Chapter Eighteen #2
She continued in a rush, as if a dam had burst inside her.
“But you can’t shut a person away from the outside world completely.
I could see people from our window, mothers taking their children’s hands as they crossed the street.
Fathers carrying sons on their shoulders.
Schoolgirls holding hands as they skipped down the road together.
I knew I’d never have that with anyone.”
“Then maybe this was a blessing in disguise,” I said as kindly as I could. “You touched me and nothing happened.”
“That we know of.”
I thought back to all the times Bri had avoided touching me, refusing to shake hands or even let me nudge her with my elbow.
All to keep me safe. “Bri, I’m fine. Really.
Your parents should be ashamed of themselves, blaming you for something you can’t help.
But we’ll get you home by Yule, as unmagical as you could ever hope to be. I promise.”
Bri sat up, her eyes still focused on the horizon, and said nothing.
I swallowed the questions forming on the tip of my tongue. Finlay was right; I needed to learn not to push people so hard. I could only hope I’d made it clear to Bri that she could come to me to talk, if she ever felt ready to.
We both turned at the sound of Finlay jogging up behind us, our satchels in his arms. As he handed them up to Bri, I couldn’t help noticing the way his wet shirt clung to his chest and shoulders.
Combined with his wonky tooth, twinkly eyes, and soft spot for animals, it was almost enough to make a lassie weak in the knees.
“I’m not sure what I’m going to do about the cart,” Finlay said as he caught his breath. “Jack trusted me, and now I’ve let him down in the worst way.”
I put a hand on his shoulder, aware for the first time that I took such casual touches for granted. “Jack is a good man. He’ll understand. And we’ll find a way to pay him back.”
Finlay only shrugged. I’d never seen him look quite so defeated.
Something about the sight of his slumped shoulders made me want to comfort him. Both of them. Maybe it was the nearly dying that did it, but I didn’t want to leave them in the dark any longer. “Listen, with Bri’s help, we’re going to make a killing at the shoppe. Besides, I’ve got a plan—”
Finlay’s eyes shot to mine. “What do you mean, a plan?”
“Calm yourself. I only mean—”
They responded in unison. “Willow. No.”
“I haven’t even told you what I had in mind!”
“I know you, Willow Stokes,” Finlay said. “Whatever you have in mind, the answer is no.”
“Your insistence we get home tonight nearly killed us all,” Bri added.
Her words hurt even more than my sore arms. I scowled as Finlay strode ahead, apparently finished with the conversation, Bri right behind him.
It wasn’t up to them what I did or didn’t do with my shoppe.
But it was probably for the best that I didn’t tell them my plan to go to the Sapphire Isles, anyway.
Even if I helped Finlay repay Jack for the cart, he didn’t need to know where the money came from.
By the time we finally reached my cottage, we were still damp and sulky and sore.
Da had made a small lean-to in the back for the few animals we’d once had, and Finlay tended to Fergus while Bri and I went inside.
We had decided he’d stay the night here, considering how late it was, and return Fergus in the morning.
His mother knew we were traveling and would hopefully assume we’d been caught in bad weather.
I went to my room to change, Argyle weaving in and out of my legs and nearly causing me to trip several times.
I picked him up and kissed his head, setting him on the bed while I stripped out of my soggy clothing and dried myself off with a towel before putting on a thick white nightgown and a pair of dry stockings.
I shook out my braid, cursing at the snarls and tangles in the waves of my hair. I’d sort them out in the morning.
In the living room, Finlay was stoking a fire and Bri was curled up in the armchair with a plaid wrapped tightly around her.
“I’m afraid I’ll never be warm again,” Bri said through chattering teeth. She had also changed into a flannel nightgown. Hand-knit socks swaddled her feet, which poked out from under the blanket.
“I’ll take care of the fire,” I said to Finlay. “I think there are a few of my father’s shirts still in my closet.”
He nodded and went to change while I finished building the fire. When I had it going nicely, I helped Argyle into the chair with Bri and went to the kitchen. As my father had always said, there’s nothing so bad tea can’t make it better.
Finlay joined me in the kitchen a few minutes later wearing one of my father’s shirts and a pair of his trousers.
Normally I’d be mortified at the idea of Finlay seeing me in my nightgown, but I was too exhausted to care.
As I filled the kettle at the sink, he spooned tea leaves into the porcelain teapot Da had given me for my twelfth birthday.
It was hand painted with roses and thistles, a rather fussy design that had never been my favorite, but since his death, I’d come to treasure it.
“Try not to worry,” I said to Finlay. “Jack will understand. It was an accident. We weren’t being irresponsible.”
“We shouldn’t have left in the storm. If it wasn’t for the shoppe opening…” He trailed off, but I felt my cheeks begin to redden.
“I couldn’t have known any of that would happen,” I said, trying to keep the sharpness from my voice. “None of us could. Do you really think I’d have put you and Bri in harm’s way for the sake of the opening if I’d believed we were at risk of more than wet clothing?”
Finlay had never taken well to confrontation, and he ducked his head now, clearly not up for a fight.
As much as I felt myself hankering for one—I hadn’t had anyone to row with properly since Da’s death—I smothered the urge.
Jack’s trust in Finlay wasn’t just a matter of personal pride.
His livelihood was on the line, and he had more than himself to think about.
“I’m sorry,” I ground out. “I’ll pay Jack back.”
He only nodded, though I could see in his eyes that he didn’t believe me.
I placed the tea things on a tray and carried them back to the den, where Bri and Argyle had fallen asleep under the blanket.
I looked around the small room, at the roaring fire and flichterin’ candles, the stacks of Da’s books that I’d never had the heart to put back on the shelves.
I’d surrounded myself with tea and books and a kitten and candles, all the good and innocent things.
But they were like a child’s blanket, an external source of comfort.
I sat down on the sofa next to Finlay, preparing our tea in silence. Eventually, Bri stirred when Argyle made his way out of the blanket, nosing the air as he caught a whiff of the little saucer of cream I’d set out for him.
We had a long day of work ahead of us, and dawn would be here before we knew it.
But as Finlay’s head began to nod and I placed his tea on the side table, as Bri finished her tea and cooried back into the chair with Argyle, and as I surveyed this little room, I wondered if I couldn’t find comfort here, in the presence of others.
Just for now. Just until I managed to find it within myself.