The Ship Beyond Time (The Girl from Everywhere #2)
By: Heidi Heilig
But as time passed and the captain improved, Nix’s demeanor did not. If anything, she grew more troubled, chewing her nails to stubs, pulling so hard on the pendant I’d given her that the chain bit the back of her neck.
So after I finished my chores early on the third day, I joined her in hers. Nix was on deck, sewing up the bullet holes in the mainsail. I watched her for a while, but she didn’t raise her eyes. “Your seams are crooked,” I said at last, coming to sit beside her. I reached for the bundle of canvas she held. “Give it here.”
She met my gaze then, and something in her look froze my smile. But she pursed her lips and handed me the needle. Under her scrutiny, I made doubly sure each row was perfect. “Slate should have had you do his ribs,” she said at last, her mouth twisting in a wry smile.
“Oh, he did.”
“Ugh.”
She gave a dramatic shudder, and I laughed, tying off the thread. “I might be cocky too, if I knew it couldn’t kill me.”
I waited for her response—“Might be?” The joke was so easy to make. But instead of laughter, there was a small sound from her, like a word caught in her throat. I looked up to see her anguished face—and were those tears, standing in her eyes?
“Amira?” I threw aside the canvas to take her hand, which was precisely the moment Bee decided to climb through the hatch.
“My children!” Bee’s voice was a rasp over the ropy scar at her throat, covered now by a stranded necklace. She glanced at our fingers, entwined, and winked. “Working hard, I see.”
Nix pulled back her hand to dash it across her eyes. “Nearly done with the sails.”
“Mmm.” Bee took in Nix’s expression. Then she turned to me, and the scars dotting her brow emphasized her frown.
I gave her an innocent look, and I wasn’t even pretending. Whatever was bothering Nix was nothing I had done—at least, so I hoped. “Where are you off to?” I asked Bee, to remind her that she was leaving. “All dressed up.”
Her frown melted away. “I finished my own repairs, so I’m taking my wife out to celebrate. It’s a great day for us.”
“Oh?”
“With young Blake aboard, we now have three children.” Bee’s chest filled with pride. “Our marriage is finally tied.”
“Congratulations, Bee.” Nix’s smile was real, and I was glad to see it, even if it wasn’t for me. “Are you taking her dancing?”
“Too early for that. Ayen wants ice cream—yes, yes,” Bee added, but not to us. “A triple scoop with the rainbow sprinkles, I heard you. I told her she has no stomach, but she never listens to me.”
“That’s how you’ve stayed married so long,” I said—another easy joke, but at least Nix laughed this time. Bee only swatted at me, still grinning even though she missed. Then she turned on her heel, walking down the gangplank by herself, but not alone.
Bee and Ayen were the only married people I knew—or instead I should say, the only married couple: Ayen was a ghost, slain by a jealous man soon after their wedding. But they were happy together, still in love after so many years. Too bad Nix could not take their example closer than her father’s.
“We should do something nice for them,” she said then.
“For who?”
“For Bee and Ayen. To celebrate.”
“What’s better than a triple scoop with rainbow sprinkles?”
Now Nix swatted at me, but instead of slipping away, I caught her fingers in mine. “She helped throw me a party for my theft day,” she said. “It’s important.”
“I know, I know.” I considered the plan, despite the distraction of her hand. Had I ever held such wealth in my palm? But a celebration would be welcome, after the last few weeks—it might lift everyone’s mood, including Nix’s. “I’ll finish mending this last tear. You go below and tell Rotgut we’re having a feast. Get him to pick up a roast. Maybe something from that barbecue place in Williamsburg?”
“Good idea.”
“Of course it is. And you and I . . .” I trailed off, drawing my thumb over her knuckles. Courage, Kashmir! “You and I should . . . we should—”
“Go to Chinatown.”
“What?”
“We should go to Chinatown,” she repeated firmly, though her eyes flicked left, then right. “There are good bakeries there. I can pick up some cakes and the like. For the party.”
“Ah yes,” I said, nonplussed. Chinatown in summer was not the most romantic choice, the pavement slick with the melting ice of the open fish markets, and the smoggy haze of the bridge traffic hanging in the air, but I hadn’t been quick enough on the draw. Still, SoHo was nearby, with little boutiques and cafés. I could work with that. “Chinatown it is.”