“I’m proud of you, Merritt. I know none of this has been easy for you.” I felt his kiss on the top of my head.
The story of the crash of Flight 629 and my grandmother’s role in it had made the local news, which had brought it to the attention of a national magazine. I had expected recrimination about what my grandmother and Edith had done, but there hadn’t been any. There was nobody to prosecute, no more bodies to bury. At least there were no more questions for those still living, no more wondering. In the deepest parts of the night when I lay awake, I found solace in that.
The story had somehow propelled me into an unwanted spotlight as a sort of spokesperson about abusive relationships. I was uncomfortable there, knowing I hadn’t found the courage at the time to walk away from my own personal hell. I’d be more comfortable in my role of sewing instructor at the shelter as soon as the funds were made available. Until then I shared our stories—Edith’s, my grandmother’s, mine—to let others know they weren’t alone. That there was help. That they all possessed within themselves the courage to do the one thing they thought that they could not.
“Thank you for being there for me. I couldn’t do any of this alone.”
“You could,” he said softly. “But I’m glad I’m here.”
I looked up at the wind chime and watched the glass twist and twirl, thinking about Edith, Cecelia, and my grandmother. I studied the mottled surfaces of the sea glass, seeing not dull glass but weary travelers who had learned to absorb the light and reflect it outward.
It is in darkness that we find the light. I itched to write the words in my journal, to fill the pages with everything I’d learned, how we are all tumbled about by the waves of life, earning scars that show where we’ve been. And we learn. With each scar we learn. With etched faces we turn toward the light, unbending and unbreakable, strong at the broken places.
Gibbes kissed me, his lips hard and searching, and when I opened my eyes I saw only Gibbes, his brother’s ghost now laid to rest. I had found Cal after all, in the waterways of his boyhood, and it was here that I’d finally learned to let him go.
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
1. Discuss the effect of the plane crash in 1955 and the effect on Beaufort. How does it affect the lives of the characters in this story for generations? How did it recast Edith’s life?
2. Of all Loralee’s maxims found in her Journal of Truths, which rings the truest to you? Do you carry around any of your own “truths” to guide your thinking?
3. Even after her husband’s death, why does Edith keep her “secret project” under wraps, even though it helps and inspires the police community?
4. Why do you think Edith makes the sea-glass wind chimes so devotedly? And why do you think Merritt chooses to leave them all in place? What do they come to represent, and why might they be called “mermaid’s tears”?
5. Why does Merritt blame herself for Cal’s death? How does she transform herself over the course of the book? Is she finally at peace with her journey at the end of the story?
6. Discuss the tragic connection between the women in the book. How did each survive her circumstances? Do you think a predisposition for domestic violence is a trait you can inherit?
7. Were you shocked by the “beloved” letter’s contents? Or by Merritt’s ties to the letter?
8. Do you think Edith was right to keep the letter writer’s secret? Was she justified in any way?
9. Did Cal’s personal struggles and rationale for seeking out Merritt surprise you? Was he sensible in feeling wronged by Edith’s secrecy?
10. Do you believe in fate or coincidences? Are there such things in your opinion? Do you think Merritt and Gibbes were ultimately meant for each other?
11. What is Loralee’s legacy for her loved ones? Do you think she successfully “built” a family or guidebook for Owen?