Isola

by Allegra Goodman

Like the birds, Auguste and I slept in open air. Gratefully we rested without enemies, and looking up at the dark sky, we counted ourselves rich in stars. Cast together, we might sing and laugh and kiss just as we pleased, and we enjoyed the paradox that bound us. Imprisoned, we were also free.

Her resignation awed me. Her courage, in the face of disappointment. Strangely, as her life became more difficult, she complained less. She did not rail against injustice, although her fate was unjust. She did not question God’s will. I looked at her and thought, Why do I sit self-pitying? Why don’t I think of her? Damienne was blameless, and I had brought her to the island. This I knew, and for this I must atone.

Damienne marveled at the change in me as I began gathering sticks, but I could no longer mourn as though my life were purposeless. Damienne had provided for me when I was a helpless child. Now I must provide for her.

But even as I found the ring, I felt Claire’s loss. And, delighted as I was, I knew she would have enjoyed my discovery more. God’s will was what she would have seen, while I credited the melting snow. What would have been a miracle for her was for me a change in weather. If I had starved in winter or frozen on the ice—even then, this ring would have revealed itself, glinting in the sun without me. Auguste would have understood this. We might have talked of miracles and happenstance. But I was left to ponder. In my experience, God’s work was unexpected. His grace required interpreting.

But no accident befell us, and the captain did not reconsider. The winds were brisk as our boats sailed out in choppy waves. We rose and fell, and my face was wet with salt spray as I watched my isle, my prison, my secret kingdom, slip away. The granite shore receded; the cliffs and rookery grew smaller, and all the places I had walked, all the brambles and rock pools, were swallowed up by sky and ocean. Then my eyes did fill with tears, despite my claim that I was unlike other women, and I bent my head and wiped my face, afraid the fishermen would see. I wept for joy because I could escape, and for sorrow I must leave alone.