Part Nine

It was a miracle to Peggy that she made the 5:20 a.m. ferry on time. She was late getting up, then she dragged herself through her morning routine. When she realized the time she hurried out the door without taking the lunch she had made. The morning was gray and dark and drizzly. Thick, wet clouds hung low over the Sound as she approached the terminal.

She sat in her usual seat on the left side, not sure what to expect, not even sure what she wanted. Raoul was not there, which left her disappointed and then annoyed with herself for being disappointed. Kelly Flinn sat down next to her and started talking about the gas tax, a new move by the state to raise money for transportation projects by taxing gasoline purchases. Across the aisle, the bicycle riders peeled off wet layers and pulled out their little towels. They talked about the bike riding they had done over the Memorial Day weekend. The highlight for Peggy had been going to the Farmer's Market and buying eggs at the 4-H Club booth. They were so fresh that Peggy decided to have fried eggs, over easy, for breakfast, something she could never do with Taylor because of his cholesterol problem.

"I've always thought gas was too cheap in this country," said Kel.

"It's much more expensive in Europe," said Peggy. She thought about the phone call she had received on Sunday from her daughter, Marjorie, in Virginia.

"There are some experts who think gas should be about four dollars a gallon," Kel said.

They had made the turn; Seattle sat across the Sound in swirls of fog and rain and mist. The buildings were dark, but lights twinkled from the highway and the waterfront.

"Four dollars?" Peggy said absentmindedly. Marjorie had scolded Peggy for being too harsh with Raoul. 'You can't expect everyone to have the same views as you do. Look at you and Dad, how many things did you disagree on?'

"If gas were four dollars it would dramatically alter people's lifestyles: they would drive less and consume less gas, and cause less pollution. Also, it would have the effect of shifting gas revenues to our government instead of oil-producing governments."

"I wouldn't mind paying more," Peggy said. Then Marjorie had said, 'You are looking for reasons to not get involved, Mom. You've got yourself convinced that you can't start any new relationships.' Peggy then said, 'Who's looking for a relationship? Isn't thirty years with one man enough?'

Peggy stared out of the window at a seagull that was flying along with the boat. In this weather she didn't imagine there would be anyone on deck throwing food to the birds. Yet, the seagull didn't know any better, it just flew along doing what it had always done.

"And it would greatly improve our bargaining position with the oil producers," said Kel. "Right now they own us because we consume so much energy."

As the ferry glided into its slip at the Seattle terminal Peggy walked forward and stood on deck in the gray mist with her fellow passengers, most of whom silently watched the ferry attendant. It reminded Peggy of the phrase "huddled masses" that was often applied to immigrants arriving by boat. Today she was especially struck by the newness of her surroundings and her lifestyle; she was an immigrant of sorts. She had spent most of her adult life in Ballard, in the northwest part of the city, raising her children and being married to Taylor. Now in just a few short weeks she had taken up a new life, living on the island with new people and riding the ferry to work. But she wasn't sure how new she really wanted it to be. Did she want to forget the past? That was impossible. But exactly how removed from it should she be? It boiled down to this, as she saw it: should she let herself become a different kind of person, perhaps a person that Taylor would not have wanted to be married to? Should she still be Taylor's wife?

While she waited she leaned over the rail to look at the proceedings on the car deck. The bicycle riders were waved off, followed by the motorcyclists. Peggy spotted Raoul on his blue bike. He looked dashing and confident, and she knew he was probably on his way to tell some client how much pollution they can get away with. For some odd reason her immediate thought was that she might bring him a bran muffin the next day.

Part Eight

Peggy went to the right side of the ferry instead of the left. Her stride was deliberate and purposeful. She paid little attention to the glowing morning sky, her goal was to avoid Raoul.

