Chapter 1 ~ If Everything Were Perfect
North of the Windborne enclave of Tern Bay, on the Irish Sea
Early September, three weeks before the Autumnal Equinox Festival
A morning mist shrouded the Scottish coast, something Salm of the Seas liked to think of as his doing, a cover for him on his rounds. Truth was, it had nothing to do with magic, only the nights getting cooler as autumn came on.
The fog was, nonetheless, appreciated. If it hid Salm, or his arrival at this fishing boat for this surprise inspection, all the better. Honestly, he’d considered mutiny when Pop had assigned him to check out these sailors alone.
His only partners in this—backup, safety net or whatever he should call them on any given day—swam beneath the waves. The dolphins’ torpedo-shaped bodies broke the surface at intervals, leading his flight through the damp fog.
See-low, the pod leader, sent him a message. Close. A distant splash against a boat’s hull confirmed how close.
Stay underwater, Salm thought-spoke through his magic. Position around the boat. At his command, his trained dolphins could haul a rope, rock the hull or cause some distraction if he needed help.
The animals dispersed, and Salm flew cautiously forward. Most of the Windborne fishing boats the Seas family monitored abided by the conservation practices that they set out on the cooperative fishing waters. He and his father, Dolph, suspected that these witches did not.
After Salm’s visit two weeks ago to collect their daily catch report—which had been brow-raisingly lower than any of the other boats working in the same area—they’d decided a surprise inspection a day early might reveal more. Pop was making his own inspection of another questionable fisherman, accompanied by another of their pods.
More sounds carried from the boat: the whine of the lobster creel hauler and then the thunk of a trap hitting a worktable. Salm slowed to the barest flutter of his feathered wings so he wouldn’t blunder into their craft. The fog might as well have been his mother’s chowder. Aye, it would hide his arrival, but then again, it might affect his ability to see what the witches were doing.
Pop had assigned him the smaller craft with fewer people on board. Captain Penny was new to their waters last season, though she’d come from a fishing family. Using the boat inherited from her father, she’d been friendly and agreeable as she set about teaching her daughters the business. On Mondays, she had another job. Without her on the boat, this could be a trickier confrontation.
The younger sister, Maeve, flirted awfully and hadn’t stopped despite Salm telling her outright that he was seeing another lass. Even if he hadn’t been, courting Maeve wasn’t an option for him. Over a year ago, he and Maeve had tried merging their magic, but neither got along. She was willing to overlook that. He wasn’t.
Those months had been a low point in his search for a partner. His ornery blue magic hadn’t merged with anyone’s…until he’d tried with Luna. His relief had soared with the gulls. Throughout the gray of winter, trapped with his parents and sister on the schooner, he’d come to fear his magic wouldn’t cooperate with anyone’s, he’d never have a special someone, he’d never have a family. Maybe at eighteenth year he shouldn’t be thinking of those things, but after he’d checked the magic of more than a dozen witches, it’d begun to weigh on his mind that his older sisters had made courting look easy.
The gray silhouette of the boat emerged. Silently, he flapped higher and sent his family his status: Arrived.
From their family’s schooner, Ma answered and so did his younger sister, Coral. We’ve also sighted the boat we’re to inspect, she sent. Coral was tailing Pop, learning the ropes to approaching wily fishermen.
Salm hovered above the deckhouse. Below, the witches sorted through a trap’s catch, tossing some overboard—likely crabs and undersize lobsters—and placing the keepers in a crate. He didn’t see a gauge being used, but some folks did their measuring after the complete fleet of traps were hauled up, when the boat turned and the line of traps sank again to the seabed.
Maeve re-baited the trap, secured its hatches and handed it off to her older sister, Pauly, who stacked it with the others in the stern. Under the whine of the creel hauler that Maeve had started again, Salm lowered lightly to the roof of the deckhouse and folded his wings over the back of his rain slicker. Hope they don’t look up.
The rope pulled up another dripping trap. Maeve leaned over the hull and manhandled the bulky D-shaped thing to the worktable.
Same thing again, Maeve dinnae inspect the bigger lobsters for eggs and none of them were returned. Salm watched for a third trap. Naught large released. Maeve finished filling the crate, moved it to midship and covered it. Not good. Odds were that out of three traps, at least one of those lobsters was a berried hen.
