“After whispering the wish, they would generally drop an offering into the water.”
“Money?”
“Maybe. Not always.”
He fastened the straps on his bag and stood up.
“In this cashless society, do you think wishing wells accept PayPal?”
“Depending on the wish. Odin, the Norse God, sacrificed his right eye.”
“His eye?” Gabriel almost laughed, thinking she was joking.
“Oh yes. It had to be something precious, so the god or goddess would grant the wish,” she explained.
“What did he want in return for an eye?”
She started to walk away, but he just stood there among the gorse bushes, arms folded over his wide chest, looking at the goddess.
“To receive the ability to see the future and the wisdom to understand why things must be.”
“I don’t know that I want such wisdom enough to sacrifice an eye,” he said, looking at the goddess. “But perhaps…” He reached into his bag for one of the detachable lenses. “Do you think an artificial eye would do?”
“Only if you want artificial wisdom.”
He walked back to the Wishing Well and leaned over the rim, both elbows resting on the stone, and stared into the depths.
“Don’t you dare climb down there. If you get stuck, I’m not taking my clothes off to save you.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her, and he had the strangest look.
Unlike him, she didn’t read faces, but wished she could. What was he thinking? Why did he hold the lens between thumb and forefinger as if he really were going to throw it down?
“What is it you want to know so much you would sacrifice your expensive camera attachment?”
“Do you ever wish you could see what the future might be before making a choice?” he asked, holding the lens over the well.
She waited. Even the silence around them seemed to hold its breath.
Gabriel didn’t explain further. And then he moved away, shoved the lens back into his bag, and zipped it shut.
Pierre turned around and started making her way back out of the thicket. Her heart was racing; they both seemed to be on the edge of a cliff about to jump. Or fall. Or push each other. It frightened her.
“Slow down,” he called as he reached her.
She kept her head on the path. It’ll get dark soon and we don’t want to get lost in this place.
“We won’t get lost,” he said quietly. “I won’t let that happen.”
“Better be safe than sorry.”
They were no longer talking about the island geography, it seemed.
“Okay, let’s get home first.”
Twenty-Three
Whatever he meant by ‘first’ and whatever he hoped would happen after they got home, Pierre never found out.