As she entered the aisle on the right side she looked ahead and saw him sitting at the far end. She quickly turned away, hoping she wasn't noticed. Obviously he had the same idea. It irritated her; she wanted to be the one doing the avoiding. Peggy went to the left side, where she usually sat, but then avoided that as well when she saw Kelly Flinn there. She didn't want to have a conversation with him. Not this morning. She went up on deck, to the place known as the Quiet Room. By convention, passengers there refrained from having conversations or using cell phones or laptops. It was a place to read or sleep, or just be away from others. She found an empty corner and collapsed into a seat, her face burning with discomfort. The rosacea had flared up again.

The lunch with Raoul had been a disaster, which was compounded by the fact that she had looked forward to it all morning like a giddy teenager in love. He had chosen a swank lunch spot on 2nd Ave, to which he drove them in his black Mercedes Benz. The luxury was so foreign to her, it was not Taylor at all. Raoul looked dashing at the wheel of his car, his gray beard and dark suit, and smooth charming voice. She felt she was being pampered. The valet welcomed them and took the car with a note of familiarity; perhaps Raoul was a regular customer there.

Inside they sat in a cool corner, away from the intense heat of the day, while a demure waitress in a crisp apron brought them sparkling water with lemons. Summer had rushed upon them like a steam engine; it was the number one topic of conversation: where did this heat come from? Peggy knew the answer: climate change, global warming. Taylor ranted and raged about it for as long as Peggy was married to him, right up until his death. She also heard about it at work: her nonprofit organization, the Northwest Environmental Fund, was devoted to raising awareness of climate change. Peggy was in charge of the Education Database, a collection of data and references that documented the change in the Earth's climate since the beginning of the Industrial Age.

But she wasn't thinking of that as she sat across a mahogany table from Raoul and fingered the silverware and the cloth napkin in front of her. Their conversation was light. Deidre, his daughter, had enjoyed her visit to Bainbridge Island and was back in Philadelphia, where she was earning an MBA at the Wharton School. He asked questions about her children, so she explained that Taylor, Jr, her son, was an aspiring film maker in Brooklyn, taking classes at the Pratt Institute and waiting on tables at night. Her daughter, Marjorie, was a statistician who married to a lobbyist and they lived in Arlington, Virginia.

"A statistician married to a lobbyist. Hmm, I would love to hear their dinner conversations," he said with amusement.

"Arcane is the way I would describe it," said Peggy, enjoying herself.

Then the bomb hit. She had been extremely curious as to how Raoul spent his time. He wore suits everyday, and over that he wore motorcycle leathers and rode a large Harley-Davidson onto the ferry. She knew it was a Harley because she had seen him on his bike one morning while she was standing on the upper deck about to disembark and she leaned over the rail and glanced at the pack of bikers revving their engines, waiting for the ferry attendant to give them the signal to roar away in a cloud of exhaust and noise. He was there in his white helmet and his low, fat blue bike.

The bomb came when he talked about his job. He said he was a lawyer for Burnett and Edwards.

"Burnett and Edwards?" said Peggy.

"Yes. Have you heard of them?"

"I'll say. My organization opposes them in court on a regular basis."

"Oh? What organization would that be?"

"The Northwest Environmental Fund."

He groaned. "I hope you're not one of the militant types."

"I'm not sure how you define the so-called militant types. But we are aggressive about making polluters pay for their crimes."

Raoul shook his head. "Everyone wants everything to be black and white. It's never as simple as that. The firms we represent are following the law."

"That exactly the problem," said Peggy. "They are following the law, but the laws are too weak. The laws were written by Republican politicians who receive substantial contributions from the nation's leading polluters. Were any of your clients on Dick Cheney's energy task force?"

"I'm not at liberty to say."

"I'll take that as a yes."

"Peggy, you are a very pleasant and attractive woman. Why do you want to bother yourself with politics?"

It was at that moment that Peggy didn't like the sound of his voice. What had earlier seemed musical and charming now sounded condescending and deceitful. "Because somebody has to not let these energy companies get away with murder. They will rape the environment to make a buck and you know it."

