Droplets (DROPLETS Trilogy Book 1) (12 page)

     For a moment we avoided looking at one another and then I cleared my throat. The sound was much louder than I expected it to be.

     “You know, I could’ve slept on the bench or the floor.” My hand gestured feebly while I tried to meet his gaze. “You didn’t have to give me your bed.”

    He smiled, and the difference was amazing. His face lit up and all the tension which had been in his body after Kryssa mentioned her father left his shoulders.

     “Yes, I could’ve done that,” his voice ran over me in a smooth wave. “But it wouldn’t have been very gentlemanly.”
Gentlemanly?

     “Still, I feel bad for taking your bed.” Again my voice sounded weak compared to his, but the light in his eyes reassured me.

     “I was fine—I slept in the guest room.” My eyebrows scrunched and he noticed. “The guest room is in one of the other cabins,” he explained for my benefit. But I knew from the sound of his feet pacing, and the dark circles under his eyes, that he hadn’t slept all night.

     “Oh,” was all I could say.

     He inhaled deeply and I raised my eyes to his warm brown ones. “I could show you around if you’d like. For the time being you’ll stay in the guest room. I would have put you there last night, but I was afraid the night air would wake you if I carried you across the walkway.”

     A pinch formed in my stomach as he mentioned carrying me, and his eyes moved slightly from mine realizing what he had admitted.

     “Yes,” I said acting as though I hadn’t noticed. “I’d love to see the rest of the house.”

     He smiled once more and walked toward a side door in the wall that I hadn’t seen previously. The sunlight was blinding once he opened the door, and I caught myself staring with my mouth open as he stepped onto the flat wooden walkway that led to the next cabin. He walked smoothly, and the wind lifted his golden brown hair in a gentle flutter.

     My heart pumped faster than I wanted to admit, and it took a moment for me to realize he had stopped to turn around and look at me. Heat flooded my cheeks and a smile entered his eyes. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly and then his right eye winked at me quickly.

     Wondering at the sudden change in his manner toward me, I hesitated. This was a different person than the one I had met last night, and I found myself all the more curious about him.

    “This way,” he said, a definite smile in his voice.

12. Water

That night I lay in the guest room, positive that I was never going to fall asleep again. My mind was reeling with all sorts of crazy, and yet in some way believable, ideas.

     Rolling onto my side, I stared out the open window. I just couldn’t believe what I had seen and heard today. I was now one hundred percent positive that Patrick was not normal. He was different, but I couldn’t figure out why. His behavior was both friendly and yet cautious, as though he feared me. But even odder was the life he lived on this island all alone.

     Earlier when he led me around the three cabins, I couldn’t ignore the facts of how abnormal his life was. The first room he had shown me was the one in which I now lay. The second was a workshop filled with wooden furniture and hand carved wooden animals. The area reminded me of the carvings I had seen in his bedroom earlier in the morning, but this cabin allowed him more space to work. 

     The third and final room was filled with shelves and stacks upon stacks of books. I spent more time in this space than any of the others. The titles he had were incredible; some dated back to the renaissance while others were more recent. I got lost in a stack of books, feeling as though I was in a different century, and never wanted to resurface. After seeing how much I enjoyed the room, Patrick kindly offered me free reign and allowed me to read whatever I wanted. A stack of books currently rested beside my bed in the guest room waiting to be read.

     With an exasperated sigh I went through my thoughts once more. There were only a few options which seemed to make sense, but not one correlated with everything I had witnessed. He could be the grateful subject of a well-endowed relative, but why live alone on an island? There was the possibility of him being a shipwreck victim, but he had friends who visited so why stay here? And who was Kryssa’s father? Why did she visit the island instead of living on it? My mind ran in circles, but focused on one pervading thought. What if Patrick was a merman? Although he was different from Morven, the harshness that he showed on the cliff the day I met him reminded me of this new world I was now a part of.  But if he was a merman, why would he always have a dagger strapped to his forearm? Wouldn’t he have blades like Morven?

     Again a sigh of frustration escaped my lips while these thoughts ran around and around in my head. It wasn’t until pale morning light began to creep through the window that I finally fell asleep; I dreamt of brown eyes and houses hanging in the trees.

_______________

     When I awoke the next morning, I felt more tired than when I had gone to sleep. I threw the covers off my body, straightened my clothes and looked around the room.

