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at her sister. “I love you, Amelia. And no matter however long Dad tolerates my presence, thank you for letting me come home.”
    â€œLooking back, you and Dad are so much alike. Including the way you suffer so quietly.” She cupped her hand over Caroline’s cheek. “We probably should’ve said or done something, tried harder...”
    Caroline passed the sleeping baby to Amelia. “Not much anyone can do. We’ve each got to struggle through the tunnel of grief the best we can.”
    Struggle through till you reached the light at the end. Caroline wondered if that was what she was really doing, returning to Kiptohanock. And she also wondered if she’d ever manage to reach the light at all.
    Amelia nestled her baby son in her arms. “Don’t you give up.” Her eyes flashed. “You hear me? Don’t quit on us. And you’ll make it. I know you’re going to make it.”
    Caroline’s heart skipped a beat. Somehow Amelia knew or suspected...
    â€œSo you’ll come to church tomorrow?”
    Might that be another step toward reaching the light?
    She released a breath. “I’ll try.”
    â€œThat’s as much as any of us can do. Just try.”
    * * *
    â€œ... baby shower next month...”
    Facing Reverend Parks at the podium, Weston heard the faint scrape of the hinges on the vestibule door. Beside him in the pew, Izzie started to turn, but he captured her shoulder with his hand and anchored her firmly in place.
    â€œEyes forward, Seaman,” he whispered in her ear.
    She made a face but focused on the stained glass depiction of Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane on the wall behind Reverend Parks and the baptistry. A focus that only lasted till the reverend’s next remark.
    â€œ... know you church ladies will want to help celebrate this most momentous of occasions in Honey and Sawyer Kole’s lives...”
    Izzie tugged on his shirttail. “I’m a church lady.”
    He frowned and put a finger to his lips.
    A welcome breeze from the unseasonably sultry early June morning wafted into the sanctuary, courtesy of the open door. Many of the older Shore buildings didn’t have air-conditioning.
    He inserted a finger between the collar of his polo shirt and his neck and tugged. Not a mistake he intended to make with the lighthouse renovation, ocean winds notwithstanding.
    A lock of Izzie’s hair fluttered. Turning, Izzie’s face lit as if an internal light had switched on.
    â€œHey, Caroline.” Izzie waved in a frenzy of motion. “Caroline’s here, Daddy.”
    Across the sanctuary, blond, brunette, red and gray heads swiveled toward the foyer, where Caroline Duer stood frozen like a squid caught in bright lights. Then, like a boom on a sailboat, the townsfolk’s gaze swung as one toward Weston and his daughter.
    Izzie clambered onto the pew. Her knees pressed against the curve of the bench. “Sit with us, Caroline.”
    He took hold of his daughter. “Izzie,” he hissed.
    â€œIt’s Caro—”
    â€œGet down...” He peeled her off the pew.
    Reverend Parks cleared his throat. “Great idea, Isabelle. Let’s take a moment to greet each other on the Lord’s day before we sing our first hymn.”
    He stepped off the platform and was the first to reach Caroline. Who was still paralyzed—apparently struck mute—in the middle of the aisle.
    Weston grimaced, absorbing her embarrassment. If she’d hoped to slip in unnoticed, so much for that. Thanks to Isabelle Alice Clark.
    As the congregation mixed and mingled amid the rousing piano rendition of “There’s a Sweet, Sweet Spirit,” Seth Duer remained immobile. His gnarled knuckles slowly turned white from clutching the pew in front of him.
    Weston glanced over his shoulder. His pulse ratcheted as two rosy spots of color bloomed in the aquatic vet’s cheeks. Caroline Duer needed a rescue.