Sam pulls out a ring, holding it out to me.

The diamond sparkles in the late-afternoon light, the sheer size of it awe-inspiring sitting atop such a delicate band.

Who could afford a ring like this around here? How would Tom’s path have crossed with someone who owned such a stone? It must have been a tourist, or—

I blink.

Something about the ring is familiar. Or perhaps, it’s that I’ve seen a similar one before.

“Do you recognize it?” Sam asks, his gaze narrowing.

I do.

The girl on her honeymoon—Mirta.

The one who didn’t know how her husband took his coffee.

A lifetime ago at Ruby’s.

How did Tom end up with her engagement ring on him? And why was he shot?

“He might have stolen it,” Sam adds. “Pardon me, but it’s the likeliest assumption we’ve come up with. Was your husband worried about money? Did he run with a rough crowd?”

I can’t do more than nod, because who isn’t worried about money in times like these?

Who isn’t a little desperate?

I square my shoulders, handing the diamond back to Sam.

I know enough of my husband’s nature to wish Mirta well wherever she is.

“No,” I lie. “I don’t recognize the ring.”

Lucy stirs in John’s arms, a soft sigh falling from her lips, and he passes her to me wordlessly, as though it is the most natural thing in the world.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am; I have a few more questions and then I’ll go,” Sam replies. “I’ll be honest with you; I work on an organized crime task force. Rum-running was a real big industry in these parts during Prohibition, and some of these fisherman got involved with some nefarious creatures—smuggling and the like. Some of them didn’t break those ties when Prohibition ended. Was your husband involved in anything like that?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t talk to me about what he did.”

“Is there anyone who might have had a grudge against your husband?” Sam asks. “Who might have had a reason to shoot him?”

I meet his gaze, and I no longer see the agent in front of me in his natty little suit, but the girl from Ruby’s in her elegant dress, the fear and hopelessness in her eyes, and then that flash of fire.

“No one I can think of.”

The agent takes a deep breath, bracing himself to deliver an invisible blow, like a man’s fist in that moment right before impact.

The prayer runs through my mind again over and over again, the dream of the little boat bobbing in the water, of my husband tipping over the side.

And then—

“Your husband is dead.”

* * *

—

After Sam is gone, after I’ve fed Lucy and put her down for a nap, I stand on the front porch of the Sunrise Inn and stare out at that blue expanse of sea that months ago brought such destruction. Today, the ocean is calm, the sun glittering off the water as far as the eye can see.

In this moment, it’s beautiful.

I remember the boy I married who loved the sea, the boy I fell in love with when I was little more than a child myself. Maybe Tom was never a good man and I couldn’t see it. Maybe he did the best he could and life knocked him down until he became someone unrecognizable. And maybe the truth is somewhere in between. I don’t know. I hope wherever he is, he is in a better place.

I know I am.

Footsteps sound behind me, and then John’s hand is at my waist, resting there lightly, a question in the gesture.

John stayed behind after Sam left, citing his need to return to his new wife and their honeymoon down in Key West.

I take a deep breath, praying for courage now. “How is New York?” I ask.

“The same as it always was. Too big, too noisy, too hectic. It was good that I went back, though. Elizabeth’s married now. She and Sam are happy together. Her mother is settled with a nurse. Things are as they should be.”

“And you?”

“I’ve missed you,” he says.

The words knock the wind out of me.

“Missed Lucy. Missed this place, if you can believe it. When Sam told me he was coming down here, that they’d found your husband, I insisted on coming with him.

“You’ve built a life for yourself and for Lucy,” he continues, “and I understand if you need time, but if you could ever see yourself having a life with me, I would like nothing more. I want to spend the rest of my days making you happy, building a future with you and Lucy. I would like a family. I would like you both to be my family.”

I move into his embrace, hesitantly at first, leaning up on my tiptoes and pressing my lips to his. John freezes, and then it’s as though he comes to life, his arms wrapping around my waist gently, returning the kiss.

It’s strange how your life can change so quickly, how one moment you can barely eke by, desperation filling your days, and suddenly, out of the unimaginably horrific, a glimmer of something beautiful can appear like a bud pushing through the hard-formed earth.

There’s so much broken around us; maybe all we can do is try to fix each other, do what we can to preserve these precious moments in a world where there is so much sadness and loss.

The dream I used to have when I lived in a cramped cottage, in a strangling marriage, disappears, and another takes its place. I’m filled with an emotion I haven’t felt in such a long time that I almost don’t recognize it, the taste of it sweet and tangy in my mouth—

Hope.

A little house somewhere quiet. A child’s laughter. An arm wrapped around my waist at night, a hand holding mine. A future I dreamed of years ago that I thought I’d lost somewhere along the way.

Maybe some would say my dreams are too small. Perhaps they would dream of railroads that go over the sea, great, wonderful things. Maybe others want riches and jewels, a chance to travel the globe.

For me, this is enough:

A corner of paradise in this wretched world that I am able to call my own.