     The windows of this guest room were wide, letting sunlight in from all sides. The bed was a simple cot-like mattress covered in an old quilt. In the corner stood a tiny dresser with both men’s and women’s clothing of various sizes. Patrick had said I could pick out something to wear from it. He never explained, but I assumed the women’s clothes were for when Kryssa came and visited, and the men’s clothes must have been for her father. My mind peaked with curiosity, but after having spent all night thinking about the mystery and coming up with nothing I discarded the thoughts quickly.

     Next to the bed was a simply carved little table with an oil lamp sitting on top. Again the feeling of living in a different century washed over me. Above the dresser was a small circular mirror; the glass was slightly distorted as though it had been hanging there for years.

     Tired of trying to sleep, I hopped out of the bed. Its creak resounded in my small chamber, and I made my way over to the dresser. I picked out a white shirt and some simple shorts and put them on. Even though the clothing felt foreign, it was still nice to get out of my dirty clothes from the day before.

     Without glancing in the mirror, I left the room and walked across the bridge connecting the guest room to the main cabin. I tried not to look down, because I knew the sight would only make me queasy.

     Reaching the door, I bit my lip while debating on how to enter.
Knock or just walk in?
I stood there considering what to do for a moment and then decided to casually knock.

     “Come on in,” Patrick yelled in reply from somewhere inside. I pulled on the tough string which lifted the latch allowing the door to swing open. The smell of cooking bacon wafted over me and my eyes rested on the man standing, with his back to me, at the black wood stove.

     With a glance over his shoulder his gaze swept over me. The familiar feeling of curiosity mixed with fear pinched my stomach. I placed a hand to my belly trying to ignore the uneasiness. He worked quickly, but his movements were gentler than yesterday. I felt a bit more at ease.

     “I trust you slept well?” His said louder than necessary. 

     “Yes,” I nodded while trying to hide my smile; his phrase sounded old fashioned.

     “Well good,” he said casually over his shoulder. “You hungry?”

      Without waiting for a response, he handed me a plate laden with food and I sat down on the wooden bench. While we ate we spoke about trivial things. At times I was surprised by his sudden change in manner toward me. All harshness and caution were gone from his face. Instead he seemed excited.

     Perplexed by this new side of him, I listened as he told me about which books in the library were his favorites. His vocabulary and literary knowledge was expansive and I soon found myself feeling inadequate. 

     After a while Patrick grew quiet. When I looked at him he seemed to be deep in thought as though debating something. I wondered where his mind was when he suddenly spoke, “Do you want to go on a walk? There’s this really neat place I want to show you.”

     “Sure,” I said, more confidently than I felt. “That sounds great.”

     Later, as I walked beside Patrick the grass tickled my bare feet. He led the way through the trees; this time heading farther inward to what I assumed was the center of the island. We climbed over rocks and around large trees, but there was a definite pathway we followed along the rising hills and jagged landscape. Sweat beaded along my brow, but I continued to follow Patrick—certain he was leading me somewhere interesting. If it was anywhere near as beautiful as the rest of the island then I would be satisfied. Although the cautious side of my mind couldn’t help but notice that he still had the dagger tied to his forearm.

     As we walked my senses were heightened and before long the sound of rushing water pervaded upon my ears. This was not the sound of waves slapping the shore in a dancing rhythm, but rather a constant thrum of rushing water. I glanced to the side to see if Patrick heard it as well, but he gave no hint as to whether the sound had yet reached him.     

     Climbing down a hill, the sound came closer as we broke through some trees and into a flat piece of grassland. Without stopping we pressed forward, the blades of green caressing our feet. The air was damp with moisture and the cold touch of leaves brushed against our shoulders and arms.

     Up ahead through the trees, I spotted a bright shimmer reflecting the sun. With a skip in my step, I broke through the last branches that had blocked my view.

     The source of the thrumming water finally stood before my eyes. A brimming blue waterfall cascaded over the edge of a rocky cliff and into a crystal pool below. The water was so clear I was able to see every rock beneath its surface. Taking in the sight, I knew my jaw had fallen open as the fantasy-like scenery danced before my eyes. 

     On one side of the large pool there was a massive rock that stuck out from the water and reached toward the heavens. The top then flattened out as if to serve as a perfect diving platform for the pool below. The side opposite this cliff was a steep hill of green, but near the bottom a flat rock jutted out just above the surface of the water. Canopied with shade by drooping leaves from above, it looked like a perfect place to sit and enjoy the waterfall’s beauty.

     I stood frozen for the moment in awe. A soft chuckle reached my ears and I looked to the side slightly embarrassed while a blush crept across my cheeks.

