Page 65 of The Otherworld

But all I want to say is

You

You are the butterfly

who so innocently flutters her wings

And stirs winds

Strong enough

To destroy me

Untouchable beauty

I wish

In a way

That you were a fantasy

* * *

It’s not raining when I wake up. The looming quiet is the first thing I notice when I open my eyes. Hazy gray light filters through the cracks in the shutters, indicating another overcast dawn.

I limp into my now-dry Carhartt pants, which Orca managed to wash all the blood out of, but I don’t bother with a shirt since she isn’t awake yet. As I pass her bedroom door, I glimpse her petite figure sleeping peacefully under a pile of blankets—rivers of golden-brown hair flowing over her pillow. Even now, in the stillness of the morning, I feel that magnetism stirring through the air. It’s like a lift in altitude, a change in atmospheric pressure. Something I can only detect when I’m near her.

Shaking myself out of my daze, I silently pull her bedroom door shut and move on to my mission:

Checking the weather.

Without access to a television or radio, it’s difficult to gauge the shifts in Washington’s erratic weather patterns—but I don’t need a meteorologist to tell me visibility is going to be crap today. I don’t even need to venture beyond the doorstep to make that discovery.

Cotton-thick fog surrounds the lighthouse in every direction, so dense I can barely see five feet in front of me.

It’s a strange feeling, knowing I’m trapped here on this island with Orca and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. Strange because only a few days ago, I was struggling to survive in the woods with a sprained ankle and broken ribs, and all I wanted was to be home. But now, it’s almost a relief to know that I can’t leave yet.

That I can stay here, with Orca. If only for one more day.

No sooner do I step back inside the house than my phone starts ringing from the kitchen table. I flip it open, answering the call.

“How many miles you got on the viz, Captain?” Jack’s voice brings a smile to my face.

“Big fat zero,” I answer with a sigh. “You?”

“Mmm, about three hundred feet if I close one eye and squint.”

“I’m surprised you’re up this early.”

Jack grunts. “Haven’t been sleeping too good. I keep having this recurring nightmare where ceiling and visibility are unlimited, but I can never get to the port no matter how hard I try.”

“Sounds like a dream with a deeper meaning.”

“Deeper meaning, my ass,” Jack fires back. “It means I’m sick of not having you around. I want to fly out there and bring you back just as soon as this damn overcast clears.”

I shrug my cell phone between my shoulder and ear as I stoop to toss more firewood into the stove. “Well, it looks like there’s no chance of that happening today. Fog’s really holding on. But don’t worry, there’s no rush. I’m doing fine. You can let Mom know that everything is fine.”

My brother falls silent for a moment. “You having a good time with Orca?”

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