A/N: Thank you so much for your response to the previous chapter, and to the story overall. I had no idea when I set out to write an expanded Savvy-and-Weiss-and-Addek story that it would become one of my favorites, or that I would get so attached to Savvy's extended family that I would try to linger on the island a little longer. But this story was actually outlined, with a plan, and I am excited to share this last (long) chapter with you. I hope you enjoy it.


.-.-.

Some Bright Morning
23. we shall meet on that beautiful shore

.-.-.


Keep moving. You stop moving, you're already gone. It's a Beaufort favorite Addison has heard many times over the years.

Is that how her feet are able to keep moving now, even though her body feels leaden, her chest tight?

Is that how his keep moving, too?

From separate directions, they meet back at Reeds, as if they planned it.

"Still just the one key," Derek comments lightly.

"Right." Addison looks down at it. "I'm not sure the others actually lock the doors, now that I think about it."

"Makes sense." Derek watches her unlock the door. "I guess we're used to a different kind of island."

She smiles a little at this, though the we and the reference to their old life in Manhattan both ache.

"I guess I should …" He gestures toward the room once they're inside, with its varied sitting pieces and ceiling fan.

Pack.

Of course.

The clock on the wall of their room announces, with its reed-shaped hands, that it's already half past ten.

Addison swallows hard.

Half past ten means halfway to eleven.

The boat is leaving at eleven o'clock.

"Derek?"

"Yeah." He turns around immediately, both hands still in his suitcase – though she's not sure why; he barely unpacked anything at all. He's been living out of his suitcase, at first to spite her – rather obviously – and then he was probably busy with other things.

"Thank you for all you did, you know, when I was … well, before," she says, for lack of a better term to describe it.

Derek looks a little surprised. "You don't have to thank me," he says after a moment.

He disappears into the attached bathroom and comes back minutes later with his zippered dopp kit.

"Derek?"

She's sitting on the marriage bench now, the one where they sat together what feels like forever ago, drinking white lightning.

"Yes?"

"What, um, what happens next?"

She holds her breath a little after she says it.

He looks at her for a moment, and then sets his dopp kit in his suitcase and walks over to her.

She turns her face up to his.

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"Nothing," she says. "I don't know."

His hand rises, brushing against her cheek. She can tell that he can tell she's been crying. "Addie … what's wrong?"

I don't want you to go.

"Nothing," she says again. "Really. Just – you know, I was with Savvy and we were … emotional."

He nods. "About Catherine."

No.

"Yes. About Catherine."

Derek moves a stray lock of hair away from her face and then releases her. "Savvy's held up so well, but I guess it's good for her to … grieve. To talk about it, I mean."

"Right."

"You sure you're okay?" Derek is looking down at her, concern on his face.

It would be so easy to say no.

To say stay.

She's pretty sure, right now, that he would do it.

Certain, even.

His hand is loose at his sides, fingers curling slightly. She could slip her own right in …

But his bare fourth finger reminds her of what she did to him.

And that's why she can't ask him to stay.

"Derek – we should get down to the dock," she says. "Beau always says he can't abide stragglers."

.-.-.

Of course Beau can't abide stragglers. Derek is unsurprised; a reputation for Beau being extra tolerant? That might surprise him.

He has no interest in destroying the fragile peace he's set up with the man who's about to take him across Three Rivers. Not when Beau could easily push him out of the boat – and has before, even if he won't admit it.

Still, though, more than that, he doesn't want to hurry.

So he lingers, looking for mistakenly left possessions the way Addison always used to when they were checking out of hotel rooms together. She'd review their space with military precision, always in the same order.

He never asked her what she was so worried about leaving behind.

He never told her that as far as he was concerned the only irreplaceable thing in any of those hotel rooms … was her.

So now, when it's too late to do just that, he gives himself the small comfort of repeating her routine.

Bathroom first, vanity drawers open.

Counter scanned.

Tub checked from left to right.

Back in the bedroom, he starts with the dressers. Top to bottom. In each drawer, he looks counterclockwise.

Not left to right. You can miss things that way.

He's finally finished, after drawing back the quilt and then replacing it.

Addison has watched him quietly from the doorway this entire time, not speaking.

"You remembered," that's all she says when he glances up at her.

He takes his suitcase, and he doesn't look back.

He can't.

Instead, he pushes open the door to their room and lets his wife walk out first. He doesn't say it, but he thinks it, hard enough that maybe she can hear him respond:

I remember everything.

Side by side, they walk slowly down to the dock. This time the cleared path, reeds brushing their ankles in the way that's become familiar, feels all too short.

.-.-.

Once they get there, he regrets not saying something earlier.

Not goodbye. Just … whatever it is that they are going to say.

Because now they're surrounded by Beauforts, spilling off the dock onto the sandy reeds that surround it: cousins hugging Russ and Augie and Minna and talking to Beau about the plan and his route. The children are shrieking with delight at something he can't see, and it's as messily chaotic as any other Beaufort gathering.

He glances at Addison.

She's wearing her sunglasses so he can't see her expression, long hair loose and tousled down the back of her lightweight sundress. It's warm now with the sun nearly at its height. Her bare shoulders are tipped ever so slightly forward.

He sets his case down on the dock and looks around for privacy.

"Mister Derek!" Avery skips up to him, blonde curls bouncing. "Bye," she says simply, waving one of her little hands.

"Bye, Avery."

