A/N: Welcome back to the island. Thank you so much for your response to this story, which is super appreciated and gratifying. I wanted to finish this story in June so I could wrap up a WIP in one year, but I'm me and I didn't. That said, I'm close. This is the second to last full chapter. The last one is very close to done, so I plan to post it soon. Thank you as always for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter.


.-.-.

Some Bright Morning
22. you'll know me in the morning

.-.-.


"You sure you're ready to go back?"

Addie nods.

Savvy glances uncertainly from her boyfriend to her brother. Weiss is resting a hand on her shoulder, big and reassuring.

"It hasn't been that long," Savvy starts, her voice low. "What if – "

"The island knows, Sav," Bos says gently. "You know that."

All she can do to that is nod, but when she lowers her eyes past the dock, to the scrubby sand out a ways ahead, she lets out a little gasp of shock.

"Sav?"

"Bos, look!" Savvy points down the sand.

"Well, I'll be." His eyes widen. "I didn't see that there before."

"See what?" Weiss asks.

"Maybe it wasn't there before," Savvy says.

She crouches down to pick up the starfish and shows it to Weiss and Addie.

Addie looks better, so much better, with color in her cheeks, her hair moving in the soft island breeze. The sun has touched her – and more than the sun, but Savvy has stayed out of that, trusting in her best friend and her brother and the island itself.

All she knows is every morning Addie has looked a little stronger, a little more like herself. A banged-up version of herself, maybe, but standing up a little taller. Smiling a little more, looking less afraid. The nightmares stopped after only a few days. She knows her brother gets some of the credit for that.

Her leg isn't bandaged up any more. The doctor stuff, they can deal with that on the mainland. Here on the island covering things up is no way to fix them. There are healing waters, natural salts and minerals. Sunshine.

And time, long golden hours of time.

Time slows down on the island, it always has. Just like every magical summer of her childhood, running down the shell beach hand in hand with Augie, chasing after the boys. The island was their playground and a mystery too, known and unknown all at once.

The island does that with children, cradles them. Nurtures them. Grows them taller than they really need to be, that's what her daddy used to joke. Blonder from the sun, too. Tan and rosy. The island heals, and the island also leaves its own marks.

"You know how rare that is?" Bos looks impressed, and Bos never looks impressed.

"We used to look for them all the time when we were kids," Savvy says, even though she knows Addie knows it just as well as Weiss does. Their histories are intertwined by now, the stories they told each other come alive.

"You found it, sissy." Bos glances from Addison to Savvy. "It's your wish."

"I know." Savvy studies the starfish in her hands. She leans a little against Weiss. He just feels so good, so real and solid next to her.

"Go on, then," Bos urges. "Or did you want to wait for the tide to drag us back to shore?"

"Don't rush me." Savvy frowns.

"Rush you?" Bos's tone is incredulous.

"You know she likes to take her time to choose," Weiss adds, his voice gently teasing, and Addie actually smiles, a little. Savvy's heart feels warmer just at the sight of it.

It's Addie all right, the same Addie who'd tease her when they shopped together, that she couldn't even pick which boutique to start in and then once she did, oh, just wait until she had to choose which blouse to try on first.

Bos has his arm around Addie – kind and gentlemanly, like their mama would approve, nothing more than that. She appreciates it and she thinks Addie does too. She's better, so much better, but she still gets tired.

And the island knows, Savvy knows it knows and yet … it's still hard to leave.

The mainland waits for them, but the mainland hasn't been waiting.

Time moves ahead, there.

They've already missed the first two days of classes, up at school. And it's no short drive back, not even going straight with no stops.

Savvy isn't worried for herself – she can write a paper in her sleep at this point – and she knows Weiss feels the same way. Addie, though, with her hectic pre-med schedule – it's a little different for her. She can get extensions, waivers, after her injuries, but Addie won't want to, she knows her better than that. Plus, there's the little matter of skipping out on Health Services.

Addie is smart, smarter than anyone Savvy knows. She won't fall behind.

"Sav." Bos is looking at her. "I'll take that wish if you're not gonna use it, but be forewarned I'm just gonna wish that you would hurry up."

