Chapter 10 - The Ferry at Sunset
It was late September.
The evening sun was sinking beneath the western horizon, casting a brilliant trail of molten gold, violet, and deep crimson across the waters of Puget Sound.
Miriam Vance stood on the upper deck of the Bainbridge Island ferry, the fresh, salty sea breeze whipping her dark hair around her shoulders. She wore a warm cream wool sweater and held a steaming cup of coffee in both hands.
Beside her stood Blythe, leaning against the green metal railing, looking out at the distant Seattle skyline glowing softly in the twilight.
“How does it feel?” Blythe asked, turning her head with a warm, sisterly smile.
Miriam took a slow, deep breath, letting the clean, cool sea air fill her lungs—lungs that were clear, strong, and completely healed.
“It feels quiet,” Miriam said softly. “No noise. No fear. No waiting for someone to notice I exist.”
Her phone chimed in her pocket. She pulled it out.
It was an email notification from her bank: The final wire transfer for the sale of the Chicago auditing project has been deposited into your primary account.
She smiled, slipping the phone back into her pocket without another thought.
Below them, the ferry’s horn sounded—a deep, resonant roar that echoed across the water, signaling their approach to the island terminal.
Miriam looked down at the dock where, nine months ago, she had sat shivering on a cold wooden bench, believing her life was ending in a dark, slush-filled puddle.
Now, as the boat glided smoothly toward the slip, she saw her car parked near the exit lane—a sleek, dark blue electric SUV she had bought herself, loaded with art supplies and fresh flowers for her new studio overlooking the bay.
The sun dipped below the mountains, leaving the sky painted in brilliant, enduring light.
May you like
Miriam wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the warm pulse of her own heart beneath her sweater, strong, steady, and entirely free.
She was home.
