Hauling the last of her luggage off the carousel, Alyssa flagged down a porter rather than fight with managing the load herself. One of her many rules about traveling-accept that sometimes you needed a helping a hand.

And, for any trip longer four hours, always fly business.

Traveling was stressful enough. No reason to spend it in coach, unless absolutely necessary, with a stranger practically sitting in your lap the whole jaunt.

With Cleo inside a soft Louis Vuitton carry-on that stayed with her at all times during the flight, Alyssa looped the straps over her arm. They'd touched down in the mid-afternoon. And outside the airport the weather was bright, sunny and seasonably warm. With Vancouver sharing the same coast line as California that came as no surprise but meant the coat she was wearing was a bit of an inconvenience.

Travel folder clutched to her chest, Alyssa thumbed through the pages as she waited for her the line for cabs to thin out. Return flight itinerary, weather forecast, island information and history-because she liked to be prepared-along with her car rental confirmation and emergency call list/medical details. Not that she expected anything was going to happen, health wise. She'd been off chemo for two years and her last check-up three months ago confirmed that all treatments had been successful, but should anything arise, Alyssa wanted the information handy.

For sanity and peace of mind.

"Here you go, miss." The porter rolled her luggage over to her side as a cab pulled to the curb. Handing him a twenty, she slid into the back and waited for her things to be loaded into the trunk before giving the driver directions to the ferry. Her car rental was located on island and would be available tomorrow.

There'd been a couple options hitched the airport, but as neither were her preferred brand Alyssa elected to stick with what she knew. Trusted. Less room for surprises or disappointments that way.

At the dock, the cabby helped her with her bags, loading them in a special cabin on the ferry. Tipping his gratefully, Alyssa wound up the stairs to the top deck and setting Cleo's carry-on at her feet, leaned against the rail. The breeze was strong up here, the wind kicking-thick with the scent of water and salt. The sun warm but the air crisp. Suddenly she was grateful for her coat.

Despite being late into September, the ferry was tightly packed with bodies, and from her observations, she'd pegged the majority was tourist based rather than local islanders returning home after a long day of work on the mainland.

After everything that happened with Eva in the summer, Marshall had blown the lid off the story with the death of an internationally coveted hit man and Randy Kincaid's connection to the assassination attempt. The media had gobbled it up, cycling the details for weeks on end.

Strange how Alyssa had gone for almost five years not knowing anything about what had happened or any details of the investigation, to all of a sudden walking up to the morning news and a sea of reporters baying for her side of the story.

She'd turned them all down, of course, refusing any public statements or comments. Not that it mattered. By dragging it all out into the spotlight Marshall had made them all as safe as they could ever hope to be. Turning up the heat up so high that Randy was too hot to touch and no one wanted to get burned by association. He'd been left to fend for himself.

The case went to bed quickly, and Randy made the mistake of electing to self-represent despite the developments in the investigation. The courts made short work of the proceedings and handed down a crippling twenty-five years to life sentence with no possibilities of parole.

That meant Eva and her girls could live without fear and worry. Without a need to hide anymore. It meant that finally she could be reunited with her sister. 

The ping of her cell phone alerted her to the present, and Alyssa rooted around in her pockets for her phone. A new email had come through from her sister with an apologetic note.

Hey, the pick-up I arranged with my brother in law bailed.

What time are you going to be at the dock?

My car died last week so I'm going to arrange for a cab.

- Eva

Alyssa frowned at the correspondence. Her sister had never been much of a talker. When the courts had lifted the red tape two weeks, allowing for them to reach out and speak to one another for the first time in years, it had been a strained awkward mess.

Emails had been easier. Smoother. Without all the hesitant silences and forced levity. Then Eva had suggested Alyssa make the trip out to Haven and, perhaps in a moment of weakness, Alyssa had agreed. So this Ethan wasn't able to pick her up from the dock, which was fine. She preferred to make her own way and to not be chauffeured about like an invalid.

Don't worry. Have car rental. Send home address. Will manage on my own.

Alyssa hit send on the email and tucked her phone away in her pocket. She'd survived the last five years on her own. Certainly she could manage another hour.