Savvy laughs in spite of herself. "Fine," she says, then pauses. "Addie – come with me," she says.

Addie looks a little uncertain.

"Just down the beach," Savvy says quickly. "Right there."

"What about us?" Bos asks. "What are we, chopped Beaufort sausage?"

"No boys allowed," Savvy says primly, nodding with finality when her brother frowns. "Girls only. We'll just be a minute."

"They're never just a minute," Bos mutters to Weiss, who nods in agreement. Those two have been thick as thieves on this trip, and she can't complain.

"We will be this time," Savvy says firmly. She holds out her hand. "Addie, c'mon."

They keep hold of each other's hands as they walk down the beach, like Savvy used to do with Augie when she was smaller and toddling, not so steady on her feet yet. Addie's no toddler but she's only just regained her footing her on the island. In some ways, she's only just learned to stand again. To walk.

Savvy doesn't make her walk far, aware that she'll get tired. Plus, she knows the spot when she sees it, just as she knew she would.

"Addie." Savvy releases her friend's hand, and instead rests one of own hands on one of Addie's shoulders. "We used to look for starfish all the time when we were little kids. And when we were bigger kids. A starfish is a powerful thing on the island."

"You can make a wish," Addie murmurs, remembering.

"Yeah, that's right. We'll give the starfish back to the ocean and make a wish. Give to get."

Addie nods.

Savvy glances back up the beach. Bos and Weiss are deep in conversation that she can't see, with lots of gestures on Weiss's part. He has to tilt his head a little – he's not short, Weiss, but Bos is silly tall, as their daddy used to say. Everyone has to look up to Bos. Well, everyone except Beau, anyway.

They seem to sense her looking and Bos makes a point of tapping his wrist – where a wristwatch would sit, if anyone on the island wore a wristwatch.

She turns back to Addie. "Okay," she says. "We don't have a lot of time, so here goes."

"What are you wishing?" Addie asks suddenly. She hasn't been talking that much, all on her own – answering questions, sure, but just to pop out with that makes Savvy's eyes widen. Addie misreads her expression. "Oh, you can't tell me," she murmurs. "Or it won't come true."

"That's not the case on the island," Savvy assures her. "I can tell you."

She wraps an arm around Addie, drawing her gently in, so that when she murmurs her wish just inches from the salt-scented surface of the starfish, they can both hear it.

And then Savvy draws back her arm and throws the starfish back into the ocean.

They both watch the ocean welcome it back, curling mightily around that one tiny starfish.

And then it's gone, her wish swept out to sea.

"Sav …." Addie shakes her head, and her eyes are bright with tears. "You shouldn't have wasted your wish on me."

"I wouldn't have to, if you didn't say nonsense like that." Savvy takes her hand again, squeezes gently. "Don't you get it, Addie? It's not wasted, not on you. It's meant to be."

Addie looks at her for a moment, one of the tears escaping to slide down her cheek. Very carefully, Savvy brushes it away.

"Sav …" Addie stares down at the sand.

"I know." Savvy squeezes her hand again. "I'm not sure I'm ready to leave yet, either. But Addie, Bos is right. The island knows. The island always knows when it's time."

Addie nods, still looking doubtful.

"And you'll be back. The island'll welcome you back just like the ocean did that starfish."

"How do you know that?"

"Because it's meant to be, Addie. That's how the island works." Savvy brushes her sandy hands off on her shorts and gestures up the beach toward the boys.

Addie nods, and starts walking. Then she pauses.

"Ad?"

"Magic," Addie murmurs, giving one last glance behind her at the ocean.

Savvy can't argue with that. She just links her arm through her best friend's – her miraculously healing best friend – and together they cover the rest of the sand to the dock.


.-.-.


She wakes like she does most mornings: before the alarm, in stages, and the first one is the nicest: her cheek against his heartbeat, his warmer body – he's always warmer – firm and strong underneath hers. She exhales a little sigh and cuddles closer. They need to get up for work, but another minute or two until the alarm goes off won't-

And then a loud clanging – like an old-fashioned bell – rips through the room, and she jumps, and so does he, underneath her, and –

"Addie – it's okay, it's just the breakfast bell."

