Farewell to Cedar Key

by Terri DuLong

  I walked around the room mingling with everyone.

  Sydney came to give me a hug. “I’m so happy for you, Josie. Your leaving has gotten me thinking about my own venture, when I first came to Cedar Key to stay with Ali.”

  “Yeah, that opened a whole new chapter for you, didn’t it?”

  She nodded and took a sip of wine. “It certainly did. I had no idea where that trip would lead me. At first, I thought I was only coming here to do some healing. But then I discovered Sybile and Saren and a family I never knew I had. Plus, coming here allowed me to find Noah. We just never know what’s around that next corner.”

  “No, we don’t,” I said as Grace came to give me a hug.

  “You must be so excited, Josie. I know Chloe is really looking forward to Ormond Beach. So much ahead for both of you. I remember when I first came here. I never could have guessed Cedar Key would lead me to Lucas and having a daughter.”

  “That’s true,” I heard Monica say. “I had never intended to stay here permanently, but I met Adam and well . . . the rest is history. So like my mother said, we just never know what’s ahead, but we have to be willing to take a risk to find out.”

  I let out a deep sigh and nodded. Once I had decided to pay attention and listen to my heart, everything had fallen into place.

  We looked over as Dora clapped her hands to get our notice.

  “Ladies, thank you to everybody for coming this evening as we bid farewell to Josie and Chloe. We’re going to miss both of you, but we share your excitement. Josie has a wedding to look forward to, and Chloe is on the brink of a new relationship and a new business venture. So we wish you both well, and we’ll never forgive you if you don’t come back to visit often.”

  Laughter and applause filled the room.

  “We have a little something for both of you, so if you’ll come up here. . . .”

  Chloe and I went to stand beside Dora as she passed us each a large wrapped present.

  I took off the paper to reveal a gorgeous matted and framed photograph taken from the Number Four bridge, looking out to the saw grass and water beyond.

  “Oh,” I gasped. “This is just beautiful. Thank you so much.”

  Chloe had unwrapped hers and held up another matted and framed photograph taken from the Big Dock looking out to Atsena Otie. It was then that I caught Mallory’s eye in the crowd and smiled.

  “You shot these, didn’t you?” I said.

  “She did,” Dora explained. “And all of us commissioned her to take the photos, so Mallory’s new business is now official and she’s made her first two sales.”

  I rushed over to give Mallory a hug.

  “Thank you so much. And thank you, all of you, for this gift and the party.”

  “Well, we didn’t want you to forget Cedar Key,” Mallory whispered in my ear.

  As if that could ever happen.

  I took one last look around the house and then followed my daughter out to my parents’ waiting car. Clovelly sat in his cat carrier on the backseat, and I scooted in on the other side.

  “All set for the airport?” my dad asked.

  “We are,” I told him.

  “One last thing.” My mother turned around from the front seat and passed me a small piece of paper and pen. “Here, Josie. I want you to write one word on this paper and don’t ask questions.”

  “One word?” I looked at Orli, who shrugged and smiled.

  “Yes. Just one word that means something to you.”

  I thought about it for a second and wrote the word love, passed it back to her and heard her tell my father, “Okay. We’re ready.”

  When we got to the Number Four bridge, my dad pulled off the road.

  “Something wrong?” I asked.

  “Nope. Here,” my mother said, and passed me a small glass bottle with a cork on top. “Fold up your piece of paper, put it in the bottle, and throw it over the railing into the water. You want to leave a part of yourself here on the island.”

  I folded up the paper very small and squished it into the bottle, placed the cork on top, and walked to the railing. The sun was shining on the water, causing reflections from the boats and saw grass. I took in a deep breath and felt the moisture in my eyes. This place would always be my home. I had drifted for a while just like the boats bobbing on the water. But I had finally come to realize that Grant was my anchor. Many people fall in love with the wrong person, but all along—I had fallen in love with the right one. I was leaving Cedar Key, but all endings lead to a new beginning, and before the day was over I’d be with Grant taking the first steps on a new journey.