#

Twenty minutes of haggling with the rental clerk, Alyssa finally had her wheels, though she'd had to opt for a newer model SUV then the sleek little sedan she'd originally reserved which wasn't available until tomorrow. Bags loaded into the back of a Ford Explorer, Alyssa punched in the address into the state of the art GPS navigation, waited for the directions to load, and then followed the stilted female voice as it told her to drive one point two miles down Main.

The car handled smooth as she glided down the streets, wind streaming in through the partially opened window, the radio set to some local station with a couple of voices bantering about last night's basketball game in New York.

Though she didn't have a lick of interest in sports, Alyssa left the station where it was, and zoned out during the drive.

She could see how Haven had earned its name. The scenery was idyllic and serene, with the rise of mountains in the south and thick wedges of forest, generous beaches and gorgeous coastlines. But here, along Salt Springs, flanking a bustling rural community were the flat stretches of farmlands and vineyards.

There were over two hundred, according to her research. More than a dozen were award winning and could hold a candle to some rather impressive competition. Alyssa planned to visit a couple and gauge for herself Nearing Eva's residential gated-community, her belly did a little lurch and twist, partially from excitement and, on a smaller note, in envy.

Her sister had lived here? The homes were grand, impressive specimens of an established community and affluence, an architectural hodgepodge of old English Tudor to Victorian red brick and even a few more modern builds of pale stone and copper shingled rooftops. Each property was highlighted by beautifully manicured lawns that still boasted a dense array of flora and foliage despite the hint of fall in the breeze.

At the end of the street, Alyssa turned onto a cul-de-sac at the top of a hill, pulled over to the drive way and parked. 293 Lea Road, otherwise known as Lavender Cottage was perhaps smaller than her peers, but no less impressive to behold. And red, Alyssa noted, though apparently aptly named because the property was covered in lavender bushes, or so Eva had explained.

Taking a moment, Alyssa sat there, and gazed down at Cleo who was fast asleep, face tucked into the fold of her paws. She thought about unloading all her luggage then decided against it, electing to leave her bags in the trunk. Just until she got her bearings. Rooting around in her purse, Alyssa found the envelope she'd brought with her. Annelise's name written across the front because that had been before she knew anything about her sister's new name or life.

Shouldering her bag, she took one last look in the mirror--ensuring her makeup was fresh and her face carefully composed, exuding none of the anxiety she felt clawing the back of her throat raw. Rolling up the windows, with the car parked in a shaded area, Alyssa carefully lifted Cleo's carry-on out of the car and smiled at the sound of her unhappy meow.

"Sorry, your majesty. But wherever I go, you go."

Climbing up the front walk way, Alyssa barely hit the top step when the door whisked open and a large, tall man filled the entry way.

Bold eyes struck her first--a brisk, sky blue, dominated a gorgeous, chiselled face. All golden and edgy with rumpled blond hair, sun-bleached and wavy. Broad shoulders and strong arms tapered down to a lean figure wearing weathered jeans and beat-up sneakers.

A smile split his face and something inside of Alyssa sighed in female appreciation. She recognized her soon-to-be brother-in-law immediately, and had to admit, as far as the male species went and based on looks alone, Eva couldn't have done much better.

"Sis!" He swooped in before she had a chance to say much of anything, and had her off her feet in a bracing hug. Somehow Alyssa managed to keep hold of her things-including Cleo. "It's so great to finally meet you. I mean, in person," he said, setting her back down. "Eva's told me so much about you I feel like I've known you for years already."

"Yes. Likewise. To meet you, that is." Because unlike Marshall, Alyssa hadn't exactly been briefed on Marshall Davies' entire life story. A bit unsteady, she brushed back her hair, tucking strands behind her ears. "I...um. My sister?"

"In the kitchen." Marshall stepped back with a jerk of his thumb. "C'mon. I'll show you the way. Need help with your stuff?"

"Oh, I-no." Dogs. She counted four of them and very rambunctious, leaping and barking and whizzing around her like a dizzying tornado of fur. Marshall stuck his fingers in his mouth, whistled for them to back off.

