reacted instantly, jumping up, almost knocking over her chair and throwing herself into him. Her face would have been open, full of the joy she seemed to gather and dispense each day. But day after day, month after month, just as he’d been about to let go and revel in her love, it would happen again. Just as it always did.
He’d pull back, just a little, but enough for her to notice, and she would slowly stiffen her arms and begin asking about his day. He would apologize with his eyes and then reach for her. She would allow herself to be held, but the air of unrestraint, of unconditional everything would have already floated out the window and evaporated with the sun’s heat over the thick blue sea.
Joshua hadn’t been ready to fall in love, but when he heard about the new bookstore in the middle of town and the fiery redhead who ran it, he’d been intrigued. Bell Island is a small fishing town, and doesn’t attract the grocery or fast food chains the larger towns do, so a new business is a novelty, and visiting it a major event.
That Saturday morning a little more than a year ago when Joshua pushed open the wooden door and heard the soft jingle of the door chime, he’d unknowingly entered another world. One with uncharted feelings, conflict and pain and the possibility of real love and happiness.
It was a world his life thus far had ill-prepared him for.
He’d seen her at once, partially hidden by the long wooden counter that held the cash register, fancy coffee machines and a glass case half full of freshly baked goods. The scent of coffee, cinnamon and musty old books swirled about his head.
She’d sensed him, too and stopped in the middle of a transaction. Her brilliant green eyes flitting around the room until finally landing on him like a bird settling into its nest. Joshua hadn’t moved, stayed still even as she drew herself away and concentrated once again on the customer in front of her. Only when she’d counted the change and thanked the woman who’d purchased the books, did she allow her eyes to search him out once more.
“Looking for anything in particular?” she asked. “No, wait.” She stepped from behind the counter, revealing a loose white cotton skirt and snug green T-shirt. “Let me guess.” She closed her eyes and put her chin in her hands. After a few moments of silence, her eyes sprang to life. “I’ve got it. You’re an Emerson. I have a book of his essays in pretty good condition. Want to follow me?”
Joshua watched the red curls disappear behind a tall shelf of books. His first instinct was to tell her he had never read Emerson, wasn’t in fact, even sure who he was. He laughed to himself as he thought of the stack of fishing books beside his bed, the only books he owned. But he didn’t tell her. Instead, he followed her and wondered at the sweat forming on the palms of his hands.
It was there, in the midst of the classics that lined the old, sagging shelves, where he’d fallen in love. He watched her bend and push books aside, mumbling, not really caring whether he responded, searching for the book she was so sure he’d come for. It was the look of shy excitement when she found the book and handed it to him like a trophy that cinched it. In her face, he saw an openness that, up until that moment, he hadn’t thought existed.
Up close, he saw she was younger than he first thought, less than his twenty-five. There were no faint lines spreading around her eyes or mouth, but when she smiled, tiny lines touched the bridge of her nose, which she’d probably crinkled as a child.
Joshua flipped through the small, ragged brown book. “I’ll take it.”
He silently followed her to the front of the store and ordered a cup of coffee just to prolong the transaction. He watched her hands move. Her nails were cut short, and her fingers flew over the equipment with a practiced ease, until at last she handed him the steaming cup.
He made small talk about whether or not she liked the island and about her business, but another customer demanded her attention so he’d slipped out of the store, carrying Isabelle in his mind.
Joshua stayed up all night swimming through the unfamiliar words, and by morning, he’d read the entire book of essays. He even managed to memorize a few passages. He strolled into the bookstore the next day with the intention of asking her out, but she’d misunderstood his presence to mean he wanted another book. He left that day with a Hemingway, and not Isabelle, and then as the week went on, Faulkner, O’Connor, and Thoreau.
At the end of the week, he stood before the register, red eyed and weary from staying up every night reading, and handed her a twenty to pay for a Scott. She held on to his bag instead of giving it to him with his change. “World’s fastest reader, huh?” she asked with a glint of mischief in her eyes.
