Chapter 10 Malia
CHAPTER TEN
MALIA
Ireturned when the moon shone through the windows and the crickets chirped.
I found Alaric on the settee, asleep.
Good. He needed the rest, especially after the long, strenuous walk today.
His long strenuous walk to find me…
And he didn’t have to tell me everything. I knew the twins were coming for me.
It was overwhelming. Should I stay? Should I flee?
I rubbed my temple, too exhausted to think clearly. My thoughts were like mud mixing into water.
Much to my surprise, the kitchen was all cleaned up, the soup put away in one of my wooden containers. I glanced at the whaler, his expression peaceful as he slept.
After he groomed and cleaned himself up, I couldn’t deny that he was even more attractive.
Malia, that’s so wrong, I thought. But was it?
A yawn escaped and I sleepily washed up for the night. I should’ve warmed some food up and ate, hungry as I was, but I was also too tired. The fireplace was going, and the night had turned rather chilly. I sat in the rocking chair and fell asleep.
“Malia.” A warm blanket wrapped around my shoulders, and when I opened my eyes, Alaric knelt next to my chair, a bowl of steaming soup in his hands.
I blinked wearily. “You should be resting.”
The corner of his lip twitched, like he almost found this amusing. “I was resting. You should eat something.”
I was suddenly very awake. When was the last time someone cared for me? I grabbed the blanket self consciously. He’d done that too!
“Thank you…” I was so shocked, it took me a minute to start eating. Alaric got comfortable on the settee again, and I tried not to look at him too many times, my suspicion of him growing. Why was he being so nice? Surely there was some hidden meaning beneath it.
“Was the boy alright?” he asked, and I nodded.
“His wound was infected but I really think the salve will help. I made him some turmeric tea to help with the swelling and…” I paused, surprised that Alaric’s gaze was still on me, as if he found it all interesting…
as if he found me interesting. “You keep looking at me like that,” I said, not finishing my story.
He raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”
“Like you’re…” I shrugged. “Like you’re thinking about something…”
His jaw clenched. “Like what?”
“I don’t know.” I tilted my head and smiled, not knowing why I found this amusing. “Like you’re thinking about me?”
He exhaled slowly and ran a hand over his face. “Maybe. We need to talk.”
I nodded. “We will.”
And then he was studying me, his gaze moving to my lips, my hands, and I became even more self conscious. Was he studying my eyes? When would he ask about it? Or would he? The thought made my stomach twist. What would he say if I told him the truth about my eyesight?
A muscle ticked in his jaw and my heart skipped a beat. “You should rest,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“You too.” I don’t know what overcame me, but we’d never spoken playfully like this before. It was the first time I felt… in control. Like he really didn’t know what to do around me, like there might be something deep inside of him that had feelings for me.
Perhaps it was wishful thinking.
But still… for whatever reason, it thrilled me.
The next day, I suggested we take a walk along the beach to help Alaric get his strength back. Maybe I also hoped he would tell me whatever it was he wanted to say the previous night.
He slept in awfully late, a testament to the after-effects of yesterday’s long walk.
But now, walking barefoot along the white sand beach, I couldn’t help but notice just how alive and healthy he looked.
His warm tan, his dark hair, his toned arms–it was all such a stark difference to the first time I saw him.
The waves lapped playfully along the shore, the sun shone in the sky, and the mist and splashes of whales portrayed a beautiful sight in the distance.
Alaric put his hands in his pockets while I carried a small basket to collect shells and sea glass I found along the way.
He was quiet, his jaw set, like he was thinking again. After I picked up a few puka shells and showed him, I looked up to see him studying me, not the shells. “Why were those children chanting about you yesterday, Malia? Is that why you were crying when I found you?”
Oh. Is that what he wanted to talk about?
My heart sank. “Maybe… People like to find someone to tease and fear. It just happens to be me.”
“Why would they even come up with a chant about you eating children?” He frowned. “That’s so… revolting.”
My heart sank further, as if it wasn’t already buried in the deepest part of the island. I shrugged and kept walking. Before Alaric could ask more questions about my being a witch, I pointed to the distance.
“Look.”
Humpback whales breached in the sea, causing white splashes that misted away in the wind. Their tails were beautiful as they dove up and down, water shooting from their blowholes.
“I used to think the whales sang just for me,” I said. Alaric stood next to me, close enough now that his arm touched mine. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his muscular forearms. He folded his arms and watched the whales.
