I was eleven that summer, Clark was twenty-one.Emma married him three summers later. By that time I'd come to understand what I was losing. She danced...with me at the reception. And in her white gown and with her shining, happy eyes she'd broken my heart. Late into that night, hours after the reception had ended, I'd sat crying in my mother's arms on the beach that fronted our summer home.Clark called me on the following Friday night, right after he'd arrived on the island ferry, to arrange the. . you know ... never ... I only read about it...” she said, speaking low and soft, quiet like, as if not wanting to disturb anyone with her words.Hearing him compliment her, she felt good, true, but she was already feeling good from that odd sensation of service or ‘something’. She could not quite put the feeling into words, but she felt more content, and more at peace in the moment, even Zenlike, than she could remember feeling in quite some time.Kimber sent a shiver up his spine as he watched. More

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