Where He Went, I Would Go

"Yes."

Owen looked at me as though I had answered the wrong question.

"You didn't think about it."

"I've done the thinking."

He glanced at my bag, then at the ring.

"You came here with nowhere else to go. That isn't the best position to make a decision from."

"It wasn't. That's why I didn't make it then."

"Ella, I was here. I know how frightened you were."

"Then you also know I told you I couldn't accept what you offered."

He stepped back, hurt flashing across his face before he covered it.

"I would have looked after you."

I thought of the coat, the gloves, his split lip. I wouldn't make those things worthless simply because he was saying something I didn't want to hear.

"You did look after me," I said. "I won't forget it. But I can't turn being grateful into being in love, and it isn't fair to ask me to."

"I'm asking you to consider what life with him will cost."

"You already did. I answered."

Cole appeared at the office steps. He stopped when he saw us, his expression becoming unreadable.

Owen followed my gaze.

"There he is. Waiting for you to choose."

"I've chosen."

I moved toward Cole, then stopped and turned back.

"I don't want to remember you this way. Please let the good parts remain good."

For a moment, Owen looked like he might say something else.

Then he lowered his head and walked away.

Cole didn't ask what had been said. He took the bag when I reached him.

"You can tell me you hated that," I said.

His mouth tightened.

"I hated it."

"Good. I was beginning to worry you'd become permanently polite."

He looked at me then, and the tension eased just enough for a small smile.

"No danger of that."

In the cottage, we found bread and stew left by one of the neighbors. Cole put the bag down, took off his coat, and stood looking at the room we would leave almost as soon as we'd made it ours.

"You should stay in Seattle," he said.

I stopped unpacking.

He hadn't said it sharply. That made it worse.

"For a while," he added. "Until we've seen the island properly. Until I know what I can give you there."

I put my scarf on the table.

"Did you imagine marrying me and leaving me with your mother?"

"No."

"Then why are you offering it as the first answer?"

He pulled out a chair but didn't sit.

"Because the water gets rough. Because the cottages are older. Because you've spent your whole life making do, and I don't want my first gift as your husband to be another place where you have to do it."

His anger was aimed at himself. I could hear it now.

I went to him.

"You didn't marry me to deliver a perfect house."

"I know that."

"Do you?"

He looked down at me.

I took the transfer envelope from the table and put it aside.

"You chose a job where we can have a home together. I'm not going to punish you for the together part."

His shoulders lowered a little.

"I want to come," I said. "We'll find out what we need. If I have to stay with your mother near the birth, we'll arrange it. If the weather makes something impossible, we'll change the plan. But don't begin by assuming I want the easier house more than I want you."

He was silent.

I put my arms around him.

For weeks, he had been the one opening his arms, making the journey, finding the words when I couldn't. This time, I felt him hesitate before leaning into me.

Then his hand settled at the back of my head.

"I wanted you to have everything," he said into my hair.

"You can start with dinner."

A breath of laughter moved through his chest.

"That's a smaller order."

"I'm working up to the others."

He kissed me, slowly, until the stew was in danger of becoming supper and breakfast together.

We spent the next week arranging the journey. There were station records, house keys, calls to the island nurse, and a mainland plan for my appointments and the birth. Cole listened when I said I wanted to speak to the nurse myself.

I wasn't going to arrive with a suitcase and learn afterward what had been decided for me.

The house had two bedrooms, a stove that needed patience, and windows facing the harbor. The ferry wasn't daily, but the telephone worked. Families had lived there for years. It would be difficult. It was also possible.

Margaret listened to our plans and told us to stop pretending accepting help would spoil the achievement.

"You're allowed to want him and want a comfortable bed," she told me. "These aren't competing loyalties."

I laughed.

She sent blankets, curtains, and a list of food that would survive the journey. Richard added a toolbox and complained that Cole had never returned the last one he'd borrowed.

Grandma telephoned while they were packing.

I heard Richard protesting in the background.

"She's won at cards again," he said.

"That's because he shows me his hand," Grandma replied.

I held the receiver tighter.

She sounded happy. Not merely safe. Happy.

"You must write when you get there," she told me.

"Of course."

"And send a photograph of the kitchen. Margaret wants to know whether the curtains will fit."

I promised. We talked about ordinary things until ordinary began to feel like something I could keep.

There were less pleasant calls too. Diane wanted me to stop cooperating with the case against her. Dad sent another letter saying the shop was struggling and that family should help family.

I read it with Cole beside me.

He waited until I folded it.

"What do you want to do?"

"Nothing."

The word felt strange. Almost luxurious.

I had always done something when they demanded it: worked longer, cried less, found money, apologized. This time, I placed the letter in the folder with the others and made no arrangement to rescue them.

Grandma knew. She didn't ask me to change my mind.

Lucy sent a drawing of three people in woolly hats. Her aunt said the square figure was the baby because Lucy hadn't decided what babies looked like yet.

Cole studied the picture.

"Excellent shoulders. Clearly mine."

I laughed and put it inside my notebook for the trip.

Before we left, a supervisor returned the market clipboard Owen had recovered. The men from the false inspection had been identified, and the inquiry included who had asked them to approach my stall. Vanessa's access to the station had been suspended while her involvement and interference with staff were reviewed.

She caught us outside the gate with two bags of her own.

"I asked them to check a permit," she snapped. "I didn't tell them to steal anything."

Cole looked at the duty guard.

"Has that statement been passed to the investigator?"

The guard nodded.

Vanessa flushed.

She turned toward me instead.

"You think you've won? You're still going to that island."

I looked at Cole's hand around the suitcase handle, then back at her.

"Yes," I said. "With my husband."

She had nothing to say that could change it.

At the harbor, I opened a heavy bag looking for my scarf and found books: mathematics, writing, a dictionary, and the college guide Helen had shown me.

Each had my name written inside.

I looked up at Cole.

"You packed these?"

"They were on the list."

"Not my list."

He touched the edge of the nearest book.

"You said last week you were afraid you'd forget everything before you could start. Helen marked places to begin. She'll write when you have questions."

My eyes filled before I could stop them.

He looked alarmed.

"Wrong books?"

I shook my head and laughed through the tears.

"You're ridiculous."

"I've been told."

"After the baby, it might be hard."

"Then I take the baby while you read. My mother helps when we need her. We do it slower if we have to."

He took the bag from my lap.

"You didn't marry me to stop being Ella."

I caught his hand and kissed it before he could turn away.

The ferry horn sounded. We carried the bags aboard, argued briefly over which seat was least windy, and ended up sharing the blanket Margaret had insisted we take.

Grayhaven rose ahead, trees above a pale harbor, the roofs of the station just visible through the mist.

Cole drew me against his side.

"Still time to tell me you're nervous," he said.

"I am nervous."

His arm tightened.

"But not about you," I added.

He kissed my hair.

I laid his hand over mine against my stomach. The island grew closer. Somewhere beyond the harbor waited a kitchen I hadn't seen, books I would struggle through, neighbors whose names I didn't know, and a husband who would probably arrange the cupboards by a system I intended to ruin.

I smiled.

"What?" Cole asked.

"You once paid Owen to send me away."

He shut his eyes briefly.

"I was hoping you'd eventually forget that."

"Never."

"Then I'll have to spend a very long time making it up to you."

I turned toward him.

"That sounds acceptable."

He kissed me while the ferry moved toward the dock.

The first time I had left him, I couldn't even see his face clearly. Now I knew every change in it when he looked at me.

This time, I would stay for morning.

And the morning after that.