Breakwater Bay by Shelley Noble

Saturday night, still a bit wet from yesterday’s rain. The buildings seemed swollen and cold, the streetlamps doing nothing to warm the chill in the air. It was only two blocks to her apartment, but she began to rue wearing her platform shoes.
    Meri was glad she’d left a light on. Coming home to a dark apartment might have put her over the edge. But she opened the door to a cheery, albeit empty, scene. She hung her coat up in the narrow coat closet, then went through to her tiny bedroom and neatly hung up her dress. And that was as far as she got before hurt, anger, and self-pity took over.
    She sat on the edge of the bed that she would be occupying alone tonight, took off her shoes, and threw them as hard as she could through the open closet door. Then she crawled under the covers, underwear, makeup, and hair band still in place.
    And lay there watching the numbers on the digital clock tick by.
    T herese Calder woke with a start. The house was dark. She listened for any sound that was different, but only heard the shushing of the sea and the whisper of branches as a breeze wafted through the trees.
    She had a compelling urge to call Meri, just to make sure she was all right, but it was after midnight. She’d still be out with Peter. Therese hoped he would be understanding, not be one of those people who turned his back on his friends when they disappointed him. But why should he be disappointed in Meri? How could anyone be disappointed in her?
    She was so loving and kind and compassionate.
    Therese’s conscience writhed under guilt, old and new. For what she’d let happen thirty years ago, and what she’d done only last night. But what were her choices? Let the child be taken by Social Services, placed in some home that might love her but just as easily might have abused her?
    In her heart, she knew they had done the right thing. And it wasn’t like they hadn’t tried to return the baby to her rightful family.
    Therese cringed, chastising herself for her half-truth. They’d found the family and the family had not wanted to hear about their daughter or their grandchild, so she and Laura told them that the baby died with the mother. They left their address and phone number. But the people never asked about the grave or contacted her again.
    They had erased their daughter from their lives and their love. And after meeting them, the decision to keep Meri had been easy.
    God would either forgive her or not. She’d done what she thought best. Both times. And now she would have to act because of those decisions.
    The box that belonged to Meri sat on the top shelf of Therese’s closet beneath a stack of quilts. But it burned through the closed door like some enchanted thing in one of Alden’s fairy tales. She wouldn’t be surprised to see it jump down from the shelf and run out of the house crying “Read me. Read me.”
    She shuddered and nestled down beneath the comforter. How much longer could she live with that box in her possession? It didn’t belong to her. It belonged to Meri.
    Tomorrow she would call Alden and ask him to drive her to Newport. He hardly ever went anywhere except to take the train down to New York to see his editors and agent, and he rarely went into Newport. She didn’t know what was wrong with the man, to live out here all by himself.
    It was a comfort to have him nearby, but he should be getting on with his life. He’d been alone for—she thought back—six years? eight? A long time for a man in his prime. Was his marriage responsible for that, or had he been marked by what had happened three decades ago?
    She would call him first thing tomorrow. Maybe they would stay and take Meri to a nice restaurant. Alden would see what he was missing and get interested in life again, instead of living with a bunch of imaginary creatures and an old lady for his only neighbor.
    She would go back to sleep now. There were no frightening noises outside. The only sounds she heard tonight were the beating of