Page 75 of The Otherworld

To destroy me

The logical part of me still regrets writing those words, because they can never be unwritten. But deep down, I know: it couldn’t be helped. I had to either write it down or tell her face-to-face—and the latter was not an option. It would disrupt everything.

But didn’t I tell her last night? Didn’t she describe the feeling of falling in love, and didn’t I say, “I feel the same way?”

Then I kissed her.

For God’s sake, Adam. You’ve already disrupted everything.

I might as well tell her how I feel. Not in person, but in written words—so that I will be long gone by the time she reads them and discovers the truth.

I put my pen to the page and begin to write.

* * *

After breakfast, Orca and I watch for planes from the lantern room. On a sunny morning like this, you can see for miles in every direction. It takes some discipline to not look at Orca; instead, I keep my gaze fixed on the sky, watching for a sign of my red-and-white Beaver. Part of me can’t wait to see it—can’t wait to see Jack. But another part of me is dreading it. Because I know what it means: saying goodbye to Orca. These could be our last minutes alone together.

I can see the pain in her eyes, too. The same longing, desperate look she wore yesterday when we sat by the fire and she asked me how I felt about her.

How I feel doesn’t matter.

Maybe, in another universe, we are together.

But not in this one.

Suddenly, Orca gasps behind me. I turn to find her peering through a spyglass at something on the horizon.

“What is it?” I ask, squinting in the direction her spyglass is pointed.

“I can’t tell yet… A boat. I think it’s coming this way.”

Moments later, I see what she is describing: a small ocean vessel slicing a white curtain of wake through the water.

Orca’s eyes light up with joy as she jumps to her feet. “It’s Papa!”

24

Hellos

ORCA

I fly down the spiral staircase and through the living room, Lucius barking at my heels. He doesn’t know what he’s excited about, but he can sense my excitement, and it’s enough to make him giddy. My heart races as I swing open the front door and run to the ledge overlooking the beach.

As the boat draws closer, I make out two figures on board—a bearded man behind the steering wheel and Papa closer to the bow. He waves when he sees me racing down the beach, Lucius bounding after me.

“Papa!” I shout through cupped hands. “Welcome home!”

He smiles, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder as he climbs off the boat. He thanks the mariner, then rushes to meet me, his boots splashing through the shallow water. I laugh as I crash into him, wrapping him in a hug.

“Oh, my dear girl, I missed you so much,” Papa says, holding me at arm’s length. “Let me look at you. Are you all right? I was so worried when the storm hit. It was raining for days on the mainland. Was everything—”

“Everything was fine,” I assure him with a confident smile. “I’m fine! It was a little rainy, but I had plenty of firewood, and I took care of the chickens and the light, and I had no troubles whatsoever.”

The worry subsides in Papa’s eyes as he sees that all is well. Lucius whines for attention, and Papa finally grants him a scratch on the head.

“I’m so sorry the storm kept me away,” Papa says. “I was going out of my mind knowing you were here all alone.”

“I wasn’t alone.”

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