A/N: Okay, this one's on me. I didn't realize until I was re-skimming Chapter 18, looking for inspiration, that I told you I had written most of 19 already and would have it up in a week. The first part was true, anyway. But I needed to fill in some gaps and flesh out some things, and now here you go: Chapter 19. I am so grateful for your wonderful response to this story. It feels different to me from anything I've written before, so sometimes I feel hesitant, but your encouragement and enthusiasm keep me going. I hope you enjoy this long chapter!
.-.-.
Some Bright Morning
19. no matter how rough may be the way
.-.-.
"I still don't know if I like the look of this place, Savannah. You know, if you had to go up north for college, there's always Wellesley … or Smith …."
"It's perfectly safe here, Daddy, I promise," Savvy assures him. She tucks a hand through one of his arms as they walk.
It's funny being here just off campus with her parents in this grey and rather grimy urban environment, so different from their usual. Her parents are the same though: her mama unruffled and beautiful as she strolls along next to Savvy's roommate, her daddy looking a bit too big for the sidewalk, teasing her with an easy laugh.
"It's nice up here. Right, Addie?" Savvy prompts.
"Right," Addison says quickly.
A man passes them on the sidewalk at just that moment reeking of alcohol and pauses to wolf-whistle loudly, leering at Addie and then Savvy in turn.
Savvy winces and Addison flashes her a quick grin; she can tell just as she has so often since they met only a couple months ago now that they're thinking the same thing: what timing!
She can tell they're stifling matching laughter, too.
"Ooh, look, it's all pretty now that the leaves are changing," Savvy tries to distract her father. "See? You won't get this many colors back home for a while."
Addie, always a pal, chimes in: "The foliage is fantastic right now. You're visiting at the perfect time."
Savvy's father glances around at the trees lining the square of green that makes up the park, the red and gold trees along its perimeter, and with what looks like some effort doesn't comment on the broken bottle he has to step over or the litter in the grass.
"As long as you girls are careful," he says reluctantly, after shooting a glare at the drunk who passed them by. Savvy's just glad her big brother and her older cousin – who's been more like a second big brother all her life – aren't here; she wouldn't trust them not to chase the guy down.
Thankfully, her father moves on to talking to her roommate.
"Tell me, Miss Addison, don't your mama and daddy worry about you living up here?"
"Well, um." Addie glances nervously at Savvy as they walk; she gives her an encouraging smile. "I'm … from Connecticut, actually, so … "
"So they're used to it," he says in a friendly manner. "Well. We sure are happy you're looking out for our girl, then."
"Daddy, I don't need Addison to look after me," Savvy says firmly.
"Everyone needs someone to look out for them, darling," her mama interjects.
Addie looks amused; Savvy nudges her with an elbow. "We, um, we look out for each other," Addison says, and Savvy crosses her fingers hard in the pockets of her tweed fall coat that Addie leaves it general and doesn't mention, oh, last weekend when she had to hold Savvy's hair back practically the whole rest of the night after that party …
"Savannah tells me you'll be joining us for Thanksgiving, Addison." Her mama is talking now, thankfully, and she gives Addie a big smile.
"Oh!" Addie's eyes widen. "She did, um, she mentioned it, but I don't want to impose."
"You're not imposing, dear. On the contrary, I insist."
Addison is playing with the cuffs of her jacket and looking a little embarrassed. "I'd love to, then," she says quietly.
"Good!" her father booms. "We wouldn't hear otherwise."
Savvy shoots both parents a grateful look.
She's asked Addie to come for Thanksgiving a whole bunch of times already but she's been a little weird about it … like she's worried or something. But Savvy knows that even if her parents are a little protective sometimes, they're nothing if not welcoming. And, truth is, she's excited to bring Addie home. She wants Bos to meet her, and Augie, and Beau. Leaving Augie to go to college was hard – they've been best friends as much as cousins practically since Augie was born – but she's found herself sliding into fast friendship with her roommate that's made it easier than she could have imagined to live away from home. Augie sounded a little envious, last letter she wrote, but Savvy's mama promised both of them that going away to school, making new friends – maybe even getting married one day – wouldn't change anything with each other. After all, she and Augie are as close as sisters. And aren't her mama and Aunt Cece still best friends, just like when they were the tiny towheaded ones running around the island?
Her mama is still talking to Addison. "And how are your classes going?"
"They're, um, they're going well, thank you." Addie smiles politely – she's polite to Savvy's parents, always, usually a little quiet, not like how she is when they're alone.
Her mama would probably say she's not used to quiet, not raising Savvy and Bos and having a hand in dozens of other loud Beaufort cousins.
For a moment there's silence, only the crunching sound of leaves under their boot heels. Savvy's mama nods encouragingly and Addison finally seems to realize that she's waiting for more detail.