"Sorry," he apologized, helping to herd them away from her. "I was just gearing up to take the mongrels out for a run when you showed up. As you can see they are holy terrors when they're not set loose to burn off some energy."

"It's alright. I don't mind dogs. I love animals." But they'd never been allowed to have any as children. Too much time, energy and commitment, her mom had said. If you couldn't give an animal one hundred percent, then you didn't deserve to have one. 

So it surprised her to see now that Eva had taken on four.

"This is LeBron," he said, roping in the ring leader, a large golden retriever with a sloppy grin and the most goofy brown eyes she'd ever seen. Alyssa was smitten almost immediately.

"I'm responsible for this moron."

"LeBron," Alyssa shook his paw in greeting and then turn her gaze to the ecstatic trio. "And these bundles of energy?"

"Skittles," Marshall gestured to the wild, black one, "Wiggles," the brindle, "and the little fawn coloured princess right there is Selena." Setting Cleo down on the perch of the entryway stairs, Alyssa ruffled fur, received sloppy kisses and scratched eager bellies.

"I see you come with some baggage," Marshall said, nodding to the carry-on Alyssa had set down. Inside, Cleo was wide awake. Green eyes blinking with interest. Having been bred in raised by a breeder in California who also specialized in prize winning Afghan hounds, she wasn't the least bit intimidated by the frolicking antics.

"This is Cleopatra."

"Your highness," Marshall tipped his head, and then smirked haughtily at Selena. "Hear that, you've been outranked. We've got a queen in our midst."

Selena wrinkled her dark muzzle and tossed back her head with a cheerful bark.

"I've got to get this lot outside before they rip the walls down," Marshall struggled to his feet, wiggling bodies leaping all over him with anxious yips, teeth nipping at his hands and wrists. LeBron was not much better, pushing and weaving through the vee of his legs. "Straight down that way to the kitchen. Need me to give you a hand with your bags later?"

"No." Alyssa smiled. "I can manage. Thank you."

Excusing himself, Marshall gave another sharp whistle and the dogs, realizing that freedom was close at hand, veered for him and bounded out the door. The moment it sealed shut, Alyssa breathed a little sigh of relief, amazed by suddenly how quiet everything was.

Not that it was actually all that quiet-with music streaming and voice floating around the edges--but quieter.

Hefting Cleo, Alyssa pushed deeper into the home, past the length of living room. Nice. Simple, she thought. With the sort of neutral, comfy furniture of a family with small children and overexcited dogs. The armrests were weathered, and one had a tear, hemorrhaging a wad of fluff.

She took a second to appreciate a couple pictures hanging along the wall. Eva's artwork, she realized with a sliver of pride. She'd seen a few online after the media craze had struck--and she'd been impressed back then. Only to later learn that the budding celebrity was her twin.

She'd never known her sister had such talent, or an eye for this kind of thing, but clearly she did. The pieces were spectacular.

She had a few of the girls and Alyssa's heart seized at the sight of them. Smiling. Happy. And so grown up. Even May...no, Lucy, she had to remind herself. Annelise wasn't the only one who'd undergone a transformation.

Hailey. Payton and Lucy. It would take some getting used to.

The last was more in the vein her Eva's usual creative narrative. And depicted the back of a man's neck and shoulders. His hair was lifted away to reveal a long, slashing scar. Deep and ugly. The image rendered in monochromatic grey turned that violent seam a ruthless silver against tawny skin. From his hand cupping the back of his head to the positioning of his shoulders--Alyssa read strength and loss. Grief and acceptance. Here was a man bearing himself...some part of soul that was both brutal and beautiful.

"That's called Healing Scars," a voice said, speaking over Alyssa's shoulder. A woman's voice. A voice she thought about almost every single day for the last five years. "Marshall posed for that one. It's for his memoir coming out in the spring."

That voice slid around her, came up next to her, andthe two of them stood, facing each other for the first time in too damn long. She'd thought of this moment often. Wondered about it. Dream about it. And now here it was.