She looks from Derek to Addison. "But is – "

"Avery, let Mister Derek and Miss Addie alone." Lily, swooping in with an apologetic look. She scoops Avery to her hip and while they can hear a high-voiced protest when they leave, its individual words aren't comprehensible.

"Avery's going to miss you, I think," Addison observes.

"Just Avery?" he asks, not quite sure why he says it.

Silently, she shakes her head no.

"Addie," he begins, but the shouting of some of the children interrupts – they're running down the dock now, weaving barefoot between the adults.

He was foolish to think he could find privacy.

There is none. Not here.

So, with nowhere to go away from the crowds, he steps closer to Addison instead.

He can't see her eyes behind the dark sunglasses.

Her question in their room at Reeds still hangs in the air like one of the droning bumblebees that keeps dipping into their space – what happens next?

He still hasn't answered it.

But it seems the answer is: this.

This is what happens next, this line-drawing of goodbye, this strange noisy farewell.

A gull cries overhead.

I'll miss you too.

On the dock, he can see Beau loading bags onto the boat.

Before ... time was in motion. It was running.

Now?

Now, it seems, their time has run out.

.-.-.

Addison follows her husband's gaze down the dock. Beau has tossed the last of the bags aboard.

Her stomach is hollow.

"So, um." She's thankful her eyes are hidden behind her sunglasses. Another group of small blond children races past them, but somehow Derek still seems like the only person on the island. "You're going," she says, trying to force heartiness into her voice. "So. Have a good trip."

"Yeah." He looks down for a moment. "Addison, listen – "

"You're going back to Seattle, Derek," she blurts. "And I'm going back to New York, and – we're still married."

"Yeah, we are." He looks away, across the river.

She studies the familiar angles of his jawline, the space where his neck hollows into the muscles of his shoulder and tries to memorize what she can in case this is the last time she sees him.

"We still have things, um, to figure out," she says carefully.

"We do." Derek nods. "I know. I can ... call you," he offers, at the same time Addison asks: "Should I call you?"

They both stop speaking, smiling a little awkwardly.

Addison takes a deep breath. "I guess I should have the lawyer … do something. You know." She's squinting behind her sunglasses now, though it's not shade her eyes are seeking. She draws another deep, shaking breath, trying to imagine facing the realities of this when they're off the island. The legalities.

Derek looks at her. "We don't have to talk about that now."

"Right." She glances down at her hands, flexing them carefully. She's wearing her rings, and she notices the moment he notices. Or remembers.

"Addison – "

"But you'll need your own. Lawyer, I mean. I can ask Douglass if he has a rec or … ."

"Addie, don't." The words sound raw.

She stops.

"I really am grateful for everything you did," she says, her voice low. "You … saved my life."

He looks at her for a long moment. Maybe it's not fair, that she can see his eyes – so soft, so familiar, that they still leave her weak – but he can't see hers. They're the eyes of the man who left her in New York and now they're the eyes of the man who is leaving her on the island but the rest of him is different in every way from that terrible night.

His posture, now: open.

His tone: warm, even affectionate.

His touch, when he reaches out to move a breeze blown lock of hair off her face: gentle.

So gentle it hurts.

"Anytime," he says.

Now he's looking at her again, and he gestures to her sunglasses. She could pretend she doesn't know what that slight flick of his hand means, that practiced marital shorthand, but it would be a lie. So she pushes the sunglasses up on her head.

She's not crying.

She won't cry.

"You're crying," he says quietly.

"I'm not. I mean, I am," she admits. "Sorry. I'm just … emotional." She wipes her eyes. "It's been a long week."

"Yeah." He makes a sort of almost-laugh of agreement. "But … not that long. Not since the hospital. So you need to be careful, okay? While you're on the island. Don't let the Beauforts talk you into digging a trench or raising a barn or … whatever. You're still healing."

Still healing … still raw.

She'd be lying if she said she wasn't in pain, but not because of the miscarriage.

"It's okay." She rests a hand on his arm. "Really, Derek. I'll be okay."

"Yeah, you will." His eyes look very soft now. "Addie …"

"Don't miss the boat," she whispers, her chest so tight each breath hurts. Another traitorous tear slips out. "Beau won't like that."

He doesn't move, though. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?" he asks.

Slowly, she nods, wiping her eyes. "Savvy's here."

"You're staying to take care of her, though," he reminds her.

"We'll take care of each other," she says. "Savvy and I … we always have."

"Yeah. I know that." He looks down for a moment.

And then he's suddenly framing her face with his hands, his gaze so focused, so intense, that she stops crying and just looks back at him.

"I'm sorry," he says softly, "for everything."

"Me too," she whispers. "For everything."

He's still holding her face, his thumbs stroking over her cheekbones and she closes her eyes for a minute, memorizing his touch one last time.

Stay.

"Take care of yourself," he says quietly when she opens her eyes.

"You too."

He kisses her.

It's brief, habitual: the kind of quick kiss they'd use to say goodbye or hello a dozen times in any given day, the kind that would be chaste if not for the intimacy it implies.

"Addie?"

They both look up, Derek's hands dropping back to his sides. Her face feels chilled without the warmth of his palms.

It's Savvy, who has broken out of the throng of Beauforts to approach them. "Sorry. Just Beau says he needs to get going," she says tentatively, "but Derek, if you're not – "

"He's ready," Addison tells Savvy.

Keep moving.

