Chapter 8 Malia
CHAPTER EIGHT
MALIA
This man was just another whaler, and I silently resented him for it. Perhaps when he saved my life, I thought he might be a good man after all. Perhaps there was someone, under all that muscle and brute strength, who had a heart.
But he was like the others. He lived off killing whales. He thrived off of it. As I prepared another clay bowl of warm water to wash his wounds, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the irony of the situation. A girl who loved the whales, saving a man who killed them.
I looked out to sea, said a silent prayer asking for patience, then approached Alaric.
He sat at the edge of the couch, looking much better today than the past few days.
His color had returned, and he was moving around a lot more.
But his wounds still needed tending, and, while he said I didn’t need to do it, I wanted to.
Because the sooner he was better, the sooner he’d leave.
I bent down in front of him, gently taking the bandages off. I dabbed the wound on his forehead, gently. But silently, I felt flustered. He was so close, I could feel his warmth, a sensation I was not used to. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d ever been close to someone, or anyone.
Perhaps when I was a baby, my mother might have held me close. But, since my youth, I couldn’t recall any memories of hugging anyone, or feeling anyone’s warmth, a thought that disturbed me more than I expected.
Alaric was unusually quiet, and when I used my peripherals to see what he might be looking at, he was gazing directly at my eyes, studying me. My cheeks heated as self-consciousness flooded in.
Was he going to ask about my eyes? I knew, sooner or later, he might.
A gentle breeze wafted through the room, carrying the scent of ginger snaps and banana bread. I’d been hard at work that morning baking for the farmer’s market the next day. I hadn’t let Noni know last time if I’d do it again, so I hoped to go out for a walk that night and deliver them to her.
Ginger. Witch. Now he had two names for me. At least he didn’t know my real name. The whaler suddenly did something I was not expecting–maybe he wasn’t even expecting it. He gently tucked my hair behind my ear. The move was so gentle, so unexpected, my heart pounded in my chest.
But before he or I could say or do something, someone knocked on the door.
“Malia!” And then the door opened, Noni bursting in. It all happened so quickly. I was startled, thinking it might be the assassin at my doorstep, and, in my panic, I jerked back. My foot caught the edge of the clay bowl and I would’ve fallen backward had Alaric not grabbed my hands.
And suddenly I fell right into him, my arms splayed across his bare chest. He instinctively caught me, one hand around my waist and the other bracing me against him.
For a moment, the whole world was dead silent. My eyes were wide, with color creeping up my neck, tingling my ears and burning my cheeks. Alaric still held me, his lips near my ear.
And Noni gasped. “Malia! Oh my! I will come back later–”
“Noni!” I scrambled to stand. “Wait! Wait, I was just helping him–”
The woman raised an eyebrow, as though she were amused. “Yes, I can see that.”
And meanwhile, Alaric sat there, a smirk on his face, like he thought this exchange was rather funny. “This isn’t the worst thing that’s happened to me lately,” he said, and Noni laughed.
“I’ll be back, Malia!”
“No, wait!” I had to explain myself! I could not bear the thought of Noni believing I was some promiscuous girl caught with a whaler. I’d endured enough, and this would not be another mark on my already scorned record. I rushed out after her, spilling out the events of the last few weeks.
“He needs to get better,” I said. “I need him to leave.”
“Why? Because you’re catching feelings?” Noni winked. “He’s one to look at–”
“Noni!” I gasped. “No, listen. Once he’s better, he’ll be gone. There is absolutely nothing between us. You know how I feel about whalers.”
Noni softened, and my shoulders relaxed. She believed me. “Yes, I know you love the whales. We all do.” She nodded and gently patted my shoulder. “Why don’t you get those baked goods and I’ll be on my way? We’ll chat more about this another day.”
Whew. I nodded, “Thank you, Noni.” She believed me! Thank goodness, because that was wildly embarrassing! And the emotions coursing through my body didn’t help. I ignored Alaric, grabbed the goods from the kitchen, and gave them to Noni, thanking her for selling them at the market.
And then she was gone, leaving me standing at the front of my cottage. My stomach twisted.
Now I had to deal with him again.
When I re-entered the cottage, I found Alaric changing the bandages on his arm. “Well that was eventful,” he said, and my blush deepened.
“You should’ve let me fall.”
“I’m not going to let you fall.” He gave me a look. “I’m more of a gentleman than that.”
