Page 73 of The Otherworld

I’ve used it to describe many other precious things in my life. Papa, Lucius, the ocean, the greenhouse, the orchids, and the driftwood carvings on my dresser. All of those things kindle such different sorts of love in my heart. My love for Papa has always been the deepest of all.

Until Adam Stevenson showed up.

Looking at everything else in my life, I can’t find a comparison to the immensity of love I feel for him.

It frightens me because tomorrow he will be gone—yet my feelings for him will remain. I will be torn in two, and I fear I will bleed inwardly. I will be forever cursed with an invisible wound that I have no remedy for.

Will he feel the same way when he leaves me behind?

At the top of the lighthouse, he said he did feel the same way about me. And then he kissed me. Not on the forehead, as Papa has always done, but on the lips. A kiss so soft and gentle, yet so overwhelming and dizzying. A kiss I shall never forget as long as I live.

How will I bear it when he leaves tomorrow? How will I say goodbye? How will I watch him fly away, far away from me?

How will I live with my soul torn in two?

23

Odysseus and the Siren

ADAM

What was I thinking?

That’s the question I ask myself when I’m back in bed.

What was I thinking, kissing her like that? Am I out of my mind?

There is no logical way we can be together. I’ve told myself that a hundred times. I’ve accepted it. We are going to part ways tomorrow. I’m leaving for Whidbey Island, and she’s staying here, and I refuse to disrupt her life. I already feel like I’ve polluted her purity with that kiss.

I curse myself for it, kick myself for it. I wish I could go back and force myself not to do it. But if I hadn’t, I might be regretting that decision instead.

I lie awake in the dark, listening to the pounding waves outside.

Maybe I’m just overthinking all of this.

We kissed. So what?

It changes nothing.

No, it changes everything.

* * *

I awaken at sunrise. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, patches of blue sky peek through the slats of the window shutters.

Orca’s bedroom door is still shut, so I try to be as quiet as possible as I limp into the kitchen and get the fire going to start some coffee. Lucius follows me around, sniffing for his breakfast. I scratch his ears and tell him that he’ll have to wait until Orca wakes up.

When I open the front door, a gust of salty morning breeze rushes inside, carrying the cries of seagulls as they swoop and dive in the sunshine. It’s a perfect morning—ceiling and visibility unlimited. Jack will be thrilled.

As I descend the front steps, I take in the view that’s been hiding behind fog for days.

Breathtaking is an understatement.

Miles and miles of ocean unfurl in every direction, an endless vista painted every shade of blue—the waves, the sky, the distant islands bathed in morning haze. The lighthouse stands perched on the edge of it all, like a fortress guarding the ends of the earth.

Now I can understand why Orca calls it the Otherworld. The neighboring islands seem far away out here. There are no signs of civilization except the boats and planes she must occasionally see passing by. Everything is so out of reach.

A hand touches my back, making me jump.

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