Chapter 11
Nora couldn’t rest. Or at least, her mind couldn’t, its TV static buzz creeping down her limbs until the list of ills that came from lacking sleep were drowned out by a restlessness she couldn’t shake.
While Charlie napped effortlessly—again—Nora shrugged her coat on and slipped to the shore.
She found a rock near enough to the ocean that she could feel its mist on her face but far enough that nothing else from it could touch her. She sat down and took stock.
Charlie’s file sat open on her lap. The ink still twitched and blurred where Charlie’s cause of death should have been.
She added another letter to the few she’d been able to make sense of so far.
S-T-A. It wasn’t much, but maybe it was a start.
Stalked? Not that she could imagine anyone stalking Charlie, especially not all the way out here.
Starved? After the meal they’d just had, she seriously doubted it.
She clicked her pen. Come on. This was her specialty.
Her area of expertise. If anyone could come up with ways for someone to die, it was Nora Bird. Starch…allergy?
She closed the file and looked out at the sea, regarding it with distrust. It regarded her with the apathy of an ancient life source that didn’t really need to feel any particular way about the opinion of a being with a fraction of its size or lifespan.
The sun was still high in a sky spattered with only a few light clouds, its touch warm on Nora’s cheeks.
She lifted her hood to shield herself from the UV rays and brought her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them.
She felt a strange sense of peace here on this little rock in this little town at the edge of the world, and that terrified her.
There were too many dangers lurking—the usual ones and the new ones aimed at her brother—for her to feel any ease.
But there was something about this place—the quiet, the slowness, the warmth—that made staying on edge hard, even for her.
Someone was walking towards her. She could hear the sand and pebbles squelching under rubber soles.
When Nora pulled her hood back, she gasped in spite of herself, but the veil of brightness from the sun’s reflection off the water quickly receded from her vision and instead of the tall, broad form of her father, she found Richard standing there.
“Mind if I have a seat?”
Nora slid her bum over. “Pull up a rock.”
“Thanks.” He sat down and stared out at the ocean for a long moment, letting the gently lapping waves fill the silence.
Finally, he turned his focus to Nora. “You know, it never gets old. I’ve lived in this town almost my whole life.
In that house for much of it. And I still come out here every day and find myself amazed all over again by the beauty of the place. ”
“It’s special here,” Nora agreed.
“Special. Yes.” He crossed one leg over the other. “I’m glad you finally get the chance to see it. Always broke my heart a little to know that there were Birds out there who’d never get to experience Virgo Bay. But Patricia tells us you had quite the adventure getting here.”
Nora’s mind flashed back to discovering Charlie’s file and all that came after it. “It’s a hard place to find,” was what she settled on.
“So I’ve heard. But you were in some sort of accident? Patricia said you injured your wrist.”
“Oh.” Nora cupped the wrist in question with her other hand. In truth, she’d somewhat forgotten about it. The pain felt much more manageable now that she had a full stomach and a few hours’ rest. “It’s nothing.”
“I can look at it, if you’d like,” said Richard.
“My father was a doctor. I’ve done a bit of training myself.
In fact, I was something of a town physician back in the day.
Mostly retired now, of course, but usually I’m the one who tends to the bumps and bruises around here.
Anything that doesn’t require a hospital, I look after it. ”
Nora pushed up her sleeve and held her arm out for inspection. “It won’t kill me,” she said matter-of-factly.
Richard gave a bright laugh. “No, I can promise you that much.” He rotated Nora’s arm gently, had her move and twist in different directions and gauged her pain.
“Well, my dear, I can offer you a clean bill of health. Not a sprain nor a break on you. It’s a hefty bruise, and will likely be tender for a while, but you’ll be right as rain soon enough.
We can get you an ice pack when we’re back in the house if you’re in pain, though. ”
Nora slid her sleeve back down, the slight chill in the air biting at her exposed skin. “Thanks.”
“It’s what I’m here for.”
“I always thought my dad would have been a good doctor,” Nora said.
“Oh no, not Martin.” Richard laughed again. “He was a sweet boy with many talents, but the sight of blood turned his stomach. There aren’t many patients whose ailments would be improved by watching their doctor be sick all over his own shoes.”
“Oh,” said Nora. She never knew that about her father.
There was so much about him she didn’t know.
It was something that always sat there at the back of her mind but had never really felt the need to come forward until now.
“Well then, I guess it was good he went into architecture instead. Buildings don’t really mind what comes out of you.
You can even add extra bathrooms if it’s a big enough concern. ”
“That you can. So he was happy, then? Your father? He found a job that made him happy?”
“I think so. Yes. It made me want to get into architecture too, actually, though for different reasons.”
“And what are those reasons?”
“Well.” Nora lowered her legs and swung her feet.
She felt like a child talking about what she wanted to be when she grew up.
“Architects can design buildings to be safe. People live in buildings, and work in them, and shop in them, and spend their whole lives surrounded by walls. And those walls should feel like…like a sanctuary, I guess. No matter what you’re doing within them. ”
“I understand exactly where you’re coming from.
Did you know my father founded this town?
He landed here some eighty years ago, on this little forgotten patch of land with nothing and no one in it.
He had been looking for a place to lay down roots and raise his young family away from all the stress and the chaos of the world after Mother died.
A sanctuary, as you call it. Over time, the odd outsider would find us and stick around, but for the most part it’s just been us.
But tell me, why didn’t you end up pursuing architecture in the end? ”
The answer to that question was the same as the answers to most questions in Nora’s life.
Because it would have been a risk. She had watched her father try and fail to land a job in the field for over a year, forcing her mother to work longer hours and bringing a tension into the house that hadn’t been there before.
Nora needed to provide for herself, and that required stability.
When S.C.Y.T.H.E. had reached out to her less than six months after her graduation, promising her a decent salary, benefits, and the ability to learn more about death (and, by extension, how to avoid it), she’d jumped at the opportunity.
Of course, now, miles from home and with an entire brother’s life to babysit, Nora couldn’t help but wonder if her risk assessment skills had been off.
But it was too late to change things now.
“What did Ruby do before she came here?” Nora asked in place of giving her answer.
“Ruby?” Richard ran a finger under his nose and looked out at the sea again. “She worked in…transportation.”
“Like, truck driving?” Nora asked, trying to picture the tiny woman in the cab of an eighteen-wheeler.
“Mm. Now, what say you and I go back inside for some hot cocoa? Then we can talk sleeping arrangements and figure out what you kids will be needing for your stay.”
Nora gave one final look at the foreboding ocean, the deep blue concealing a myriad of things with too many legs or teeth or, somewhere very far below, likely too many eyes as well.
She gave it a nod of recognition, and in response a small wave broke into foam on the shore.
Nora turned and scurried after Richard and the little red house just beyond.