The breakfast bell –

Her whole body tenses with shock and then recognition as she relaxes against him again. Of course. They're not in their sleigh bed at home in New York. They're here on the island, on St. Cera's, except they're different too, and Derek is looking at her so gently that it makes her throat feel thick.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. Sorry," she says quickly. "Just – I forgot where we were for a minute."

"Yeah." He moves some of her hair away from her face, smoothing it a little. "We, uh, we should probably get up. We don't want to wear shades of shame, not on our …."

His voice trails off, before he can finish: not on our last day.

She's flooded with sensations from the night before, his familiar arms and voice and hands, the welcome pressure of his body and the sense of loss when she realized it was too soon for them to let their emotions take over.

But he stayed.

He stayed, and she slept in his arms, and her whole body aches from it. Not with pain but with longing and it's a physical stress, the stretch of a rubber band, when she makes herself nod and draw back so that he can get up first.

Derek always gets up first.

He lingers for a moment, his eyes lowered, before he swings his legs out of bed, the same way he always has. He sits on the edge for a moment, and she can't resist crawling across the bed to press herself against his back like she used to at home when they acted out this same morning routine, seeking his heat and the comforting feeling of his muscles against her.

She rests her cheek against the muscles of his back. His skin is warm and he feels strong and real. Solid.

"Addison?" He glances back at her. He looks … worried.

That's not fair to him, not after all he's done for her.

"I'm okay," she says. "I was just warming up."

"Okay," he repeats. "Good."

She watches him walk into the attached bathroom, hugging herself a little amidst the soft blankets.

.-.-.

"Okay, Sav, that was some of my best work, and you're still talking about Derek and Addison." Weiss props himself up on one elbow. "A less confident man might be a little offended."

"I just think we should head down to breakfast," Savvy says, not meeting his eyes, glancing instead out the window at the hanging foliage.

"What's the rush?" he asks, placing a hand on her bare arm. He rubs his thumb over her soft skin.

"Um …."

He loves how easy it is to distract her. Easy, and rewarding.

"Russ and Augie are on this morning," she manages to say finally. "And stop that."

"Stop touching you," he says doubtfully. "You really want me to?"

"No," she admits. "But I want to go help Augie at the hearth. It's their last day and there's a lot to do."

"And you want to ask them if Derek said anything about whether he's still boating to the mainland with them." Weiss shakes his head. "You are uncharacteristically transparent this morning, counselor."

Savvy smiles a little, then more broadly when Weiss pins her to the mattress. "You're officially banned from talking about Derek in bed," he announces. "Got it?"

She widens her blue eyes innocently, staring up at the ceiling fan.

"You're not the boss of me," she says.

"Oh yeah?" He folds his fingers through hers and stretches her hands over her head. "That's not what I heard."

"Well." She wriggles under him, little breathy sounds of pleasure driving him crazy. "I suppose on the island, anything is possible … ."

He succeeds in distracting her. Fully this time.

Until a second loud clanging interrupts them.

"The late bell." Savvy scrambles out from underneath him. "Don't you make me late, Weiss, you remember how embarrassing that was in – "

"1994?" Weiss shakes his head. "Not everyone can have a perfect record, babe."

"Everyone knew what we were doing! Beau didn't let us hear the end of it for … how many years?"

"Well, we were newlyweds," he reminds her.

"What's our excuse now?"

"We're … still newlyweds?" He grins at her.

"Very funny." She pulls her nightdress over her head – light and floaty, it always reminds her of the island. "Weiss, get up, honey, come on!"

"I'm enjoying the view."

"You're ridiculous," she informs him, but she can't help a little smile. She gets dressed as quickly as she can to avoid being late, but she does let him watch.

Finally he's dressed too and they're scrambling down the stairs, headed for the hearth.

"Now I'm too late to help Augie." Savvy shakes her head.

"You can help her serve," Weiss points out. "And maybe assigning them breakfast on her last day wasn't the best idea."

"Leaving's no excuse for not cooking, don't you remember?" Savvy pushes her hair behind her ears. It's a little brisk out still, with the promise of sunshine. "We just don't have that much time, honey. Derek was going to go with them to the mainland."