“When I was little, I'd sneak to the shore in the mornings and sit for hours, listening,” I continued, not sure why I was sharing this with him. What did he care? Yet I said it anyway. “They were... the only ones who weren’t out to hurt me. I loved listening to them and imagined that they cared enough to listen to me too.”
Alaric looked at me. “You’re always someone worth listening to.”
My breath hitched and I quickly looked away, allowing my curtain of hair to hide my face from his view. The waves continued to beat against the shore, rushing past our ankles. My heart pounded, and it took me a moment to respond.
“There are nights I wonder why I’m still here. Why I was spared. I feel like a ghost of someone I was meant to be. I feel like… just... leftovers.”
Another whale breached, twisting so one moment we saw its white underbelly and the next its deep blue back.
I blinked fast, knowing I should stop talking.
I was making a fool of myself and proving the very fact that nobody cared to listen to me.
But I wanted to finish my thought anyway, because what if?
What if Alaric didn’t mind listening to me?
“But when I hear them. The whales… I wonder—maybe Akua didn’t forget me. Maybe He kept me here for a reason. I just... haven’t seen it yet.”
Alaric stepped closer, carefully, as if any wrong move might shatter me. Now we were facing each other and my heart was pounding so loudly, I was sure he could hear it.
“You’re not leftovers, Malia,” he said. “You’re the reason I’m still standing.” And then he did something I was not expecting. He gently took my hand, his fingers interlacing mine, and squeezed it. Not possessively, not boldly. Reverently.
And just as soon as he held it, he let go and looked away, color in his cheeks.
I looked away too, letting the sea fill the silence.
A mixture of awareness and awkwardness seemed to charge between Alaric and I.
We were standing too close. He just took my hand.
And all I could think was, What does it mean?
I did not understand what was happening, but, more confusing than that, I was both terrified and delighted at the same time.
Later that evening, I kneaded some dough, trying to sort through my thoughts. There was a festival in town the following day, and Noni recommended I give her some baked goods to sell. I was making a lot of money from the markets, which would help with much needed repairs for my cottage.
So I was motivated, plus I needed something to distract me.
Alaric and I both had been nearly silent the entire rest of the walk, the entire rest of the evening. He should have rested, exhaustion wearing on him from the walk, but, instead, he went out and chopped wood. He said exercising–not resting–would help him recover faster.
Meanwhile, I made bread. I heard him go to the washroom to get cleaned up, but I tried to focus on the task at hand.
Except my mind wasn’t on the bread. It was on him. The way he took my hand, the way it felt. Nobody had ever held my hand. I couldn’t even recall holding my mother’s hand. Yet he’d taken my hand. My hand!
Despite my excitement about his tender gesture, I knew he wouldn’t leave until we talked about the twins, which terrified me. It was the unspoken, unfinished business we had between us, like a vine choking a tree.
“Do you always work like that?”
I gasped and now noticed that Alaric was watching me from the doorway of the kitchen, arms folded, one brow arched.
“Like what?”
“Like the bread’s about to run off the table.”
I fought a smile. That was a funny way to describe it. “I suppose I have my own way.”
Then Alaric stepped forward, his voice quiet but solid. “You never look straight at things. Not the bread. Not me. I thought maybe it was shyness.”
Shyness? I blushed at that.
His voice dropped. “But I think it’s something else.”
I didn’t move, my fingers sticky with dough. I turned back to my work, dusting my hands with flour. “It’s not too bad.” I said it too quickly.
Alaric waited. He didn’t press, and that made my heart hammer.
He moved to my side, taking my flour dusted hand and lifting it gently, then he adjusted my chin with his other hand so I was looking more directly at him, if just off-center.
How did he know I could see him better this way?
“Can you see me better this way, Malia?”
I nodded slowly, my throat tightening. I had to stop this. Now! The whaler was wedging his way into my heart, whether he meant it or not.
“You have nice hands,” I said. I meant it. They were scarred, tanned, and calloused.
Alaric blinked, the magical moment disappearing like dust on a windy day. “Pardon?”
I shrugged, trying to play off the intense moment. “They’re strong.”
A long pause, as if Alaric were reading me, reading that I was fighting this attraction to him. And he knew better than to feed it, instead of fight it.
He exhaled sharply. “You’re trouble, witch.”
“I know.”
But none of us moved for a moment. Then Alaric let out another quiet breath, changing the subject.
“Was there anything else you needed help with?”
I forced a smile and nodded, searching for something… anything… for him to do.
His jaw set. He flexed his fingers as if trying to shake something out of them. I knew this was dangerous… he was feeling it too.
But we weren’t meant to be, a whaler and a witch, and it killed me inside.