A dam seems to break and words tumble out: how massive the biology and chemistry lectures seem after her small private secondary school, and how unforgiving the curve – "But she's still at the top of the class," Savvy cuts in proudly at this point – and how she hasn't met anyone outside of pre-med other than Savvy because it takes up so much time – "You'd better not meet anyone you like better than me," Savvy adds here.
"I couldn't like anyone better than you!" Addie exclaims, and Savvy nods with satisfaction.
Savvy's mother tucks a hand through each girl's arm, hanging back a step from her daddy and lowering her voice. "Now. Has either of you met anyone special?"
Savvy does everything she can not to roll her eyes – she manages, of course, because as her brother'd tell you, their mama doesn't stand for that. Luckily, her father intervenes.
"Katie, don't ask them that in front of me!" he says indignantly.
"You're right, honey … they're less likely to be honest." Her mama gives a mischievous smile.
"That's not what I meant." Savvy's father frowns. "I just don't want to know."
"There's nothing to know on my account," Addie says glumly. "None of the boys in pre-med will do anything to sacrifice their grade point averages and I don't know anyone else."
Savvy's mother glances at her.
"Just because I'm not a scientist doesn't mean I have all the time in the world to date," Savvy says. "I happen to be concentrating on other things. I had an article in the Chronicle last week."
"We know, darling, it's on our refrigerator and Aunt Cece's too," her mother assures her.
Savvy's father is looking much happier now.
Addison and Savvy exchange an amused look. At least their nonexistent love lives make someone happy!
Conversation drifts away from romance – or the lack thereof – as they crunch through fallen leaves. It smells smoky and autumnal, altogether collegiate.
"It's just up around this way," Savvy says as they finish crossing the green. She's leading them toward the little café she and Addie like for their late-morning – okay fine, occasionally rather hungover – brunches of hot fragrant bread baskets and bottomless pots of black coffee.
"You won't forget our invitation," her mother says firmly to Addison as they pause outside the steamy glass door.
"No, thank you, Mrs. Sevier." Addie is blushing a little. "I won't."
"Savvy tells us you've already lined up an internship for the summer," her mama adds.
Addison's cheeks color more now. Savvy's well aware she's not used to bragging about herself. "Yes. Um, it's not much, just six weeks in the lab."
"That leaves a little time for relaxing, then, at least. You girls are working so hard."
Savvy shoots Addison a knowing look. It's true – they do work hard, especially Addie, whose pre-med classes can't exactly get aced by winging it – but they also play hard, which her parents don't really need to hear.
Addison just nods.
"You'll come and visit in the summer then, I hope. We'll be on the island in August."
Addie nods again. "The island. That's your, um, your summer place?"
"Our summer place," her mother repeats, with a slow smile. "Yes … that's right. Savvy, darling, you must bring her." Her mama reaches an arm around Addison as they walk through the door into the warm and deliciously scented café. "I think she'd like it."
.-.-.
"Where's Addison?"
"Down at the shell beach with Lily," Camden assures him. She has a toddler on her hip and a basket of what smells like freshly baked bread in her free hand. "They'll be up in a minute. We already rang the bell." She glances from Derek to Bos and back again. "Did y'all catch anything good for lunch out there?"
"We caught a whole bunch of somethings good." Beau shows her their treasure and she whistles appreciatively.
"Derek caught the small ones," Bos says, his tone purposefully innocent.
"Derek caught the big ones," Derek corrects, not really minding the jostling. "But whatever you need to say to keep up your image…"
Beau laughs and slaps his cousin on the back. "You hear that, Bos?"
Bos scowls but doesn't seem particularly annoyed.
"Derek, you should tell her about the …"
But he doesn't catch the end of it so he never finds out what Bos wants him to tell Camden. He's distracted; he's caught sight of two faraway figures making their way up the partially cleared path toward the hearth, the smaller of them carrying something large in each arm. The taller one is reflecting sunlight in an orange-and-gold halo.
For someone who favored large sunglasses and even larger hats to protect her skin from the sun, Addison has always also managed to attract its rays. It's the color of her hair that does it, at least in part.
Derek watches them approach, barely noticing out of the corner of his eye and Beau leans in close to Boswell to whisper something.
"Ladies," Bos says grandly when they approach.
"Hey." Derek catches Addison's eye; she has color in her face, though how much is atypical sun exposure and how much is the bloom of health he's not sure.
"Here, let me take that." Bos reaches for one of the containers Lily's carrying, and Addison shifts uncomfortably.
"She shouldn't have carried both. I told her I'm fine to carry a basket of empty pea … things. They hardly weigh anything." Addison's voice is tight; Derek can tell it's because she's embarrassed at her perceived frailty. She's never been a fan of her own weakness, though she's more than tolerant – even embracing – of it in others.
"Lily's fine. She's stronger than she looks." Beau teases, pulling her in for a kiss.
"Yes, from carrying around all those big Beaufort babies." She flashes Camden a conspiratorial grin, which the other woman returns.
Lily holds onto the bowl when Beau reaches for it. "We've got it, honey. You go do your … fish."
