The Sky Beneath Her(53)
My fingers curled into a fist. “I’m not going back.”
“Your husband would accept your child in your place. I could tell him you died giving birth. The child would settle my debt to him.”
“He won’t release your family. Or you. You have struck a devil’s bargain.”
She stared out over the water, her gaze growing distant before she leveled it back on me. “The man I’m traveling with also made a bargain with Alfred to escape Austria. And he can attest that Alfred’s reach is far.”
My inability to love this child did not mean I would treat it so cruelly. “I’m not giving you this child. I couldn’t condemn anyone to that life.”
“Consider my offer,” she said. “You were willing to make deals within the bookshop and at the river. This exchange is no different. I suspect now that you’ve had a taste of freedom, you would hate to give it up.”
Chapter Nineteen
Tula
Friday, June 12, 2026, 5:45 a.m.
I slept badly again last night. I dreamed of fighting through water up toward the surface, where the sun glistened. The ocean was all around me, clawing at my limbs, pulling me back down to the bottom.
Stay with me, the waters whispered. Stay with me forever.
I kicked and flailed and, finally, I burst through choppy waves. My chest heaved as I sucked in air.
Slowly the fear passed, and I realized I was on dry land. I was safe. The drip-drip of water in the bathroom sink echoed in the house. The pipes would require a plumber, but that was a problem for the next homeowner. The ordinary thought was oddly grounding.
Out of the bed, I grabbed my phone and walked to the kitchen, my oversize T-shirt brushing my thighs. At the sink, I rested my face in my hands, then turned on the coffee percolator. Today was the day. Today I’d go out on the boat with Nathan.
My phone dinged with a text from Kaitlin. How u doing?
She knew I was an early riser. If I could back out, I would.
Kaitlin: You’re an adult. You can go or not go. If you want to back out, then do it.
The ocean roared beyond the dunes. It was teasing me. Daring me to quit.
Me: No.
Kaitlin: Stubborn.
Me: Greatest asset. And weakness.
Kaitlin: You can change anything.
The percolator hissed as it heated, and I flexed stiff fingers.
Me: I need to do this.
Kaitlin: I know I’ve been pressing you, but you got nothing to prove.
Me: I do.
Kaitlin: That’s the old Tula.
I was glad I didn’t have to look her in the eye. She’d see the fear in my gaze.
Me: The Oceanus is just a lump of scrap metal in water. And the ocean can’t stalk me forever. Neither has power.
Kaitlin: The power is in you.
No, it was lurking off the coast.
Me: Right. Stay tuned. I’ve got to get dressed.
The percolator was painfully slow, so I dashed to my bedroom and rooted through drawers, searching for my swimsuit. Finally, I found it under jeans, and I dressed in a swimsuit, board shorts, and a T-shirt. My flip-flops weren’t by the front door, which cost me five more minutes. They were under the sofa. “Are you hiding my stuff?” I asked the house.
I grabbed my backpack and packed snacks, a towel, and a change of clothes.
As the sun rose over the ocean, I poured my first cup of coffee. Cradling the mug, I stepped outside to the patio and climbed to the deck on the dunes. The sky was a vivid blue, the air warm and thick with humidity.
I walked down the stairs over the dunes. On the beach, the sand sank between my toes as I walked toward the surf. A wave rushed toward me, stopping five inches short. I tipped my face toward the sun. “So beautiful. So dangerous.”
I drank my coffee, watching as more waves crashed. Finally, I turned back toward the dunes and the house. As I closed and locked the back door, a truck engine rumbled in the driveway. Through the window, I saw Nathan’s truck.
He slid out of the truck with ease. He wore shorts, a dark blue T-shirt, and flip-flops. I doubted the man had ever worn a suit. He knocked on the front door.
I opened it, realizing I was slightly excited to see him. “You’ve come all this way. Would you like the grand tour?”
“Yes, and if that’s coffee I smell, I’ll take a cup.”
“Sure.”
He stepped inside, his gaze scanning the small time capsule home. The linens, books, and boxes of papers remained stacked in the center. “How goes the clean-out process?”
“It’s getting there.” I walked toward the kitchen, retrieved a stoneware mug, filled it with coffee, and brought it to him. “As you can see, I’ve got a lot to sort through.”
He picked up a hardback book and studied the spine before looking at the collection. “Dr. Brooks was a history buff. Half is medieval; the rest is World War II.”
“I think he was an everything buff,” I said. “These books cover subjects from history to science to philosophy.”
“Can I see out the back?”
“Sure.” I led him to the back door, across the patio, and to the perch.
He sipped his coffee. “Stunning view.”
“I know. I remind myself how many people would love to enjoy this view.”
He nodded. “Hard to go back to a cubicle after this?”