Aye, with the lobster season peaking, folks were busy. No time for recordkeeping, but apparently plenty of time to sneak around the rules that prohibited keeping the females with eggs carried on their undersides that would soon be ready to spawn.
Had he ever looked through their crates before? The top crates, but likely not the others. The Seas tended to trust their fishermen to follow the rules. When he’d seen the discrepancy in the catch reports, Salm’s gut had clenched. The data from dozens of boats over decades of lobstering didn’t lie. He should have been conducting more thorough inspections, rather than being in a hurry to escape Maeve’s flirting.
Had it been a ruse to distract him?
Salm scrubbed his fingers through the beard he was growing. Last year, he’d been quite distractible when it came to lasses. He’d joked with them and laughed at their flirting. Today, he had to convince them he meant business.
As the creel hauler whined again, he lifted off the roof and let the boat drift out from under him. Might be collecting berried hens, he sent to his family. I’m gonna go down and check.
Blast, those greedy folks, Coral answered first. What right do they think they have to compromise our fisheries?
They’ve only been at fishing a year, Ma sent. They probably don’t realize how important the rules are.
Coral grumbled something in return. Pop didn’t answer.
Salm dropped lower to come in at boat level and flew up to the craft, calling, “Ahoy!”
The older sister looked up, met his gaze and dropped the trap she was carrying onto the others. He winced. The old-style wooden ones didn’t take that kind of abuse without damage.
“Have a care, Pauly,” Maeve shouted above the noise of the hauler without turning.
“Hoy, Salm,” Pauly called loudly, as if issuing a warning—ha.
The whine cut off, and Maeve swung around, leaving the next trap tilted over the gunwale. Both lasses had the wide eyes of a tuna being run down by a dolphin.
He and Pop had been right. Now he just had to get his hands on an illegal berried hen.
Pauly darted a glance back to Maeve, then planted her fists on her hips. “Aren’t you a day early?”
Salm landed next to the covered lobster crate before either could block him. “Aye, I suppose. We’re busy this time of year and need the catch numbers to make a decision,” he said politely, not daring to look down at the crate. “I can wait while you fill in the form. Just need through yesterday.”
Pauly eyed him, then turned for the deckhouse. “Hold on.”
Quickly, Salm lifted the cover off the lobster crate. All were dorsal side up, and he didn’t want to start an argument by flipping and looking for eggs on spinnerets if he was wrong. “One or two look borderline small,” he said and felt in his slicker pocket for his gauge.
“See here,” Pauly said. “We do our sorting after. Makes the hauling go faster. Right, Maeve?”
Then Maeve was there, gripping his arm and leaning into him.
“Fine.” Salm brushed off her hand. “But let’s have a look, part of our checks. It’s in the fishing agreement you signed.”
Pauly stormed up. “Did you lay a hand on my sister?”
“What? No!” Blessed Orb. The accusation flustered him, but only for a moment. “I’m here to do my job. You can either let me inspect this catch here, or we’ll head in and do it on the dock in Tern Bay.”
“I—uh…” Pauly met Maeve’s gaze—unmistakably thought-speaking with her—and a flash of light erupted.
Their magic hurled Salm over the gunwales and into the sea. The cold water stunned him. Then the life jacket he wore under his slicker tugged him upward, and a familiar prodding hit his shoulder.
Help? See-low asked.
Bilge-sucking catfish. Salm surfaced, spitting salt water. Blimey, he’d been caught unaware.
Splat. Splat. Lobsters were raining down.
Retrieve! Retrieve! he ordered the dolphins, and the water churned, excited squeaks filling Salm’s head.
“Wizard overboard,” Maeve crowed, and a life buoy landed near his chest.
He stared at it. I dinnae want to give her more satisfaction. But he felt like a drowned bird with his wings sopping like this. After shielding himself from Maeve’s and Pauly’s magic, he grabbed the ring, not making eye contact, because without a doubt he’d say something he’d regret. He didn’t kick a single stroke, making the scallywags pull him in. At the side of the boat, he used magic to dry his wings, drew in their energy and dissolved them before he climbed on board.
He checked the lobsters in the now-half-empty crate before accepting the catch record that Pauly shoved at him.
“Anything else?” She smirked.
Aye, they thought they’d keelhauled him in this. See-low? he asked.