  I lifted my arm up in the air, felt the smile on my face broaden, and flung the bottle into the water before I blew it all a kiss good-bye.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Ellen Johnson is the owner of Serendipity Needleworks in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, where I’ve done many book signings. She has designed the Healing Cowl for my readers, and we do hope that you’ll enjoy making one.

  If you have any questions about the cowl, please contact Ellen at emj@bellsouth.net.

  Happy knitting!

  Healing Cowl

  BY ELLEN JOHNSON

  Note: This pattern is knitted with the wrong side facing you.

  Supplies

  1 skein of Lorna’s Laces Shepherd’s Worsted (or 225 yards of worsted weight yarn)

  Size (U.S.) 9 needles

  Directions

  Cast on 96 stitches.

  Place marker and join for working in the round, taking care not to twist.

  Round 1—P

  Round 2—K

  Begin Trinity Stitch Pattern.

  Round 1—(right side K)

  2—*(K1, P1, K1) all in the same stitch, P3tog. Repeat from *around.

  3—P

  4—*P3tog, (K1, P1, K1) all in the same stitch. Repeat from *around.

  Work in Trinity Stitch Pattern for 6 inches. Work Transition Round.

  Transition Round—*YO, K2tog. Repeat from * around.

  Begin Ripple Pattern.

  Round 1—*[(K2tog) 4 times, (K1, YO) 4 times], repeat from * around.

  Round 2—P

  Round 3—K

  Round 4—K

  Repeat the four rounds of Ripple Pattern four times around, for a total of 16 rounds.

  Bottom Edge

  Round 1—P

  Round 2—K

  Bind off, purl wise. Weave in tails, block lightly, if desired, and enjoy!

  Eager to revisit Cedar Key? Go back to where it all started with this preview of Spinning Forward, available in bookstores and online.

  1

  Whining drew my attention to the fawn-colored Boxer curled up beside the bed. Lilly had been my constant companion for four years and now she was my salvation. With my home, my assets, my life as I knew it taken from me, Lilly was my one factor of stability.

  Living on an island off the west coast of Florida wasn’t something that I planned to be doing at age fifty-two. Twenty-eight years of marriage to a successful physician provided a lifestyle that I not only enjoyed, but took for granted. Okay, so maybe Stephen wasn’t the most passionate and romantic man on the planet, but he created a sense of security in my life. That is, until his Mercedes crashed into a cement barrier on I-495 in Lowell, leaving me a widow with no sense of direction and no knowledge of a secret he harbored.

  Two weeks following his funeral, I had been working my way through the grieving process when I was zapped with another shock. I opened the door of my Lexington, Massachusetts home to find a sheriff standing on my front porch, knowing full well this wasn’t going to be good news. My first thought was concern for Monica, my twenty-six-year-old daughter.

  “Are you Sydney Webster?” he’d questioned.

  “Yes. Yes, I am. What’s wrong?” Despite the chill of the October day, beads of perspiration formed on my upper lip.

  He’d cleared his throat and with downcast eyes passed me a large envelope.

  “Ma’am, I’m sorry
to have to deliver this to you, but it’s a certified notice for your eviction.”

  “My what?” I felt lightheaded and gripped the door frame.

  “Eviction of premises. You have thirty days to pack up your belongings and vacate the house.”

  I’d thought it was a joke. Somebody had seen Stephen’s funeral announcement in the paper and was playing a prank on me. The house had been paid for years ago. Nobody could just show up and kick me out of my own house. This didn’t happen to law-abiding citizens.

  Clutching the envelope with sweaty palms, I’d torn it open and removed an official-looking piece of paper. All I saw was a blur of words, making no sense out of what was happening.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Webster,” he’d told me. “I really am. I’ll return in thirty days at nine A.M. to make sure your belongings are removed and obtain the house keys from you.”