"Those are pretty strong words, Peggy. Look, can't we just have a nice lunch together. Why do you have to bring shop talk into this?"

"Is that what it is to you? Shop talk? One of your clients spilled oil in Puget Sound and tried to keep it a secret. Another of your clients released dangerous chemicals into the Columbia River for years until regulatory action force them to stop. If it wasn't for the law they would still be doing it."

"There's no proof that those chemicals were harming the environment," said Raoul with a flat, businesslike expression.

Peggy laid her fork down. She suddenly had no desire to eat the delicious vegetarian black bean quesadilla on the large plate before her. "Is that really what you believe. Tell me the truth, and I promise I won't repeat it to anyone. I just want to know how you truly feel about that particular case."

"I maintain that they were not harming the environment." He said it with all the sincerity of a politician.

Peggy stood up. "Raoul, I'm very sorry, but I can't finish lunch with you. Your views are too extreme for me. I have spent the last twenty years fighting the very organizations that you represent. I can't turn my back on that."

She turned and left the restaurant, expecting at any moment to feel his hand on her arm, trying to stop her. But that didn't happen.

Now, on the ferry the next day, sitting in the Quiet Room, Peggy felt her face burn from the rosacea, which seemed to flare up when she was depressed or stressed. A long three-day weekend lie ahead. It would be miserable. She wanted so badly to have a friend to spend it with. Instead she would spend it with Taylor.

Part Seven

At 5:15 a.m. the sky was apricot-colored in the east and blue directly overhead as Peggy walked up the ramp to the ferry. A single long cloud reflected the glow of the sun. The weather report had predicted highs in the 80s. Peggy could feel Summer coming on.

Raoul was not present as Peggy took her seat, and as the ferry pulled away it was obvious he wouldn't be riding today. No Raoul. She felt two sensations immediately: one was disappointment at his absence; the other was annoyance with herself for getting worked up over a man she hardly knew, a man she met on the ferry just a few weeks earlier.

Peggy's thoughts were interrupted by the view from her window as the boat motored out of Eagle Harbor and made the turn into Puget Sound. Directly across the water was Seattle, and behind it a backdrop that looked like an artist had sketched a long dark squiggly line on an orange and yellow canvas. It was the Cascade Range, etched beautifully against the morning sky. To her right was Mount Rainier, fully visible from base to summit, still covered with snow and ice, glowing orange and yellow. To her left was Mount Baker far in the distance. She wished Raoul was there to enjoy the view with her. As the ferry made another turn and headed directly across the Sound, Rainier slid from her view, just as the top edge of the sun made its appearance from behind the mountains. Several downtown skyscrapers began to twinkle as their upper windows caught the rays and bounced the light toward the Sound. Once the boat had turned, Peggy could look over her shoulder at Bainbridge Island, quickly receding, and beyond it the snow-covered peaks of the Olympic Range rose majestically into view.

Peggy remembered a hike she had taken with her late husband, Taylor. It was less than two years before his death; he was still healthy and active even then. They had driven to Hurricane Ridge, on the Olympic Peninsula, on a very clear December day. It was cloudy at the low elevations, around the port town of Sequim, but as they drove up to the ridge in their car they broke through the clouds and came out on a vista with a fifty- mile view and the bluest sky Peggy had ever seen.

They walked along a snow-covered road that had been packed down by many hikers and cross-country skiers before them. Taylor, wrapped in his parka and sunglasses, took pictures of everything in sight. He was always in awe of his surroundings, always amazed at the marvels of Nature, even after seeing them over and over again. Peggy had found those pictures while unpacking after her move to Bainbridge Island and it made her terribly homesick for her former life with Taylor, living in Ballard, raising their son and daughter. She had not heard from her children in a couple of weeks; they both lived across the country: the daughter in Arlington, Virginia, and the son in Brooklyn, New York. It made her terribly sad to have lost that life. She lived, she thought, a form of death, a state of not living at all, of going through the motions of existence, doing things in a mechanical way, out of habit rather than any real desire to do them. It was a special form of death that comes after a loved one has passed on, after a life has ended and a survivor is faced with surviving.