"I know that." Weiss pauses. "Wait. Was?" He raises his eyebrows, brushing away some low-hanging foliage so Savvy can walk under it.

"Thanks," she says. "And yeah, was, or at least I'm hoping was. They talked, baby, they really talked. And I don't think they're going to leave this island apart. Not anymore. And don't look at me like that, I'm allowed to talk about Derek if we're not in bed."

"Cousin Savvy," a female voice says brightly, stepping on some cracking leaves, "don't mind me, I'm right behind you."

Savvy's cheeks flush. "Uh – morning, Millie. How long've you been walking with us?"

"I'd say just long enough," her cousin replies with a smile. "but don't worry, Sav, whatever the two – or three – of y'all get up to in bed is none of my business."

"Millie!"

But her cousin just flashes her another big grin and jogs down the rest of the path.

Savvy glares at Weiss. "I hope you're happy."

"How is this my fault?"

"I don't know," Savvy says grumpily. "It just is."

"Then I'm sorry." Weiss wraps an arm around her. "Look, babe, there's a lot going on this morning. I don't think Millie's going to remember for long – "

" – that we're swingers?" Savvy says. "I mean, that she thinks we're swingers? Weiss, think about where we are. People remember what King George was wearing the day he signed the deed to this island. And he wasn't even a swinger!"

"… that we know of," Weiss corrects.

He's shaking his head, but he's not going to object when Savvy is smiling and now laughing, her blue eyes bright. Sometimes a little silliness is what people need, and somehow the island seems to know just when that is.

.-.-.

The hearth feels familiar.

Normal.

How can it feel normal, when every inch of her is screaming, tell him not to go?

But it does.

It feels exactly the same, warm with the smells of cooking food and hot coals. She doesn't even remember how they got ready, how they stumbled out here to the hearth.

But now, without discussing it, she and Derek stand by the massive burbling coffee percolator in the pale morning sunshine and take turns drinking from the sole mug they brought from Reeds.

"It's going to feel strange having my own cup again," Derek says. His tone is light, but she swallows hard at the painful reminder that he's leaving.

He glances at her.

"Addison," he says quietly.

She can't meet his eyes, guilt flooding her.

"That's right," she says, forcing a hearty tone, "you'll be free to poison your coffee with as much milk as you want."

"Milk … is great."

"No. Milk is vile," she says, just like she used to.

"Actually, milk and coffee go together perfectly," he corrects her, and then he stops talking.

The rest of it, the part he forgot to say, is just like us. Milk and coffee are like Derek and Addison, he should say, and then she'll say, you mean Addison and Derek.

She hastens to fill the silence by gathering a tin bowl for each of them and moving down the breakfast line, but her heart is thumping with the realization that there is no more Addison and Derek.

Like what she prefers to drink, just coffee. That's all she is now.

Just ... Addison.

Alone.

.-.-.

It's impossible to get Addison alone at breakfast, which shouldn't surprise him because alone doesn't seem to be a concept the Beauforts value very strongly.

Like every other breakfast he's witnessed on the island, there are blond children running in groups down the scruffy path, along the beach, gathered in groups at the hearth seeking breakfast and teasing each other. And then the adults, no less blond, are spread out on the rough-hewn log benches and gathered around the large open stove, helping to cook. The tin dishes clank, the children's shouts rend the air.

Addison flits here and there, helping Augie and Russ and Savvy with breakfast duties. He finds himself sitting alone on one of the rough-hewn log benches, trying to decide how much more of the admittedly delicious prize-pig sausage he wants to eat this morning.

"Mister Derek."

He looks up to see Beau's daughter Avery. She's standing in front of him holding a mug in two hands with what looks like hot chocolate. And, based on the dark ring around her little mouth, he's pretty sure he's right.

"Good morning, Avery."

"Morning," she says brightly. "How come you're not cooking breakfast today?"

"It wasn't my turn," he says.

"Oh." She tilts her little head, considering this. "I had fun when I was your sous-chef," she says, smiling at him.

For some reason, his throat feels thick. This small person, one of so many on the island – who is half-Beau on top of that – shouldn't make him sad. He's not sure what's going on, so he just swallows hard.

