Excerpt, Chapter Six, Eva’s Letter

The high tide has swallowed up the beach. Lapping wavelets reflect the mottled overcast. Their sound echoes through my study window. Their dappled light reflects off the ceiling and bounces off a mirror over the little mantle across from my desk. At times, the sun peaks through, lower now than in high summer. The light, East breeze tickles at the old lace curtains.

The accommodation drives by on Front Street, chugging up the hill. The driver always builds up some speed first, squandering it in the deeper spots, soft tires squashed and spinning, kicking up sand as its back-end snakes its way up the hill. Mrs. Cook next door is rattling around cleaning. She’s in the bedroom across from my side window, so it must be around eleven.

I get caught up in worries, the month’s finances, deadlines, John’s health; but then, the waves lapping outside the window draw my attention out over the harbor and I just soak it in.
The sun is poking through again. Holes in the cloud’s many tones of grey show clear blue, pale cerulean off over East Harbor, deep cobalt over Long Point. What had appeared a solid cover now shows itself to be a thin, broken layer middling low. Dark bottoms trail off over the Truro hills, silvery tops against the larger tears….