"My fish," Beau repeats, sounding amused.
"Here." Lily gestures to Camden. "I'll trade you," she offers, smiling, and with some juggling, Camden ends up with a tin bowl of what look like freshly shelled peas and Lily ends up with a chubby, beaming toddler on her hip.
Lily gives the boy a squeeze, ruffles his blond curls, and then smiles up at Beau. "We haven't a little boy this small in so long," she says wistfully.
"Don't even think about it," Beau points a mock-fierce finger at her, then turns back to preparing the fish for lunch.
"You can keep that one," Camden offers brightly and Lily laughs.
"Don't tempt me, Cammie." She shifts the baby to her other hip.
As the Beauforts tease each other in cadence that's become familiar in his time on the island, Derek rests a hand on Addison's arm to take her aside as discreetly as he can.
"How are you feeling?" he keeps his voice quiet, aware of the risk he's taking.
"I'm fine." She gives him a very small smile. "How was fishing? You look dry."
"Yeah … I stayed in the boat this time."
"Nice work."
"Thanks." He glances toward the hearth, where numerous blond heads are bent over the wide stone surface preparing food. "I, uh, I didn't know you could shell peas."
"Savvy's mother would say … you never know what you can do until you try."
Derek smiles at this. Addison's eyes look far away, very bright in the overhead sun.
"Derek," she says quietly when she refocuses her gaze on him. "I was wondering – "
"Grub's up!"
He turns to see it's Camden who's called out the announcement, along with an emphatic tug on the rope that controls the old copper bell. At the loud clanging sound, Beauforts descend from all sides: the path Derek knows leads up to the cottages, the trail down to the dock, the half-cleared strip where Lily and Addison emerged, that must lead from the shell beach.
Savvy and Weiss are among them, and before he can blink Addison and Savvy are feet away with their heads bent close, talking, their long hair mingling.
"I guess we won't see them for the rest of lunch," Weiss says cheerfully, glancing at Derek. It's a phrase they've exchanged many times before, at many gatherings. Savvy and Addison have their own history, he knows this – predating him, even predating Weiss, who knew both women before Derek did.
Lunch is served in riotous yet somehow efficient style, older children helping younger ones and adults looking out for the older relatives and the babies alike.
Derek waits to take a tin bowl until the others have been served, and when Camden and a blond man whose name he can't remember dole out sizzling fish atop a pile of bright vegetables, tossing a hunk of freshly baked bread on top, he suddenly realizes that he's starving.
He sits down on one of the rough-hewn log benches without thinking too much about it – Addison is across the way, still deep in what appears to be private conversation with Savvy.
"Can't get enough of us, huh?"
He glances up from his bowl to see Bowell and Beau sitting side by side on the bench not a foot away from him.
"In my defense … I was hungry," he admits.
"That's not much of a defense." But Bos's expression is mild. Beau gets up in short order to go help Lily wrangle some of the children and dishes in turn, and it's just the two of them.
Derek refocuses on his bowl, and then glances up to notice that the two children he saw Boswell and Casey with that night in the shelter, even though he didn't know who Casey was at the time, are sharing a plate with the little girl he recognizes as Augie's daughter.
Bos follows his gaze. "They barely talk to us on the island," he says with a smile. "My two. They're glued to Minna and – where is she?" he glances at Beau. "And Beau's Avery. They're a little gang. But I can't complain, not really, not when we were just like that."
Bos's daughter jogs up just then, as if she could tell they were discussing her. "Daddy! We're going down to the shell beach now. Papa said to tell you."
"Are you, now?"
"Yeah. We are." She giggles. "We'll clean our stuff up first."
"You better." Bos wraps an arm around her and she leans against him, the salty breeze lifting tangled blonde curls. Then he turns to Derek. "This is Shelby," he says, giving her a little squeeze. "Shelby, say hi to Mister Derek."
"Hi," she says, and when she smiles he sees she's missing one of her top teeth.
"Hi, Shelby." Derek smiles at her. "How old are you?"
She holds up six fingers.
Bos nudges her. "Don't make me tell the tooth fairy you forgot your manners."
Shelby giggles, baring her teeth at her father, then turning back to Derek. "I lost a tooth!" she tells him proudly, and he expresses the appropriate amount of enthusiasm.
Bos kisses her and gives her a gentle push away from the benches. "Go on, then. And you watch out for Minna and Avery," he adds, "they're smaller than you."
"I know! I will." She brushes blonde hair out of her face, offering them a little wave before she runs off to join the others.
Derek watches the children move their bowls and flatware into the rinsing bins and then take off in a small herd, presumably toward the shell beach, one small boy flanked by three girls.
"They're twins," Bos says, also watching, "Shelby and Jackson, but he's a little shy. Shel's his advocate."
"She looks like you," Derek observes.
"Excuse me, I have all my teeth," Bos frowns.
