I clutched my lungs, as if it would help me breathe, and felt something hard against my side. I blinked tears from my eyes and looked down at my hand.
Wrapped around my wrist was a bracelet made of black pearls.
SHATTERED WHISPERS
Alec & Circe
The more Alecand Circe were together, the more they looked forward to each other’s company. Each morning, Alec looked out the lighthouse window, thinking of her, and it was always her boat he wished to see. More often than not, he found himself disappointed. Though each time Circe arrived, it became more and more difficult for her to leave him.
Weeks had passed without a glimpse of Circe. Alec had spent this time fishing for black-lipped oysters. His reading informed him that these kinds of oysters didn’t exist in these parts of the ocean, which made him even more eager. Alec busied himself, cracking them open and collecting the rare black pearls forming inside.
The rare pearls belonged to Circe as much as he did, and he had to show her in the only way he could think of for a man who’d come from nothing.
On the fourth week without her, he sailed to the mainland.
He anchored his father’s fishing boat and took the rowboat the rest of the way. As soon as he reached the shore, he dragged the wooden boat out of the water and sat it atop the sand.
It was a two-mile walk to the market. Notes from violins and cellos yanked him closer, and when he turned the corner, melodies flowed down the cobblestone streets. Every note was a portal into the places inside of him only Circe had touched, and the thrill of seeing her multiplied with every person he passed.
Tents lined the curved road, where townspeople sold saltwater fish, pastries, freshly baked pies, herbs and oils, and loaves of bread, to name a few.Adorn a Living Soulread across a banner as he passed handmade jewelry, bracelets and necklaces much fancier than my black pearls.
Though people swarmed the square, none of them were Circe. Defeat filled the hole she’d left in his chest.
A young boy with dirt-smudged cheeks and a fiddler’s cap covering his stringy hair had his mouth cupped when he shouted into the crowd. “Bread’s baked every mornin’. Come get it before it’s gone!”
Alec crouched down until the two were face to face.
“Did you make this all by yourself?” he asked.
“No, but Mama Mae does.” The boy hooked his thumb to behind him. On the other side of the table, the young boy’s mother sat, wearing a flour-caked apron, rosy cheeks, and a proud grin for her boy. There was no customers in front of the table stocked with bread. Alec didn’t know that the town had shunned the young boy and his mother since their arrival in Weeping Hollow. “You can’t get bread fresher than Momma’s, I swear to yah.”
Heartbreak consumed Alec, and he flashed a smile for the boy’s sake. “How much?”
“A fiver and nothing less.”
“A fiver, yeah? You’re a tough one.” Alec dropped a silver dollar into his small, outstretched palm. It was the last of Alec’s savings. With no sight of Circe, there seemed to be no use for it any longer. “For you and your mama.”
“Wow! Thank yah, sir!” As Alec walked away, he ripped off a piece of bread and popped it into his mouth. “Momma, look! Can you believe it? A big silver coin! Have yah ever seen anything like it? Sir, why don’t yah come back tomorrow mornin’ and try Momma’s hotcakes?! I promise yah, you won’t be disappointed!”
With a mouthful of bread, Alec turned on his heel to wave his farewells.
Then his arm fell to his side when his eyes caught on to Circe’s face.
The sight of her made his chest ache with a sea of tangled emotion.
He’d often read stories about falling in love, but love was an ambiguous thing. Love wasn’t something he fell into, but something that had become him.
She was wearing a bright smile and talking to an older woman who seemed to be in her mid-forties. It took all of him to resist rushing to her and scoop her into his arms. Instead, he hid behind a tent and watched from afar.
A man approached Circe and gripped her bicep with enough force to cause a bruise. Circe’s smile died on her lips, and she turned her head slightly so that this other woman would not notice her discomfort.
“My wife does not parade around a market where Heathens are present. Furthermore, this is certainly not the place to discuss it. I’ll be expecting you hours well before sundown,” the man whispered into her ear, though Alec could not hear from the distance between them. But Alec noticed how he was dressed, his long black coat, pressed pants, and shiny shoes. And Alec especially took notice of the way this man touched Circe. It took otherworldly strength to remain still as he fixed his wrinkled shirt and adjusted his linen sleeves.
Leaving Circe’s side, the man scrunched his face and wasted no time in the square.
Stricken by sudden anger, Circe picked up her skirt. “Lacie, I’ll need some fresh air,” she said, and when Lacie, her maid, began to follow, Circe raised her palm. “Alone.”
When Circe stepped away, Alec knew this was his chance.
