“That’s gentlemanly of you, but we kissed each other. It was a mistake. We were drunk. Can we put it in the past and move on? I don’t think I can stand to live in Busman’s Harbor without us being friends.”
“Deal,” he said, taking his right hand off the steering wheel for a fist bump. “Friends.”
They scattered Austin’s ashes first. It was painful to think of this man, whose life had devastated by fire, consumed by flames at the end. But his and Enid’s wills had been specific. Both had requested cremation, and Enid had asked for her ashes to be scattered at Rabble Point. The police were never successful in notifying a next of kin for either of them. Austin and Enid had just had each other. Austin left all his money to the Connecticut Burn Unit.
The group was largely silent as the wind carried Austin Lowe away. They hadn’t known him, though each of them had probably thought of him every day for the last forty years. For these people, he’d remained the wide-eyed boy who’d haunted their imaginations. But they were the only ones left to mourn him.
Henry produced the urn that contained Enid’s remains. Barry took it and scattered the first handful. “I loved Enid,” he said. “She was my first love, and that never leaves you.” He stepped back next to Fran. “I found happiness after we parted. I hope she did too.”
Fran stepped forward next. “Enid gave me my greatest gift. My husband. I will be grateful forever.”
Caroline was next. She stepped to the center of the circle, took a handful of the ashes, and opened her hand, letting the wind carry them off. “Enid was my friend. She and Madeleine were sisters by blood, but during those long childhood summers, I was their sister too. I’m ashamed of myself that I let my own guilt and horror of what happened to Madeleine and Howell separate us for all these years. I want Enid back.” Her voice broke, and she picked her head up, pivoting to look at each person in the group in turn. “I want you all back in my life, before we lose the chance again.” She stepped back into the circle and finished. “You cannot make any new old friends.”
Henry put a hand under Caroline’s elbow, and Deborah stepped forward to hug her. Slowly, the rest of them circled in, until they all embraced.
I stepped closer to Jamie, and he put his arm across my shoulders. I’d teared up as Caroline spoke, and now the tears came freely. “I love you,” I said to Jamie. “You are my oldest friend.”
“I love you too.” He hugged me tighter. “I’m so glad you’ve come home.”
In front of us, at the edge of the group of old friends and lovers, Caroline held aloft the vessel with the last of Enid’s remains, and she blew off into the wind.