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There was an odd quietat a rope in the clouds, heads thrown back--waiting for a sign from heaven

Enoch broke the silence "Well?" he called, impatient

"I can see it!" came the reply, Olive’s voice barely a squeak over the white noise of waves "Straight ahead!"

"Good enough for me!" Bronwyn said, and while the rest of us clutched our stomachs and slumped uselessly in our seats, she claan to row, guided only by Olive’s tiny voice, an unseen angel in the sky

"Left … more left … not that much!"

And like that we slowly , gray tendrils like the ghostly fingers of so to draw us back

As if the island couldn’t quite let us go, either

2

Our twin hulls ground to a halt in the rocky shallows We hove up onto shore just as the sun was diray clouds, perhaps an hour left until full dark The beach was a stony spit clogged with low-tide sea wrack, but it was beautiful to ne-white tourist beach back home It meant we had ine; most of theazed around in wonder, bewildered to still be alive and wondering what on earth to do about it

We staggered fros made of rubber Fiona scooped a handful of sliue, as if she needed all five senses to convince herself she wasn’t drearine’s loop, at first I had never, in all roaned and sank to the ground, exhausted beyond words She was surrounded and fussed over and showered with thanks for all she’d done, but it ard; our debt was too great and the words thank you too small, and she tried to wave us away but was so tired she could barely raise her hand Meanwhile, Emma and the boys reeled Olive down from the clouds

"You’re positively blue!" E, and she leapt up to pull the little girl into her ar There were no blankets, nor even a stitch of dry clothing to give her, so Emma ran her ever-hot hands around Olive’s body until the worst of her shudders subsided, then sent Fiona and Horace away to gather driftwood for a fire While waiting for their return, we gathered round the boats to take stock of all we’d lost at sea It was a griht now littered the seafloor

What we had left were the clothes on our backs, a small amount of food in rusty tins, and Bronwyn’s tank-sized steamer trunk, indestructible and apparently unsinkable--and so absurdly heavy that only Bronwyn herself could ever hope to carry it We tore open itsuseful, or better yet, edible, but all it held was a three-volues spongy with seawater, and a fancy bath rine’s initials

"Oh, thank heavens! Someone remembered the bathelse was gone, including both our ate us across the channel and the massive leather-bound loop atlas that had been Millard’s prized possession, the Map of Days When Millard realized it was gone he began to hyperventilate "That was one of only five extant copies!" he moaned "It was of incalculable value! Not to mention it contained years of my personal notes and annotations!"