Now the moon spread light over the water, spilled it silver onto the rocks that had given her and a woman they both loved shelter.

She didn’t look at the sand where blood had spilled. Time and wind and rain would wash it away. She would cast the lost in bronze, and they would stay. She would walk with him into tomorrow, and he would stay.

They’d tend a house together, and a good, sweet dog, and remember every day as a precious gift.

She turned to him. “I’m not saying I’m ready for or can be talked into step two—even though you’re wounded.”

“Blood. Needles. Stitches.”

She touched her lips to his shoulder again. “I’m just willing to say, at this time, I like simple.”

He smiled, kissed her fingers, then walked the beach with her with the dog trotting at his heels.

— One Year Later —

In the park where a nineteen-year-old Reed Quartermaine asked Officer Essie McVee how to become a cop, hundreds gathered. Survivors and loved ones of those lost each held a single white rose with a sprig of rosemary.

The mayor of Rockpoint gave a short speech under a sky blue with summer while white gulls winged over the water. Among the gathered, children fidgeted, a baby fussed.

Simone took her place, looked out at the faces, the tears already shed. She looked at Reed, standing with his family and hers.

“Ah, thank you, Ms. Mayor, and thank you to my father, Ward Knox, and my grandmother, the amazing CiCi Lennon, for making it possible to place this art in Rockpoint Park. Thank you to my mother, Tulip Knox, for helping to arrange this … gathering today to unveil it.”

She’d tried to prepare a speech, to write one out and practice, but everything she’d attempted came off stiff and stilted and, well, prepared.

So she did what CiCi advised. She said what came to her mind from her heart.

“I was there,” she began, “on July twenty-second, fourteen years ago tonight. I lost a friend, a beautiful girl,” she continued, looking toward the Olsen family. “A friend I still miss, every day, as so many here lost someone they loved and miss every day.

“For a long time I tried to forget what had happened. Some of you may understand what I mean when I say I tried to pretend it was over, and didn’t affect my life. I thought I needed to do just that to survive it. But I was wrong, and everyone here, everyone knows that while we have to go on, we can never, should never, forget.

“You know their faces, the son or daughter, the mother or father, the brother or sister, husband, wife. You know them. I came to know them, and hope by knowing them, by honoring them, no one will ever forget. I hope you’ll think of this, not as a memorial, but a remembrance. I’d like to dedicate this work not only to those we loved and lost, but to all of us. They are, as we are, all connected but not just by tragedy. By love.”

She reached out for Reed’s hand, waited for Essie and Mi to take their place on the other side of the drape.

“Okay.” She took a long breath. “Okay.”

Together, they lifted the drape.

She’d cast the bronze in a graceful curve. More than a hundred faces formed it, all connected by twining roses and rosemary. All softly washed in a patina of quiet blues and greens. On the curve of the base, she’d listed all the names, every name in bas-relief.

Simone gripped Reed’s hand as she heard weeping, and couldn’t bring herself to look away from the faces she’d cast to the faces of the weeping.

Then she heard CiCi’s voice, the amazing CiCi, begin to sing “The Long and Winding Road.”

Others joined in, hesitantly at first, then more fully if they knew the words.

Now she looked, and saw hands clasped as Reed clasped hers. She saw people embracing. She saw tears, she saw comfort.

When her own tears came, she turned into Reed and found her comfort there.

And when the song ended, people came forward. Some reached down to touch a hand to a face. Some came to her to take her hand or to embrace her.

Reed brought a woman to her. “Simone, this is Leah Patterson. Angie’s mom.”

“I need you to know.” Leah gripped both Simone’s hands. “I need you to really understand what this means to me. People will know she was here. She lived. Thank you more than I can say.”

Then Leah walked over, laid a white rose on the grass at the base as others had.

Tulip waited until the crowd thinned before she went to Simone. “I’m very proud of you.”

“We’re very proud of you,” Ward said and kissed her cheek, smiled. “You’d have made a terrible lawyer.”

“Boy, wouldn’t I.”

“I got two good ones in the family.” He glanced back at Harry and Natalie as Natalie ran a hand down the mound of her belly. “And maybe a next-generation one in the works.”