Retrieved.
“May I borrow a bucket?” Salm answered, and once they gave him one, he flew out twenty feet. He drew in his wings and dropped into the water again, calling, Bring here.
The dolphins filled the bucket with lobsters, and he had to magically net an additional three, each lobster a female with thousands of eggs under her tail. Those larvae represented the future of their fisheries. Once they hatched in the sea, some would provide feed for dozens of marine species, and in seven years or so, the rest would become lobsters big enough to harvest.
Salm belly-crawled onto See-low to get his back out of the water, magicked out his wings and dried himself again before lifting airborne. “These came from your boat,” he shouted back to Maeve and Pauly. “Finish your haul of this line of traps and meet me on the dock.”
“You can’t prove those lobsters came from our boat,” Maeve cried.
“She means,” Pauly said, “that your dolphins brought those from the seabed!”
“It’s my word against yours, and that’s good enough to put you on probation for thirty days.” Which wouldn’t be nearly long enough after this insult—
Orb curse it! Beyond them duping him, this was a strike against him. He hadn’t checked all the crates every time he’d been aboard this boat, an inexcusable loss to their fisheries that might have been caught months ago.
Taking one last look at the boat and the angry lasses, Salm knew he had to tell Pop. He’d go through the embarrassing explanation and take the public blame before the Tern Bay and Isle of Giuthas councils, because maybe Pop would have other ideas on how to snare these two for a stronger punishment.
Teach them to knock me overboard!
Chapter 2 ~ Tacking Toward Perfect
Salm called his family during the flight into town. Pop met him at the dock. Before the council and an aerated tank of seawater holding nine berried hens, Salm sat with Pop through the sisters’ harsh arguments. Then, upon their mother’s arrival, the claim that her girls didn’t lie.
This was going exactly as he’d feared.
It worsened when Pop asked for the town clerk to read back Salm’s statement, and he dragged his fingertips through his beard, listening again to the humiliating tale of the dunking.
“Please send for Pete Smith,” Pop said. “He’s my second cousin once removed. Have someone go with him to our mooring on North Dock and call up our dolphins for their statement. Pete should understand enough of it.”
Keenan, one of the council elders, did as Pop asked, wrote out Mr. Smith’s translation of See-low’s version of the boat inspection and brought the statement to the town hall. The newcomers hadn’t realized that the word of a dolphin would hold in this enclave. The council suspended the sisters from their waters for this season and the next, which meant their mother could fish only with another crew.
Salm collected the lobsters while Pop signed the papers for the enclaves. At least he wouldn’t be running into Maeve anytime soon. If only Luna would agree to become my partner. His work would be easier. His days would be freer. I’d have someone to confide in, someone who knows me and would help me stand up for what’s right.
He and Pop walked down to the dock to direct the dolphins before they flew back to The Peaceful Seas.
“How was your inspection?” Salm asked. “Didn’t interrupt it, did I?”
“We’d just finished. The fellow had sprained his ankle and coerced his twin brother to collect his catches for those weeks to keep up their income.”
The brother hadn’t understood that he wouldn’t be penalized for good hauls and had lied on the report. They laughed over that. The fisherman swore everything else had been done according to their practices and submitted the true report. “He checked out fine today,” Pop added.
“That leaves only one family out of sorts.” Salm rolled his eyes. “In these lasses’ eyes, I’ve pillaged their take and forced them to seek other work. I wouldn’t put it past Maeve to tell the entire town she tossed me overboard.”
North Dock was fairly empty of boats when they reached their usual mooring spot. With no one to overhear, Pop said, “A dunking isn’t the worst that could have happened to you, though it certainly doesn’t represent us well.”
“I ken,” Salm muttered. “But they’d never have blasted me if I’d had someone else with me.”
“I glean you don’t mean your sister. A partner, like your sister Wind now has in Bass?”
Salm nodded glumly. “I need time off to convince Luna to bond with me.” When he’d confided his dream of owning and living aboard a schooner like his parents, Luna had protested that she couldn’t leave her sisters. She didn’t explain why. Luna didn’t explain much about her family life.
“I don’t understand why Luna can’t leave home. The youngest sister is eleventh year, and their father works from home. It’s not like we’d be moving to Ireland. Luna could see her family every week or so. She loves me, I know she does. But I haven’t even formally met her father.”
