If seagulls could talk

…

Above, seagulls skimmed the water’s edge. One rogue gull broke away, landing on a bin and staring at us.

Palemoon smiled. “Soleil loved these birds. She called them thrilling, ferocious, but somehow cavalier.”

I nodded, remembering Soleil’s diary. Her last entry spoke of a gull perched on her car’s hood in the Shallow Woods parking lot, just before she left for Palomino and vanished.

Olivia wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “If only seagulls could talk…”

“Do you know the legend of the Palomino horses?” Palemoon asked after a heavy silence.

A smile broke through Olivia’s tears. “Do you think Soleil was brought to safety on the back of a magic horse?”

“Tamar said she just knew Soleil was still alive somewhere,” I said, staring out over the lake.

Palemoon draped an arm around Olivia’s shoulder. “Soleil was our guiding light through this ordeal. Thanks to her, we uncovered the dirt in the community. Now, we can heal.”

The waves lapped at our ankles, holding the same determination as Palemoon’s voice. Despite everything, peace settled between us. Everything was out in the open.

The gull left the bin and sliced through the night air, its cry sharp and urgent.

“It’s getting late.” Olivia pointed as a cloud passed over the moon.

After one last look at the keepsakes on Soleil’s patch of sand, we made our way back to the beach path.

We slipped our shoes back on and climbed into the car, Palemoon softly singing the last lines of Joni’s song as we pulled away:

“Crying, where are the footprints that danced on these beaches?
And the hands that cast wishes that sank like a stone?
My dreams with the seagulls fly out of reach, out of sight.”

…