Another voice interrupts before Derek can respond.
"Bos … be nice to Derek."
Both men glance up.
"I was being nice," Boswell protests, lifting his hands.
Addison is shading her eyes from the sun, standing above them, her long hair hanging down on either side and creating a sort of tunnel effect. Derek tilts his head up to see her.
"He actually was being nice," Derek confirms, "but I'm as surprised by it as you are."
"Well, if you two are going to gang up on me, then I'm going to find something else to do." Bos says it without any resentment at all, standing up and brushing his hands off on his shorts. "Addie, I'll see you later." He drops a kiss on her cheek. "And Derek …"
He looks up.
"You made some good catches today," he says, and walks off before Derek can respond.
"Don't tell me you two are friends now." Addison takes the seat Bos vacated; she's looking at him uncertainly, but there's a hint of a smile in her eyes.
"No island is that magical, Addison."
She smiles fully now, but then her face turns pensive again.
"Derek … I was thinking, um, maybe we could take a walk," she says hesitantly. "There are some parts of the island I could show you, maybe the shell beach, and …" Her voice trails off.
Slowly, he nods. Sitting next to her, with the glare off her face, he can read the exhaustion in her eyes. "I'd like you to rest, though," he says, his tone careful.
"I can rest. We could walk first, and then rest. I mean, if you want to."
"I do want to," he says, realizing it's true.
The light in her eyes changes, from tired to hesitantly hopeful to … something else.
And he realizes what he has to do.
"I just need a few minutes. There's, uh, there's something I need to do first," he says quietly. "Can you wait for me?"
"I can wait for you."
.-.-.
"I didn't think I'd catch you," he admits as he walks between the reeds with the river lapping in the near distance, his blackberry in one hand. There's a faint scrabbling sound at his feet – creatures, making the island home.
"You didn't catch me," Meredith corrects him. "I answered the phone."
Her tone is light, but there's something behind it. Or maybe it's that she had already started to sound familiar in Seattle but she seems far away now, her inflections unrecognizable.
"How … are you?" he asks, hearing how stiff his own voice sounds.
Has it really only been days? It feels like forever since they've spoken.
"I'm fine, Derek." She sounds patient now. Polite. "How's your friend?"
"She's okay, considering. The, uh, the funeral was yesterday."
Funeral seems like such a stark, colorless term for what the Beauforts did on the boat, but he can't think of a word for that.
And he's not sure she could understand if he did. Not without being here.
"Derek …"
"I'm married."
He blurts the words, surprising himself a little, even if it's what he knows he needed to tell her … and then waits, listening to her breathing.
"You're married," she repeats. "You're married? Seriously?"
"I'm separated," he corrects. "I was separated when I moved to Seattle."
"But you're not separated now …?" Meredith prompts.
A dozen images assail him, sight and senses: Addison leaning forward to kiss him on the marriage bench in Red Fox, her laughing lips tasting of white lightning; Addison resting against him in the bed at Reeds; Addison leaning into him in the outdoor shower, fragrant hot water pulsing around their joined bodies; Addison wrapped in his arms in the slippery spring on Goat's Head.
"I, uh, I'm not really sure," he admits.
"Derek…"
Meredith sounds like she's losing patience.
"She's here," Derek says, clarifying.
"Your wife," Meredith prompts.
He nods, then remembers he's on the phone and she can't hear him. "Yes."
Silence.
"Look, you have every right to be angry – " he begins.
"I'm not angry."
"You're not?"
"I'm disappointed," she says.
He's been married long enough to know that's worse.
"You made me a cheater, Derek," she continues. "And you didn't give me a say in it. And you acted like I was pushy for asking you questions about your life. Any questions about your life! Okay … maybe I am a little angry."
Her tone is open, honest, and regret washes over him.
He and Addison and Mark, they knew what they were doing. They were acting sometimes, reacting other times, but they knew.
Meredith, though? She didn't ask for any of this.
"I'm an idiot," he says for lack of anything better.
"Well, I'm not going to argue with that."
For long moments, they breathe.
"So … I'm going to go," Meredith says.
"Wait," he protests.
"I'm an intern, Derek. I don't get a lot of time for personal calls and this one – well, it hasn't exactly brightened my day."
"I'm sorry."
"I believe you," she says, "it just doesn't matter much, does it?"
"What do you mean?"
"Never mind." He hears her pause. "So does this mean you're … I mean, are you coming back to Seattle?"
"I have a ticket," he says. "I have a job."
She's silent again.
"Meredith … you don't deserve this."
"You don't get to decide that."
Her voice is strong now, almost cold, and he's surprised.
"I just meant – "
"I know what you meant."
"Look, I was just trying to say – you saved me," he says quietly, wanting her to know he never meant to lie, to take advantage. "I was at the lowest point I've ever been, when I got to Seattle, and you…"
"I what? Saved you?" she sounds incredulous. "That's not a thing! You should have told me you were married, Derek," she adds, and her voice shakes slightly. "That night in the bar, before any of the rest of it. I should have known."