"Peggy?" A man's voice, but not Taylor's.

She was startled out of her reflection. It was Raoul, without his usual motorcycle leathers and helmet. Instead it was just the dark suit and tie that he normally wore underneath his riding outfit. His gray beard was neatly trimmed. He was handsome.

"I had to drive the car today," he said, sliding onto the bench next to her. "So I thought I would come up to see if you were here. And to see if maybe you wanted to meet for lunch."

Peggy felt a wave of relief wash over her like the swells of water rising and falling against the sides of the ferry. "Yes. I would love to," she said.

Part Six

Peggy boarded the ferry at 5:11 a.m. The blue sky was already filled with light and color. A few small clouds reflected orange, pink and purple from a sun that was not yet visible, but glowing brightly from below the horizon.

Instead of going in the cabin, Peggy went straight up on deck to absorb the brilliant morning. Looking over the rail she saw a full moon, hanging low over Eagle Harbor, its night's work not yet completed. Walking around to the front, she saw the Sound glowing pink and green with morning sunlight. It was going to be a special day, she felt.

"Good morning," Peggy said to Raoul once she had finally made her way to her usual spot on the left side.

Raoul mumbled some kind of greeting from behind his newspaper. He leaned back against the window, his long legs casually sprawled on the bench.

"Can you believe this morning?" said Peggy.

"Should be clear today," he said with a quick glance in her direction, tilting his head to look over his reading glasses.

"Can't wait until we get out of the Harbor. Would you like to go on deck? Maybe we can see the mountains."

"Should be clear."

Peggy realized she was getting nowhere so she settled back and opened her novel. Just then Kelly Flinn plopped down next to her.

"Good morning, Kel," said Peggy.

His voice was raspy but energetic. "It's going to be another crazy day. This election dispute has become a career move for some people."

She heard Raoul sigh from his bench in the next booth. Kel, a retired music professor, was known for sitting down with just about anybody and sharing his opinions of current events. One issue in the news is the disputed Washington State governor's election.

"The Republicans are still arguing that it was fraudulent, but nobody's stopping to look at how cumbersome and error prone the system was to begin with," exclaimed Kel.

As he launched into a discussion of the arcane details of election laws and procedures, Peggy watched the bicycle riders come in and occupy the booth across the aisle. Since the weather was relatively warmer, and drier, they wore even less than usual: short biker's tights and thin clingy jerseys. As one of the women bent over to unlace her riding shoes Peggy noted with fascination that her bottom was no wider than a bicycle seat. 'What do these people eat?' she wondered.

"…the system has always been inefficient: lost ballots, incorrectly processed ballots, sloppy work by underpaid workers or well-meaning volunteers who are tired or have poor eyesight," said Kel with great animation in his voice. "What do you expect from that kind of a system? The thing is, if we are serious about having proper elections then we have to put money into it."

Raoul finally put down his newspaper and spoke up. "Peggy, did you want to go up on deck? It appears we'll have a good look at Rainier this morning."

"Oh my, look at that. I wasn't even paying attention," said Peggy.

The ferry had made the turn and she gasped at the majestic view of Rainier, its snowy glaciers glowing pink all the way up to the summit.

Peggy excused herself from Kel's conversation and accompanied Raoul up the stairs and out onto the windy deck. As they walked she noticed for the first time that he was a whole head taller than she.

"You reminded me of a damsel in distress," he said, his eyes twinkling.

"He's really not that bad you know. He does keep up with the issues," said Peggy, wrapping her windbreaker more tightly around her. She wanted so badly to put her arm around his but she put her hands into her pockets instead.

"I know. I'm just being an old curmudgeon."

