Flora looked up as she saw a small plane begin to circle around the island. Now that the storm had lifted, the experts could come in. And, she supposed, her father and the boys would be back too.
And Joel would leave, she thought, biting the inside of her mouth to stop herself from crying. She needed to be here, at least until the vote. He most certainly did not. He worked on huge mergers and acquisitions, big, technical court cases that required incredibly specialized expert knowledge . . .
“Penny for them,” said Charlie. She blinked, and went redder than ever.
“Um, just worried about the poor creature.”
“Aye. I know.”
He looked at her.
“It’ll be all right. Thanks for the tractor.”
“What can I do now?”
“Wait, I suppose,” said Charlie, as the men started to tentatively approach the creature. She was the size of about three adult males, impossible to lift, and making heart-rending noises. Flora was beyond the barrier now and didn’t feel able to walk back.
As the men heaved and slipped in the sand, trying to maneuver the whale onto the nets, Flora meandered round to the creature’s head. It smelled very intensely of the sea. Its eye was the size of a dinner plate, its huge mouth had a great lolling tongue, and strands of seaweed covered its teeth.
She never knew what inspired her to do what she did next (although her father and half the island never had the faintest doubt). While everyone else was occupied with moving the creature, Flora crouched down at its head, very softly and slowly, not making any sudden movements.
“Shh,” she crooned lightly, looking straight into its huge eye. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
The whale continued to thrash and twist in the sand, its tail carving out a great trench. If they weren’t very careful, it would hurt itself. The men jumped back, not wanting to be hit by the great animal.
Flora ignored all of this.
“It’s okay,” she said again, gently and soothingly. “Oh, it’s okay.”
Carefully, slowly, she extended her hand, and laid it on what she supposed was the whale’s cheek, next to its mouth. And as she did so, almost unbidden, an old song of her mother’s came to her, the old mouth music, from a time before instruments, a time at the very birth of music itself.
Flora, in a bar in London, wouldn’t have performed karaoke at gunpoint. But here, it felt absolutely normal.
O, whit says du da bunshka baer?
O, whit says du da bunshka baer?
Litra mae vee drengie
She sang, not even noticing the waves crashing or the men shouting, or the lashing of the whale’s tail.
Starka virna vestilie
Obadeea, obadeea
Starka, virna, vestilie
Obadeea, monye
And slowly, astonishingly, as the clear evening light broke through the clouds once more, the whale stopped thrashing and lay still long enough for the lads to slip a knot of fishing nets around its belly and, using the tractor, pull the creature carefully out to sea.
Flora moved with them as Charlie drove, keeping her eyes on the whale all the time, singing as the creature made noises too, but quieter ones, as if it realized Flora was trying to help it; and Flora found herself splashing into the shallow water with it, heedless of getting her second drenching in as many days, and stayed with it until the tractor returned and the lifeboat took up the rope, and it was only then, with regret, that she leaned forward and—without even thinking about it—kissed the animal on the nose.
Then the boat took up the slack and the whale started to move again, and Flora stayed and watched as they towed it out to sea, and long beyond, when the boat was only a dot on the horizon, disappearing toward the mainland. And as she watched, she thought of the greatness of the animal, and the dancing silver sea, and everything that had happened.
As Joel stood on the dockside, waiting for Bertie Cooper to drive him to the airport for the delayed evening flight, he watched this amazing girl, this strange foreign girl, in this place where she belonged and he didn’t, and he cursed himself for allowing her to get so close, for making him do what he had sworn never to do, what he had protected himself from all his life. It had been a reckless day, a reckless time. He would leave, return to where he belonged, to a world of tall buildings and important, complicated work. He would seriously consider Colton’s offer of a job in his New York office . . . get back into triathlon training.
And yet all the way back down south, all he could think about was skin so pale that each time he kissed it, however gently, it left the shadow of a mark.
Chapter Forty-two
Everyone involved in the whale rescue ended up back at the farmhouse for some reason. Flora hadn’t noticed Joel down on the beach, and was bereft that he had gone without a word. She tried to explain it to herself, but couldn’t. Was he back at the Harbor’s Rest? Or maybe he’d moved into the Rock. It must be ready. That would . . . She liked that idea. Him waiting for her in one of those beautiful rooms . . . She smiled ruefully. That would be a step up. And it wouldn’t remind her of Inge-Britt either.
Colton showed up, an arm casually thrown round Fintan’s shoulders. Fintan was weary and dirty after the cattle transport.
“Is Joel back at the Rock?” she asked as lightly as she could.
“Oh. No,” said Colton. “He’s gone. It’s not him I need, sweetie, it’s you.”
Flora told herself she wasn’t going to cry. They’d been interrupted, that was all. She’d talk to him in London and they’d get to know each other properly, and . . .
Actually, she had no idea what that would be like. None at all. She imagined telling Kai what had passed between them, and it was horrifying. But how could she . . . seriously? They were going to have a relationship? In London? That was actually going to happen? They’d turn up to work together, the senior lawyer and the unremarkable little paralegal. That would totally happen.
She pushed away the painful thought of how unlikely that was.
“I’m thinking of recruiting him for my New York office anyway. Or L.A. Can’t decide,” said Colton conversationally.
Flora froze. She picked up a hot toddy from the stove and sipped on it for a long time.
“And what did he say about that?” she said tightly, her throat constricted.
“Oh, you know lawyers,” said Colton. “Can’t get a straight answer out of any of them.”
This relieved her anxiety a little, but not entirely.
“You know I can’t stay forever,” she said.
“Ah, you’ll change your mind,” said Colton.
“Only for the summer,” she warned. “Until the nights draw in.”
“That’s what selkies always say,” said Mrs. Laird in passing.
“Shut up!”
In the parlor, someone had taken out a fiddle, which was a good sign if you wanted a party, but a bad sign if you hoped that anyone was leaving anytime soon.
“I can’t . . . That cattle transport?” said Fintan. “I got kicked nine times. Got shit all over me. I’m thirty-two years old and I can’t do this the rest of my life.”
Flora nodded.
“It can’t carry on anyway,” she said. “Not like this.”