Virginia slides her chair away from the table and stands abruptly, moving to the sink to run hot water. She notices the beer bottles and coffee cups scattered on the counter and feels her resentment growing hot and thick. She keeps her back turned away from Mavis and begins to collect the soiled dishes and empty bottles. Mavis remains seated, silent and watching.

Mavis is not a native, in spite of the fact that she's lived in Hamden since she was a new bride. Tom had enchanted her with tales of his wild and wintry homeland and she'd followed him, filled with dreams of love, and family, and friendship. Oh, she'd had plenty of the first two since coming, but friendship, well, that had taken years to find. Over a decade, she figured. People were nice enough, but she was considered an outsider by most of them. Mavis felt sorry for this strange young woman who stood before her, back hunched over and yet held rigid. She worked quickly, with short, jerky movements. 'Now here's a lost soul,' decided Mavis sympathetically, but also with more than a little intrigue. Mavis thrived on collecting lost souls. Her husband called it her strange affliction, while Mavis saw it as her mission.

"So can I expect you at church this Sunday?" Mavis asked, bringing her coffee cup to the sink to hand to Virginia. Virginia kept washing dishes, head down; eyes focussed on the soapy water. "No, I don't think so Mavis," she answered, refusing to offer an excuse or even look at the old lady. "Sure would love to have you Hon, it'd be good for you to meet pastor McLachlan, and some of the townsfolk. I could come and pick you up?" Mavis offered hopefully. "I don't think so Mavis. Thanks for the invitation though," Virginia responded with an edge of irritation in her voice. Mavis took the hint and headed for the door. She turned at the threshold and stood waiting. Virginia didn't turn to say goodbye. Mavis considered whether or not to say any more and then decided that she'd said enough for one day. She'd be back though, she decided, her jaw tightening in determination. 'I'll definitely be back,' she vowed to herself as she headed out the door.

Virginia heard the door close quietly and flung the dishcloth. "Dam it! Is there no place in this God forsaken world I can be left alone?" she grumbled. 'Dam that busy- body, Dam her,' she cursed silently. She was humiliated. She looked around the cottage. It was filthy. Tears welled up in her eyes as she studied the wreckage. The furniture was old and battered, and dust and cigarette wrappers were everywhere. She hadn't noticed it before and didn't want to see it now. 'It's not worth it, not worth it, not fucking worth it,' she protested even as she moved around picking up the debris.

She'd been walking on the beach undisturbed for weeks until now. She heard someone calling her name. Pretending not to hear, she put her head down and picked up her pace.

'Please go away, leave me alone, go away," she silently pleaded, fighting the urge to start running.

"There she is," exclaimed Mavis, pointing to Virginia's retreating figure. "She's always lost in her own little world. I see her out here everyday, she just walks and walks the beach. I told Tom there's something very wrong with that girl. Something terribly wrong." Pastor McLachlan squinted in the sun and fastened his gaze on Virginia. "She doesn't look as lost to me Mavis, as she looks in a hurry," the pastor observed.

"Well then let's hurry up and catch her! I'm telling you she needs us, and I'm not giving up until I find out what's brought her here and what I can do to help!"

The pastor sighed and hurried to keep up with Mavis. He was fond of her and indulged her all too often. She's been his first ally since moving from Nova Scotia to Maine. He'd had mighty big boots to fill, or so he'd heard more then he'd wanted to from the townsfolk when he first got here. Mavis had stood by him, coaxing members of the congregation to give him a chance, and bullying those who refused to. Their bond had initially been that of both being outsiders, as well as possessing a fierce pride of their shared Scottish heritage. She'd filled his belly the first night he met her with Shepherd's pie and Stout Loaf. She'd then blessed his first lonely nights with Scottish folk tales and gossip, and eventually filled his tired old heart with hope and love.

He'd never quite met anyone like her before, and marveled at how she'd pushed her way into the closed little community of Hamden. She'd recruited him on many a mission to aid floundering souls, and he always complied. He owed her plenty. She'd become the backbone of his church, always the first to volunteer her services and those of her husband, Tom. She'd knitted more socks, baked more casseroles, and scrubbed more church windows and walls then any other living person in Hamden. She lit the alter candles every Sunday morning, and she'd finally managed to turn a light on is his own weary soul.

There she was, talking to Virginia now. 'Oh boy, I'm quite sure we're not wanted' he thought, reluctantly closing the distance between himself and the two women.

"Here you are! Say hello to Virginia," Mavis commanded.

"Hello Virginia, it's very nice to meet you," the pastor responded, with a touch of apology in his tone. Virginia refused to make eye contact with him, simply nodding her head in acknowledgement. He was grossly overweight, she observed with disgust.

Virginia and the pastor stood in uneasy silence as Mavis chatted cheerfully. Virginia tuned her out, studying the seagulls instead. Suddenly, Mavis took Virginia's arm and gently tugged it. "Come on, it's not far," Mavis explained. "What's not far?" queried Virginia with dread.

"My house. The pastor and I were on our way to back to my place for a cup of tea. You're coming with us."

"No, I can't."

"Why not?"

"I've got some letters to write," Virginia explained lamely.

"They can wait, it's not even lunch time yet. I'm not taking no for an answer," asserted Mavis, steering her towards the house. Virginia unwillingly allowed herself to be led.