She tucks her hair behind her ears, wiping the last of her tears away.

"Go," she says to Derek, forcing her voice to stay steady. "Hurry. Beau looks mad."

He looks at her once more, as if he wants to say something else.

But he doesn't.

He leaves, walking down the dock just as she instructed him.

The wind kicks up and her heartbeat is as wild as the waving reeds, thumping her ribs in painful staccato.

He's really leaving.

He's leaving … and she can't watch.

"Sav – let's get out of here," she whispers desperately.

Savvy looks at her with concern. "Honey, don't you want to –"

"No. I already said goodbye. I can't – please, Savvy," she adds, and she doesn't have to say anything else. Savvy wraps an arm around her and leads her away.

She walks away with Savvy, using all her energy not to run after him, to beg him to stay.

Not to sink to her knees in the sandy reeds and cry for everything she's lost.

With the utmost effort, she holds it in.

She holds it all in until they've reached the porch swing outside their room – no, just her room now – at Reeds. From here, the boat is still a visible smudge to her, but Derek won't be able to see them.

And then, finally, she lets go of her tense muscles and sinks onto the patio swing, burying her face in her hands.

"Oh, honey." She hears the creak as Savvy sits down next to her, feels the motion of her friend toeing off to rock the swing. "It's going to be okay, Addie. I swear it. I know it hurts now, but it will get better."

Savvy's voice is thick, like she's trying not to cry too.

"But it's supposed to hurt less this way." Addison scrubs at her eyes, which have started to sting.

"Addie – "

"No, it's okay. It's better. He'll be happier without me, Sav, once he's – and I want him to be happy. I do."

"So … I take it you didn't tell him not to go?"

Addison's voice is shaking with the effort of holding back her tears.

"I couldn't," she says. "I couldn't tell him not to go. But he didn't want to stay. So ... it's better that way. It's going to be better, Sav, it really is," and she tries to force her mouth into a smile but the tears come anyway.

And then she doesn't speak anymore.

Savvy eases her down so her head is in her lap and just lets her cry into the soft lawn material of her sundress, stroking her hair.

Curled like this on the swing, Addison can just make out the runabout, still at the dock. They must still be preparing to leave.

She watches them until the tears blurring her eyes leave the boat unrecognizable.

She tried to keep moving. She really did.

But he's gone.

.-.-.

He makes himself walk steadily the rest of the steps down the dock, away from her.

Keep moving.

When he lets himself turn back to look, it can't have been more than seconds – but she's gone.

One of the cousins is grabbing his suitcase and handing it off into the boat. Confused, he turns to the closest Beaufort – it's Camden.

"Did you see – "

"Travel safe now," she says. She has a robust blond toddler on her hip, wearing overalls and a cheeky baby-toothed grin. He grabs for the lapels of Derek's coat.

He falters. Despite the ache in his chest, he can't help but smile at the beaming, rosy little face of Camden's son. "Thank you for teaching me how to cook sausages," he says after a moment.

"Thank you for wanting to learn," Camden says. She's tall enough that all she has to do is lean forward to kiss his cheek. "I hope you find what you need on the mainland, Derek."

Shouts and plans and conversation, words, so many words, jostling shoulders and windblown blond hair and it's all a blur as he tries to understand what's happening.

"Derek?"

"Lily," he says with relief as Beau's wife stops in front of him, looking up at his face. "Did you see where Addie went? She was with Savvy." Derek peers over his shoulder again. "They were right there, before."

"She's grieving," Lily says quietly.

"Savvy is," Derek clarifies.

"They both are," Lily says. "Different things, in different ways. There are different kinds of grief ... but then you know that."

She's still looking at him, squinting a little into the sun. She's different, Lily. She's a Beaufort by marriage, not birth. An in-law, like Weiss. She may be blonde but she's diminutive – physically, anyway, a whole head shorter than Savvy and Augie. Lily must have been an adult already, the first time the island welcomed her.

"Shepherd." Beau passes by, frowning. "Don't take all day, now."

"He's coming, honey," Lily assures her husband and Beau looks slightly mollified, pausing to run an affectionate hand along his wife's blonde hair on his way past.

"Derek … you've done well," Lily says softly once Beau is occupied with the boat again. "It's not easy, coming to this island for the first time. Not for us, not for the in-laws. I've been a Beaufort by marriage for fifteen years, I carried five Beaufort babies and it's still … well. The island is a special place."

"Different," he says. On all sides he can see the rest of the family saying final goodbyes to Augusta and Russ, their small daughter passed from one relative to another for hugs and kisses. He recognizes Bos and Casey's twins clamoring at Augie's side, as she promises them they'll see Minna soon, and several of Beau and Lily's children.

Lily nods. "Different from anywhere else." She pauses. "I want to thank you, Derek," she says after a moment. "You've been kind to my sons, when they were hurt, and so patient with my daughter. You didn't have to do that. Beau was tough on you, when you got here, I know that. And I'd like to think I'll see you again, but … well, you never know. So I want to tell you that I appreciate what you've done. All of it. I know it wasn't easy, and I appreciate it. And I know Beau does too … no matter what he might say."

Derek nods, his throat feeling a little thick.

"He believes in you," Lily says quietly.

"Believes … what?" Derek is confused.

"In you," Lily repeats. "Beau believes that you – "

"Shepherd! Hurry the hell up!" Ten feet away, his foot propped on a low piling, Beau is shading his eyes from the sun. When Lily raises her eyebrows, he repeats himself in censored form but no less impatiently: "Hurry the heck up, Shepherd!"