“Ward.” Tulip patted his arm, narrowed her eyes at Simone. “What color is that hair?”

“Magnificent Maroon with Golden Goddess highlights.”

“I’ll never understand it, or you.” She drew Simone into a hug. “I love you anyway.”

“Ditto.”

“Reed.” When Tulip offered a cheek, Reed bent down to kiss it. “I don’t suppose you can talk my daughter into the two of you, and my mother, joining us at the club for dinner tonight.”

“We appreciate that, but we have to get back. I’m on duty tonight.”

“Well.” She straightened his tie to her satisfaction, brushed at his lapels. “I hope we see you both soon.”

Reed shook hands with Ward, watched them move off.

“You took the day and evening off,” Simone reminded him.

“Grill duty. Let’s say goodbye to Essie and her gang, scoop up Mi and CiCi, and go home. I’ve got to ditch this tie.”

“You go ahead. I’ll be there in a minute. I want to talk to Nat first.”

He made his way to Essie, and the baby in the stroller.

“Hey there, Ariel.”

She gurgled, grinned, waved a pudgy fist, then went back to gnawing on a teething ring.

“Where are the men and dogs?” Reed asked her.

“Over on the swings. Or Dylan is while Hank deals with him and the dogs.”

“He sure won Barney over. I appreciate him riding herd while we did all that.” He looked down toward the bench where they’d once sat together. “Sometimes it seems like a lifetime ago, sometimes like yesterday.”

“I wouldn’t change a single thing from the moment we sat down on that bench.”

“Me, either. Well, maybe getting shot, except one thing leads to another. Did you get to see Ms. Leticia?”

“I did.”

“It was good of her to come.” He looked back at the gentle curve of bronze. “It was good.”

“It’s beautiful, and wrenching and important. I look at it and I want to hug my kids so tight, and Hank, and everybody I love.”

“Bring it in,” Reed offered. “Get the gang, come for the rest of the weekend. I’m grilling tonight. Don’t say no. Go pack some stuff and catch a ferry.”

“Do you have a clue how much stuff’s involved in packing up a baby and a kid?”

“Not yet. One of these days. Come on, Essie, let’s cap this day off with some happy, kick some sand over what happened on the island a year ago.”

She blew out a breath. “You’re on.”

“Great. I’ll go get my dog, tell Hank.”

Simone waved Natalie off, hooked arms with CiCi. “Did you plan the Beatles?”

“No. It just came to me. It seemed the right song, and it seemed we needed a song. My treasure.” She sighed, tipped her head to Simone’s as they looked back at the bronze with the flowers spread at its base.

“I put Tish in the center. I needed to. She was mine. They all became mine, but she was mine first, and always.”

“And that’s how it should be. I see our Reed heading this way with Barney. I’ll get Mi. It’s time to go home, let him smoke up the grill, put some music on. I want to dance in the sand.”

“I’ll dance with you. I just need one more minute.”

“It’s about damn time.” And CiCi did a little boogie on the spot. “I’m a little bit psychic,” she added. “Go on, make him smile.” She gave Simone a nudge.

With a half laugh, a quick shake of her head, Simone decided her grandmother just might be a little bit psychic.

She crossed paths with Reed and the faithful Barney in front of the bronze.

“I asked Essie, Hank, and the kids to pack up and head over. I think we need a good party.”

“I think that’s a great idea. Mi can bunk with CiCi.”

“That works. Are you ready?”

“Almost.” She took his face—oh, she knew that face—in her hands. “I want simple. Maybe a wild party after, but simple for the main event.”

“I was going to do burgers and…” The smile came, slow. “When? I’ve got to clear my schedule.”

“Summer’s busy for the chief of police. How about the Saturday after Labor Day? The island’s pretty quiet again.”

“I can do the Saturday after Labor Day.”

“At CiCi’s. Nobody throws a wild party like CiCi, and she and Mi are going to be my maids of honor. No black tie, no tails.”

“Can I begin to tell you how much I love you?”

“You’ll get to that. CiCi’s going to want one of her Wiccan priestess friends to perform the ceremony. I’d like to let her have that one.”