"It was over," he says, knowing it sounds like an excuse. "That night, in the bar. My marriage was over, and I thought I'd never see her again."
"And what do you think now?" Meredith asks pointedly.
Before he can answer, he hears a rustling in the reeds and turns.
Addison is standing a few feet away, hands in the pockets of her rain jacket. His lips part; no words come out, and she doesn't meet his eye.
And then, before he can utter a sound, she's turned and she's gone.
Damn it.
"Derek?"
He hears his name from the phone in his hand, which has dropped to his side.
"Yeah." He replaces the phone at his ear, realizing he owes it to her to finish the conversation because he goes to find Addison. "I'm here."
"You sound confused," Meredith says quietly.
"I know."
"And I'm not your savior, Derek."
"I know that too."
He pictures her for a moment. He sees her tangled hair, her wide cat's eyes, leaning over him in bed that last night in Seattle.
"Meredith … I'm so sorry."
"Yeah." She exhales into the phone. "I'm sorry too."
He knows this sketch of her face is good-bye.
.-.-.
Addison stumbles through the reeds, feeling the island sun on her skin like a burn. Derek's words echo through her head. He didn't know she was there. He wasn't trying to hurt her. He was just … saying things.
He was saying that this woman in Seattle saved him.
She saved him.
She made him happy.
Her old mentor Vivian's words, the ones she repeated to Lily at the shell beach, fill her ears. Sometimes love means letting the other person go … wanting them to be happy, even if it's not with you.
Suddenly nauseated, she drops to her knees, trying to catch her breath. She crouches in the reeds for long moments, listening to water, the calls of the gulls, and tasting regret.
Meredith … the intern she can't picture, a smooth blank face with a long ponytail and scrubs … she put Derek back together.
After Addison broke him.
She studies her empty hands in front of her, the bands of gold on her left fourth finger. The hands she spent years training have always been a bit oversized, her whole life, like a puppy growing into its paws. The nanny was forever scolding her about her clumsiness. Don't touch, Addison, you'll break it. Don't touch if you can't be careful. Honestly, Addison!
That was what she did: she broke things.
She broke him.
And she shouldn't be allowed to touch him anymore.
With shaking hands, she dials the familiar number. She hates herself a little, but it's numbing. Almost soothing, almost pleasant. And if anyone would understand that … it's him. He's the only person she knows as disgusted by himself as she is by herself. It can't be that strange, then, that she sometimes feels like they're in this together?
"Addison." His rumbling voice sounds like it's laughing. "You're alive."
The words sting a little … but he has no idea what he's missed, of course.
"I'm alive," she echoes.
"So that means you and Derek haven't killed each other yet, huh?"
"No … well." She traces some sand with her toes, feeling the different sensations against her skin of soft grains and scratchy feathers from the omnipresent reeds. "There's not really anywhere on the island to hide a body."
"Except the ocean."
"Mark."
"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. You're okay out there though, right?"
She closes her eyes briefly, sees the strange white hospital room where she woke with Derek at her side, his hand on her face, the doctor telling her what happened. Then she's crouched in the bathtub in the room at Reeds – she remembers it in fits and starts, the blood, and the pain, and the fear. Losing the pregnancy she didn't know she was carrying. And she remembers the shattering of the door and Derek leaning over her, the way the water rocked the boat in the storm all the way to the mainland. And the way the island welcomed them back.
"Yeah," she says quietly. "I'm okay."
"I miss you, Addison."
She stares at the sun starting to sink behind the marsh, her stomach hollowing out at his words. She doesn't say, you don't miss me, you miss being distracted. She doesn't say, I'm like a drink to you, nothing more, enough of me and you forget. She doesn't say, I get it because you do the same thing for me.
She doesn't say any of it.
She says: "I'm only here for a few more days."
"And then you're coming back."
When she doesn't answer, he says it again. "You are coming back, aren't you, Addison?"
A bird calls out gently, skimming low near the waves and then rising freely again; she watches with a trace of envy as it circles high in the sky, unencumbered by anything.
"Addison?"
She turns her attention back to the phone. "Where else would I go?" she says finally.
The phone is still warm in her hand, folded up, after the call is over.
Alone, she watches the water for a while until she senses that someone is watching her.
Slightly unnerved, she turns around to see Savvy standing a few feet away on the beach with her arms folded.
"Sav." Addison turns quickly to cover the sandy distance between them. "I'm sorry, were you looking for me?"
"No," Savvy says, "but I found you anyway. So I guess I must have been looking for you ... you know, on some level. I just didn't think I'd find you talking to Mark."
Addison blinks. "How did you-"
"Give me some credit."
Chastened, she kicks a bit at the grains under one sandaled foot. "Sav…"
"Come on, Addie," Savvy shakes her head, "you have got to stop running to Mark every time you feel insecure about Derek."
