By the end of the first week, Eloise had a routine. Breakfast with her father (silent, eggs too runny). A lie about going to the library. Then the path through the sea oats, down to the cove, where the rabbits gathered like a congregation awaiting a sermon.
Every day she drew them. Every day she left a drawing behind. beachside bunnies
“Go on,” she said.
When she finished, she tore out the page and left it weighted with a shell. By the end of the first week, Eloise had a routine
Eloise discovered them the summer her mother stopped getting out of bed. down to the cove
And somewhere behind the cottage, hidden in the long grass, Captain thumped his hind leg once—a soft drumbeat, a secret goodbye, a promise to be there tomorrow.