When We Meet on that Distant Shore

Epilogue Part 2

If Sarah focused all of her attention she could pretend as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. It was a skill she had honed over the years, ever since that fateful day seven years ago. But as she sat on the porch swing, her hands clutching a cup of hot tea, she'd turn and see Pat sitting next to her and the pretense would crumble. The events of the previous night came rushing back at her and it was all she could do to keep from worrying. If Pat had been feeling the tension just as much as she, he didn't say anything. But every now and then, a troubled look crossed his face, revealing his thoughts.

Nevertheless, it was a better morning compared to recent ones and Sarah felt fully present. The day hung gray, heavy with the promise of impending rain. She was moderately cold but the green, earthy smell that surrounded them was too enticing to not want to be in the middle of it.

"It's no terrible place to live here," Pat said after a moment. "Not a sight of the ocean to be found."

"No ocean but there is a river a half mile that way." Sarah gestured toward the back of the house. "I still won't go near it if I can help it. The sound of it over the rocks..." Her voice trailed off, the memory still too vivid. "The rhododendrons are lovely though."

"The what?"

"The pink flowers," Sarah clarified. "They smell wonderful. Kate always...oh." She fell silent as she saw Kate standing at the end of the road. Her expression was unreadable but Sarah had a good idea of what she might be feeling.

Kate seemed to stiffen for a moment, but instead of turning away, she continued her determined stride toward the house. "Good mornin', Sarah," she said, looking pointedly at her and ignoring her brother entirely.

"Morning," Sarah replied. She held out her arms for the baby but Kate shook her head.

"It's a bit too chilly," Kate said. She shifted the child to her other arm and let herself inside.

"Does she always just walk in like that?" Pat asked, after the door had closed.

"She lived here for quite awhile," Sarah explained. "She can come and go as she pleases."

"And ye still won't tell me what she calls her child?"

She shook her head. "She's your sister.You can ask her yourself."

They fell silent as a small bird landed on the porch, hopping a few inches before taking flight once again. Sarah followed it's path until it vanished behind a tree.

"I've been meanin' to inquire," Pat said. "What's the reason for those?" He gestured to the row of branches. "Besides bein' excellent weapons, that is."

Sarah sighed. "John likes to collect things. Those, rocks, pinecones...if he can pick it up, it ends up in a pile somewhere."

"Perhaps he'll be a fine naturalist one day."

She tapped a nail against the glass of her cpu. "I'd rather he'd end up as something a bit more successful than that."

"I'd have reckoned ye'd prefer him to end up happy." A heavy silence fell over them. "I didn't mean–" Pat began.

"I do poorly enough by him already," she said softly, looking down at the ground. "Please do not make me feel worse than I already do."

Pat looked at her. "Do poorly?" He asked. "I find that mighty hard to be believin'."

Sarah took a moment to respond and studied the line of branches. "He looks so much like John," she said at last. " Every year it gets more and more...sometimes it's difficult to look at him. I can hardly say his name." The weight on her shoulders lifted as she finally voiced the thoughts that haunted her for years. "Does that make me a terrible mother?" The question hung in the air, her fears laid bare. Her entire life she had wanted children of her own but her dreams always involved raising them alongside her husband, not entirely alone.