“Nothing like a good book,” he said, reaching for his bag.
“You know,” she said, pulling it just out of his reach. “You’re going to go broke if you don’t ask me out soon.”
Joshua stood frozen, caught. His mouth broke into a smile, then a laugh, and soon everyone in the store was looking his way. “You caught me,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender.
And so it had begun.
Their first date took place on a sticky, breezy day among carnival vendors and a Ferris wheel that stretched high into the cloudless sky. The seaside fair had been Isabelle’s idea. Joshua would have preferred something a little more predictable like dinner at the island’s only nice restaurant. And when she first suggested they go to the carnival, he’d been a little disappointed by her choice. But he soon realized, and in time grew to expect, that any time with Isabelle was an event, an all-out celebration of life.
As soon as they walked through the chain link fence surrounding the fair, Isabelle shielded her eyes from the sun and set her sights on the enormous Ferris wheel. “Let’s ride that first,” she said, tugging him in that direction.
“We could,” he said. “Or we could save it for last.”
“Why would we want to do that?”
“Because it’s the best thing here and if we ride it first we won’t have anything to look forward to.”
She looked at him oddly. “Are you always that much of a pessimist?”
“Pessimist? I’ve always thought of it as saving the best for last.”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “It seems to me you would have a lot of regrets living life that way.
The looked at each other and laughed, not letting the significance of their differences sink in, the way new couples do when they discover inconvenient incompatibilities.
As the day wore on, filled with rides and games and a laughter that came from a place deep inside, Joshua saw in Isabelle what he knew to be missing in himself. She had a thirst for life, a sense of purpose
so well defined it would be impossible for someone who possesses it to ever be steered off course.
They did ride the Ferris wheel, over and over again, and each time they swooped down the circled path, they marveled at how the sea looked close enough to touch. At the end of their fifth ride, their fingers were interlocked, and their hearts were calling for them to continue the journey.
The stayed until the stars dusted the night sky and there were only a few scattered people milling around the empty grounds.
“I’m not ready to leave you,” she whispered as he threw the last game ball of the evening. “Let me take you someplace.”
He readily agreed, drunk with unfamiliar emotions he didn’t quite know how to handle. He was there—in the moment—and for the first time in many years, he wasn’t weighed down with the uncertainties of his brutal past.
They walked through town and toward the large public beach that sat just below the boardwalk. One of the hotels had a private pier that was reserved for their guests, but Isabelle ducked under the sign that declared it private and waved him in. Joshua looked around uneasily and then followed her. They walked along the boardwalk as the night water rushed under them causing the pier to sway. Finally, they reached a white weathered cabana. It was small with wooden benches lining all but one side. Isabelle moved toward the front of the small structure, leaned over and closed her eyes.
Joshua stood mesmerized, watched her drink in the smells, the sounds of the surf. She was beautiful standing there as the wind blew her pale yellow gauzy shirt against her body. She looked like she was in full control of her life, and he doubted she had ever known fear, even hesitation. He wondered what she would say if she knew how terribly afraid he felt most days, how fearful he was even in that very moment.
She opened her eyes and held out her hand. When he took it, she drew him near. “Can’t you feel the life in this place?” she asked softly. “I come here every day after I close the bookstore.”
“And do what?”
“Read. And think.”
Joshua looked out at the sea, felt for a moment, a tiny fraction of a second, the joy, the magic of the life she spoke of, but then he lost it, like the fleeting glimpse of someone you long for.
“What do you think about?”
“Everything.” She smiled. “And sometimes, nothing at all.”
He nodded, pretending to understand, utterly charmed by this quirky, free-spirited woman. “It’s nice here.” And he meant it. It was the best moment he’d had in years.
The next morning, Joshua had awoken with a new sensation deep inside his abdomen that he couldn’t quite define. He only knew one thing: he had to see Isabelle again.
Soon.