"I wasn't …"
"Yeah, you were. I know you. And you don't have to admit it to me, but I hope you can admit it to yourself before it's too late."
Addison chews on her lip, considering it. For years, she's trusted Savvy to know her like few do. To be a mirror of the last shared twenty years of their lives.
"He was talking to her on the phone," she says quietly.
"Who was?"
"Derek. To his … intern."
"So that's why you called Mark? An eye for an eye?"
"No, Sav, it's not like that." She tries to think of a way to make Savvy understand. She can't really understand, of course. Not when Weiss has always shown up.
He's never left her alone.
He's never made her feel like –
"What, then? Addie?"
"Derek was nice to me," Addison says slowly, "when I needed him. Here, on the island … but that doesn't mean … it doesn't change things."
"When he risked his life to get you to the mainland – and maybe saved yours? He was more than nice, he was your knight in shining armor."
"For one night," Addison says softly, directing her memories away from what it felt like to wake up in the unfamiliar hospital bed next to his reassuring presence. "And then he pushed me away again."
She closes her eyes briefly and recalls standing in the stream of hot water after she was released from the hospital, the overpowering scent of the teak, steam rising. His warm lips contrasting with the cool skin of his face. The moment he held her so closely they were almost one again … and the moment he backed away.
And his words: We shouldn't.
She can't blame him for not wanting her to touch him.
Not after she broke him.
"Addie," Savvy is looking at her when she opens her eyes. "Did you talk to him about it?"
She doesn't answer.
Savvy draws a long, audible breath. "Look, during the ritual, Ad, at the spring and after too. You were – you seemed so close … and you know it's not everything, you have to do the work too, but it's not nothing either."
"Savvy…"
"Addison. Listen to me.I love you," Savvy says evenly, "and I will love you no matter what happens with Derek or Mark but I will be very disappointed if you can't figure out what to do here."
"Derek doesn't want me," she whispers. "You weren't there, he … you weren't there."
"But if you know you want him, why aren't you talking to him? Why aren't you calling Derek instead of Mark?"
"Because … because … he left me, Sav." She pushes her hair behind her ears. "He left me alone."
"Addison," Savvy sounds very serious, "I know I don't need to remind you what kinds of decisions you've made in the past because you haven't wanted to sleep alone."
She takes a step back, pulse fluttering at her throat. "Savvy." Her voice is shaking. "That's not fair … you said you wouldn't …"
"I'm not," Savvy assures her, resting a warm hand on her shoulder. "I would never throw that in your face, but I really hoped you'd … taken something from that."
Addison stares out at the water. The sun is making its curving way back toward the sea, slowly. Everything happens in due time on the island, isn't that what the Beauforts say? She traces, with her eyes, the same arc the sun will, down to the calm surface of the water. When she turns back her vision is darkened, Savvy's face shimmering.
"Look, Addie, I like Mark, I do. I've known him almost as long as you have at this point. He's fun and he recommended a great plastic surgeon when my partner in the DC office needed reconstructive surgery, and I know that even though he acts like he goes to Central America every year to pick up chicks he's actually operating on cleft palates, and he won't even let them put him in the brochure. He's not a bad guy. Maybe he's even a good guy. But that doesn't mean that he's a good guy for you."
"Mark's never left me alone," she says softly.
"Has he ever been with you?" Savvy shakes her head. "Then how could he leave you? Ad, you can't compare a couple months of sex to eleven years of marriage."
"Derek's doing the same thing," she blurts. "He's dating an intern and …"
"… and Derek is the one you should be talking to about this." Savvy stares for a moment. "You didn't ask for my advice but you're getting it anyway. Stop calling Mark, Addie, unless it's to tell him you're done talking to him."
"Savvy-"
"No. Mark's not a backup plan for Derek and Derek's not a backup plan for Mark. And you deserve more than a backup plan. Which one of them is offering you that?"
She doesn't answer.
"By the way, you can pick neither. You can take some time to heal and I'll support you, Addie, but this …" she gestures, "… whatever it is that you're doing, this has to stop."
"You don't understand," she bleats.
"No. The problem is that I do understand, and you don't want to hear it. You're making it worse for yourself. Mark's not a band-aid. And your marriage needs a hell of a lot more than a band-aid anyway."
"Don't hold back, Sav."
"I won't." She raises her chin. "I don't think I was helping you when I was holding back. And I don't know if it's Mama just … reflecting off the island or if you need a talking-to so badly that I'm channeling her, but if you keep this up, Addison, it's not the wind that's going to knock the cell tower down next time."
She stops talking and takes a deep breath.
"I'm sorry," Addison says softly.
"You don't need to apologize to me, honey. I'd be happy if you'd just hear me."
"I do hear you. But it's … not that simple, Sav."
"It is," she says insistently. "It's painful, it's … scary, but it's still simple."
"You really think so?" Addison pauses, worrying the filmy material of her sundress for something to do with her hands.
