The Return

Mary rested her head against the train window. Looking out at the trees passing by, she was remembering the last summer she visited Cape Fern. It was a little over a decade ago, and under quite different circumstances: she had been so young and naïve then with her pressed pinafores and plaited hair. Now she was ten years older and felt many decades wiser.

Mary fidgeted with her gloves, slowly loosening each finger tip, and then tugging the glove firmly back into place. She couldn’t exactly explain why she was feeling so agitated, though she though it probably had something to do with returning to a place that brought back so many memories.

Since Mary had last been to Cape Fern, she had gained much more poise and confidence. She was now something of a lady, though she was sure that Mrs. Forester would see the same girl she had hired all of those summers ago. Mary wasn’t exactly sure why she was going back. The letter had arrived a fortnight ago, and she had immediately started planning the trip back east without a second thought.

She begun by packing all of her nicest things and placing them carefully in her travel chest, laying her most fashionable hat in hat box on top. When she was finished, she sat on her bed and sighed, returning to the chest and removing each garment slowly, placing it back into her closet. Mary made the choice at that moment that she would return exactly as she had left; with only two common work dresses, a few books of poetry and no pretentions. She had decided that she needed to get back to a simpler time, and the only way to really return was to return as she had left.

Mary let her mind drift back to the first summer she visited Cape Fern. The train ride had been very different from this one. She had been quite nervous and a little lightheaded with giddiness. It was her first time away from home, and she stared out of the window of the train through the entire three hours, only looking up at the porter to hand over her ticket. Mary had watched the forests speed by, the coniferous trees swaying and dancing like sprites in the wind. As the trees had begun to thin, she saw bits of ocean and sand in the distance, and had raised herself slightly from her seat, eager to catch a longer glimpse. To her, the ocean had represented the endless possibilities. Now, it was just water and sand, and a reminder of the things that she had lost.

As the train pulled into the Cape Fern, Mary looked down from her dusty windows and scanned the waiting area. No one was there, but then again she really hadn’t expected anyone. She rose from her seat, and slowly made her way down the aisle, as if willing the train to move on before she had exited. Gathering her skirts, Mary stepped down the short ladder onto the makeshift platform. Suddenly tired, she took a seat on her travel chest and withdrew Mrs. Forester‘s letter from within the folds of her skirt and begun to reread it once again.