"Daddy said a bad word, Mama!" Isaac, who had been at his father's side, darts over to Lily, grinning.

"Real bad," Avery adds, clapping her little hands.

"All right, that's enough out of both of you." She ruffles Isaac's blond hair, which is sticking up wildly from, Derek presumes, a dip in the island's salty waters.

"Hell," another little boy repeats happily.

"Thanks for that, brother." A tall blonde Derek hasn't seen much on the island is shaking her head, gesturing at a series of small children who must be hers and looking like she's trying not to laugh. Beau's expression is a little sheepish now, and Derek remembers that he has his own sisters, in addition to the tight foursome he understands was formed so long ago with Savvy and Augie and Boswell.

Bos. Savvy's brother is nowhere to be found. Derek glances around the dock, a little more carefully now, but he can't see him.

"Boswell," he says tentatively, glancing at Lily.

"I'll be sure to send him your regards." And she stands on tiptoe to kiss Derek on the cheek. "Go on, then," she says, "before my husband's vocabulary gets any more creative."

Her eyes are soft, like she's sad too.

But he does as she says, tracing the final steps down the dock that seem to be reserved for those who are leaving. An line as invisible as so much he's learned on the island: unseen but observed with an almost religious adherence.

"About time." Beau is shading his eyes, frowning at the runabout. "Look, I don't like leavin' Lily either, trust me, but I believe you have a plane to catch."

"Sorry," he says automatically.

"I wanna drive, Uncle Beau!" Minna is bouncing on her tiptoes on the dock, immune to Beau's scowl.

"Say please, sugar," Augie reminds her, toying fondly with her daughter's blonde ponytail.

"I wanna please drive," Minna corrects. She tugs on Beau's hand. "Please, Uncle Beau."

"Well, I can't say no to that, can I?" Beau spreads his hands as if he has no choice.

"Is she really going to drive the boat?" Derek asks. He's only half listening; it's taking most of his focus not to look up island for Addison again. She wasn't there at his last backward glance. Or the one before it either.

Keep moving.

He's not sure why it matters; they already said goodbye.

"Yes," Augie says shortly, her face tight. "We let three-year-olds drive here on the island."

He wouldn't be that shocked if so, but he swallows the sarcastic comment, hoping he's misread what sounds like hostility from Savvy's cousin. He watches as Beau settles in the driver's seat with Minna on his lap and gestures for Derek to take the passenger seat. It's the one seat in this runabout he hasn't had before, actually.

Where did Addison go?

But Russ and Augie are already in the backseat together and Beau taps on the wheel impatiently, glaring at him, so there's no time to wonder.

One foot in front of the other, hands on the smooth surface of the vessel that will take him from the island once more, Derek boards carefully, figuring splashing Augie would be a mistake.

Beau revs the motor … and they head out.

It should seem more drastic, leaving the island after all this time, but somehow it's just a beautiful autumn day, the sun warm on all their shoulders, and he watches helplessly as the island gets smaller and smaller in the distance.

.-.-.

It's cooler the further out they get along the endless churn of Three Rivers, and Derek shivers a little as two gulls cry above him, one of them swooping low as if it's carrying a warning.

Just then, the motor cuts.

"Everything okay?" Derek asks, glancing at Beau.

"Oh, yeah." Beau gives him a thumbs-up without looking at him, the sun blurring the edges of his visible profile. "Just taking a little rest."

Which is confusing when Beau was so anxious to get moving, but Derek doesn't question it, assuming the answer will be another island rule he has yet to learn.

"I like it when we don't go fast sometimes," Minna observes in her high-pitched little voice, and Derek is amused.

It's quiet, so quiet now.

The water moves up against the boat.

Little splashes announce the presence of fish.

He can see the shadow of the mainland ahead of them, and he can't see the island behind them, so he figures they must be halfway.

Of course they're not completely still – they can't be, not on the living river that's actively rocking them in its churn.

"Time always seems so long on the island," Augie observes as they drift. "But actually, it's short."

Derek turns in his seat to acknowledge her words – she's sitting directly behind him – and sees Russ pick up his wife's hand and squeeze it.

And he remembers that Augie is going back to the mainland to begin treatment. Treatment for the disease that killed her mother and Savvy's mother in turn.

He swallows hard.

Here he's been consumed with the ache and confusion of leaving Addison, and annoyed with Augie's hostility, while greater pain is happening right next to him. Of course Augie is sarcastic, a little aggressive. Her life is on the line.

He's flooded with guilt, poised to apologize.

"Knock it off!"

He glances up at Augie's sharp words, realizing he's still half turned in his seat, mostly facing her. "Pardon?"

"I said, knock it off." Augie shakes her head, her long hair swishing from side to side angrily.

"But I didn't – "

"Sure you did. You were doing the cancer face." Augie glances toward the driver's seat, where her daughter is occupied with Beau. Then she leans forward, toward Derek, and widens her already wide eyes, adopting an exaggeratedly mournful expression. Her voice is a low hiss. "Don't you try to deny it, either, Shepherd."

"I won't," he says, glancing uneasily at Russ, who holds his hands aloft as if to say, you're on your own.

"Glad to hear it." Augie glares at him. "Because I won't have it. I know the odds might not be good but I'm not going have any of y'all holding my funeral while I'm still alive."

