The time had come to return to the mainland and my Prius. My single bag was packed, and Finn made sure I didn’t forget to take the green ashtray he had so generously given me. I wrapped the piece of artwork in clothes, protecting it during my travels to Columbus, and thanked him numerous times for the piece.
After kissing me again, holding me to his chest, he said, “You owe me one thing for the ashtray.”
“What’s that?”
“Another visit. Sooner rather than later, I would hope.”
I promised him I would visit him on Haven Island again.
And he promised me he wouldn’t shoot me with his Colt .45.
Together, we exited his cabin and followed the narrow trail back to the island’s shore and the two flat-bottom boats that were secured in the beach’s rocks. The late October wind tangled us together,