“How does Luna feel about your work?” Pop had met Luna when Salm’d shown her the schooner.
Salm couldn’t answer.
“This work isn’t easy,” Pop said quietly. “’Tis a way of life you embrace like your one sister has, or leave like your other sister did. Have you told Luna about these less glamorous bits of our work?”
Salm didn’t answer. Some, but probably not enough.
“I’m sure I do nae need to remind you to dress for town when you go calling,” Pop said. “And a trim of your beard wouldn’t hurt either.”
“I ken,” Salm growled. He didn’t need these reminders at eighteenth year.
“She’s certainly willing to spend a day with you.” Pop nudged his side. “See if the lass will expand that. Your ma and I aren’t working the week of Fest, so you could have off, too. Suggest to Luna that you spend it together and see what she says.”
Salm grinned. “I’ll do that.” But his happiness lasted only moments before he sobered. “I should have been checking all of Captain Penny’s crates, every visit.”
“Are you doing so aboard every other craft?”
Salm kicked a pebble off the deckwalk. “The easier folks, I do. Several…” He counted. “Five captains give me a hard time. Another reason I’d like the backup.”
“Our habitat canna maintain its productivity if hundreds of berried hens are taken each season.”
Salm knew that and what he had to do to right this. “I have five more surprise inspections to conduct today.”
Pop clapped him on the back. “Aye, mate. For my part, I will vary up our schedule so none know when to expect a visit in the future. If a bit more work is needed to run the figures differently, then I’ll do it not to have folks dodge our policies.” Pop lifted his chin toward the lighthouse. “After, see the lass if you can.”
Aye, that was a plan. Seeing Luna would put the wretched morning with Maeve and Pauly from his mind. While they rewarded the dolphins with baitfish magicked from their supplies, Salm listed the captains of the boats he had yet to inspect, and his father suggested a few no-nonsense phrases to use.
“Until the end of the season,” Pop said, “I expect you to conduct full inspections and submit a written report for each.”
Orb curse it. His sixteenth-year sister had to make written reports. He hadn’t made them since seventeenth year, when he’d passed his trial. Salm opened his mouth and closed it. The end of the season was in December. This was Pop’s version of probation. If Salm couldn’t enforce their conservation policies, it wouldn’t matter that he’d grown up learning these ropes and wanted a life on the sea. As the Seas habitat manager, his father would deny Salm permission to work from his own boat until he had a better reputation among the fishermen.
“I ken,” Salm muttered, and with a wave, Pop left.
Salm lay on the dock and gave himself a few minutes of petting the dolphins to clear his head before he contacted Luna. His close-knit family hadn’t learned all of his secrets, like how it was the blessing of fair winds that he and Luna had easily mastered thought-speaking. That was one of the benefits that’d come with merging their energy so bloody well that he’d wanted to announce the magical achievement to every wizard he knew.
But he didn’t dare. Luna might set his magic looping his channels, but she hadn’t agreed to live with him on board a boat or bond. Both were naggingly significant details. Despite his nineteenth birthday approaching, he couldn’t get his own craft until he and his partner trained with his family and proved they could sail together in the worst of weather. Meanwhile, if either of them slipped up and let anyone suspect the depth of their merging outside a sanctioned Windborne bonding agreement—especially if her father caught wind—that would end the best thing to ever happen to him.
Luna?
Hmm, Salm?
Asleep?
Just drowsing. I’ve had hours of sleep because Papa took over watching the beacon for me last night. I have a job in town midday.
He could imagine her white-blond curls against the pillowcase and had to shake the image away. I’m free later, he sent her. Meet me? I’ll get Manta’s boat if you’d like a sail.
I’d like that, she replied, and they made the arrangements.
It took some hustling, but the pending meeting with Luna made him more efficient in approaching and inspecting the fishermen. Before the appointed time, he had his maps magicked from his cabin and his sister Manta’s Sunfish sailboat rigged. Luna arrived at North Dock looking a dream, her fluffy hair captured beneath a broad sunhat and the lacy hem of her gauzy blue top fluttering around her linen trousers.
Spells, she looks so good. Even cocooned in a life jacket.