The words are similar to ones he heard her use before, but they're not gentle this time.

Russ touches her shoulder now. "Honey … Derek didn't actually say anything," he reminds her quietly.

"He didn't have to."

"Augie." Russ moves a little closer.

"I didn't mean to make you angry," Derek tells her apologetically, realizing he used the wrong words the moment they've escaped his lips.

"I'm not angry," Augie snaps.

Clearly.

"I'm not angry," she repeats, her voice shaking a little. She's still glaring at him. "I'm annoyed. I'm annoyed because I might be out of time for the people I love and you have time, Derek, you have so much time. You have time and you're just throwing it away. No, don't," she says when he starts to respond. "Don't even try. I don't want to hear it about it's better this way and we don't want to hurt each other or whatever good-guy crap you're going to spout about how it's just so right that you're walking away. You are throwing away something I am trying so hard to hold onto and you're right, I'm angry. I'm so angry. You know what? I'm too angry to look at you right now."

She draws a long breath after her speech and turns to Russ. "Switch seats with me, baby, so I don't have to see him," she orders.

Russ looks confused. They're both on the back bench, but Russ is seated behind Beau and Minna, Augie behind Derek. The space difference is negligible.

"Honey," Russ says placatingly, "we're in the middle of – "

"Just switch before I throw him overboard!"

Russ sighs, and with some creative maneuvering manages to switch seats with his wife. Augie leans back in her new seat huffily and pushes her sunglasses down from the crown of her head to cover her eyes.

"I was getting along so well with the Beauforts," Derek says, trying to keep his tone light. "I guess I should have known it wouldn't last."

"You watch yourself, boy," Russ says, his tone still calm, and even friendly. Seated behind Derek, he can speak quietly without anyone else hearing. "I may not have Augie's temper but I'm not too happy with you myself."

What else is new?

Derek just slumps a little into his seat, this feeling of being in a boat of hostile Beauforts uncomfortably familiar.

As Beau turns the motor and they roar off again … it seems to him all the progress on the island is washing away as swiftly as the path they cut through the river.

.-.-.

"Addie … it's going to be okay."

Savvy fills a mason jar with cold water and brings it to the side of the bed. She can't help noticing that Addison, who is frozen with grief and stared at the key to Red Fox like she had no idea how to operate it – not that anyone else here would ever lock a door, but Addie and Derek have their own ways – still settles herself only on one side of the bed, her limbs drawn in, leaving the other half bare.

There's something about that blank empty space that might as well be embroidered Derek Should Be Here, and Savvy almost leaves it bare.

But Addie needs her, and this isn't a pull-up-a-chair-and-hold-hands kind of morning, so Savvy climbs onto the bed anyway.

Addie's crying and apologizing at the same time as Savvy does her best to soothe her.

He's gone.

That's what she keeps repeating.

He's really gone this time.

Savvy holds her hand tightly, wanting it not to be true. When Addison is distracted, Savvy sidles along the window as discreetly as she can, knowing she can see the edge of Thompson dock from this angle.

Just in case the boat never left.

That kernel of hope dies when she sees the empty spot at Thompson where Beau's runabout was tied.

The island can surprise her; it has before. But it stings a little, as she climbs onto the bed again to comfort her weeping friend, to know that the island could actually disappoint her.

.-.-.

"All right, I have some business on the mainland today," Beau announces when the last suitcase has been heaved out of the runabout and onto the dock. "So let's get all of y'all out of here so you can make your flights and I can get to it without wasting any more time." He shoots Derek a dark look. "The captain should be right about – ah, there he is. Captain Eaves!" he calls.

"It's Beaufort Beaufort, my favorite Beaufort." Eaves strides toward them with a wide smile, looking amused with his own joke. The tiny plane – actually smaller than Derek remembers from the first flight, if possible – is perched like a grasshopper on the little stretch of seashore that acts as a runway in Beaufort Grove.

The battered wooden sign is the same one Derek remembers from their landing here a lifetime ago:

welcome to beaufort grove

"Very funny." Beau is shaking his head, clapping Eaves on the shoulder. "But hey, joke's on you, brother, 'cause you've got to transport this Yankee back to Charlotte."

He nods toward Derek.

Captain Eaves looks distinctly unimpressed. "Shepherd," he says grudgingly.

"Captain Eaves," Derek replies, trying not to notice that Augie is glaring at him.

"Don't worry, Captain, we're coming too," Augie reminds him, her tone far sweeter than in the boat. "We'll lighten the sting."

Eaves nods approvingly, kisses her cheek in greeting, and then shakes hands with Russ and stops to exclaim over Minna.

"I drove the boat!" the child pipes up happily.

"Did you, now?" Eaves shoots Beau a glance. "Does this little lady have a license?"

"She's on her way, don't you worry," Beau says. "She's a natural." He glances at the old clock mounted on the post. "Gettin' late, Eaves."

"Right." Eaves points at the little craft. "All aboard that's going aboard, then?"

Augie exchanges a glance with Beau, then turns to her husband. "Russ, honey … take the cases up, will you? I'll be there in a second."

"Sure." Russ holds out a hand. "Minna, come on with Daddy, sugar, I need your help."

Minna gives Derek a friendly wave goodbye and skips off alongside her father as Captain Eaves and Russ juggle the bags. Derek watches as they hand bags up to Captain Eaves and then Russ guides Minna carefully up the small staircase.