Peggy stopped, stunned by the vista surrounding them. "Look, Raoul. To the East, the Cascade Range, visible from end to end, with Seattle in the foreground looking like a little village. And there, Mount Baker way up there in the north, and of course, Rainier right there, look how it's glowing." She spun around. "And to the West, the Olympic Range, look at those snowy peaks, and look how you can see the whole range. What an incredible morning. You can hardly decide which way to look. Isn't it amazing?"

Raoul stood very close to her, their shoulders touching. "Yes, now that you've pointed it all out to me, it is amazing." They stood silently, feeling the moment, then he said, "Peggy, thanks to you, I will never again take these days for granted."

She looked away from him, grinning, and leaned against his shoulder.

Part Five

Peggy rode the 10:25 a.m. ferry today, instead of her usual 5:20 run. She had been noticing splotches of redness on her skin ever since moving to the island. The nurse practitioner at the family health clinic suspected rosacea.

Peggy was shocked. "I didn't think I had that," she said.

"It can show up any time after about age 30, and it can come and go," said the nurse. She gave Peggy some literature to read and the names of some specialists who deal with the condition.

It was a brilliant sunny day when Peggy boarded the boat, although she was still feeling low after her visit to the clinic. The water glistened like jewels. Since Raoul would not be there, of course, she decided to change her routine and sit in a different part of the boat, and maybe walk around on deck. As the ferry motored out of Eagle Harbor Peggy noticed the low tide and the birds pecking hungrily at the exposed starfish and shellfish. She also noticed, with surprise, a U.S. Coast Guard boat motoring next to them out of the harbor and across the Sound. It was a small orange craft with a tiny cabin and a large machine gun mounted on the front. She could see two sailors in the cabin. Above the cabin was a flashing blue light. She wondered if trouble was expected during the crossing.

The deck was windy and exhilarating. She had to zip up her lightweight windbreaker. Her hair streaked in all directions. She was just about to go back in when she saw a familiar face, a young woman. Then the woman saw Peggy.

"Deidre?" Peggy said at last, realizing it was Raoul's daughter, visiting from Philadelphia.

"Uh, Peggy, right?"

"Yes. Sorry. I was standing five feet from you and I didn't recognize you. So, you didn't get up for the 5:20 this morning?"

"Ugh. I don't know how Dad does that every day. I did it once to keep him company but that was enough."

"Would you like to get out of this wind?" said Peggy.

"Sure. There's a space over there where it's sheltered."

They walked to a covered area containing rows of benches. Peggy kept glancing at the Coast Guard escort, waiting to see if a sailor would run out and start using the machine gun. They sat and had a long view looking south. The green trees and old beachfront hotels of West Seattle soon came into view. Two benches over, a man played guitar.

"What was your husband's name?" said Deidre.

"Taylor. Taylor Heggy. People thought it was so funny that a girl named Peggy married a guy named Heggy. That's how I became Peggy Heggy. People always said 'Huh?' and I had to explain it."

"It is cute, and unusual, you have to admit," said Deidre.

"What was your mother's name?"

"Priscilla."

"What was she like?" said Peggy.

"She was a dancer and singer. Very active in local theater. The life of the party you might say."

"Hmm. I'll bet she was missed."

"She left a very large gaping hole in the lives of many people."

"Raoul seems to have settled into a new life."

"Don't be fooled. He's still very lonely, I think. In a way I'm glad you and I have had this chance to talk," said Deidre.

"Why's that?"

"You are the first person to draw him out in a long time. He talks about you at home. Always in an offhand way, like he's not really interested. But that's just the macho side of him. There's a soft side of him, too."

"Well, I do think he's very dashing in his business suit and motorcycle leathers," said Peggy. "But I'll lay off the scones."

Part Four

At 5:10 a.m., Peggy hurried down the hill to the ferry terminal. She wasn't late, but she was anxious to get there. She carried in her backpack a small paper bag with two currant scones from a batch she made the day before. She was nervous about offering one to Raoul. She also brought her own Thermos of tea. How would he react? She chided herself for behaving like a silly schoolgirl.

