Page 3 of Changing Tides

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that,” I assure her. “I am preoccupied with my own shi–stuff, anyway.” I pull out my phone and complete the reservation booking on Ellie’s listing. “I just paid for the two weeks. I appreciate you accommodating me so last minute.”

“No trouble at all, dear. It’s still the off-season. I haven’t been booked here all winter. This place is a ghost town until May.” She starts to walk toward her house but stops abruptly. “I almost forgot!” She hands me a key on a ring with a keychain charm.

I take it from her and run my fingers over the smooth clear stone. “Thank you. Is this a Cape May Diamond?”

“That it is.” Her eyes crinkle when she grins at me.

“I used to collect these all the time as a girl,” I say wistfully, the memory sending a rush of nostalgia up the back of my neck.

Ellie nods solemnly, as if my nostalgia is palpable. Then she turns to go inside. “Just text me if you need anything!” she calls behind her.

I don’t plan on needing anything.

* * *

I wakeup the next morning to the sound of chatter and giggling in the garden. I glance at my phone and see that it’s only 7:15 a.m. When I sit up fumbling for my phone I remember the empty bottle of wine that I helped myself to from the liquor cabinet last night, sans dinner.

“Ugh…” I groan. I cannot believe I drank the whole bottle. And I never took my bubble bath. I frown at the realization. It’s funny, even though helping to heal people is what I do for a living, I don’t know the first thing about how to heal myself. I’m going to have to work on that.

I’ve had my phone on Do Not Disturb since I left yesterday. I specifically told my dad and Claire where I was headed and took off. So why do I feel a pang of disappointment when I see that I have no missed calls or texts from James? I know in ninety days, we’ll be divorced; I know he’s with someone else now.

I don’t know what I expected, but suddenly I’m aware of just how alone I really am. It’s disconcerting. I groan again, this time more audibly, and I worry Ellie has heard me when there’s a soft knock at the door.

“Sophie, are you okay in there? I, uh, it sounds like you might be sick?” Ellie sounds unsure, like she knows she might be overstepping.

“I’m okay!” I shout back, embarrassed. I throw the pillow over my face and whisper-scream expletives into it. “I am just waking up.”

“Oh goodness, I hope Lucy and I didn’t wake you!” Ellie replies apologetically. “We’ll head inside.”

I don’t even have the courage to reply. My head is pounding, so I let myself drift back to sleep.

I wake up a while later, and my head still feels as if it’s going to implode. I want to cry when I remember that I don’t have any Advil or really any food in my new residence. It’s 10 a.m., and I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday. No wonder that wine went straight to my head. I throw on one of my comfy lounge outfits, walk to Ellie’s back door, and knock softly. She comes quickly, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she opens the door.

“Hello, dear! I’m so sorry if we disturbed you earlier.” She pauses, giving me the once over. I hear a children’s show playing in the background. “What can I do for you?” Her expression is warm and welcoming.

“I, uh, was wondering if you might have something for a headache?” I wince as I say it, partially out of embarrassment and partially because I don’t even know how my head is still attached.

Ellie smirks. “Get into the wine, did you? The Cape May Winery makes a mean red.” I must look embarrassed because then she smiles. “Sure, come on in. I was just fixing myself a little brunch. Would you care for some bacon and eggs? I’m intermittent fasting this week!”

I want to laugh at her usage of “this week” because if she is anything like me, she’s tried everything to shed those few stubborn pounds. Fertility treatments have not been kind to my once trim physique. Where I once had abs, there’s now a softer midsection. Up until now, I haven’t found it in me to care. James loved me for me…or so I thought. My stomach grumbles audibly as I smell the bacon that she has in the oven.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then!” Ellie laughs, reacting to its angry growl. “Come sit. Do you like coffee?” She ushers me into an old wicker kitchen chair with a homemade seat cushion tied on that reminds me of the chairs my grandmother used to have in her dining room. I take note of the empty highchair next to me and peer into the open living room where baby Lucy is in the playpen, holding herself up to a stand and bopping along to a toddler tune.

“Y-yes, please,” I say. It’s all I can manage. I’m overstimulated by the sunlight and the noise of the baby’s music.

Ellie places a steaming cup of coffee and two Advil in front of me with a small pitcher of half-and-half and some sugar cubes. I fix my coffee, breathe in the heavenly aroma, and take my first sip.

“So, what brings you to Cape May, dear?” Ellie wonders aloud as she cracks some eggs into a bowl.

I take another sip of my coffee and a deep breath, feeling instantly better and more able to engage in conversation. “I just filed for divorce from my husband of thirteen years,” I say, catching the melancholy in my voice but at the same time feeling relief having said it out loud. “I just needed to get away for a while.”

Ellie drops the spatula on the floor and turns to me as she picks it up, eyebrows raised. “I’m so sorry. I can’t say I was expecting that, but I thought I saw a sadness in your eyes,” she notes. “I obviously didn’t want to pry. If you’d like an outsider’s perspective, though, I am a bored old bitty with a lifetime of experience.”

I appreciate the sentiment, even though she doesn’t look a day over sixty, and give her a grim smile. “The long and short of it is, I am broken, and he found someone else who isn’t.” I sigh, staring down into my coffee mug.

Ellie moves the spatula around the pan with her back to me but turns when what I said registers. “Sweetheart, I am sure you aren’t broken,” she soothes, speaking to me with a maternal kindness I can appreciate.

“Cape May has always been my safe place.” I suck in a breath and then word vomit just pours out of me. I’m sure I am giving Ellie way more than she bargained for with my life story. She is quiet but listens as she pours the bacon grease into a can to harden. From the other room, Lucy starts to cry, interrupting us. “Coming, Lulu!” Ellie calls.

---