Then Derek has an uneasy moment when he wonders if Augie has stayed behind in the hopes she can drown him quickly instead of letting him accompany them on the small plane.

As Augie approaches him with swift footsteps, he thinks he might be right.

Instead, to his surprise, she reaches out and puts her arms around his neck. They're the same height, and after a moment he places his hands on her back to return the embrace carefully, still not a hundred percent positive she's not going for a stranglehold instead.

"It was real nice seeing you again," she says. "Thank you for being a friend to my cousin, and to Weiss. And … just … think about it, Derek, okay?" she adds quietly enough for only him to hear. "While you still have time, really think about it."

When she draws back she looks at his face for one long moment, and when he returns her gaze he can see the island flickering in her pale blue eyes, so much like Savvy's. He blinks and he can see the water that connects the island to Goat's Head, he can see the gushing spring, and he can see the moment of connection when he and Addison broke the water together.

"Derek."

He startles back to reality at the interruption.

"Eaves needs to go now," Beau says, nodding toward the small craft. Captain Eaves, sure enough, is standing on the little staircase with his arms folded, looking impatient.

"Right." Derek glances from Augie to the plane and back to Beau.

Augie is looking back at him, her hand on her hip. The breeze blowing off the river lifts her blonde hair and swirls toward Derek. He feels the air against his face, with that salty-marsh scent that's become almost familiar, clean and green.

Like it's come straight from the island.

He closes his eyes for just a moment, breathing it in.

"Beau," Derek says.

"Yes sir." Beau is a little distracted waving to Minna, who has her small face pressed against the airplane's window, and doesn't turn around.

"I need your boat," Derek blurts.

Beau gives him his full attention now.

"You need my what?"

"Your boat. Give me the runabout. I mean, please give me the runabout." His voice speeds up. "I need your boat."

Augie and Beau exchange a glance.

"What do you need with my boat, Shepherd?" Beau asks, eyebrows raised.

Derek takes a deep breath. "I need to go back to the island," he says.

Augie whoops loudly with delight, then nudges her cousin with her shoulder. "You heard the man, Beau, hand over the boat!"

And he does.

Without any further protest.

Derek makes haste to the craft, swinging over the side while Beau and Augie make short work of the knots, and then suddenly realizes that by commandeering the runabout for the second time this trip, he's leaving Beau stranded without a ride back to the island.

"Beau, wait – how are you going to get back to the island?"

"I'll borrow Eaves's craft or you can send someone out for me later, it doesn't matter." Beau waves a dismissive hand. "Stop worrying and get moving!"

"Wait!"

"Now what?" Beau asks, annoyed.

Derek leans forward in his seat and Beau crouches down on the dock correspondingly. "What is it?" he asks, a little more gently.

Derek glances out at the water, then back at Beau. He's remembering the words from the hearth his first night on the island:

Legend used to be that you could take that same curve on Black River that most of y'all did to get out here and not even see the dock. Only if the island wanted you back. Then you'd see it. Otherwise … she wouldn't take you.

"Look, should I be worried about, uh, about going back to the island alone?" Derek asks.

"You brought Addie back from the mainland yourself, didn't you?" Beau looks puzzled. "You saw the dock then."

"Yes," he says, "but Addie's pretty much a Beaufort, and she was there too. I wasn't alone. Don't they say that no one has ever made it out to the island without a Beaufort aboard?"

"You've been listening to island rumors," Beau says.

"But they haven't," he presses. "Have they?"

"Not that I know of, but – hang on, Derek, just hang on, we don't know if any have actually tried."

Derek considers this.

"Look. You know the route. You know the way." Beau leans down a little further, his face very serious. "You take the curve at Black River and if you don't see anything at all, well, then pilot back this way 'cause you're out of luck."

Derek nods.

"But if you pass that curve and you see the dock – well, then, brother, you'll know the island is welcoming you back. Now git!" Beau orders loudly before Derek can let the instructions sink in and he doesn't waste any more time pulling the boat out and steering back across Three Rivers.

.-.-.

"How is she?" Weiss asks quietly, shading his eyes from the high sun.

"She's … resting," Savvy says, closing the door to Red Fox quietly behind her. It's a bit of a euphemism, but they'll have time later for the details of cried herself to sleep. Addison was exhausted from the emotions of the day; by the time Savvy had convinced her to finish her glass of water – and refused her request of white lightning – Addison's eyes were already half-closed.

Now, blinking into the bright light outside, Savvy sighs.

Weiss shakes his head. "Why?" he asks.

"Why what?"

"Why did he leave? And why did she let him?"

"Because they love each other," Savvy says simply. "And they both want the other one to be happy. And they're so damn hard-headed that they just – "

She stops talking, shaking her head with disappointment.

"You think they're going to be happy?" Weiss asks doubtfully.

"Of course not. Not without each other."

"Then what do we – "

"Nothing." Savvy sinks down on the swing. "We did everything we could."

Weiss sits down next to her, wraps an arm around her and pulls her close.

They sit there like that for a while, rocking just slightly. Savvy leans against her husband, breathing the clean, green-scented air, drinking in the familiar sounds and scents of the island. There's only a few days left.

Here, now ... she feels her mother close.

Her mother, who always knew the right thing to do.

Savvy can't help but think Mama could have fixed this.

"Sav." Weiss pulls her a little closer. "It's not your fault. You tried."

She just sighs, looking out toward the river.