Savvy takes her hand. "You and Derek … you were always meant to be."
"Yeah, until I screwed everything up."
"And maybe you can fix it."
"What if I can't?"
"You won't know unless you try, Addie. Really try."
She glances out toward the water. They were going to walk to the shell beach. I can wait for you, that's what she said.
"I think … I do need to talk to Derek," Addison admits softly.
"Oh, honey, I thought you'd never say it." Savvy hugs her carefully, then more tightly when Addison wraps her own arms around her friend.
She pulls back, and then Savvy reaches out to tuck long strands of hair behind her ears.
Her gaze is so intense that Addison doesn't hear footsteps in the reeds and glances up, surprised, at his voice.
"Hey." Derek looks from one of them to the other. "I've been looking for you." He scans Addison's face. "Are you okay?" he asks, sounding concerned.
"Everything's fine, Derek," Savvy says. "We're fine. I was just leaving. Addie … think about what I said, okay?" She steps forward and kisses her on the cheek. "I'll see you a little later."
Addison watches her blonde head get smaller and smaller as she strides across the sand and then heads down the path, covering the varying terrain island of the island like someone who's been coming here her whole life. Then she turns back to Derek. He's still there, studying her face.
"Look, Addison, I'm not sure how much you heard, before, but you should know that – "
"It's fine." She waves a hand, dismissing it.
He frowns a little.
"Really, Derek. I'm not exactly in a position to complain." She smiles, with her lips at least.
"Okay." He studies his hands for a moment. "So you – understand."
She nods.
"It was an … overdue conversation."
"Then I guess it's a good thing you had it."
"Yeah. It was time." He's studying her face now. "Do you still want to take that walk?"
"I do," she says slowly, "but there's something I need to do first."
"Okay." He pauses. "I can wait."
"No, I, um, I need to do it with you." She tucks her hair behind her ears, looking for a distraction, but knowing she needs to face it all the same.
His expression is curious.
"I need to talk to you."
"Sure. Okay." He looks almost relieved, waiting for her to speak and looking confused when she doesn't. "Addie …?" he prompts finally.
She takes a deep breath, realizing how much is riding on his answer. "No, I mean like … really talk."
.-.-.
Really talk.
For a moment the two words hang in the air. He can't quite parse them, so he just repeats them.
"Really talk …?"
Addison nods.
"There are things I need to tell you," she explains softly. "Things I haven't told you, about … what happened two years ago."
"I talked to Weiss," he reminds her, wanting to spare her having to relive the details.
Maybe spare both of them.
"I know." She inhales shakily and he finds himself taking a half step closer to her. "But there's, um, a part of the story that Weiss doesn't know. Or Savvy," she adds.
Derek takes this in, surprised. He takes a deep breath … and takes responsibility. "There's a part of the story you don't know, too," he admits quietly.
Addison blinks; now she looks surprised. "Oh. Well, I guess we both need to … really talk, then."
All he can do is nod.
She leads the way down the path; he follows a step behind, watching her familiar gait with its long, loping steps. They're accustomed, in the past, to matching each other stride for stride. But he lingers a little – maybe in anticipation of the conversation, or maybe in case she falters. More than once he finds a hand rising slightly toward her, brushing the air near her back or shoulder, but she maintains both speed and balance all the way back to Reeds.
She stops outside the door to Red Fox.
Slowly, she turns and sinks into the porch swing. "Do you mind?" she asks quietly. "I kind of … want to be outside right now."
He understands the urge. The air feels more than fresh here; it's like a living thing, green and growing. The sun is tracking toward the water, announcing the hours left in the day, and without its penetrating glare from above, it's cooler, crisp.
"You're not too cold?"
She shakes her head, and he lowers himself onto the swing beside her.
Neither of them speaks for long moments, taking turns pushing off the weathered patio floor with one foot, the only sounds the creaking of the old swing and the background noise of the island: moving water, chirping birds, scurrying creatures.
"Remember the swing at the house?" Addison asks finally, breaking the silence. Her voice is soft.
"The house with the yard?"
"No, not that house. The other one, the house in Montauk."
"With the shingles," he recalls.
"And the big swing."
He tilts his head slightly. "Wasn't it a hammock?"
"Maybe it was a … hammock swing." She pauses. "Is there such a thing as a hammock swing?"
"Sure," he says, "it's what we had at the house in Montauk."
"That's circular," she protests.
"So's the island," he says, like he's heard Savvy and her family say, and sees something warm flicker in Addison's eyes.
"Anyway, the swing at the house …"
Somehow as they reminisce they've shifted, too, against the other side of the swing like he remembers her doing at the rented house in Montauk, drawing her legs up on the swing.
"That was a good house," he says.
It was small, smaller than the house they rented the next year and significantly smaller than the one they eventually bought in Easthampton.
The current house has more room than they need but it will appreciate, that's what the realtor said, glowing with the anticipated sale,and the jewel-bright bean of a pool with its scattered loungers would be perfect for entertaining.
