if she felt differently? What if too much time had passed and really there was nothing left? Those fears were still there, but now a different idea overpowered them, driving her forward. What if they had shared a whole life together? What if he did still love her, despite the fact they hadn’t? And perhaps most important of all, what if they still had time for just one more wish?
Then
When she awoke from a fitful sleep, early before the sun had broken the monotony of the dark sky, she left her bedroom to find an atmosphere of regret hanging over the house. It was heavier than any winter sea mist that would soon embrace their part of the Cornish coastline. Her parents were still in bed, and she found that she didn’t want to be there alone. Grabbing her bag and a coat, she headed from the house, down toward the sea.
The view that greeted her was quite different from the endless black of the ocean that had tried to claim her mother only hours before. Sunshine graced the coastal road, trimmed with thatched cottages and granite roofs as first light broke the night. Gulls swooped and cawed overhead, circling above fishing boats stuffed with pollack and mackerel. Drifts of smoke rose from the chimneys of fishermen’s cottages, wives warming hearths to welcome their husbands home.
“Miss Davenport, would you do an old man a favor and come down here?” Elizabeth looked up to see Old Man Cressa. He was standing at the edge of his boat, the Princess of the Sea. It was a vessel built for one man, a lonely life of early starts, his working day over before most had begun. Two of his front teeth were missing, yet his smile was only enhanced by the depleted sum of incisors and the overgrown beard that skimmed the center of his chest. “I heard about what happened last night,” he said as he shook his head. His voice was soft, and seemed even softer as he asked, “How’s your mother doing this morning?”
“Much better, thank you. She was sleepwalking because of a fever.” He nodded, unquestioning of her lie. “Was the catch good?” she probed, changing the subject.
“Not up to much, if the truth be told. Last night’s storm stirred up the waters. The weather that will feed a farmer will starve a fisherman. Seems summer’s in for an early finish.” He tossed her the edge of a net, still wet with seaweed caught in the knots. He motioned for her to pull tight while he set about bundling the other end into a bucket. He nodded to her satchel draped across her body. “Isn’t it a little fresh for you to be out drawing at this time of the day? Shouldn’t you be at home helping your mother?”
“Perhaps,” she agreed. “But it’s about last night that I’m here. I was looking for Mr. Hale. Tom,” she added, feeling a little foolish using his first name, as if they were friends. She didn’t want to confuse Old Man Cressa with the implication she was looking for Tom’s father. Everybody knew him. He was the local drunk, could often be found slumped on a bench, or sheltering by the moored boats. That was why her father had been disappointed when he’d discovered that Tom was a Hale last night. His idea of what it meant to be a Hale just didn’t fit with Tom saving his wife. “Is he here?”
“Still out at the moment.” He nodded toward the water. “Why don’t you come back later, once the catch is in?”
“I’d rather wait, if that’s okay.” It was only right to thank him again for what he had done, but Elizabeth also knew it wasn’t just that. It was something she couldn’t describe; thinking of him made her smile, made her wonder what it might feel like to have him smile back at her. What would it be like to meet with him in his own life, rather than embroiled in the momentary turmoil of her own?
“Then you’d better get yourself into the lifeboat station. You can keep warm in there until he’s back. Doors are open.” He looked over at the gently rolling sea. The view was better now, the light already stronger. “Shouldn’t be too long.”
* * *
Elizabeth bid farewell to Old Man Cressa and did as she was told, entering the lifeboat station via the heavy front door and down the steps. It was dark inside, quite different