They both turned to look at the playground.
“No,” Regina said quietly. “No way.”
Emily dashed up, her halo of soft curls bouncing. “Mommy, look what I got!”
She tipped back her head to show off the camp lanyard around her neck. Hanging between with the red “caring bead” and
blue “responsibility bead” was a silver disk with three interconnected spirals radiating from the center.
Liz bent for a closer look. “That‟s very . . .” Her breath hitched. Something about the gleaming medal teased at her
memory. “Pretty.”
“It‟s a triskelion,” Regina said.
“A what?”
Regina turned over her wrist, exposing a simplified version of the same symbol tattooed against her pale skin. “It‟s a sign
of protection. A ward. Earth, sea, and sky—that‟s the three curving lines, see?—around a common center.”
Liz studied the flowing lines. “You got this for protection?”
Regina grinned. “Hell, no. I got it because I was drunk and thought it was some kind of female empowerment thing. It
wasn‟t until I met Dylan that I knew the real meaning. It‟s a wardens‟ mark.”
Recognition flashed through Liz. That‟s where she‟d seen that symbol before. The medal was a smaller replica of the one
around Morgan‟s neck.
“Honey,” she asked gently, “where did you get this?”
Emily‟s gaze fell. “Nick gave it to me.”
Liz looked at Regina for confirmation.
“I guess it‟s possible.” Regina scanned the play equipment. “Nick!”
Her son came running, accompanied by a freckled older boy.
“Did you give something to Emily?”
Nick rubbed the toe of one sneaker in the mud. “Yeah. Sort of.”
His freckled friend grinned. “Nick‟s got a girlfriend, Nick‟s got a—”
Nick flushed. “Shut up, Danny.”
“Which is it, kiddo?” Regina asked. “Yeah, or sort of?”
“Am I in trouble?”
“Not yet,” his mother replied.
“Because he said it would be all right.”
Liz‟s heart thumped. “Who said?”
“Morgan. He gave me the medal. To give to Em.” Nick met his mother‟s eyes. “Can I go now?”
“Five more minutes,” Regina said. “We need to get ready for Maggie‟s party tonight.”
“Cool,” Nick said and ran off.
Liz‟s mind churned. Morgan gave the medal to Em.
A sign of protection, Regina called it. A ward.
Liz looked from the engraved disk to her daughter‟s shining eyes, and her heart stumbled in her chest.
Even after she‟d told him to back off, Morgan had been thinking of Emily. Had tried to protect her.
“ I am attached to her, too, ” he‟d said, but so stiffly Liz hadn‟t understood.
Something constricted her lungs, as insubstantial and painful as hope.
“Mom.” Emily tugged on her arm. “Are we going to the party?”
Margred‟s baby shower. Half the island would be there. Morgan would be there.
Liz took a deep breath, feeling her chest expand with possibilities. “Yes. We are.”
Liz held Emily‟s small, warm hand as they strolled down the grassy slope from the parking lot toward the picnic shelter.
Anticipation hummed through her. The saturated ground and the pink glow of the setting sun lent the air an enchanted
shimmer, heightened by the fairy lights twined around the shelter‟s rafters and square wooden supports. Lanterns and rocks
anchored red checkered tablecloths fluttering in the breeze. The air was alive with laughter and conversation, the clang of
horseshoes, the cry of gulls, and the call of the surf.