Less so for sitting empty.
He has a sudden and surprising longing for that small, modest house, the one with the hammock-swing.
"Derek," she asks tentatively, "do you remember Savvy's toast at our wedding?
He nods.
"When she, um, when she said we were meant to be?"
He nods again. He remembers every moment of that night through a champagne haze – he had barely a sip but he was drunk on youth and love and handfuls of lace, the overpowering scent of the flowers in her bouquet. It flavored everything, down to her skin; the tear he kissed away after Savvy's speech tasted of roses.
Now Addison takes her lower lip between her teeth; after a moment he brushes his thumb lightly against her mouth, prompting her to release it.
"When were on the island, the first time … Savvy found a starfish," she says slowly.
"She made a wish," Derek proposes.
Addison nods.
"She wished for me to find someone … good." Addison head dips; she looks almost bashful. "Someone who wouldn't hurt me. She wished it and she threw the starfish back in the water."
"Give to get," Derek repeats slowly, remembering Addison's words when she explained the starfish tradition to him.
And if it's meant to be, it will come true.
"Right." Her mouth twitches. "She didn't tell me then. You know, when she made the wish. It's supposed to be just between you and the sea. So, um, then I started medical school, and I met you, and – well, you remember they were protective and they checked you out and then Savvy, she told me what she wished for on the island."
She stops speaking for a moment, looking lost in the memory. Derek touches her hand lightly, reorienting her, and she gives him an apologetic half-smile, a quirk of her mobile mouth too sad to be called a real smile.
"She said that it was meant to be. And to me, you know, she said that you were the one she wished for, who wouldn't hurt me."
"I have hurt you, though," he says quietly.
"Not on purpose," she shakes her head. "Not like I did, not like – "
Her voice breaks.
"Addison." He touches her hand. "It's been a long day; you didn't really sleep last night. You're still recovering…"
"I'm okay." She takes a deep breath.
"I know." He moves his hand slightly to cover hers; it feels cool. "You should get some rest, though, Addie."
"I will, but … I need to keep talking. There's more."
Hesitantly, he nods.
"Was that the part of the story I didn't know?" he asks gently. "The starfish?"
She shakes her head.
"Tell me," he says quietly.
"The day I saw … Ethan … at the hospital," she starts, her voice low, "and Weiss came to get me at the bar and …"
"I know which day you mean," he assures her. It's burned in his memory now, reanimated.
The day he let her down, and Weiss and Savvy were there for her, understood how traumatic was the shock of seeing her violent former boyfriend for the first time after almost twenty years.
He sees a flicker of shame in her eyes, coloring the reminiscence, and waits patiently, his hands still resting on her legs, for her to start speaking again.
"That day," she repeats, "… it wasn't actually the first time I saw him."
He blinks, surprised. "But Weiss said –"
"Weiss doesn't know. Neither does Savvy. I didn't tell them." She's gazing out past the dock, he can tell, toward the water. "I didn't tell anyone."
His quiet, not sure what to say.
She glances at him. "Derek, you said there was a … part you hadn't told me too."
There is, one that makes him feel faintly nauseated to consider while they're sitting so close together that they're breathing in tandem, the rhythmic flexing of his foot rocking them both at once.
But he's decided she needs to know, so he just nods.
She's toying with the weather-beaten fabric of the swing cushion; he takes her hand in his once again, careful to avoid –
"Your burn," he says, confused. "It's gone."
Addison turns her hand within his, not looking particularly surprised.
Lightly, he probes the skin with his thumb. It shouldn't have healed fully, not yet.
The spring.
Sulfur, he tells himself. Minerals, not magic. His fingers skim over the smooth, unmarred skin of her hand.
"I want to hear," she says softly, "what you wanted to tell me. I think I should go first, though."
"Okay."
"Yeah." She looks down at their joined hands. "I wish it were that simple."
"Maybe it could be. You could just … tell me," he encourages gently.
"I want to." She swallows; he sees the long column of her throat move. "I wanted to then too, Derek, I did. But it's the same problem, you know, I just don't really know how to start," she admits.
…or whether he would listen.
She doesn't say that part; he hears it anyway.
"I'm listening now," he says quietly, shifting the position of their hands so that his warmer one surrounds hers completely. "You could just … start."
She draws a long, deep breath, as if she's taking in everything around them.
And then she starts.
To be continued. I won't make you wait too long. You guys are amazing - several of you predicted or anticipated things in this chapter that I wrote months ago in my outline. There are parts of this chapter I've been waiting to share with you, even though I know Addison and Derek continue to dance in their Addek way, forward, back, left, right, not quite together, never apart - they're circular, and frustrating, and I love them. And I think you're going to like where they end up, so please grab a lifejacket, don't let the guys push you overboard, and stay for the ride. Thank you so much for reading and please review - reviews are the three rivers beneath my boat!