"Addie and Derek … they were always meant to be," she says after long silent moments. "I still believe it, honey. I do." When she turns her face up to see her husband, his eyes are sad.

"I know." His arm is comforting around her.

"This is wrong, Weiss. It's not supposed to end like this."

"I know, babe, I'm disappointed too," he admits. "But we have to let it be."

They rock in silence for another few moments.

Savvy can't seem to stop revisiting the last week. The hearth, her setup in Red Fox, the outdoor shower that's practically magic in and of itself. The shell, the cast iron pan at breakfast duty, the golden sunset on Tuesday night. Addie crying in her arms with the pain of not telling Derek to stay.

She traces it over and over as she gazes down the expanse of Three Rivers in the distance. It's the same way she'd sit with her team after a trial and pick apart all their choices, trying to figure out which were the ones that led to the result and which were just … part of the web.

"Obsessing is unhealthy, you know," Weiss says, though his tone is light.

She doesn't deny what she's doing; he knows her too well.

"You're right, honey. But I can't help it. I just really thought it would be enough, if they could figure out – wait a minute, Weiss, what is that?"

"Sorry," he says, withdrawing his hand. "I just wanted to distract you."

"No, not that," she says impatiently. "That."

And she points to a little dark blur bobbing on the river in the distance, just barely visible against the horizon.

Moving toward the island.

She squints, trying to make it out. The glowing little mahogany craft, that's Beau's runaround. She'd know it anywhere, and it's not like just anyone can take the curve from Black River.

But there's only one person in the boat.

The driver.

And he's not blond.

"Weiss," she whispers, grabbing his hand. "Weiss!"

"Son of a bitch." Weiss can't seem to stop a grin from spreading across his face. "He's coming back."

.-.-.

"Derek. Derek!" Savvy and Weiss greet him together at the dock, the glare of the island sun setting Savvy's blonde hair aglow.

"Welcome back," she says, as if it's the island himself greeting him and then Weiss is giving him a hand out of the runabout and doing a thoroughly decent city-kid job tying up the boat.

Then again, Weiss is a Beaufort in-law.

And so, Derek has realized, is he.

"You came back alone," Savvy says, her tone tinged with approving wonder, as Derek steadies himself on the dock.

The whole trip from the mainland was like this: a blur, his damp hair speaking to the speed at which he cut through the waters, his hands still shaking slightly from the mixture of shock and relief when he saw Thompson dock emerge around the curve at Black River.

"The island welcomed you back. I knew it would," Savvy whispers, and she hugs him tightly.

Derek hugs her back, still feeling dazed.

"Savvy. Sav." Weiss taps her shoulder. "With all due respect, I don't think you're the one Derek came all the way back here to hug."

Savvy draws back and shakes her head, wiping tears out of her eyes, half laughing and half crying at this point. She leans against Weiss for a moment, and he gives her a squeeze.

A fresh, cold breeze picks up from the water then, cutting through the daze, and suddenly Derek's focus returns.

"Where is she?" he asks urgently.

"Back at Reeds," Savvy says. When he doesn't move, she touches his arm. "You want me to go get her, Derek?"

"No. I mean, yes, but – there's something I need to do first." He pauses. "I don't need much time, though. Five minutes."

He tells them where to direct her and they assure him they'll do it.

Gathering himself, he watches Savvy and Weiss walk up the path he knows leads toward Reeds. Weiss's arm is resting over Savvy's shoulder and hers is looped around his waist.

They're good friends, Savvy and Weiss. Close friends. Some of their best friends, and they're right about so many things, but not everything.

Because it's not about the ring. He took off his ring.

And it's not about the vows. They broke the vows, more than once.

It's about one thing, and he needs to hurry, now – so that he's ready when that one thing sees him.

.-.-.

His back is to her; he's on the beachfront directly across from Reeds, where they stood together the first night on the island.

Addison watches as he reaches down for a long stick and then he's doing … something in the sand.

Barefoot, her steps are quiet enough that he doesn't seem to notice.

Finally, she speaks his name, and he stands up, turns around and looks at her. But there's no surprise in his expression – he did hear her coming.

Every inch of him facing her is so familiar she could cry, if she had any tears left. The sea breeze is moving his dark hair and she's aching to touch him. But –

"You left," she whispers. "I watched you go."

His eyes are soft. "I did leave. But I came back."

"Beau brought you back?" She takes a step toward him.

He shakes his head. "I came back alone."

The import of that sinks in, and her eyes widen.

"But why did you come back?" she asks, hardly daring to hope. "Did you … forget something you needed?"

He looks back at the ocean for a moment. "You could say that. In fact – that's exactly what happened."

She follows his gaze down to the sand now. He's been carving with the stick she saw, she realizes, and she reads the large letters he's created in the damp sand:

A + D

He glances at her. She holds out her hand wordlessly; understanding what she wants, he hands over the long stick.

For a moment, one inhale, he thinks she's going to cross out what he wrote.

She doesn't.

She outlines a heart around it.

"Shut up," she says, and he's standing close enough to see her cheeks flush, when he raises an eyebrow at her.

He raises his hands in surrender.

Addison takes a deep breath. Don't stop moving. Her bare feet churn the soft white grains of the beach and if ever she and her husband have needed extra sands of time … it's now.

"Derek." She looks right at him, her voice steady. "I want you to stay."

"Well, that's good," he says, "because I plan to stay."