So he’d gone out to sea that day, hoisting his nets high in the shimmering sun, but never letting the boat get so far out that he couldn’t see the white cabana at the end of the pier. He felt dazed, reckless, and although he sensed his fears still lurking inside him, he couldn’t feel them at the moment. He thought about nothing except Isabelle and how she had already affected his life. He hadn’t kissed her the night before, and he regretted it, knew he couldn’t stop thinking about it until he did.
Before any of the other boats did, Joshua pulled in his nets and haphazardly collected his catch. He sailed for the docks, a man with nothing on his mind except the kiss of a woman who, only the night before, had captured his heart.
After he got home and cleaned up, he drove his rusted truck to the town deli and bought two sandwiches and some fruit. Larry, the owner and a longtime friend, looked at him curiously. But Joshua was so wrapped up in his plans for the night, he didn’t even notice.
Moments later, Joshua pulled up to the boardwalk and turned off his engine. He could just make out her red curls flowing in the wind, feel her presence drawing him to her like the sun pulls a flower from the ground. She looked beautiful as she sat in the cabana in the setting sun. He got out, ducked under the chain and walked toward her. She didn’t see him until he was there, in the cabana, and her instant smile and dancing eyes told him all he needed to know.
She felt it, too.
As he sat, she held his gaze, quietly, gently, and then touched his face. She hesitantly drew him near, and then stopped, unsure. When he sensed her reluctance, he gently kissed the woman he was sure had been put on the earth just for him.
Then shyly, but with a new boldness in the air, they settled into each other and ate. They talked about their lives up until that point, and Isabelle told Joshua about her courageous father and how she’d learned about life while watching him die of cancer.
“The disease stole his dreams.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Was it recent?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I was young, twelve, but old enough to understand the meaning.”
He looked at her, obviously perplexed.
She took a deep breath. “My father, up until he got the news that he was ill, always did what was expected of him instead of what he truly wanted to do.” She looked at Joshua and could see that he was still confused. “He worked as a manager in a printing press, but every day when he backed out of the driveway to head towards work, it was another day he wasn’t doing what he truly loved.”
“What was that?”
“He wanted to write a novel. I used to feel sorry for him because all he ever talked about was the story he had in his head, and how sure he was that if he could just find the time to write it, the world would listen. I used to take an odd pride in the fact that he was a frustrated novelist because it somehow made him unlike any of my friend’s fathers. But it never occurred to me at that early age that simply talking about a dream, instead of working towards it, is just that—talk. The truth is, I finally came to realize he just didn’t have the courage to begin his book. Until he got sick.”
Joshua put his hand on her knee. “I’m sorry. What happened then?”
She shrugged, as if the memory had faded and no longer caused her pain, but Joshua saw the ache behind her courage. “He was diagnosed with lung cancer. Initially, he was given six months to live, and after he got over the anger and sadness that comes with knowing you’re about to die, he got serious about his book. He began to write with a vengeance. It was as if he were trying to fit a lifetime of words into the six months he had left. I watched him go from a man who was willing to accept whatever life handed him, good or bad, to one filled with passion and purpose.” She shrugged. “The only problem was, he was dying.”
“That must have been difficult to watch.”
She nodded. “I used to pretend he wasn’t sick, and I imagined he’d always been that determined and strong.” She clasped Joshua’s hand. “He never did finish his book. The cancer spread more quickly than anyone imagined, but he lived long enough for me to learn what he desperately tried to teach me in his last months. That we should squeeze the most we can out of life every single day.”
She turned to look out at the sea. “It was too late for him, but I swore I wouldn’t let his death be in vain. I promised him before he died that I would always live my life boldly.”
“He sounds like an amazing man.”
Isabelle nodded. “He was, in the end. And you? What kind of people raised a guy like you?”
He smiled mournfully. “They weren’t as courageous as your father, I’m afraid.”
He took a breath, about to tell her of his tragic past when a group of rambunctious kids came trampling down the pier. They quickly invaded the cabana with their laughter, and by the time Joshua and Isabelle had walked back to the boardwalk, the moment passed. His story would have to wait.