Yes, you are," he would say, holding Emma carefully. She
was a good-natured baby. Her hearing was sensitive; she made faces and
sometimes cried at loud noises. She liked music. Oliver had fun
twirling her around the living room, keeping her high against his
shoulder so that she could see the walls spin by.
One Saturday late in May, he received a note from Francesca saying that
she was coming back that week and that the winter had not gone well.
Jennifer didn't ask about the letter, perhaps she hadn't noticed it.
Oliver said nothing. Later that afternoon, he took a roundabout route
shopping and walked out to Crescent Beach. The log had shifted position
during the winter, but it was close to the same spot. He left a note in
their format: "O+F" in a heart on the outside. Inside, he wrote:
"Welcome back. Much to tell you." That was all he could bring himself
to say. If Francesca came out in the morning, at least she would have a
welcome. Maybe he could get there, maybe not.
Sunday morning, he went out for bagels and a newspaper. On his way
home, at the last moment, he kept going down State Street. He crossed
the bridge, drove to Cape Elizabeth, and walked quickly to the beach.
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