Chapter Eight #4
But he was not Elspeth. He would not fall.
He had already been appointed to the Council.
He had reached his long-sought-after goal.
Even if Emma died, there would be none of this there.
None of this coming together in mortal pleasure.
No children. Just Celestial boundaries. If they saw him now, no doubt it would go against him in his review.
It might even disqualify him. But astonishingly, he found he didn’t care.
Holding her this way felt worth all that after all those centuries of pain.
Let them keep the Council from him. It didn’t seem as important now as it once had.
He wanted to drag his feet, slow down Emma’s path.
Whatever it was. But suddenly, he hoped it was not to go with him.
She deserved a full life, a mortal man who could share with her all those things she longed for.
A home. Family. The chance to grow old together.
Somewhere down the lake, the boom of an early firework exploded over the water, breaking the moment as a cheer and teenaged laughter erupted from the boys whose boat was passing Sam’s on the water. Molly waved a miniature flag at them as they gunned their boat across the lake.
“It goes by so fast,” Emma murmured, watching the children. “So terribly fast.”
He knew she wasn’t talking about the boat. “Aye, lass.”
“We should get back to the hospital,” she said but made no move to untangle herself from him. She tightened her fingers around his, glancing down at the dial on his wrist. Connor looked, too. It read +85 percent . She pulled in a long, shaky breath.
“Not yet. Just a little longer,” he told her as his palm skimmed her soft hair. “Hey, do ye think they’d mind if we hitched a ride on their boat? Just for a wee bit?”
She sat up with a shocked smile. “You mean—?”
He nodded. “I dinna think Elspeth would rat us out. And they willna know.”
Emma tugged him up to his feet with an impish look. An instant later, they were settling themselves on the stern of Sam Wynter’s beautiful hand-built sailboat as it cut across the surface of the lake, with the wind in their hair and the July sun caressing their skin.
The fragrance of the clear water, the sky, sharply blue against the green trees—it all reminded him of things he’d forgotten in the shadow of his bitterness, the simple pleasures of the mortal world. Emma soaked up every sunny moment as if it might be her last.
Sam and Molly stood at the wheel a few feet away, not aware of them at all. Sam had his hands atop Molly’s as she steered the boat across the open water.
“That’s it,” he told her. “Now watch the wind, then steer into it. Like this. You want to angle into the waves, not alongside them.”
“Can I teach Anika how to sail?” she asked. “When I learn how?”
“You bet. She’s a little too small yet. But that’s what big sisters are for. By next summer, she and Elspeth will be coming out here every day with us.”
“And Iris and Grandpa?” Molly turned directly toward Emma and Connor, then seemed to look right at them. “Mommy would have liked this boat, too, don’t you think?” she said.
Taken aback, Emma flicked a look at Connor, who seemed to take Molly’s look in stride. “Dinna worry. She canna see us.”
“I know your mom would’ve,” Sam told Molly. “And she’d be so proud of her girl.”
“Me?”
He tickled her ribs, making her squeal with laughter. “Of course, you! You’re her girl, forever and always.”
“Maybe she’s watching us right now,” Molly said.
“Maybe she’s up there right now, looking at us sailing.
” Over their heads, a seabird sailed on the air currents, occasionally flapping its wings, mid-glide.
Emma’s gaze followed it across the lake, remembering what Connor had told her about the child’s mother.
“Don’t you ever doubt it, Molly-girl,” Sam said. “Hey, c’mere. Let me put some more sunscreen on that nose of yours!”
Molly squirmed but finally relented.
Emma watched them for a long time before she leaned against Connor’s shoulder.
“I’m finding it very ironic to be sitting on this sailboat knowing it’s the first time I’ve done something like this in years.
Vacations, for me, were not vacations at all but staff perks.
Every ‘vacation’ I take the company on is spent working, organizing, and worrying that everything will work perfectly.
There’s very little of…this. Of noticing the way the sun plays across the water or me breathing deeply or even just enjoying watching a child with her father. ”
Connor, too, appeared to be taken with the pair steering the boat. He smiled a little wistfully. “You’re right there, lass.”
“And what about you?” she asked. “When was the last time you just purely enjoyed what you were doing? Aside from this?”
Connor scowled thoughtfully. “My work is—”
“No, not your work. What do you do for fun?”
“Fun?” The word rolled off his tongue as if it were foreign.
“Yes, Connor. Something that makes you happy. Makes you laugh or just feel free.”
“That isna the point of what I do.”
“You mean you’re not allowed to—?”
“I’m sayin’ ’tis not wholly regarded as critical to our job description.”
“But it’s not prohibited.”
He leaned back against the wooden stern. “And yer point is…?”
“My point is…I’m not sure of my point. Just that if that dial on your wrist is any indication maybe we should enjoy the time we have left. Together.”
A muscle worked in his jaw as he thought about her words. “What d’ye suggest?”
“Well,” she said, looking up through her lashes at him. “Are those wings of yours practical or only used to impress in-betweeners?”
“What? Ye mean these?” He unfolded his wings effortlessly, like a proud weightlifter, baring his physique.
She giggled. “Yeah. Those.” This time, she touched them, running her fingertips across the soft rows of feathers. “Are they good for anything or…just for show?”
“How is it ye think we get from here to there?”
“I…I couldn’t say. It happens so fast.”
“In your time, it does.” His smile hitched something in her chest.
“But wait. I’ve moved from here to there myself,” she said. “And I’m not…how—?”
He cocked his head in agreement. “Nor can ye hold things in your hand. Or show yourself. You’re in-between, Emma. Neither quite one o’ them right now nor one o’ us. But somewhere in the middle. Yer will moves ye, simple as that. Ye think yerself a place, then there ye are.”
Ah. “Then,” she asked, tucking her hand around his arm, “could we do it your way but slow it down for me? Just once?”
“Slow it down? Ye want to see, is that it?”
“Yes.” She took in the beauty of the lake around them, imagining what a bird’s-eye view of it might be. Or flying back home, with nothing between them and the earth but air. “I want to see everything. And I want you to see it, too, with me. Maybe it’s the last time.”
Touched by her words, he tucked his arm around her.
“Then ye shall have it, Emma.” He pulled her up beside him.
With the rocking of the boat, she collided against him, but he didn’t set her away.
Instead, he held her for a moment against him, steadied her.
Grateful, Emma pressed her cheek to his chest and slid her arms around his waist. His shirt was warmed by the sun.
It felt good to be held by him. It felt right.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Ready?”
Was she? Was she really ready for anything that was about to happen? “No time like the present,” she murmured against him, threading her fingers through his. With a swoop of wings and a sound like the wind sifting through the treetops, they were off.