Page 179 of The Otherworld

Adam sighs, but he’s still smirking. “I didn’t say anything because… well, I wanted to give you some time to get used to the idea.”

I look down, a knot tightening in my throat. It’s not the same jealousy I felt before—it’s more like disappointment laced with a shot of secondhand happiness.

“I do love her, in a way,” I confess quietly. “I want her to be happy. And I want you to be happy. If you were any other guy, I’d want to wring your neck. And if she were any other girl, I’d never want to see her again. But the truth is, you two are the best people in my life. And I don’t want to lose either one of you.” A surprised laugh catches in my throat. “It’s weird as hell, but I wouldn’t want her to be with anyone else but you.”

That’s when my cell phone starts ringing in my pocket. I take it out and glance at the screen, but I don’t recognize the number. Maybe it’s about my enlistment. I pick up the call and say, “Hello?”

At first, there is silence. Then comes a rush of white noise and the frantic voice of Orca. “Jack? Jack, are you there? Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, I’m here, Orca. What’s wrong?”

“It’s Papa,” Orca cries. “He’s collapsed, and I don’t know what to do. He’s not moving. You’ve got to help me.”

55

Heartsick

ORCA

Dawn arrives in a soft gray hush. I stand on the catwalk outside the lantern room, my fingers curled around the salt-sprayed railing, a western wind tangling my hair as I look out at the expanse of ocean between two worlds.

I feel like Hero, waiting for my Leander to swim home to me. A restless impatience stirs in my heart every time I think of him.

Soon.

There is such promise in that word. Such effervescent hope in the thought of someday—not as a wistful daydream, but as a plan.

Someday, I will marry Adam Stevenson. We will build a home by the sea, close to Papa and far away from everyone else. We will live in our own secret world and be so perfectly happy together; we won’t need anything but each other.

Someday, Adam will come home to our cottage after a hard day’s work, greeted by the warmth of a home filled with light—candles burning, love ballads on my lips, and something sweet baking in the oven.

Someday, our love will spill over in the form of a brand-new life, and I will experience the miracle of a tiny human growing inside me. I’ll feel her move and kick, and I’ll take Adam’s hand and spread it over my belly and ask, Can you feel that? Someday I will look into the pink face of a newborn baby and marvel at the fact that Adam and I brought a new person to life. Someday, I’ll know what it feels like to hear a child’s voice call me Mama.

Someday I will understand that complicated paradox of strength and fragility, the feeling of all your love wrapped up in one tiny soul, the fear that it could all be taken away in an instant, the willingness to risk your whole heart anyway.

Someday, I will hear a chorus of laughter from little girls and boys as they chase seagulls through the shallows, their hair glowing in the sunlight, their bare feet splashing through the low tide. Adam’s strong arms around me, his bright eyes smiling.

Someday, I will listen to Adam read our children bedtime stories and watch them drift off to sleep, kiss their foreheads, and whisper, “I love you.” Adam and I will stay up late to watch the stars together, to find constellations and invent new ones. We’ll grow old together, and even if I live for a thousand years, I’ll never find words to describe how much I love him.

* * *

I feel light as a feather all morning, singing cheerfully as I tend to the greenhouse, weed the garden, collect eggs from the henhouse, and take a long walk on the beach to gather seashells with Lucius. While I daydream about the future, Lucius trots ahead of me, sniffing piles of kelp and sneezing violently when he gets sand up his nose.

Eventually, I hear thunder rumbling in the distance and look up to find the western sky growing darker by the minute. I whistle for Lucius to come, and we head back toward the lighthouse together.

“Looks like a storm is headed this way,” I announce, coming through the back door and brushing the sand off my bare feet. “Papa?”

Silence.

Where is he?

I leave my pile of seashells on the coffee table, heading for the kitchen. My heart jumps into my throat when I step through the doorway and see him.

“Papa!”

He is collapsed on the floor, his right arm crumpled underneath him, his hand gripping his chest. I rush to his side and drop to my knees.

“Oh god, Papa—what happened?”

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