Page 7 of Lover from the Waves

Smiling, Kathryn kissed her daughter’s cheek. “I’m fine, Lotty. Don’t worry about me.”

Charlotte nodded, averted her gaze, and took a step back. That little frown was still on her lips. Kathryn’s heart just about melted; even though Charlotte was the younger daughter by two years, she’d always been the worrier—even when she was Megan’s age.

“Are you okay, Gramma?” Megan asked.

Kathryn looked down at her granddaughter and squatted, holding her arms open for another hug. The little girl moved in without hesitation. Kat held Megan close, closed her eyes, and took in a deep breath. She was amazed every day how much her family had grown. “No need to worry, Megan. I’m perfectly fine. Grandma just needs a nap.”

“’Cause you’re old, right?”

Kathryn, Charlotte, and Taylor laughed before Kat feigned offense, pressing a hand to her chest. “I’m notthatold.”

Megan delicately touched a finger to the corner of Kat’s eye. “But you have wrinkles.”

“I prefer to call them laugh lines.”

“Because you’re happy?”

Kathryn smiled and affectionately smoothed her hand down Megan’s hair. “Yes. Because I’m happy.”

She said her goodbyes and made her way toward the long, floating dock that jutted out into the water from the base of the cliff. Before she understood what she was doing, she turned her head to look back at the place where she and Ector had conversed, but the green kraken was already gone. She quickly faced forward and sped her pace just a little. Even if no one else knew what that glance over her shoulder had been about, she did, and she’d not shaken her embarrassment over the whole thing.

She climbed the steps that led up onto the dock. A wide path cut up through the rocky cliffs to her left, leading up into town, and to her right was the dock with all its boats moored and bobbing in place. She turned her head to look the vessels. Even now, all these years later, she knew which of those boats Colin had built. For a long time, seeing them had roused a painful pang in her chest. But now they just instilled a sense of…of what? Yearning? Restlessness?

Setting those unexplored feelings aside, she turned left and started up the path. The waves sighed behind her as though gently asking her to come back, to embrace this strange wanderlust that was blossoming in her heart.

The rock faces towering on either side dwindled as she moved up the ramp. How many people had walked up and down this concrete pathway since The Watch was founded almost four hundred years ago? How many times had Kathryn walked it in her fifty years?

What’s going on with me today? I’m not dying, damn it.

She rounded the bend and walked up the second ramp, which turned right into the town proper. Most of the buildings here were a blend of new and old—many had been built during the original colonization, and generations of townsfolk had added onto them to suit growing families and changing needs, turning The Watch into the place Kathryn called home. And this townwashome, without a doubt. How could she be so certain of that and yet still feel so restless?

Kathryn turned right at the first intersecting road and followed it the short way to her home—a small house nestled in a cluster of small houses, almost all of which were occupied by fishermen and their families. The people that Colin had worked alongside every day. People Kat had known for her entire life.

She entered her home and closed the door behind her. For a moment, Kathryn stood there with her back against the door and studied her cozy surroundings. There were sofas and chairs, blankets and rugs, and the dining and side tables were adorned with flower-filled vases. Paintings hung on the walls, knick-knacks were displayed on the shelves, and her eclectic collection of décor, built slowly over the years, somehow all came together into something cohesive and harmonious. She’d cooked countless meals on the stove in the far-right corner, had always kept her preserves in the left cupboard and her dishes in the right. This place was familiar. It was home. It was…

Empty. So very, very empty.

There were times when Kathryn had relished the quiet, especially as a single mother of two girls who often bickered and screamed—never as much as they had in the couple years immediately following their father’s death. That period had been the hardest on all of them. Kathryn had craved the silence that bedtime brought. But now, with her daughters gone, that silence was oftentimes deafening.

Pushing away from the door, she walked to her favorite chair—the one she kept turned toward the sea-facing window—sat down, and picked up the book she’d started reading earlier that week. It was some old novel she’d borrowed from the little library in the basement of the town hall, and it had sucked her in. She ran her eyes over the text now, knew every letter, every word, but somehow, they lacked meaning. She soon found herself reading individual sentences over and over again without any understanding. After struggling through two or three pages in what must’ve been twenty minutes, she finally admitted defeat.

“Just not in the mood, I guess,” she said with a sigh. She replaced her bookmark on the page at which she’d started and set the book aside.

Pushing herself out of the chair, she set to tidying up the house—a task that mostly involved her frowning at things, wiping up a few specks of dust, and occasionally adjusting the position of a trinket by a millimeter or two. It had been terribly easy to keep the house neat since Allison and Charlotte went to live with their husbands; it was in stark contrast to the days of her daughters’ youth, when there’d perpetually been a mess to clean up.

When she eventually accepted that there really wasn’t anything to tidy up, her restlessness had only intensified. For lack of anything better to do—but needing to occupy herself regardless—she entered the bathroom and took a shower. She lingered for a while, something that she never would have done in the past, but now that she had hot water—thanks to the efforts of Theo, Kane, and Arkon—she couldn’t resist.

When she was done, she dressed in loose, cozy pants and a shirt and stepped out into the hallway. The house had darkened considerably since she’d come home. In the kitchen, she lit a candle and plucked a winefruit from the basket on the counter. She peeled it quickly, placing the violet slices on a plate, and tossed the peel into the compost bin.

Picking up her plate, she bit into a wedge of sweet fruit and moved to the window overlooking the ocean. The darkening sky was violet, blue, and pink, with a thinning ribbon of fiery gold-orange where the sun was sinking on the horizon. This window had always been her favorite spot in the house, and during those rare moments of silence, she’d often found herself here, staring out at the endless water.

Had this longing been in Kathryn’s heart all along without her realizing it? Was something out there calling to her, or was she just feeling…trapped?

She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the window frame. Distant, faint sounds—voices and music—drifted up from the beach, which was out of her vision from here. In her mind’s eye, she could see everyone, humans and kraken alike, dancing and playing in the sand, bathed in the warm orange glow of bonfires and torches. They’d celebrate until the rising tide chased them away, which wouldn’t be until well after the light of Halora’s two moons turned sand and sea silver.

What would Ector look like beneath the moons, with droplets of sea water clinging to his velvety skin?

The thought startled her, and she opened her eyes and lifted her head. Her cheeks flushed in shame. What must he think of her after she’d run away from him?

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