Page 88 of Trick of Light
Then she clambered up to the grass and ran to the spot where she’d last seen Barnaby.
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Barnaby knew his right leg had been hit, but one benefit of being immersed in the deep cold of the offshore Maine water was that he couldn’t feel a thing. Knowing that Hooper was still firing bullets, he stayed underwater for as long as he could, until his lungs were about to burst.
When he couldn’t take it anymore, he surfaced, hoping to use his boat as cover—but there was no boat, save for one last glimpse of its bow as it sank below the surface. He kept his head low, like a seal, bracing for more bullets. When none came, he swam toward the rocks.
One thing about John Carmichael III, he made sure all his children knew how to handle themselves in the water and on the water. Barnaby had even swum competitively at school. But ocean swimming was completely different from a heated high school pool. This far from shore, the currents could be intense. The next stop in the eastern direction was the coast of Portugal, after all.
Even swimming a few yards had him straining and panting. During one of his gasps for breath, he caught sight of a speedboat heading back toward Sea Smoke Island. That must be Hooper, and possibly Gabby. Damn damn damn. He’d taken a bullet, gotten his boat torpedoed, and still missed his chance to rescue her.
So it was a shock when he hit the rocks—literally, the waves banging his body against them—and a slim brown hand reached down to help him.
“Gabby!” He shook water away from his stinging eyes and squinted to see better. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. Are you okay?”
For some reason that made them both laugh, though his was more of a wheeze. “Are you solidly braced up there? Don’t want to pull you in.”
“I’m good. Come on, before you freeze to death.”
He gripped her hand to leverage himself onto the rocks. Even through the cold-induced numbness, he felt the scrape of barnacles. The waves swirled after him, as if they weren’t quite done with him yet.
Once he was fully free from the ocean, Gabby helped him onto the grassy mound from which the lighthouse soared. There, he collapsed onto his back, heaving in breaths, watching the lighthouse beam in its hypnotic three-hundred-and-sixty-degree sweep.
“You’re bleeding.” Gabby crouched next to his left leg. It gave a vague throb, as if agreeing with her statement.
“I’ll be okay. The cold water is stopping the blood flow.”
“What if there’s a bullet lodged in there? Should we get it out?”
He had to laugh at the terrified expression on her face. “Are you offering to do emergency surgery on my leg?”
“Yes…no…” She bit her lip. “Barnaby, I?—”
“I love you,” he blurted. The cold water must have scrambled his brains, because he’d had no idea those words were about to come out of his mouth.
Her eyes went wide with panic. “Are you about to die? Is that why you’re saying that?”
Laughter sputtered from his chest, spreading warmth and life through his body. “I’m not about to die. I promise. This might be the hypothermia talking, but it feels like a flesh wound. Just tie something above it to slow the blood flow, such as it is.”
“Wait. Okay. Yeah. I have something. Stay here.” She ran into the lighthouse and came back with a purple sweater. As he hid his winces, she tied it around his thigh.
“Tighter,” he told her, gritting his teeth.
She did as he directed, then plopped her butt onto the grass. “Can we circle back to the part where you said you love me?”
“I love you,” he said simply. “I just do. I feel…right with you. Like no matter what else happens around us, you and me, we’re right and good and exactly where we should be.” He knew he wasn’t expressing himself very well, possibly because his lips were still numb from being underwater. “Sorry, you’re the writer, not me.”
“No, you’re doing great.” She shifted closer so she could press her lips against his—so warm, like life itself. Everything good and hopeful seemed to flow into him from that kiss. “But we can’t do this right now.”
He noticed that she hadn’t returned his words, but that was okay. He could be patient.
“Hooper took Tamara to Sea Smoke, he’s trying to find the treasure, and also he hates her so she’s not safe with him, and also Hooper is actually?—”
“Keith Garner, I know. I figured it out after I ran into Fiona. Sneaky motherfucker.” With a wince, he tried to sit up, then decided he wasn’t quite ready yet.
Gabby went on. “He was staying in Amelia’s guesthouse so he could do his dirty work without anyone noticing. She must have recognized him, that’s why she was reaching for that book when she collapsed. He hated her too.”
