A Brush of Blue

Chapter 2: First Steps in the Sand

The soft morning light filtered through the thin curtains of Selah's cottage, casting the room in a pale, muted glow. She lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the heavy weight of exhaustion press down on her chest. Yet despite her body's fatigue, sleep had once again evaded her. The quiet of Blue Haven was unnervingly different from the comforting noise of the city she'd once known. There were no car horns blaring, no murmur of voices from the streets below. Instead, there was only the soft call of seabirds and the rhythmic crash of waves along the shore.

For most people, the peacefulness of a place like Blue Haven would be a blessing. But for Selah, the silence was oppressive. It left her alone with her thoughts, with the constant reminder of what—of who—she had lost.

Her chest ached with grief, a familiar weight she had grown used to carrying. No matter where she went, it followed her, a shadow she couldn't shake. She had come to Blue Haven to escape the overwhelming pain of Grace's absence, hoping the sea air and slower pace of life would somehow ease the ache. But instead, it had only made her realize that her grief was something she couldn't outrun.

Mornings were the hardest. They had always been her favorite time with Grace—their quiet, unhurried moments together, sipping coffee while Grace hummed softly in the kitchen. Selah could almost hear the faint melody, the memory of Grace's voice so vivid it made her heart clench. Now, mornings stretched on in empty silence, a hollow reminder of the life she no longer had.

With a deep sigh, Selah rolled onto her side, her gaze drifting to the corner of the room where her easel stood, untouched for months. Her paints were still neatly arranged on the table beside it, but they were dried up now, neglected. She used to lose herself in her art, the way the colors blended together on the canvas providing an outlet for the things she couldn't put into words. But since Grace had died, even the act of painting felt meaningless. The passion that had once fueled her creativity had vanished, leaving behind only an empty shell.

She ran a hand through her curls, pulling herself upright. There was no point in lying there any longer. The bed, much like the cottage, had become a prison of sorts—a place where the memories of Grace felt too sharp, too fresh. It wasn't helping her heal. If anything, it was trapping her in a cycle of grief and guilt.

Pushing herself to her feet, Selah padded across the wooden floor to the window. She pushed it open, letting the cool morning breeze wash over her. The scent of saltwater filled her lungs, and for a brief moment, she closed her eyes and just breathed. The vastness of the ocean lay stretched out before her, its surface calm and glimmering in the early light. It was beautiful—there was no denying that—but even the beauty of the sea couldn't distract her from the hollow ache in her chest.

She needed to do something. Staying inside this cottage, wrapped in her sorrow, wasn't helping. Cora's words from their last conversation echoed in her mind—"You can't stay shut away forever. Just take one small step." At the time, Selah had brushed her off, but now, standing at the window, she realized her sister had been right. She needed to step outside, to at least try to engage with the world around her, no matter how much she wanted to retreat.

Selah dressed quickly, pulling on a pair of worn jeans and a light jacket. She glanced in the mirror briefly, noting the dark circles under her eyes, the paleness of her skin. Grief had a way of wearing you down from the inside out, and it showed. Shaking off the thought, she grabbed her keys and stepped outside, the warmth of the sun greeting her like an old friend.

The path from her cottage to the beach had become familiar in the short time she'd been in Blue Haven. The soft crunch of sand beneath her shoes and the steady rhythm of the waves offered a kind of solace, even if it was fleeting. The ocean had always been a place where she could find peace, but now it served as a reminder of how vast and indifferent the world could be. Life went on, even when hers felt like it had come to a grinding halt.