A man who kills whales? I rolled my eyes. Some gentleman.
I squeezed the cloth from the bowl and began tending the wound on his back. A tense, awkward silence stretched between us as I thought about his words.
I’m not going to let you fall. Was I imagining it, or did it seem there was some underlying message?
I’m reading too much into his words, I told myself.
“This one,” I said, finally breaking the silence as my fingertips hovered over the big white scar. “It wasn’t from the shipwreck, right?”
The whaler exhaled slowly, the muscles in his back and arms sinking, as if something weighed them down. “No.”
I didn’t speak, letting him choose whether or not he wanted to share. After a moment, Alaric finally answered. “A harpoon. Years ago.”
Ouch. A harpoon did this? My fingers traced the scar and Alaric stiffened. “Does it still hurt?” I asked.
He hesitated, then answered. “Not in the way you mean.” That’s when he turned and looked at me. I wished he knew I was meeting his eyes, because, for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed, as if he thought I was avoiding him.
I nodded though, a deep and unspoken connection between us. The scars were so much more. “I know that kind of hurt,” I said, then absentmindedly touched the burn marks on my neck, wondering if he had noticed those and the burn marks on my arms and hands.
Alaric’s jaw tightened, as if he wanted to ask more, to know more. But, as I did before in giving him a choice, he let me choose to share or not too.
I said nothing. I couldn’t. If I told him how I got the burn marks, he’d know who I was.
But there was something so simple and kind about his gesture of letting me choose that warmed my heart.
It seemed everyone was always trying to pry into my life or make assumptions about it.
Yet, here he was, not forcing me to do anything, not forcing me to speak, but just being present in the silence, a silence that spoke volumes.
I cleared my throat and quickly returned to tending his wound.
But for the rest of the evening, every one of his gestures did not go unnoticed: he took his time eating, as if savoring every bite.
He said please and thank you, and didn’t complain once about his wounds, the ill-fitting clothes, or even the settee that looked too small for a man his size.
And, throughout all of it, he watched me too.
But, unlike others who had watched me throughout my life, he seemed genuinely curious, and that terrified me.
Moonlight poured through my bedroom window as I tossed and turned.
Why couldn’t I sleep? I was exhausted. Tending to Alaric all day, plus taking care of my daily chores and tasks of cooking, baking, keeping house, and caring for my garden had worn me out.
Yet I couldn’t stop thinking about how nice it felt when I fell into Alaric’s arms.
Stop, Malia! I was being ridiculous. I would never fall for a whaler, a huntsman who murdered innocent creatures and spent their days in riotous living at the ports. Alaric was no different, and I was probably fighting feelings of attraction.
It’s natural, I told myself, but couldn’t kick the feeling that there was something more. And then it hit me like bitterroot spoiling a warm tea. I’m starting to care for him. Memories resurfaced, of when I cared for others: a family member, two lost children…
And what happens when I start caring for people? I shuddered and drew my covers close to my chin. They turn on me.
Right. I couldn’t afford to do such a thing again. The last two times I nearly lost my life, and this time, well… I didn’t think Alaric would hurt me. But maybe there was even more at risk than my life.
A groan brought my thoughts to a swift end. I gasped and sat upright. Did Alaric accidentally turn and hurt his wound?
Please don’t have reopened that wound, I thought, rushing out of bed and into the living room. But he was fast asleep, his head turning back and forth as he groaned and moaned to himself.
I couldn’t make out any of his words at first, but then he said, “No… no!” What was he witnessing in his dream? It sounded awful. I knelt by the settee and gently shook him awake.
“Alaric, wake up.”
He sat up too soon and grasped his side in pain. His breathing was hard, his body tense, and a light sheen of sweat shone on his forehead.
“Alaric?” I kept my voice soft, careful even.
He blinked, taking me in, then wiped his forehead, sat up, and let out a breath.
“It’s nothing. I’m sorry I woke you up.” He tried leaning forward to place his elbows on his legs, but it was too much for his wound, so he sat back and placed his arm on the backrest of the settee.
It was almost as if he were inviting me to sit there next to him, but I didn’t move.
I still knelt there and waited, not knowing why I ached to help, why I ached to comfort him. “Was it the sea?” I finally asked.
The wind shuffled outside, and the waves in the distance filled the silence.
Alaric didn’t answer, but rubbed his face and exhaled.