Part 3: Still Waters

August blurred into early September, the edges of summer softening with the first hint of cool air. The lake grew quieter as the seasonal cabins emptied. Morgan welcomed the hush. She had stopped checking her phone. Stopped counting the days. Time bent and folded differently out here, like the pages of a worn book she didn’t mind rereading.

Some mornings, she saw Luke’s canoe slide past in the mist, a silhouette with a paddle and thermos. He’d raise a hand in greeting but never drift closer unless she waved back.

One morning, she did.

They fished in near silence, sharing a thermos of coffee between casts. She didn’t catch anything—not that it mattered. Luke reeled in a smallmouth bass and let it go without ceremony.

“You ever think about leaving for good?” she asked as they drifted near the dock.

He didn’t answer right away. “I used to. Thought I had to prove something to myself, get out of town, be someone. Then I did, and none of it felt real. I came back when my mom got sick. Stayed after she passed.” He dipped his paddle in the water. “Sometimes what you’re looking for is the thing you already had.”

Morgan looked at him. “I envy that.”

Later that afternoon, she found herself hiking an old trail that wound through birch and maple groves. It led to the bluff that overlooked the far end of the lake. She hadn’t been there since her teenage years, and the trail markers were nearly gone. Still, her feet knew the path.

The clearing opened wide to the sky. She stood on the edge, wind lifting her hair, and let herself remember.

The wedding dress she never wore.

Jeremy’s laugh.

The phone calls that grew shorter.

The apology that came too late.

“I’m sorry I left,” she whispered aloud to no one in particular.

There was no reply. Just the wind rustling through trees like a mother’s hand brushing hair from a child’s brow.

When she turned back, she felt lighter. Not healed, not whole, but something less like broken.

Back at the cabin, she found Luke on the porch, two beers sweating on the railing.

“I figured you might come back through the woods,” he said, not looking surprised.

She took the beer and sat beside him.

They didn’t talk much. They didn’t need to.

After a long moment, she asked, “Did you love her?”

He didn’t pretend not to understand. “I thought I did. She left just before we were about to move in together. Said I wanted a future, but not with her in it.”

Morgan nodded. “Sounds familiar.”

They clinked bottles.

When she went to bed that night, she slept without waking.