The Ring of Resolve

Fraserburgh — 1913 — Late Afternoon. Margaret Gordon watched the fishing boats return through the harbor haze, the sharp tang of salt and fish drifting over the piers. The silver ring of Peter pressed into her hand, the engraving worn yet insistent. It had been given to her as a reminder: to remain when others would have left, to meet challenge with quiet resolve. She traced its curve and felt a steadying warmth. Around her, gulls wheeled and the tide whispered against the stones, and she understood that resolve was not action for action’s sake, but the choice to stand firm — to be a rock when tides threatened to pull everything loose. The ring caught the waning light and glinted softly, a silent witness to her commitment to remain, to protect, to endure.