  “This is a mistake,” I babbled. “A major mistake.” Closing the door, I slid down the length of the wall, my sobs shattering the quiet of the house.

  And here I was five weeks later on an island off the west coast of Florida. In a quaint but small room at the Cedar Key B&B, and I knew for certain none of it had been a mistake. Stephen’s secret vice of gambling and the events that followed were what had brought me to this small town of nine hundred permanent residents, relying on the hospitality of my best friend Alison.

  “Come on, girl,” I said, swinging my legs to the side of the bed. “Time for you to go out and for me to get some coffee.”

  The bedside clock read 6:15. At home I never woke before 9:00 and was amazed that in the week I’d been staying at Alison’s B&B, I didn’t sleep beyond 6:30. Slipping into sweat pants and a T-shirt, I grabbed my pack of cigarettes and with Lilly close at my heels we descended the stairs to the porch.

  Opening the door to the small L-shaped dining room, I saw a middle-aged couple quietly conversing over coffee and made my way to the kitchen.

  “Mornin’,” Twila Faye said as she removed freshly baked blueberry muffins from the oven.

  Twila Faye was Alison’s right hand running the B&B and I liked her. She’d raised her only son alone after her philandering husband had left town twenty years before with a tourist visiting from Macon, Georgia. Raised in the Boston area, I didn’t know much about Southern women, but I knew Twila Faye represented what they called true grit.

  Pouring myself a cup of dark, strong coffee, I asked if Alison was around.

  “Lord, child, she’s already out for her walk with Winston.”

  I should have known. I felt slothful when I had discovered that Ali woke seven days a week at 5:00 A.M. She never varied from her routine. Up at five, she prepared muffins, brewed the coffee, squeezed oranges for fresh juice, and by 6:00, her guests had breakfast waiting for them. Then she rounded up her Scottish terrier for a walk downtown to the beach.

  I looked at the clock over the table and saw it would be another twenty minutes before she returned.

  “I’m going to sit in the garden with my coffee,” I told Twila Faye.

  “Take one of these muffins with you.”

  Patting my tummy, I shook my head. “I’m trying to lose the twenty pounds I packed on this past year. I’ll have some cereal later.”

  Settling myself on the swing in the far corner of the garden, I lit up a cigarette. Blowing out the smoke, it crossed my mind once again that perhaps smoking was another bad habit I should consider discarding.

  I watched Lilly sniffing around the artfully arranged flower beds. Bright, vivid azalea bushes in shades of red. Yellow hibiscus gave forth cheer even on a dreary day. And dominating all of it was the huge, four-hundred-year-old cypress tree. I looked up at the leaves creating shade over the garden and wondered about something being on this earth that length of time. Having withstood tropical storms and hurricanes, drought and floods, it stood proud and secure. Right now secure was the last thing I was feeling. I had an overpowering urge to climb the tree. All the way to the top. And maybe absorb some of the positive energy that it seemed to contain. But with arthritis recently affecting my knees, I decided to stay put on the swing.

  Physically, I was in pretty good shape for my age. If we discount the extra twenty pounds and smoking, that is. But emotionally, my life was a train wreck.

  “Good morning,” Ali called, walking through the gate along the brick walkway. “Let me put these shells inside and I’ll join you with coffee.”

  I nodded and smiled. Ali always had a way of cheering me up. Ever since our college days as roommates, she’d always been there for me as a good friend. A no-nonsense-type person, she stepped in when I called her about my eviction. She demanded I drive down with Lilly, a few belongings, and stay with her at the B&B. She apologized that the second-floor apartment in the Tree House was rented till January, but I could stay in one of the rooms in the main part of the house. The Tree House was detached and located on the side of the garden. Ali had her apartment on the first floor and sometimes rented the one above. Feeling like a homeless person—actually, I was—I was grateful to have any space where Lilly and I could stay. But I won’t lie . . . going from a 4,500-square-foot luxury home to a 12 x 12 bedroom with adjoining bath was like giving up a BMW 700 for a military jeep.