"I had fun too," he says truthfully.

"Can we do it again tomorrow?"

"I'm not going to be here tomorrow, Avery."

"How come?"

He glances around the hearth but everyone else is busy with their own conversations. No one is coming to his rescue. "Because I have to go home," he says. "I need to go back to work. People, uh, people are depending on me."

Why is he trying to justify himself to a three-year-old?

Avery's eyes widen with interest. "Are you a fireman?" she asks eagerly.

"No," he says. "I'm a doctor."

"Oh. Um … that's good too," she says politely.

He finds himself smiling.

"But are you gonna come back here?" Avery asks.

" … that's not up to him, now, is it?" Beau has appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and he raises an eyebrow at Derek. He has one of the omnipresent striped cloth napkins in his hand, which he takes to Avery's face despite her protests. "Hold still," he instructs her, wiping the chocolate from around her mouth, "unless you want the bees mixing you up with their breakfast."

"Are you coming back?" Avery asks once Beau has released her face.

Beau intercedes again, before he can answer. "You know how it works, Avery Grace." He takes the hot chocolate from her hand and sets it on the stone bench next to Derek, then lifts her up. "The island decides when we come and go."

"I know that," Avery says, playing with the collar of Beau's polo shirt. "Just I liked when Mister Derek was here."

Beau is quiet for a moment. Derek says nothing.

Finally, Beau clears his throat. "All right, you go on now, sweetheart. Minna's looking for you."

"Minna's leaving too!" Avery cries as if she's just remembered.

"That's right. You don't have much time left to play with her this morning." Beau sets her down on her feet. "You'll be saying goodbye before you know it … so don't waste time."

Avery skips off down the path, her blonde curls bouncing.

Beau turns to Derek, shaking his head. "I can't say much for my girl's taste, but she's certainly taken a liking to you."

Derek accepts the ribbing; Beau's tone is free from hostility, much more like the joshing that seems to characterize all the Beauforts' conversations with each other. "I think she's the smartest of your five," he says.

To his mild surprise, Beau throws back his head and laughs. "Not bad, Shepherd, not bad." He pauses. "So. Russ and Augie want to head out by eleven," he says. "I'm ferrying them, I've got some business on the mainland. Eaves'll meet us there. That should give all of y'all plenty of time to make your flights in Charlotte." He pauses. "You still planning on heading to the mainland with us?"

Derek nods. "I … have a flight," he says when Beau seems to be expecting an answer.

"That you do. Hey," Beau says as if he's just thought of something, "you know, I need your help for a few moments if you've got it. With the boat."

Derek looks helplessly at the gathered Beauforts, and once again no one steps in to save the conversation. "Sure," he says finally, and after letting Addison know where he's going, he follows Beau down to the dock.

.-.-.

Addison helps with the dishes – there's no leaving today exception on the island, and she wants to help Russ and Augie finish up in time to pack. Several other cousins had the same idea, and when they quickly finish she sees Savvy gesture to her, as if she wants to talk.

Nodding, Addison holds up one finger in response.

Wait.

There's something she has to do first.

Her cell phone heavy in her pocket, feeling strangely bulky here on the island where she's unencumbered by so many things, she makes her way to the reeds where they had their last conversation. The signal is strong here, it seems.

She rubs absentmindedly at her ankles with her free foot when the plants make her skin itch. The sun is heavy as it makes its way higher in the sky, and her heart thumps in time with eleven o'clock.

It's soon.

Time is slow on the island, but in the rest of the word – time moves ahead.

And she is running out of it.

Taking a deep breath, she dials his number.

"Long time no speak," Mark says in lieu of greeting, his tone friendly.

"Yeah." She crouches to pluck a reed from the ground, twisting it in her hands. "Well. It's been busy here."

"Lots of nature and that kind of thing, huh? Any skinny dipping to report?"

"No."

"Addison – "

"Mark, just stop. Just – listen to me for a minute."

She can hear him breathing on the other end of the phone, as silent as Mark can be.

"Things … have changed," she says carefully.

