A Sea Change by Annette Reynolds Page A

nothing about the man, and I slept with him. That isn’t a good thing, Mary.”
    “You were following your instincts?”
    “My instincts.” Maddy made a sound of disgust. “My instincts are useless.”
    “I think you’re wrong. Something tells me you’ve spent your life making decisions with your head because you don’t trust your heart. Believe me, the heart is a much better judge of what you really need.”
    “I thought he could make me happy.”
    Mary came forward. Her voice was gentle. “Madeleine, no one can make you happy. You find happiness within yourself. Once you do, other people can only add to it.”
    “How do I do that?” Maddy pleaded.
    “You don’t need me to tell you, Madeleine. Your life will change with the seasons, and you will learn.”

    The umbrella Mary had thrust upon Maddy as she left shielded her from the rain. She walked the path to the rhythm of Mary’s words: “If you’ve never been alone, how do you know?” But deep inside another – stronger – voice clamored to be heard. It was saying, “Can’t be alone. Alone means nobody wants you.” Those words made much more sense to Maddy, and she embraced them.
    All Maddy’s thoughts came to a sudden stop when she reached her front porch and saw Nick standing beneath the overhang, Chloe in his arms.
    “I found her on my deck,” he said. “Took opening a can of tuna to get her to come to me.”
    Maddy caught herself gazing at his hands as he stroked the cat’s back and she brought her head up.
    “How did she get out?”
    Nick shrugged. “Maybe she’s smarter than she looks.”
    “Well, thanks for bringing her back.” Maddy opened the door, and Nick pushed Chloe inside. She scampered toward the kitchen. “You didn’t have to wait for me. It wasn’t locked. You could’ve just let her in.”
    “I know.”
    Maddy looked at him expectantly.
    “From now on you might want to lock the door when you leave,” he continued. “We might have a vagrant on the beach.”
    “I’ll do that.”
    Maddy stepped past him and closed the door. She, too, had been optimistically trying to read between the lines, but there was nothing but blank space.

    Mary Delfino looked out at the steel-colored day. The feelings of perception she’d experienced nearly all her adult life grew stronger with every year. There had been one time, though, when they’d gone through the roof.
    It had been after her hysterectomy. She’d just lost her second baby – a girl – and the doctor told them there would be no more. That next time it would be either her life or the child’s, or both. The times being what they were, Mary had agreed to let the surgeon remove all of her reproductive organs. She’d refused at first, but John pleaded with her. “If I lose you Mary, I won’t be able to go on.” She finally relented.
    Mary had cried over the forfeiture of her womanhood, but had reserved her true grief for the loss of the little girl she’d carried for almost six months.
    Her body had rejected the baby – a boy – very early in her first pregnancy; she’d barely had time to come to terms with the fact.
    She’d missed a cycle, the doctor gave her the news, and a few days later there was no more baby.
    But the second seemed willing to stick it out. Mary’s right hand had found a permanent place on her growing belly, and she talked endlessly to the baby she was sure was a girl. John would catch Mary recounting a fairy tale, or describing what she’d seen on the beach, and he would tease her, but his eyes gave away his true feelings. After the baby was gone, tender sorrow, and – later – fear replaced the joy in those eyes. With good reason.
    Over the next few months Mary Delfino spent too many sleepless nights to count; nights when her husband would find her sitting in the rocking chair, silent tears coursing down her cheeks. And then, on one November night, as the wind howled through the Narrows, a child’s voice filled Mary’s head. It had