She flashed him a smile, her gray eyes hidden behind sunglasses, but her cheeks lifted, her head tilted impishly—
Orb take it, had he pushed that thought to her?
Aye, he had. He grinned back and stopped short of kissing her when she boarded the boat. He’d learned that lesson a year ago after hailing her in town. It was months before she’d acknowledged him again and weeks before he learned that she felt her pale skin and hair garnered enough extra attention without drawing more.
They set sail. Out on the open ocean, she leaned toward him on a long tack and chastely kissed his cheek before turning her face into the wind and sighing.
Enjoying yourself? he asked.
Quite.
They jibed southward against the wind so the return trip would be faster and were a cove past Kittiwake Point and the lighthouse before she turned to him again.
“I appreciate the opportunity to get out. Papa has been most difficult the last week.”
“Because of me?”
“I’ve mentioned you, but…” She shrugged. “He’s on us all about tidying up, which isn’t an awful goal, except it’s coming as I’ve had folks asking me to do home repairs in town. I need my own income, which Papa hasn’t been able to argue down. Independence from him will allow me to build a life separate from Kittiwake Point. With Fest upcoming, I’ve had more inquiries.”
“Maybe ’tis his way of preparing so he can enjoy the festivities,” Salm murmured. This was as good an opening as any to ask her. “I have the week off at Fest. Would you like to spend time with me?”
Luna rolled her eyes. “If Papa doesn’t find some errand or task he insists needs doing.”
That was a yes, but answer. If he was going to succeed at convincing Luna they should bond, then he needed to draw her away from this town—for surely she’d take any opportunities for work that came up that week if they didn’t leave. Besides, he wanted to feel like they were permanently together, and here, in Tern Bay, they couldn’t act like they were. Folks knew they weren’t. They’d draw looks. Possibly be reported. Depending on the individuals, wizards merging their magic could produce powerful energy. Thus, local authorities demanded the licensing records to track who was with whom in case of unexplained spells. To not be formally licensed was viewed as sneaking around.
Feeling as if a school of fish swam through his gut, Salm asked, “How about you go away with me?”
Luna eyed him.
Blessed Orb, she was going to say no. His stomach fish scattered.
“Where?” she asked.
Salm loosened the lines and let the sails go limp so they were drifting in the water. He retrieved his map case, unrolled the local map between them and pointed to several Windborne enclaves up the coast of Scotland or down to England that they might sail to.
Though her shoulder was against his now, she laced her fingers and rubbed her thumb over an old shiny scar on her wrist, half hidden by a woven rope bracelet that he’d made for her. “If we are on a boat, I feel you may spend our time pushing for me to come aboard your parents’ schooner.”
Aye, it might be hard not to. “Then…” He scanned over the map at the inland enclaves. “Bonterra is so big no one will know us. Or Loch Galloway is closer, though smaller.”
“Loch Galloway.” She nodded. “I’ve always wanted to see it. And we can rent a boat and do a day sail there, which should also satisfy you.”
She’d agreed. Salm thrust the map aside and pulled her into his arms—as close as their life jackets allowed—and gave her the kiss he’d wanted to bestow upon her earlier. His energy swirled up, blue and strong and eager. Luna didn’t disappoint him. Her silver magic frolicked over. They merged, magic combining in sparks and sizzles—all from his energy.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m the luckiest scallywag alive and can’t wait to have you to myself.”
“We’re fairly to ourselves here,” she whispered back.
They kissed, so deeply Salm’s mind careened into the waves…
Then Luna was shaking herself free. “The shore,” she choked out.
Hoy, the sound he’d thought was their energy was the surf and the gulls crying along the shoals. Salm snatched up the lines and the tiller and steered them seaward once more. Thank the Orb Manta’s craft wasn’t a keelboat. “How did you realize that?” he asked.
Luna laughed. “The birdcalls. These are your boating skills that you want me to put my life into?”
“Mine are beyond adequate when I’m nae distracted.” He side-glanced at her. “Maybe for the first month or so, we’ll stay at anchor in some hidden cove. Fishing for our dinner and only going to town when we run out of cornmeal and eggs.”
“Sounds delightful.” She scooted along the hull to sit beside him again, her arm around his back. “I’ll get the time off at Fest, but you have to look respectable meeting Papa.”
Salm’s stomach lurched again. “Meet him… Are you sure?”