"Didn't I tell you not to run away with Derek?" his tone is playful; if there's more underneath it she can't hear it.

"I'm not. Derek is leaving today, actually."

"Oh." Mark sounds surprised. "He's going back to – where is he again?"

"Seattle."

"Right." Mark makes a derisive noise. "Hell of a downgrade, don't you think?"

"And I'm coming back to New York," she continues, her voice shaking a little. "I have a flight back on Thursday."

"Well, all right then. So what's the issue?"

"I'm coming back," she repeats, "but it's not going to be the same. I can't do it anymore, Mark, I don't even know what I was thinking, but I – I'm sorry."

She hears him breathing again. Somehow, actually saying the words is easier than dreading them.

"It's over," she says.

"Yeah. I'm getting that." His tone is … neutral.

"It wasn't right, Mark. What we did."

"I know that." He sounds grudging, but truthful, and then she feels guilty. It's not only his fault. It's both of theirs.

"Look, I needed you, when Derek left, and – you were there, and it must seem ungrateful of me now, I know."

"It's not tit for tat, Addison. Although …."

She can hear the smirk in his voice.

Yeah. He's going to be fine.

"I'm sorry," she says again. She's about to say, I'll get my stuff, but she brought so little to his place there's not much to get.

She wasn't living there so much as marking time.

"So you're not running away with Derek, but you're not coming back to me," Mark says. He sounds semi-interested, and not accusatory at all.

"That's right." She rubs the reed between her fingers, welcoming the prickly sensation to distract herself from the reminder that she's going to be alone.

But it doesn't hurt quite as much as she thought, somehow.

It aches – but there's a little comfort too, a reminder that she's doing this for Derek. That he'll be happier this way.

"Derek's still breathing fire, huh?"

"No," she says, keeping her tone neutral. "No. We, uh, I guess we worked things out."

Mark whistles down the phone line and she winces.

"Not like that," she adds. "Mark, I need to go."

"Sure." But he's not hanging up. "Hey, Addison – "

"Yeah?"

"You think he'll ever talk to me again?"

Mark sounds hopeful, young.

And she realizes maybe it wasn't about her at all.

Maybe she and Mark both wanted the same thing when they turned to each other.

"Give him a little time," she says gently. "A little space. But – yes, I think he will."

"Really?"

"He's pretty forgiving," Addison reminds him.

Maybe too forgiving.

But she can't miss the relief in the way Mark says goodbye, and she's glad she was able to give him that.

Nor can she miss the lightness in her own heart as she snaps her phone shut and makes her way back through the reeds to Savvy.

.-.-.

Derek glances out at the river. "You know … if you wanted to talk to me, you could have just said so."

"What's that mean?" asks Bos, who met them down at the dock and is currently on his knees leaning into the runabout.

"It means … it's not much of a cover, asking me to help with the boat."

"It's no cover," Beau says. "We needed a warm pair of hands. We're not picky."

"Except there are a dozen Beauforts on the island who are better with boats than I am. And one of them is married to you," he adds, glancing at Bos.

"Shepherd, I've never heard you sound so humble," Bos says. "And you know, I kind of like it. Except the part where you're accusing me and my very honest cousin of deception. Us!" He widens his eyes, and under the thatch of blond hair he manages to look like an overgrown angel.

Beau raises a conciliatory hand. "Look, Derek, you're here now, and the boat – well, she needs three of us. So can we count on you or not?"

Derek glances at the shining surface of the runaround, and then back at the beach, and then at the two blond men standing shoulder to shoulder, watching him.

"Yeah. You can count on me."

"Look," Beau says quietly, "we don't want to take away from your time with Addie. We just wanted to talk to you. You're still planning on hitting the mainland this morning."

Derek nods. "I have a flight."

"Derek." Bos shakes his head. "Why are you leaving without Addie?"

"She's staying," he says.

"Yeah, that's not an answer." Beau tosses him a rag.

Derek glances at it. "What's this?" he asks, realization dawning. "That's what you needed my urgent help with? Cleaning her?"

"She's had some extra workouts lately," Beau says, raising an eyebrow.

Derek sighs. He walked right into that one.

"Do you really need three people to clean one boat?" he asks.