Within a few moments she was walking up the steep ramp to the platform. The morning sky grew brighter, different shades of light gray. The high tide brought water all the way to the trunks of the madronas that grew close to the shore. The night before, Peggy had seen the most amazing full moon. It rose from the southeast, very round and large, against a deep-blue twilight sky. At 4 a.m., when Peggy woke up, the moon was like a giant floodlight suspended from the heavens, lighting up the yard and the other houses on her street.

She took her usual seat on the left side. Even as she approached it, though, she could see something was different. Raoul was in his customary spot, dressed in his motorcycle leathers, with his white helmet parked nearby. But this time there was a young woman with him. She was very pretty, with wavy dark hair and large eyes and creamy skin.

Peggy's first alarming thought was 'Oh no, he goes for young girls.'

She wore her jeans low on the hips the way young girls do now, and as Peggy took her seat and stole a few glances at Raoul and his companion she realized that the young woman must be his daughter. The eyes and cheeks, and the mouth, bore a family resemblance.

Raoul looked up and said, "Good morning."

"Good morning," Peggy said, and then looked at the woman.

"My daughter's visiting from Philadelphia. This is Deidre; Deidre this is Peggy," said Raoul.

"How do you do?" said Peggy.

"Fine. Good morning."

"Are you in town long?"

Deidre looked at Raoul. "Just a few days. It's the anniversary of my mother's death."

Peggy looked at her sadly. "I know exactly what you are going through. I lost my husband just over a year ago." She was talking to Deidre, but her thoughts were on Raoul as she said this. So, they had something in common after all.

Peggy reached into her backpack. "I brought a little snack this morning. I didn't know you would have company, Raoul."

Peggy held out a scone on a napkin. "Perhaps you two can share."

"Mmm, that looks delicious," said Deidre.

"It does, but I'm afraid it's not on my diet," said Raoul.

"Oh, that's okay. I shouldn't be eating this fatty stuff either," said Peggy.

Deidre took a bite. "It's really good, Dad. Light, like Mom's."

"In that case I'll enjoy the memory of them while I watch you spill crumbs on yourself."

"Dad!"

"I had a difficult time making them," said Peggy. "My husband loved these scones."

Raoul looked at her and smiled. "I know that feeling. It's been seven years for us. But I remember so well how it felt the first year. It was like she had just stepped out to go to the store and was going to come back at any moment. I kept waiting for her to walk through the door. Looking back, I realized I wasn't living, actually. Just existing, waiting."

"Yes. Yes," said Peggy excitedly. "That's it exactly. That's why I had to move to the island. I had to restart my life." She reached for a tissue and looked down as she dabbed at her eye. Deidre quickly came over to sit next to her.

"I notice you brought a jug of something," said Deidre.

"I was going to have some tea with my scone," said Peggy.

"Here. I'll pour it for you," said Deidre.

"Oh, don't go to any fuss. I'll be fine."

But Deidre poured Peggy's tea into the little cup that she unscrewed from the top of the Thermos bottle.

The sky brightened considerably as they crossed Puget Sound, but Seattle was shrouded in a patch of gray that looked like rain. Overhead, a single large cloud suddenly turned orange as it caught a ray of sunlight. It lit up the Sound like a beacon.

Part Three

Peggy was surprised to hear a voice say "Good morning" as she took her seat on the ferry at 5:15 a.m. It had become her favorite seat, on the left side, with a view of Seattle across the Sound as the boat made the turn out of Eagle Harbor.

She looked around. Raoul was smiling at her. He had greeted her for the first time! Peggy sat down in bewilderment, and tried to quiet the butterflies flitting in her stomach. She fought the urge to take out her little mirror and check her face and hair. It seemed silly for a fiftyish widow, okay late-fiftyish, to be worried such things. But Raoul made her feel like a young woman.