“I-I hope.” She stroked a hand over his jaw. “Maybe shave?”
Well… It would be a small price to pay if Luna was agreeing. Salm cupped
his hand over hers and kissed her palm. Shivers of her energy tickled at his
lips. He grinned. “I can do that.”
Chapter 3 ~ Agreeing to the Impossible
Windborne enclave of Tern Bay, on the coast of Scotland
Mid-September, the week before the Autumnal Equinox Festival
Luna twisted her screwdriver clockwise, tightening the setscrew on the sink handle. She tested it, then cranked the cutoff valve.
“That’s it?” demanded Lady Anemone, who’d been hovering in the doorway since she’d ushered Luna to the leaky loo sink.
“Should be.” Luna turned on the faucet. The cold water sputtered a moment, then ran. She turned it off. Then on again. Off and on. It stopped clean each time. She washed her hands and dried them on the towel she kept in the pocket of her coveralls.
Lady Anemone uncrossed her arms. “Well, I’ll be. Scallop was right. You are as quick as lightning with a repair.”
Luna smiled, but inside gave a little sigh as she wrote the bill for the washer replacement on her receipt pad. Older folks in town had trouble accepting a woman who was handy around the house with things other than cooking and cleaning. She handed over the bill, and while Lady Anemone got her trade card, Luna packed away her tools.
After the exchange notes were magically credited and Luna’s card was tucked into her tool bag, Lady Anemone eyed her speculatively.
Luna knew that look. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can help you with.”
“Do you have an extra few minutes?”
This was common, too—and a little annoying. Folks tested whether she could do one repair before revealing the list of everything they actually needed her to do. Besides being a woman, she was too young, they thought, at nineteenth year to be this skilled. She couldn’t pass up a chance to completely win over Lady Anemone—being the town healer, the woman was a conduit for gossip in Tern Bay. If Luna pleased her, then word would definitely get around.
“Of course,” Luna answered, careful to use her most pleasant tone.
“Come along.” At the back door, Lady Anemone picked up her shawl, and Luna pushed her sunhat over the puffy ponytail tethering her curls.
She followed Lady Anemone across the back garden and down the alley. A few clucking chickens followed along for several houses until Lady Anemone shooed them away and opened the gate at the last one. The pale green house and bright yellow outbuildings in the enormous garden belonged to Mr. Smith. Luna knew who he was, same as she knew everyone in town, though she had never formally met the older man.
Lady Anemone climbed the back stoop and rapped sharply on the door. “Pete?” she called, then in a lower voice added, “A recent patient. Stumbled down the stairs.”
Waiting, Luna surveyed the sea beyond the bay for signs of the Seas’ schooner. Guillemots, cormorants and kittiwakes, but no sails. She’d hoped to see Salm before she headed home, even though he’d told her they’d dock near dusk, and that was hours away.
A robust man with his arm in a sling and his wrist wrapped came to the door.
Lady Anemone beamed proudly. “I’ve found your help.”
“Keeper Jonah’s lass?”
Luna froze her smile, though she wished someone, anyone, in town would acknowledge her by her name. They certainly remembered it, since she was Jonah’s lass with skin and hair as white as the full moon.
“Dinnae let that trick your mind. She’s capable, and everyone else in town is busy setting up for Fest, and I will nae come for tea again today and listen to you complain about that flat nae being ready to let out again.” She pointed. “Or that garden spigot. You canna be wrestling with your slipshod backup with that wrist sprain.”
Luna craned to see what was slipshod—oh. Water dripped into an overflowing bucket sinking into the muddy ground.
Pete Smith eyed her, the way most folks assessed her ability to do their repairs. Even Lady Anemone. He turned back to the older woman. “Ye could skip tea, if ye like.”
Lady Anemone huffed. “I will not. The spigot will be my treat. Luna?”
Mr. Smith grimaced.
Oh, this exchange was too funny. She forced herself not to smile. “Where is your cutoff? In the cellar?”
“Upon the Orb, I’ll have no peace. Fine, you seem to know what you’re about. ’Tis below.” He led the way to the sloping cellar door at the side of the house, but when he reached for the handle, Lady Anemone caught his good arm.
“Don’t you dare. I don’t need you repeating your antics. This lass can do it.”
