Page 64 of When Summer Returns

She moved with surprising grace for someone of her apparent years, settling onto a nearby rock with the comfortable familiarity of a habitual visitor. Her bare feet, as weathered and brown as driftwood, dipped into the water’s edge without hesitation.

“People come to the spring with such complicated requests,” she said, observing the ripples her toes created. “As if the water needs to be persuaded with elaborate arguments and justifications. But it already knows, you see. It’s known since before you arrived what sits in your heart.”

“I’m not here to make a wish,” Jessie replied, though even to her own ears the denial sounded hollow.

“No?” The woman’s head tilted, birdlike and curious. “Then why come to the one place on the island where wishes are the currency of exchange?”

“I needed to think. To clear my head.” Jessie’s fingers found a small stone, smooth and flat, perfect for skipping across water. She turned it over repeatedly, its cool surface grounding her. “There are decisions I need to make.”

“Decisions,” the woman echoed, the word floating between them like the steam from the hot springs. “Always at a crossroads, aren’t you? Staying or going. Island or mainland. Past or future.” Her gaze, penetrating despite the softness of age, fixed on Jessie’s face. “Heart or head.”

The stone stilled in Jessie’s palm. “It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it?” The woman’s laugh bubbled up like the spring itself, unexpected and refreshing. “Young people always believe their problems are unique, their choices more difficult than any who came before. But the springs have seen it all, child. Every variation of the same essential questions— Who am I? Where do I belong? What matters most?”

“And what does the spring say?” Jessie asked, unable to keep the hint of challenge from her voice.

“The spring doesn’t speak. It reflects.” The woman gestured toward the water where their two images wavered in gentle distortion. “Shows you what already exists within, if only you’re brave enough to look.” She peered at Jessie with sudden intensity. “Are you brave enough, Jessie?”

The question hung in the humid air, demanding an answer Jessie wasn’t certain she possessed. Brave? She’d spent fifteen years building a life defined by careful calculation and measured risks. The financial world rewarded prudence over courage, strategy over impulse. Yet hadn’t it required a different kind of bravery to return to the island at all? To face the ghosts of her past and the uncertain future that now stretched before her?

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly.

“At least you don’t lie to yourself,” the woman said with approval. “That’s a beginning.”

“A beginning of what?”

“Of seeing clearly.” The woman’s attention shifted to the center of the pool where hot and cold waters mingled. “The legend of the spring is more complicated than tourists understand, you know. It’s not a wishing well where you throw in coins and wait for magic. It’s a place of revelation—it doesn’t grant what you ask for, but what you truly need. What your heart desires, not your head.”

Jessie considered this distinction, turning it over like the stone in her hand. “And how do you know what your heart truly desires? When your head is telling you something completely different?”

“That, child, is why you must enter the water.” The woman’s eyes gleamed with something like mischief. “Not at the edges where it’s safe—either too hot or too cold—but at the center where opposites meet. Where certainties dissolve and truth emerges.”

The advice aligned with what Jessie had always heard about the spring’s legend—that wishes were granted only at the precise spot where the waters merged. But the woman’s interpretation added layers of meaning beyond the simple granting of wishes. Revelation rather than acquisition. Need rather than want.

“Did you come seeking your heart’s desire too?” Jessie asked, curious despite herself.

The woman’s smile turned inward, secretive. “I am where I’m meant to be. That’s desire enough for one lifetime.”

Without warning, she rose to her feet, movements fluid despite her apparent age. “The spring has waited a long time for your return, Jessie. Don’t disappoint it now.”

Jessie glanced down at the water lapping gently against the rocks, momentarily distracted by a flash of something bright beneath the surface—perhaps a fish or just sunlight playing tricks. When she looked up again, intending to ask what the woman meant, she found herself alone at the basin’s edge.

The surrounding vegetation showed no sign of disturbance, no indication of which path the woman might have taken. It was as if she had dissolved into the island air as completely as morning mist beneath a rising sun. Jessie rose, scanning the area with growing confusion. People didn’t simply vanish, particularly elderly women with limited mobility.

“Hello?” she called, her voice echoing slightly against the limestone walls that cradled the spring. “Are you still there?”

Only silence answered, punctuated by the gentle splash of the waterfall and the distant call of shore birds. Unease prickled along Jessie’s spine, raising goose bumps despite the humid air.

She had spent fifteen years in the rational world of finance, where every decision was based on quantifiable data and measurable outcomes. Magic existed in spreadsheets and market predictions, not in island legends or disappearing old women. Yet she couldn’t deny the conversation had happened—couldn’t rationalize away the woman’s insights or her mysterious departure.

The spring has waited a long time for your return.

The words circled in Jessie’s mind as she turned back toward the water. Its surface beckoned, simultaneously inviting and intimidating. She had come here for clarity about what to do with her father’s estate, about Winston’s job offer, about her future with or without Luke. The practical, logical concerns that had seemed so pressing at the bar now felt oddly distant, overshadowed by a deeper question that had been forming beneath her conscious awareness since her return to the island.

Where did she truly belong?

Fifteen years of careful construction had built a life that looked impressive on paper—partnership track at a prestigious firm, financial security, professional respect. Yet in the past weeks, that life had receded like the tide, revealing something beneath that she’d almost forgotten existed. A version of herself that laughed more freely, that connected with others without calculating advantage, that fell asleep to the sound of waves rather than traffic.

---