“Are you sure?”
“I want you to stay.”
It’s nice that I don’t have to try to work out what she’s thinking. I like that.
“Okay.” I feel a swell of pleasure, and sit back in the chair while she goes inside to fetch the wine.
In the end, I stay for another couple of hours. We sit on the deck, watching the sun sink slowly toward the horizon, and let our conversation meander through all kinds of topics. We discover a mutual adoration of curry and chili, and a shared love of rom-com movies, which leads to us listing our top ten and arguing over the top three.
We talk about Jack, and I tell her a few tales of things we got up to, like the time we all went fishing in a tinny, or small open boat, and Jack leaned over to get another beer out of the chilly bin, tipping the boat, and Ghost and I both fell in. We keep it light, exchanging memories, and I’m glad to be able to make her laugh.
Max plays on the beach with Ghost, showing him how to make a sandcastle, and then he comes and sits with us for a while and plays with a box of dinosaurs, letting them climb all over the dog, who lies there patiently with a Triceratops on his head and an Allosaurus stomping down his back.
It’s only as it starts to grow dark that Isla tells Max it’s time for a shower and bed. “I’ll get going,” I say, and she nods.
“We’ll see you tomorrow?” she asks.
“I normally start walking up around 8:15 if you want to walk with me.”
As soon as I say it, I kick myself, thinking that now she’s going to have to invent an excuse to get out of it, but she brightens and says, “Yes, that will be nice.”
“Okay. ’Bye, Max.”
“’Bye.” He gives Ghost a last hug and waves to me, then takes his dinosaurs into the bach, and I see him disappear into the bedroom with them.
I look at Isla. I’m standing on the beach, and she’s on the steps to the deck, so our faces are level with each other. She undid her bun earlier, letting the tresses unfurl around her shoulders. The sun is setting behind her, and her hair is the color of copper, the ends bright red, as if they’ve been superheated.
“Goodnight,” I say softly.
“’Night.” She rests a hand on my shoulder, and then she leans forward and presses her lips to my cheek. “I hope you sleep well.” She lowers her hand and smiles.
“Thanks, you too.” I turn, Ghost at my heels.
My lips curve up as I walk away, along the beach.
*
The next day, Isla and Max are waiting at the end of the beach when I leave my B&B and head across the road.
“Good morning.” I smile as Max rushes up to give Ghost a hug, and the dog licks his face.
“Morning.” Isla is wearing a pink tee and denim shorts. Her hair is back in its bun, and she has a pink flower clip on one side. “Sleep well?” she asks.
“Very well, thanks.” It’s unusual for me. Usually I sleep fitfully, waking often from bad dreams, but last night I closed my eyes when I went to bed and opened them at seven a.m., and I don’t remember dreaming at all.
“I’m glad,” she says. As we start walking up the hill, she continues, “I’m so pleased you weren’t angry with me for not telling you immediately that Jack was my brother.”
“Not at all. I understand. And I like having that connection with him. It’s been nice to talk about him with someone else who knew him.”
“Yes, that’s how I feel.”
We stop as we reach the Hemsworth farmhouse, and lean on the fence. “Archer and I are going to take a look around it today,” I say. “He sent me a text to say he’s made an appointment with the real estate agent.”
“As a possible location for his center?”
“Yeah. He’s a bit dubious because it needs a lot of work, but I’ve got a sixth sense that it’ll be perfect.”
“It’s a great location. Not far from the Ark.”