Wrestling loose, Mr. Smith put up a finger. “No magic?” he asked Luna.
“No magic,” Luna confirmed. It was Tern Bay’s town policy, but it didn’t hurt for both of them to be up front. “All my repairs are true physical. Anything I work on can be manipulated by anyone else.” Magical repairs often were jury-rigged things that another repair wizard wouldn’t touch.
Luna found the cutoff and replaced the washer, thoroughly muddying the knees of her coveralls and likely her trousers beneath. It was worth it for the entertainment of Lady Anemone badgering her neighbor in the lovely, sunny garden. The older woman didn’t hesitate to speak her mind, so unlike what Luna herself would do.
With the water on again, she confirmed the spigot was free of leaks, then emptied the bucket of water onto a row of late spinach.
When she returned, Mr. Smith had a key in his hand, and Lady Anemone waved her to follow them to the cart shed at the back corner of the garden. On one side, a sturdy wooden staircase took them to a newer upper level that overlooked North Dock, and Luna scanned the northern horizon again while Mr. Smith unlocked the door. Inside, the sunlight streamed through the many windows, falling brightly over furniture pulled to the center and covered with paint cloths in a combination sitting room and kitchen.
Luna removed her hat and looked around. “What a sweet little place.”
“It should be,” Mr. Smith grumbled. “However, my tenant moved out a week ago, leaving me with a list of repairs he never wanted to bother me with. Of course, now I canna do them and will miss my chance to at least rent the place during Fest and possibly even attract a new permanent tenant.” He jiggled another doorknob across the room. The glass-paned door onto a small porch flew open. “This one latches only half the time. Don’t know if ye can replace the knob, but I’ve got one there.”
She plucked it out of a box on the counter. “Looks doable. And the other items?” She pulled out a showerhead and a tube of caulk.
He handed her a paper from his sling. “Replace that and the tub caulking, closet door is stuck open, drawer knobs are loose. The place could use a new coat of paint, but I…” He glanced at Lady Anemone.
“Not for two months.”
Mr. Smith looked at the ceiling. “If ye could handle the other repairs today, and I’m nae able to let it immediately, perhaps ye could paint? How much would each be?”
She tested the drawers and closet door. “Let me have a peek in the loo.” Heading down the hall, she added up the time it’d take. He had all the materials, which made the entire job easier. In the bathroom, she studied the tub. Because of the trip with Salm, she couldn’t offer to paint. When she’d asked for this week off from monitoring the lighthouse, she hadn’t told Papa she planned to spend it with Salm. Neither did Papa know they were going to Loch Galloway, but he would…right before they left.
As much as she wanted to go, she’d been dreading the conversation with Papa. She had to have it at the right time, when Papa wasn’t drinking. He’d started keeping whiskey at home this summer, just when she’d gotten serious with Salm. Luna hadn’t asked her father directly if that was the reason, and none of her sideways questioning had gotten him to confess what was bothering him. She hadn’t dared to bring it up with her younger sisters.
“Is it that bad, dear?” Lady Anemone called from the hall.
“Aye,” she muttered. “Who will care for Stella if I leave home for good?” Her youngest sister would be without her for five days while she was gone with Salm… If only Papa hadn’t started drinking. That was another conversation—
Lady Anemone poked her head around the doorjamb. “Are you all right?”
Luna startled. The caulking—she really looked at it now. “Uh, fine, thanks.” She ran a fingernail along the tattered edge. “It looks half out already. No water damage below, is there?”
On the ground level, they checked the cart shed with a torch and found no signs of water. Mr. Smith seemed suitably impressed that she’d thought of this and agreed to her fee for the repairs. “Could you also do the painting?”
“I might be able to,” Luna said, surprising herself. Why had she said that when she was to go away with Salm? She was looking forward to the trip…she thought. Five days with Salm also meant he’d have time to pressure her for an answer. She liked Salm. A lot. She just wasn’t sure his plans for the future were right for her. Leaving her sisters, living on a schooner…
She hadn’t seen him in two weeks, but now that work was coming her way, she hated to pass it up. She plastered on a smile for Mr. Smith and said, “I’ll check my lighthouse schedule.”
There. That would give her time to sort through her own confused thoughts about Salm and whether she truly should go away with him.
~~~
Keepers of the Sea Cliffs released January 23, 2020!
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