"Good morning," she said. "I'm Peggy."

"I'm Raoul. Very nice to meet you." He made a little wave that substituted for a hand shake. Still smiling, he then leaned a little closer from his bench in the next booth. His motorcycle leathers creaked, and she spotted a colorful tie beneath his dark leather jacket. He held his Thermos in the air, looking like he was about to pour himself a cup. "I got a chuckle out of you and Kel yesterday," he said. "I was thinking, ol' Kel's got himself a new victim."

Peggy smiled. "Oh, he was all right. Since I'm new I don't mind getting caught up on the local gossip."

"Don't worry, he'll be back to give you another earful. He makes his way back to this side of the boat about every few days." Raoul then settled back and opened his Thermos.

By 5:35 they were half way across the Sound. For the first time in many days Peggy saw sunlight on her morning crossing: a shaft of brilliant orange light broke over the Cascades and spilled onto the calm surface of Puget Sound. There was also a mist in the air; it clouded the city a bit, but the overall effect was bright and colorful, with hints of purple and blue and gold in the air. It was a good day to be out, Peggy thought.

"I was curious about something," said Peggy. "What are you drinking?"

"Tea," he said.

"I knew it. I guessed you were a tea drinker."

"Oh, really? Please tell me how you came to that conclusion," said Raoul, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Just a hunch. That's all. You seem, I don't know, like a tea drinker." Peggy laughed at her confusion. "That's a piece of logic isn't it?"

"A fine piece of logic. In the legal profession we thrive on such reasoning. So you just moved to the island. Where from?"

"Ballard."

"Ah, Ballard. A great old neighborhood. I was in Magnolia for many years."

"I love Magnolia."

"When I went on walks I could see Bainbridge Island, and it looked peaceful and quiet. After about ten years I said, 'why not move there?'"

"I just moved three weeks ago after about twelve years in Ballard. I work downtown, but I'm thinking of changing my schedule to four days a week."

"If my schedule permitted, I would certainly do four days instead of five," he said.

Peggy then reached for a novel she had been reading. She didn't want to be like Kel, giving people an earful when they were trying to enjoy some quiet time. Raoul unfolded his newspaper and leaned back against the window and sipped his tea, oblivious to the spectacular light that was unfolding around him.

Part Two

This morning Peggy Heggy took her usual seat on the left side of the ferry. Raoul was preoccupied with his newspaper and didn't look up. She wondered how many days would pass before he greeted her in the mornings. She was joined on her bench by Kelly, a retired music professor, who was called Kel by everyone. Across the aisle from them were the bicycle riders, two women and three men, clad in bright yellow parkas and impossibly tight stretchy pants. As they peeled off wet layers and dried themselves with small towels, Peggy felt compelled to avert her eyes. They seemed to glow with health and vigor, a sheen that made Peggy feel like a wilted rhododendron.

Although she had walked to the terminal in a light drizzle, wrapped in a rain jacket with a hood, she could now see that it was brighter over the water. The boat eased away from the dock at 5:22 a.m. and motored quietly out of Eagle Harbor. As the ferry made its turn, Seattle slid into view, a cluster of skyscrapers gathered together like a welcoming party. From her vantage point, looking across the broad flat water, the city seemed small, a colony of some sort, nestled on the banks of Puget Sound. She could see lights twinkling and the sharp outlines of buildings against a light gray Eastern sky. A dim outline of the Cascade Range was faintly visible beyond the city skyline.

"Guess you heard about the technology levy," said Kel. He typically lost no time launching into the issue of the day.

"A little; I'm still kind of new to the island," she said.

"It didn't pass," he said.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Well, I suppose some people are rejoicing, but I'm not one of them. People seem to think stuff just grows on trees. We're constantly asking for the best roads and the best schools and the best services, but nobody wants to pay for it."

