Long Way Home - Page 4/145

Yes, she was certainly back on American soil.

The car eventually turned off an exit ramp with a sign for the marina and Alexis felt her stomach clench. Part of her wanted to ask the driver to turn around and take her back to the airport. She bit her lip and kept silent as he eased the car to the drop-off point. No more cars now. Mangrove Island was car-free and Alexis wondered whether it was part of the reason she'd decided to come here.

Despite the hour, the sun was bright and Alexis stepped out of the car wearing her oversized sunglasses while the driver brought around her bags. Unsmiling, she examined the marina, thinking it actually looked less downtrodden than she remembered it.

"Spending time with family for the holidays?" the driver asked.

"Yes."

"Good luck," he said and tipped his hat before returning to the car and driving off.

The water taxi was waiting to take her across Mangrove Pass to the island where she grew up and fled the moment she graduated from high school. When she told people she grew up on an island off the Florida coast, most of them wondered why she would ever leave. From Alexis's point of view, she could only remember years spent staring across the water, itching to get out. She'd felt claustrophobic on the island. Castaway Cove, the neighborhood where she grew up and where her parents still lived, seemed too confining. Alexis had never felt like she belonged there.

"You here on vacation?" asked the operator of the water taxi.

Alexis had barely registered his presence other than the fact that the boat was moving. "Sort of," she replied vaguely.

"Be careful, you might not want to leave," he said jovially.

"I doubt that," she said and tried to control the fine hairs whipping around her face in the wind.

"If you're looking for a night out, there's a great little place on the south end of the island. The wife and I like to go there on occasion."

Alexis asked, "What's the name?"

He glanced back at her over his shoulder. "The Blue Heron."

Alexis blinked back surprise. She hadn't thought of The Blue Heron in years. She'd passed it on bike rides to the southern end of the island many times, but there weren't many nights out in her family, for a meal or anything else. Tilly MacAdams cooked what her husband ate and everyone else fell in line.

"They have live music there a couple nights a week," the man said. "If you're on your own, it's a good place to meet people. Nice bar crowd."