  “I see you still haven’t given up those disgusting things,” Ali said, settling in the lounge beside me.

  I snubbed out my cigarette in the ashtray and remained silent. I could have said plenty. Like she was the one that turned me on to cigarettes in the first place, during our freshman year in college. Everyone smoked back then, until it became a health issue long after our college days. I also could have said, unlike her, I hadn’t dabbled in smoking pot. But I let it slide and took a sip of my coffee. The only rule that Ali had imposed when I moved in was no smoking inside the B&B.

  Ali flung the long salt-and-pepper braid hanging over her shoulder to her back. She hadn’t changed much since our college graduation. Tall and still very slim. Only faint lines beside her eyes attested to the passing years. She was wearing shorts that showed off her long legs, and a crisp white blouse. Her bronze tan reminded me of the days we used to spend (without sunscreen) on the beaches of Cape Cod.

  “So what are your plans today?” she asked.

  Plans? I was beginning to feel like an inert creature since arriving in Cedar Key. I had ventured downtown a couple of times. Taken a few walks with Lilly. Read a couple books. But other than that, I felt lost. It had even crossed my mind a few times that maybe I should return to the Boston area. Which always led me to question, to what? My life, as I knew it, had been snatched away from me.

  As if reading my mind, Ali said, “Look, Syd, I know you’ve been through a hell of a lot these past couple months. Losing Stephen and then the eviction, but you’ve got to pull yourself together and decide what you’ll be doing for the rest of your life. You can’t just turn off.”

  Anger simmered inside of me. “What the hell would you suggest I do? I have no job. I haven’t worked as a nurse in twenty-six years. I’m not sure I’d even remember which end of a syringe to use. I have no training in anything else. My bank account is on low. I have no clue what I’m going to do.” I swiped at the tears now falling down my cheeks.

  Ali reached over and patted my hand. “I don’t mean to be hard on you, but it’s very easy for a woman in your situation to regress. You’re in a funk and you need to do something to get yourself moving forward. What happened to that girl I knew in college? The take-charge, independent woman, who knew where she was going and how she was going to get there?”

  “She married Stephen,” I said and realized that was true. “He wasn’t supposed to die at fifty-five. And he sure as hell wasn’t supposed to leave me financially insecure. It’s damn difficult not to be angry with the rotten hand life suddenly dealt me.”

  As soon as I said the words, I felt embarrassed. Alison had gone through similar circumstances twenty years before. Gary had died suddenly after a three-month battle with cancer. Le
aving her alone, with no children and no future. Within a year of his death, she had shocked me with the news that she was uprooting. Relocating to an island off the west coast of Florida where she had vacationed as a child. She explained the place was calling to her and she felt certain she could heal there. She had been right. Purchasing the B&B had turned her into a savvy businesswoman, and given her an increased confidence. Something I definitely lacked.

  “That’s total bullshit and you know it. Life isn’t fair, so you move along and make the best of it.”

  Born and raised north of Boston, Terri DuLong now resides with her husband, three dogs, and two cats on an island off the west coast of Florida. A retired registered nurse, she began her writing career as a contributing writer for Bonjour Paris, where she shared her travel experiences to France in more than forty articles with a fictional canine narrator. Terri’s love of knitting provides quiet time to develop her characters and plots for her future novels.

  Visit her on the Web at terridulong.com.

  SPINNING FORWARD

  In a debut novel brimming with warmth and wit,

  Terri DuLong spins a tale of new beginnings, old friends,

  and lives forever bound....

  Sydney Webster is a New Englander born and bred, so the last place she expects to find herself starting over is on an island off the coast of Florida. Yet here she is in Cedar Key, trying to pull herself together after her husband’s untimely death—and the even more untimely revelation of his gambling addiction. Bereft of her comfortable suburban life, Syd takes shelter at a college pal’s bed-and-breakfast, where amidst the bougainvillea blossoms and the island’s gentle rhythms, a plan begins to form....