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the deep breathing massage the tension away. I ought to have known that coming home wouldn’t be easy.
    It was ironic, she thought. People were supposed to come home to be healed, but in her case, the return only opened old wounds. Spencer McKay’s face suddenly floated into her mind’s eye.
    Leigh sighed. Dawn was already fringing the night sky. Why fight it? She threw back the sheet and drew open the curtains. She’d go for a jog and watch the sun come up. Ten minutes later she was out the kitchen door, savoring the dampness of early morning.
    She and her neighbor in New York jogged every second day at dawn. It was a routine that had dragged Leigh out of despair when her mother was dying and one she already missed since leaving the city.
    She started out on the main road, but decided to head down to the beach. Slogging through the wild oats and marram grass to the water was difficult, but once she reached the compact sand of the shore, running was easier. As she jogged south, she could see the sky pinkening to her left, across the ocean. The sight reminded her of the times she and Jen had slept out under the stars, awakening to the fuchsia ball of sun edging above silvered waves. The recollection slowed her down. Her mind segued from sunrise to Jen to Sam and then Spence. She pulled a face. Drop it, Randall. Get your mind on business. Think about why you came home in the first place. To sell the house .
    Yet, only two days home and already the idea of selling was beginning to seem unbelievable. But why? She stopped running and made a slow panoramic survey of the sparkling ocean, the flock of yellowlegs scurrying ahead of the waves, then across to the scattering of cottages swelling into rows of frame houses and shops in the village ahead.
    This is why I can’t believe I’m selling Windswept Manor, she thought. Because losing my home also means losing this island forever. She began to walk, scuffing the toes of her Nikes into the damp sand, flinging clumps of it ahead of her. Then she stopped again, placed her hands firmly on her hips and told herself not to be so sentimental. There’s no one left here for you. Nothing but memories. Your life and future are back in New York.
    The image of her corporate office with its stunning view was a good reminder. She’d fought long and hard for that office and that view. It had taken her almost ten years to get it, along with the very hefty salary and perks that came with it. Now her friends were in New York, whereas she doubted she had a friend left in Ocracoke. Most had left at the end of that summer—after graduation and the accident. By the time the inquest had finished, the rest of her classmates had already begun avoiding her.
    Leigh was surprised by the faint stab of pain that came with that thought. It’s been so long and you’re still hung up about it. Still carrying the blame. She shaded her eyes against the glare of the rising sun. The ramps to the public docks lay ahead. It was high tide and she’d have to jog up onto the looser sand to avoid both the water and the ramp pilings. But somehow she didn’t feel like running anymore. She headed up at a brisk walk to the main road where it curved into the village.
    Fishermen were out, unraveling lines and nets, and calling to one another from the ramps. The familiar sight was reassuring. The village had doubled in size since she’d left. but the boom had more to do with shops and lodging places than actual population. Ocracoke, like all the islands in the Outer Banks, swelled with summer people by late June and shrank to a quiet village by mid-September.
    Leigh walked along the shoulder of the road. The number of rental units and bed-and-breakfast places told her she was making the right decision to sell Windswept Manor. Obviously the popularity of the Outer Banks for vacationers had translated into an infusion of money for the locals. She couldn’t help but think that, if her parents hadn’t died at such