Although Peggy had not voted, she had heard enough to know that it was a very controversial referendum to provide technology funding for the island public school system by creating a special tax on residents.

"They wanted $8.9 million," said Kel. "Some said it was too much, but I don't think so. Mind you, I come from a background in education so I'm as biased as they come. It's a lot more expensive than people think. $8.9 million is nothing for a school system the size of ours. And do you know what else? Investing in education pays many dividends that you can't always add up in a spreadsheet. Intangibles. People must consider the intangibles." He gestured with his long fingers, supple and loose from a lifetime of piano playing.

"Do you have family in the school system?" asked Peggy. In just two weeks of commuting, she had learned that Kel could talk your ear off. Fortunately he didn't always sit by her; he moved around, finding different victims each day.

"Three grandchildren. And you?"

"I have two grown children living back East. No grandchildren yet." She sighed. One of Taylor's great disappointments was that he never became a grandparent before he died. Their children were slow to marry, slow to find themselves in life.

"Even if you don't have children, the levy would have been a good investment. For one thing, good schools draw more families to a community. When you have more families, and this is supported by the data, you see crime going down, and property values going up."

Peggy noticed that Raoul had been shifting in his seat during the conversation. She wondered what he thought of the technology levy. Maybe he was just tired of listening to Kel. She tried to watch Raoul in her peripheral vision. He read, and sipped his mysterious cup of whatever. Then she guessed it was tea. It had to be. Raoul was a tea drinker. Perhaps one day she could offer him a homemade scone to go with his tea.

Part One

Peggy Heggy boarded the 5:20 ferry to Seattle at 5:15. She took her usual seat on the left side so she could gaze across Puget Sound to the city and lose herself in thoughts of the past. Today it was shrouded in mist and fog; the buildings looked dark and spooky, inhabited by ghosts. In her mind there was at least one ghost, that of her late husband. She couldn't look anywhere without seeing him.

Peggy has been a widow for exactly one year, one month and five days. Three weeks ago she finally gave up the family house in Ballard and moved to Bainbridge Island, where she rented a tiny house in Winslow with a small garden and a large red rhododendron. It takes her ten minutes to walk to the ferry terminal, and another few minutes to walk the long platform to the ramp where she boards the boat. Upon departure, the crossing takes about thirty-five minutes, after which she gets off at Pier 52 in downtown Seattle and walks to 1st Avenue and turns left and walks three blocks to her office building and rides the elevator to the fifth floor. She doesn't really need to keep working. From a purely financial point of view she could have quit her job after Taylor Heggy's death. But finances weren't the only consideration. She needed company, she needed her friends and colleagues at the office, they needed her because no one else wanted to do her job. They all said, 'Peggy, no one will ever do the Education Database the way you do.' That was because no one else wanted to. It was considered tedious and boring, but Peggy loved it.

Peggy has been riding the ferry for two weeks and has become intrigued by her fellow passengers. Raoul, for example, sits in the next booth every day, wearing long black motorcycle leathers. He has a very neatly trimmed gray beard and brown reading glasses down low on his nose. He leans back against the window, not bothering to look at the view of Seattle, perhaps because he has seen it too many times. He reads the paper, his white helmet resting next to him, and within arm's reach is a slender silver Thermos. He always pours himself one cup of something, she can't tell if it's coffee or tea, during the crossing. She knows his name because occasionally a fellow motorcyclist stops by and addresses Raoul, and they have a brief conversation about the weather, or getting new brakes or new tires. Raoul has a pleasant, musical voice and friendly eyes. Peggy was surprised one day to notice that he wore a suit and tie under his motorcycle leathers. She wonders where he works, and how old he is, and his marital status.

Seattle. The lights come into view as they draw closer on this foggy morning. The buildings become defined. Cars are visible, speeding north and south on the elevated highway that runs along the waterfront. Peggy can see her own building, but she can't see her window since it faces the other way, toward the mountains. The mountains remind her of Taylor.