CHAPTER 18 #2
It was a four-story climb to the top of the landing, up, up, up old circular metal stairs.
When I was a girl, those same stairs had felt like an adventure, each clang of my shoes echoing through the hollow shaft like an instrument.
I’d race my friends to the top, laughter bouncing off the iron walls, and whoever reached the landing first would throw their arms up in triumph and earn the title of Moonbeam Queen or King.
Sometimes we’d whisper ghost stories between steps, swearing the lighthouse was haunted, the creaks and groans of the metal stairs proof that phantoms lingered.
Back then it had been effortless, a game.
I was dizzy, out of breath, but when I made it to the top step, I felt victorious. I couldn’t help but grin at Jonathan as he held the door for me, taking my hand to help guide me out onto the gallery deck.
The brisk sea wind swept wildly through my hair, blowing it straight into my eyes and mouth as I fumbled blindly for a hair tie in my short’s pocket. “Oh, shoot,” I muttered.
I tried to pull my hair back with my fingers, fumbling for the tie, but every time I gathered it, one wild strand slipped loose and fell forward against my cheek.
I huffed, tried again, and the same stubborn lock tumbled free.
By the third attempt, I gave a small, exasperated laugh and blew at it comically, the rebellious strand fluttering uselessly.
“Here, Helpless, let me offer some hope,” Jonathan at last teased.
He reached out, caught the renegade strand gently between his fingers, holding it steady for me.
I smoothed the rest of my hair back, gathering it all together, and then brushed against his hand as I took the rogue strand from his grasp and tucked it in with the rest. The small touch made my eyes flutter closed, a shiver of awareness sparking through me.
I could smell the scent of his soap, mixed in with his natural musk and coffee and cinnamon from the coffee shop. It was such a simple thing. It was a mixture of warmth and work and wilderness, and it wrapped around me like a comforting memory…and I found myself leaning into it without meaning to.
No man should smell this good, I couldn’t help but mentally gripe.
When I opened my eyes, I realized how close he was.
There was a short moment, which felt like an eternity, where we regarded one another.
His gaze flicked across the soft lines of my face.
I caught faint strands of dark blue in those crystalline irises, like hints of deep water beneath cracked ice, and it made me look longer than I meant to.
His soft lips then parted softly, and for one reckless heartbeat, I wondered what they might feel like against—
“Got it?” he rumbled, those eyes pinned on me.
Not trusting my voice, I nodded, still caught in the pull of him. The spell broke only when I forced a breath past my lips, clearing my throat as a flush of heat rose up the side of my neck.
“Um, yes…thank you.” I gave him a smile, my voice coming out husky when I said, “Better. Now I can see this view we climbed up for.”
The gallery deck made a ring around the top of the lighthouse, just below the lantern room that housed the lens, which still illuminated the town and dark sea every night.
We had the place to ourselves, only having passed an elderly gentleman on our way up the path…
but it was a weekday and the way to the lighthouse was steep, though I noticed they’d added a paved road, replacing the old worn dirt path.
“Last time I was up here, it was with my grandmother,” I told Jonathan.
“When was that?” he asked as we walked up to the railing. We stood close enough that his arm pressed into mine, but neither of us moved away. “She wasn’t exactly mobile in her later years.”
“This was the summer before I left for university. We had a picnic right down there on the bluff.”
I pointed below, to the empty patch that jutted out from the cliff, a short distance away from the keeper’s cottage.
“She packed cucumber sandwiches, moonshade-berry scones with clotted cream, and, um…spiced dark chocolate truffles. Yeah, those were the ones. Our high-afternoon tea at one of the highest places in Everwick—that’s what she said,” I said with a nostalgic smile that slowly faded.
I could feel Jonathan’s eyes on me instead of Vellamara Island in the distance.
“In fact, I think she brought the quilt I told you about as our blanket. The one with the foxes.”
“We had a picnic once,” he told me, “and she did, indeed, pack that exact quilt.”
I laughed, bumping my shoulder with his. “Where she’d take you on your picnic date?”
“The park next to the library.”
“Sounds right,” I said, nodding. “She loved picnics. She thought they were romantic.” When he cut me a look, I amended, “Not romantic like that. I meant…she believed in celebrating the little moments. She always wanted to make things beautiful, no matter how fleeting or silly it might be. Because something as simple as a picnic in the middle of a busy town could be…a very special afternoon with a friend that she’d always remember. And she would want to do it up right.”
“She did pack her china for us to eat off of,” Jonathan admitted.
“I knew it,” I said, grinning. “The ones with the pink roses? Or the ones with the silver seashells?”
“The roses,” he told me, his eyes warm and glittering with the memory. “We were in the park, so it made sense.”
“Naturally,” I said. “She did love a theme. She used the seashell china for ours.”
“Naturally,” he replied softly.
I looked over to Vellamara Island, miles off the shores of Everwick.
From this distance, it looked like rugged coastline, with tall, sharp cliffs that sloped downward to sandy beaches and shallow reefs.
It was the only island of its kind along this stretch of coast, set apart from the mainland and never fully mapped.
Ferries didn’t run there, and most people in Everwick or Graymore regarded it as separate but not a place visited casually.
Vellamara belonged to the merfolk. Above, the island looked uninhabited.
A few pale stone structures could sometimes be seen built into the cliffs, though they looked more like remnants than dwellings.
Mortals didn’t live there and never had.
But below, they’d created their kingdom deep in the rocky trenches of the submerged land.
They were known to be self-governing, proud of their independence, and uninterested in mainland affairs except when it came to protecting their waters.