"If they're all as slow as you … then yes," Beau says, smirking. "Get scrubbing," he adds, pointing to the boat, and he picks up his own rag to join the work.

They clean in silence for several minutes, the sun warm on their necks.

Finally, Derek sits back on his heels. "What do you want from me?"

"Elbow grease," Beau says. "That's all."

"Fine."

They go back to scrubbing.

Bos is next to toss down his rag. "Derek. You talked to her. Didn't you?"

No need to clarify who her is this time. It's certainly not a boat.

"Yes, I talked to her."

"Talked talked," Bos clarifies.

Derek nods.

"Then why aren't you staying here too?"

"Because I'm leaving."

"That's not an answer."

"Well, it's the best one I've got."

"Then do better!" Beau points a finger at him, sounding intense – almost angry. "Boy, how can you let her get away after all this, after – "

"Because I love her!" Derek snaps.

There's a lull in which the only sounds are crickets and the other small creatures who make the island home. Water sloshes against the side of the boat.

"Well," Beau says, his tone a little different now, "all right then."

"You don't understand."

"What don't I understand?"

"I don't want to hurt her," Derek says quietly. "There's been enough – it's been enough."

"You don't think it will hurt her if you leave?"

"That's not what I'm saying."

"Then what are you saying?"

Derek just shakes his head.

"Fine." Beau points at the bucket. "If you're not gonna talk, then make yourself useful."

They scrub in silence, punctured by Bos's occasional whistling. The tune is vaguely familiar, a hymn of some sort.

"I found a starfish," Derek blurts finally.

Bos stops whistling.

The boat goes silent again.

"Here, on the island," Beau says after a moment.

"Here," Derek confirms.

"Do you know about – "

"Yeah, I know."

"So, what did you wish?" Bos asks.

"I don't think I'm supposed to – "

"On the island, you're supposed to," Beau says.

Derek sits back on his heels. "I wished that I could make things right," he says, "that I could stop hurting her."

Bos and Beau exchange a glance.

"Did you remember to throw the starfish back?" Bos asks doubtfully.

"How stupid do you think he is?" Beau chides.

"You really want me to answer that?"

"I threw it back," Derek interrupts, before they can continue bickering.

"And the legend is if you give it back to the ocean, your wish will come true. You can't get something for nothing," Bos recites. "Give to get. So. If that was your wish, how do you figure this plan of yours?"

"This is how I do it," he says. "This is how I stop hurting her. It wasn't good," he says finally, "our marriage, the last couple of years. I was … absent," he admits. "I was indifferent, and I hurt her."

Beau and Bos are listening quietly with something like respect, all traces of amusement gone from their similar faces.

"But now you know it," Beau says, his tone surprisingly gentle, "which means you can fix it."

Derek shakes his head. He has a flash of a younger Addison, the one he didn't know, crumpled at the foot of a staircase he's never seen. Then his Addison, lingering at the foot of a different staircase, trying to get his attention. Then it's Addison barely a month ago, crouched at the bottom of that same staircase, struggling with him while he pried her hands from the banister.

A door slams.

In his memory.

On his marriage.

He feels the sting of failure, of regret.

"There's too much water under the bridge," he says finally, realizing both men are still waiting for an answer.

"Derek, you're a fisherman, you must know that water under the bridge is a good thing." Beau exchanges a glance with Bos. "You ever get stuck on a shallow pass after a dry spell?"

Derek doesn't answer.

"Look, how long since you two – fifteen years?"

"Sixteen," he admits.

"Sixteen. There should be water after sixteen years. Lots of water," Beau continues. "You just have to ride it in the right direction."

Derek glances out at Three Rivers, the constant motion of the water. He sees the distant silvery jump of a fish, and the splash it leaves behind. Lots of water. Well, the island certainly has that.

She shakes his head a little to clear it.

"Not everything is an island metaphor," he reminds the cousins.

"True," Bos says thoughtfully. "But … some things are."

Derek sighs. "Let me guess," he says. "You know it's an island metaphor … if it's an island metaphor."

"That's circular," Beau says.

