Shortly before her fortieth birthday, Molly, receives a letter from a daughter she had given up for adoption when she was a teenager. At a point in her life where Molly needs to find answers about her own identity, she sets out across the country to meet her estranged daughter on Ridgeport Island, a small island in Maine. A future beyond any of Molly's expectations waits for her discovery if only she can unlock the door she had closed on her past. The daughter, Electra, offers Molly that key, and a local bachelor helps her to use it, opening her heart to the possibilities.

THE EDGE OF THE WATER

A NOVELBy ELIZABETH FENTON

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Copyright © 2008 Elizabeth Fenton
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-6152-1689-8

Chapter One

From Coast to Coast

The request was simple but the distance was long-from one coast to the other, and Molly was still unsure if she would follow through with it. One step at a time, she reminded herself. Unable to afford both her rent and the trip, Molly had placed her belongings, including a stack of unsold paintings, in a small storage unit, packed up her truck and started the drive from Seattle to Maine. It took longer than anticipated and so when Molly arrived in Maine a week later, she was almost out of money. Why had she made this trip in the first place?

When Molly saw the sign to Hopeville, where she would catch a ferry to her final destination-Ridgeport Island, a feeling of dread came over her. I'm really losing it, she thought to herself. Thinking back to the day a few days before her fortieth birthday when she decided to just pack up and go, Molly knew she had acted irrationally. During the drive across the country, it had been easy to ignore her impulsive actions as she had spent the entire time thinking about her ex-boyfriend Joel who had very suddenly broken up with her. The Midwest states had been the most pathetic as the only stations that came in on the radio played country music that only served to fuel the fire of her rejected heart.

With much trepidation, Molly arrived in Hopeville and followed the signs for the ferryboat. Getting in line for the 11:00 am boat, she immediately noticed that the ferry line looped around the corner. Molly pulled up and parked her old truck behind the last car. As she shut off her engine which always gave a few sputters before stopping, Molly gave a sigh herself. 'You've been a good scout,' Molly said aloud to her old truck realizing it was fairly amazing that the 1963 vehicle had made the journey without breaking down. I must have some luck on my side, Molly thought as she jumped out of the truck to buy her ferry ticket.

There was a small shack toward the front that she assumed must be the place to buy tickets. Molly took a big whiff of ocean air before going in to get a ticket. The salty air was invigorating and lifted her mood.

When Molly stepped into the shack, there were a couple of people already in line. An older man got in behind her. It was close to the departure time, and Molly was a little worried about getting on the ferry. The man in back of her pulled on his suspenders and the snapping sound startled her. She quickly turned around to face him, then felt embarrassed about how obviously on edge she was.

"How many vehicles can they get on this ferry?" Molly asked the man quickly.

"Depends on the size and how many trucks are in line," he said.

"Ain't many trucks going on this time a day so I suppose right about where that yellow truck is parked is the cut off for the 11:00 o'clock."

Molly noticed that the man was pointing at her truck. "That's my truck," Molly said, "I sure hope I make it on. It's been a long trip."

"Where you coming from?" The man asked. Her reply was cut short by a loud shout from the other side of the ticket window.

"Car and passenger? What do you need?" a woman behind the window asked Molly, who was next in line.

Molly turned away from the man towards the window. "Just the car," she said. "I don't have a passenger."

"Car and passenger then," the woman said matter-of-factly.

"You're the passenger," the man behind her explained. "I sure hope you get on. And I hope you leave a little room because I'm right behind you."

Molly stepped out of the way of the counter. As she walked back to her truck with her ticket, she wondered if the protocol for ferryboats is the same as with buses. Maybe she should have given up her space for the older man. She didn't have much time to ponder this possibility, however. When she got to the truck, the line had already started moving and she quickly got ready to board the boat.

Molly pulled forward after a ferry attendant waved her onboard. He motioned several times for her to drive up a little further forward until she was practically touching the bumper of the car in front of her truck. He held his hand up for her to stop and wedged a block under her tire. She had made it, but not by much. The man who had been behind her in the ticket line was the last one on board. Molly smiled as she saw him being waved on. Then she turned her own vehicle off and sat for a moment, looking around. She saw that other people were getting out of their vehicles, weaving through the parked cars to a stairway and re-emerging on a passenger deck above. Molly decided to follow them. The other cars had parked just as closely as she so she had to turn sideways and squeeze herself between them to get to the entry of the stairs.

Once on deck, she leaned against the rail and took in yet another generous breath of the ocean air. As she inhaled, she closed her eyes, and as she exhaled she opened them again. Molly dropped her elbows down and leaned her chin against the white painted iron railing. She suddenly remembered being on a larger, but similar boat with her Uncle. When she was a child, he would take her every summer to Martha's Vineyard. She used to love to rest her chin on the side of the ferry and look down to watch the white froth dance off the side of the boat. Molly kept looking across the water. In the far distance she could see the mast of a sailboat. She thought some more about her Uncle who had been from a seaport town in Ireland. He had always dreamed of having a boat of his own. It had been a while since Molly had thought about her Uncle. She remembered on one of their trips, they had stopped in a souvenir shop for some salt water taffy, and in that store they were selling cans with sailboats painted on them that advertised they were full of Cape Cod Sea Salt Air. Molly remembered how disappointed she had been when, after pleading with her Uncle to buy her one, and opening it, there was no sudden ocean breeze gusting out of the can. Her Uncle had tried to explain that it was just a gimmick, but she had been a child. She hadn't understood the empty promise of that kind of joke. Molly missed her Uncle. The last trip she took back East was to his funeral. It was hard to believe she had no family left.

The ferry ride to Ridgeport was not long. Molly was surprised to see the lighthouse and the Ridgeport dock appear so quickly in the horizon. As the Captain steered the boat into the dock, he bumped its edges lightly until it fit neatly up to a ramp that was lowered and ready to let cars off. Molly quickly returned to the truck. As she waited to disembark, her thoughts turned to her destination that she was now approaching and how she got there in the first place. She thought back to the day she received Electra's letter and how intrigued she was by the address on the return envelope. 'Electra Richards, 3 Misty Cove, Ridgeport, Maine.' What kind of place is named Misty Cove? Molly looked behind her at the deep blue of the Atlantic and realized that the mysterious letter and all that it contained had become, if not the motivator, the purpose for her trip. Suddenly, she was terrified to be faced with the reality that may soon be upon her.

The note had been short. It was as if whoever wrote it did not expect it to reach the person for whom it was intended.

"Dear Molly, the letter began. "My name is Electra. I was adopted and I am now trying to locate...