     “Stop it,” I said, lightly trying to defend myself. “It’s just pretty, that’s all.”

      “Sure,” he shrugged, though he looked like he wanted to say more.

      “I’ve just never seen anything like it.” I said, and my hands flew out in front of me to demonstrate what I saw.

     “Not many have,” he said nonchalantly, but his words only threw my previous curiosities into my head once more.

     “Come on,” he said suddenly, pulling me from my reverie.

     Without hesitation Patrick pulled his shirt over his head revealing a tan and well sculpted body. He was lean, yet cut, each muscle profound and obvious. His shoulders were broad and ripples of muscles moved seamlessly as he strode toward the large rock beside the waterfall. He scoured the side of it with expert skill and reached the top incredibly fast. At the top he walked to the edge; I could barely see the expression on his face from where I stood. The height of the rock was only lower than the mouth of the waterfall by a few feet.

     My heart thudded heavily as I realized what he was about to do, but my fear for him quickly turned to anticipation. If he was a merman, he would now reveal himself as such when he hit the water.

     For a moment he stood with his toes on the ledge, the sun glinting off his tan skin and golden brown hair. And then he jumped. He reached full height and then began to fall toward the water. He tucked into a flip and after coming full circle let go of one of his legs. One knee still wrapped in his locked hands, he tilted to the side and I realized what he was about to do. My feet steered me clear of the water as he came down with a gargantuan splash.

     I held my breath as I waited to see the fins and the all too evident flash of scales, but nothing came. Instead, Patrick broke the water’s surface and flicked his hair to the side. Again I was shocked by how open his gaze was. Rather than his earlier hostility, he actually looked exhilarated. But a sinking disappointment coursed through me. As unbelievable as the idea of Patrick being a merman was, it seemed the only reasonable explanation for why he was on the island. Now I didn’t know what to think.

     “Alright, it’s your turn.” Patrick’s voice distracted my thoughts. I shook my head quickly in response.

    
What to do?
I couldn’t swim, if I submerged myself in the water I would transform into a mermaid. My heart rate accelerated. Just when I had begun to let my guard down I was forced to ward off danger once more. And why would Patrick ask me to swim with him? Was it possible he suspected something? Feeling more and more trapped, I tried to think of an excuse.     

     “Oh, come on! It’s not that high.” Patrick said, trying to persuade me. I shook my head, knowing my survival was on the line. I was all the more aware of how insistent he sounded. Playing his words over in my mind, I grew more suspicious. I remembered the dagger he still had on his forearm; he had been all too quick to reach for it last time when he thought I was a threat. What would he do if I suddenly changed into a mermaid?

     “I can’t,” I said with what I hoped sounded like fear in my voice. Patrick swam toward me and stood on a submerged rock. The water slopped against his stomach as he looked at me. Something in his eyes made me want to trust him, but I refused to follow my gut. Logically, he couldn’t be trusted.

     “Come on, I’ll do it with you,” he pleaded. I shook my head quickly and didn’t allow myself to think of what he had offered.

     “No,” I said, determined to get my point across. Then taking a deep breath, I lied. “What I mean is, I can’t swim.”

     It was so far from the truth that I hoped the lie was not written across my face. I glanced up quickly and saw him looking at me curiously. His eyes were soft and the sun brightened his face. I felt the need to open up to him, but I shut down the urge before it had time to grow.

     “I would hold onto you if you want.” He shrugged like it didn’t matter. “Or I could teach you how to swim.” His casual response put me at ease, but I shook my head again feigning fear.    

     “Look, it’s not like you have to go where it’s deep or anything. Just stay where it’s shallow,” Patrick said continuing to coax me.

     I bit my lip, my mind forming a lie to save my skin. “I’m still afraid of water, from the last time, and I just feel safer not in it right now.” Referring to my near drowning made my voice harsher than I wanted; my eyes flickered over Patrick’s face hoping he wouldn’t be angry.

     “Oh,” Patrick said. He grew more solemn and I couldn’t help noticing the puzzled expression he tried to hide. I remembered that he didn’t believe my tale of how I came to be on the island. Referring to it again had caught him off guard.

     Although we stood in a secluded spot, in an area more beautiful than anything I had ever seen, I couldn’t help but feel the tension between us. We were in a battle of wits. I suspected he was acting friendly to get me to lower my guard. I would have to do what I could to match his level of play. 

     “But,” I said in response, trying to play along with his little game and throw him off track, “I could go sit over on that ledge and dangle my feet in the water.” As I spoke I pointed to the shaded ledge on the other side.