Her heart speeds up.

He pauses, and her eyes reflect the ocean back to him. He takes a step closer and she can hardly dare to breathe.

"Addison?"

"Yes?" she responds, her voice trembling a little.

"I wanted to stay," he says.

Her eyes are bright. "You did?"

"I did. I just … I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want to hurt you anymore."

She brushes at her cheeks where moisture has gathered. "I didn't want to hurt you anymore, either," she says. "I was afraid to tell you that I … never actually wanted you to leave," she admits.

"I was afraid to tell you that I never actually wanted to leave." He stops. "We're, uh, we're getting circular."

Addison gestures at the expanse of land around them, as if to say, so's the island.

He just smiles at her for a moment and she smiles back. Gently, he reaches to brush away a stray tear on her cheek.

His fingers on her flesh send a course of heat through his hand, his arm, his whole body.

He's flooded with memories, those that have happened and those that haven't happened yet. Their marriage before, and the new one they can maybe create, together.

A future.

Their future.

"Addie."

She nods.

"You asked before, when I was packing … you asked what happens next."

She looks down at her hands, and he waits for her to look up at him. Her eyes are blue and green at the same time, past and future all at once.

"Us," he says simply. "You and me. We happen next."

There's hope in her eyes now ... but fear too. "I don't want to hurt you anymore," she whispers.

"I don't want to hurt you either." He reaches for her hand, his thumb brushing over the cool metal of her rings.

"You were broken, Derek," she says softly. "What I did. I broke you."

"I was broken," he agrees. "And you were, too. We were broken. But our pieces, Addie ... they fit together."

His throat is thick watching her, waiting.

She closes her eyes, a few tears splashing out when she does so. He traces them on her cheeks, gently, with his thumbs.

When she opens her eyes, they're clear as they gaze directly at him.

"You're back," she says.

"I'm back."

"I'm … glad you're back." One of her hands rises to touch his cheek, the feel of her palm achingly familiar.

He sees the color of her eyes change in a way he's certain no one else would be able to discern, her cheeks very pink in this light.

"Derek … "

"Yeah." He brushes a lock of breeze-tossed hair from her face.

"Um, we should, um, we could … talk more."

"We could," he agrees.

"But … we have time to talk more. Later." She looks at him. "Right?"

"Right," he says. "We have time."

"Because I was thinking we could go somewhere a little more private," she suggests.

"Private?" He follows her gaze, confused, and for the first time sees a line of Beauforts two and three deep on the dock, watching them.

The cousin he's fairly sure is Cammie, even from this distance, has both fists held high in a victory cheer; he sees a large group of blond children clapping with delight, and though the sun is obscuring his features he's fairly sure he sees Bos toward the back of the crowd, tall enough to see, one hand raised in a salute.

Derek gets the feeling the Beauforts will be setting off some fireworks tonight.

"Oh … I see your point," he says. "Maybe we should go inside."

Addison looks from her husband to the sand, where their carved initials are still clear. "But, um, do you want to wait for the waves to come in first? To wash it away?"

"Yeah," he admits. "Actually, I do."

"You always did." She pauses. "Derek – what you said before about why you did it - was it really because you wanted to see them erased?"

"No." He looks embarrassed for a moment, remembering the words he hurled at her, aimed to hurt, when she brought up their anniversary tradition of carving their initials into the sand at their beachfront house. "Really, it was because … I liked watching our initials go back into the ocean. Watching us go back into the ocean. It's … like the ocean was hanging onto us for … safekeeping."

"Oh, Derek." She looks at him for a second, her eyes soft. "That is … truly bizarre."

"This is why I don't tell you these things." He shakes his head, but he's smiling.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's not bizarre. It's actually kind of sweet. Maybe not sweet, because it's still weird …"

Her voice trails off. "Derek? What are you doing?"

His hands are curled at her hips, drawing her closer; she can feel each individual finger through the thin material of her lightweight sundress.

"Just giving you something else to do with your mouth other than babble."

She glares at him. "That's a little offensive, you know. More than a little, actually. I don't babble, and even if I did, I think you should just-"

Whatever she thinks he should just do is lost when he takes a chance and presses his lips to hers. For a minute she freezes and then her lips relax against his, her arms coming up around his neck. It's night and day from the brief kiss they exchanged before he left, their contact electric and leaving him wanting him more

Wanting everything.

"What do you think I should just do, Addie?" he teases her when he draws back, noting her flushed cheeks, her heavy-lidded eyes and uneven breathing. "And keep in mind … we don't actually have privacy yet."

A slow smile quirks her rosy lips. Ignoring the line of Beauforts on the dock, some of whom are now audibly cheering and even jumping up and down, she looks only at her husband.

"I think you should just shut up and kiss me again," she says.

So he does.

Then she kisses him.

And they're still kissing when the last etching in the island sand of their joined initials washes back into the ocean for safekeeping.


.-.-.
the end


Thank you so much for reading! I have loved this journey to the island with you. I hope you liked the end. It felt right to me that Derek would leave ... in a completely different way from the first terrible time ... and that this time, he would choose to come back. And once he came back, Addison would be ready to tell him she wanted him to stay.

But WAIT! The story is not quite done yet! There's still one more chapter coming, an epilogue, and I have a feeling you might like it. Either way, this has been a massive but really fun undertaking and I have appreciated every single comment I've received. I hope you'll review and let me know what you thought of how this trip to the island ended.