Page 65 of Song of Lorelei

It was the height of spring, when Maine’s stubborn snows finally thawed, and the trees began to bud with new life. Why couldn’t this time for fresh starts and new beginnings apply to her own life? Winter isolation had done nothing to dilute the gossip.

So much for “out of sight, out of mind.”

The door to the human world was shutting Lorelei out, her only ties to it the small knit family she made in Haven Cove, Maine, and even that had shrunk.

Walt. Marci.

Standing at the water’s edge, toes buried in the sand as she looked out over her small, private cove, her heart ached for reconciliation.

It had been months. Far too long not to speak to people she loved and adored.

She pulled her phone from her back pocket and stared at the screen, weighing, debating the consequences of giving the Walshes a call. Reaching out surely wouldn’t push them further away, right?

But maybe a group text would be a better, softer start. It would give them time to process and consider their response. She began to type: Thinking of you. Maybe we could talk soon?

Before she could send the text, her phone vibrated in her hand, the screen lighting up with an incoming call. Tears sprung to her eyes. It was the Walshes’ home phone landline. Maybe they had been thinking the same.

Wrapping an arm around her middle, fingers bunching in her shirt, Lorelei answered, “I was just about to text you.”

“We miss you,” Walt said, and she could hear it in his voice. The tears, a longing akin to homesickness.

“Would it be all right if we brought over lunch and talked?” That was Marci.

“I would love that.”

When they hung up, Lorelei went inside to straighten and freshen up. It would just be her and the Walshes. Killian was at the gym this morning with Will, and they had afternoon video game plans, which was likely to turn into a bros’ sleepover, judging by the new horde of snacks featured in a picture Lila sent of their pantry.

Maybe after the Walshes’ visit, she’d invite Lila over for wine, dessert, and charcuterie. It would be good to decompress after the heartfelt emotional labor that was to come.

An hour later, Lorelei heard a car roll up the driveway and park, followed by the thud of two closing doors. There was a light knock at the door a moment later.

She opened it to find Walt on her stoop holding a bouquet of flowers, a bottle of Prosecco, and Marci with a wrapped tray of assorted tea sandwiches—chicken salad and smoked salmon and dill. Just seeing them standing there, smiling warmly but just a little bit uncertain, brought tears to her eyes again.

“What’s all this?”

“We wanted to apologize as well as celebrate,” Marci said. “Can we hug you?”

Nodding, she launched herself into their arms, and they hugged her tight around the things they carried. “I’m so, so sorry for scaring you,” she said. “I didn’t want that. Please know that I would never ever hurt either of you or Lila or Will or Killian. You’re family.”

“And you’re a second daughter to us,” Walt sniffed over her shoulder, squeezing. “We were scared, and shocked, but,” he pulled away, wiping his eyes on his shirt sleeves, careful not to smack anyone with the flowers or the bubbly, “you saw what could have been a bad situation and deescalated it.”

“We’re sorry for not reaching out sooner,” Marci added, continuing the hug. “We should have. What happened with Carrie, how you handled the situation, might not be how we would have done things, but she needed a little scaring.”

Did Marci really mean that? Lorelei pulled away, watching them both.

The couple shared a look. “We’ve known Carrie since she was a little girl,” Walt began, choosing his words slowly and carefully. “A childhood friend of the kids. We tried to be welcoming and supportive for Will’s sake, because through him she’s family, but sometimes, that’s not enough. Some family members aren’t safe to be around. Some family members aren’t good people.”

“We needed time to process,” Marci cradled the sandwich tray close to her chest. “Parse out our feelings. Carrie’s not been a good person, but you have, and we failed to show you that.”

Fresh tears sprung to Lorelei’s eyes. She pressed her hands to her cheeks, overwhelmed and yet so relieved. “I was afraid I’d lost your love.”

“You never lost our love.”

They came together again for another group hug.

After, Lorelei ushered them inside, found a vase for the flowers, and set the table with plates and champagne flutes.

“We went and saw your museum,” Walt said, pulling out an old flip phone. Sitting beside him, Lorelei watched as he scrolled through all the grainy photos he snapped with it. “Was hoping maybe you could give us a virtual tour?” He’d certainly took enough photos for it.

---