Page 173 of The Otherworld

53

Scary Love

ORCA

There is a new driftwood carving on my nightstand: a miniature, beautifully detailed replica of the lighthouse. I turn it over in my hands, tracing a fingertip over the tiny lantern room—the place where Adam Stevenson first kissed me.

It must have taken Papa hours to carve this one.

Golden evening light filters through the window curtains, casting swaying, gauzy shadows over the walls; ocean charts and whale sketches flutter in the sea breeze, paper edges curling from the humidity. Strings of seashells stir and clink together lazily. My driftwood orca pod dives and breaches across the top of my dresser.

I didn’t realize how much I’d missed the lighthouse until now. Every small piece of it seems more precious to me—every imperfection a stroke of magic.

All day long, I’ve been waiting for the right moment to speak with Papa about Adam. I know the subject will be a delicate one. He’s bound to resist the idea with many stubborn arguments. So I summon all the patience I can and wait for the ideal moment to arrive.

In the meantime, we share a quiet supper of vegetable stew and freshly baked bread. Lucius sleeps on the floor underneath the kitchen table, snoring contentedly. Papa says my little furry friend hasn’t been easy since I left—that he spent every day sniffing around the house and prowling the beach as though he was looking for me. Just imagining it makes me sad, so I stop in the middle of dinner to crawl underneath the table and give Lucius an apologetic hug.

After we wash the dishes, I boil some water for tea. The ocean has swallowed up the sun, and now the shadows of early evening fold over our world. Outside, an orchestra of crickets and tree frogs serenades the forest, cloaked by an indigo twilight.

Once Papa and I are both seated in the living room with ceramic mugs of chamomile-mint tea and the fire crackling on the hearth, I make my confession.

“Papa, there’s something I need to tell you. I’ve been… trying to find the right words.”

Papa watches me in the firelight, his gray eyes solemn but softhearted.

“It’s about Adam,” I begin quietly, looking down at the tea mug cradled in my hands. “I know you disapprove of him after what happened between us when you were away from the lighthouse. I know you forbade me from ever seeing him again, but… He wasn’t as dishonorable as you think.” I glance back up at Papa, the words rushing out of me now that I’ve begun. “When Jack first took me to the Otherworld, Adam wanted to bring me straight back here. He tried to convince me to come home and make things right with you. He told me I’d regret it if I let this enmity stand between us. I was too stubborn to see that he was right. I shouldn’t have left the way I did. But I guess I needed to make a few mistakes before I could see clearly.”

An unexpected wave of sadness passes through me as I recall the brokenhearted anger on Jack’s face this morning. His words were so cold and hard. What the hell kind of game have you been playing with me, Orca?

I press my eyes shut, drawing in a steady breath. “Papa, the truth is, Adam has been nothing but honorable. If you knew what he’s really like, you would love him too—I know you would. He’s so kind and strong and genuine, and there’s something… indescribable between us. I hardly know how to put it into words. It’s like the feeling of staring up at the stars from the top of the lighthouse when there’s no moon, and the universe feels like it’s not just around you, it’s inside you. The joy is so intense, it almost feels like grief.” I laugh softly, a sweet pain squeezing my heart. “That sounds like nonsense, I know.”

Papa shakes his head. “It doesn’t sound like nonsense, Orca. It sounds like you’re in love with him.”

I set my tea mug on the coffee table and come to sit beside Papa, taking his calloused hand in mine. “Oh, Papa, I’m so afraid of hurting you again. But I need to be with him. I feel like a part of me was never truly alive until I met him.” I press a wobbly smile onto my lips, looking at him through the soft light. “I think maybe it was the same way for you and Mama.”

Papa pats the back of my hand. “It was. But I didn’t feel it just for your mama. I felt it the day you were born.” He hums a little laugh, remembrance shining in his eyes. “You know, that was the scariest day of my life. I remember holding you in my arms, thinking: how did my parents do this? It was as though, all of a sudden, my whole world was wrapped up in this tiny, helpless little being. And if anything happened to you, my world could end—just like that.” He snaps his fingers. “The funny thing is that fear never goes away. It’s always been with me since the day you were born. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, my girl. No pain I wouldn’t endure. No battle I wouldn’t fight.”

A warm tear slips down my cheek. Papa gently swipes it away with his thumb.

“What is life without that kind of love?” he asks softly. “I have no right to deny you that love, Orca. I know my life would be empty without it. Without you. But still—you shouldn’t be tied to your old father through the best years of your life.”

“You’re not old,” I argue. “And I want to be tied to you. I have no intention of moving away. Adam and I want to get married and live here on the island—in a little cottage that Adam wants to build for us. We can be neighbors, and I can still help take care of Lucius and the chickens and anything else you need. Adam will help, too.”

Papa chuckles. “You have it all planned out, don’t you?”

“Just about,” I say with a grin. “I haven’t picked out the names for our children yet.”

Papa raises his eyebrows. “That can wait a while.”

A laugh bursts out of me, hope overflowing like sunshine in my veins. “Oh, Papa, thank you for understanding.” I press a kiss to his cheek. “Adam is coming back in a few days to ask for your permission. You’ll say yes, won’t you? When can we get married? Next week?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down. A cottage isn’t built in a week, my dear girl. And I need to see that this Adam Stevenson is worthy of you before I make any promises.”

I blush through a smile. “He is worthy, Papa. You’ll see.”

54

Never Be Gone

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