"So's the island, Derek replies, raising an eyebrow at the cousins' twin looks of surprise. "All clean," he says before they can respond, tossing the rag over the side of the bucket. "Am I excused?"

"Yeah, get out of here," Beau says, gesturing toward the dock. He sounds weary, and when Derek glances back on his way up the path he sees the two men are still deep in conversation, heads bowed.

.-.-.

"Where's Derek?" Savvy asks when Addison catches up to her. Together, they make their way down the sun-faded stones that make up this path to the beach.

"Helping Beau with the runabout. Bos too."

"Beau doesn't need help with the runabout," Savvy says, looking confused. "She's all ready to go to the mainland this morning."

"But he said – " Addison stops, nodding. "Oh. Well, I guess I let Derek get railroaded again."

"Derek's a pretty smart guy," Savvy says gently. "I don't think he'd've gone with Beau and Bos if he didn't want to. He would've known they wanted to talk."

Addison looks out at the ocean.

"They don't need to … get involved," Addison says finally.

"Get involved? Honey, they're already involved. We're all involved."

"I'm sorry." Addison takes one of Savvy's hands in hers. "I didn't want that, I came here to support you, Sav, not to make everything about me."

"You have supported me," Savvy assures her, "and I'm grateful for it and I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Addie. No more than you should expect me to stay out of this."

"You don't have to stay out of it. I just – I don't want to disappoint you," Addison admits.

"It's not me I'm worried will be disappointed."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that right now, Derek is still planning to leave."

"Right."

"And you haven't asked him to stay."

"No."

"And is that because you don't want him to stay, or you can't because you're afraid he'll say no?"

"Neither." Addison shakes her head. "He's happier out there, Sav. He's started over. He deserves that." She pauses, then speaks again before her friend can. "Savvy … I talked to Mark."

She doesn't have to tell her what she said. She knows Savvy can tell, just from her tone. Just from her face. She knows her that well.

"I'm proud of you, Addie."

"It was time," Addison says simply.

"So you finished it with Mark," Savvy recounts, "and that's over, but Derek – "

"I can't." Addison shakes her head. "It's not one or the other, Sav, like you said. Derek deserves more than that."

"But maybe he wants that," Savvy says tentatively. "Addie … look, you two have been out of step for a while. And you were out of step when you go here, that's for sure. But things are different. You know they're different."

Addison nods.

"I told you I'd support you no matter who you chose, or what you chose, and I meant it, Addie."

"But …" Addison prompts, recognizing the syntax.

"But … maybe you're finally back in sync – and if you are, just please don't let him leave, not like this, not unless you want him to leave."

"I can't ask him to stay, Savvy, he wants to go."

"But he doesn't know you want him to stay!" Savvy says.

"And I can't tell him that! I can't ask him to stay when he wants to go."

Savvy pulls at the ends of her long blonde hair, a gesture Addison remembers intimately from their college days. Frustration. Sheer frustration. "You know what, Addie? You two truly deserve each other."

"You make that sound so … insulting." Addison laughs.

Just a little.

And then she cries, and Savvy holds onto her tightly, keeping her promise.

Around them, the white island sand stretches into the ocean. Enough sand to fill a thousand hourglasses.

What she wouldn't give for some of those hours.

Because even though the island has given her so much already – so much – she still needs more.

She needs more time.


To be continued - very soon. I know this is a quiet time on the site (July Fourth weekendish, general malaise, heat wave? I don't know), but I also know a lot of you have expressed a desire to see this story continue and I would love to hear from you. It's incredibly motivating and I love reading your thoughts. That, and I am proud of this story - it's been a long journey, a struggle to keep my chapters winter-short, and I have truly enjoyed sharing it with you. Thank you for reading, and I hope you'll let me know what you think. See you next time!

PS I think I stopped crediting them way back when, but every chapter title is a lyrical excerpt from a hymn and this one makes me think of this story more than any other (except for Some Bright Morning, of course). "I'll Meet You in the Morning," and it inspired several other of these chapter titles too.

PPS The part where they wake up together is a riff on the same scene from Chapter 7, on purpose. Not sure anyone else would notice that, but I wanted to throw it out there just in case you're a binger and 7 is fresh in your mind.