Then she followed Dane up the forest path to the garden.
It wasn't much farther. They emerged into a sunlit clearing with a small garden patch surrounded by a handmade wooden fence. Mira was captivated. The fence was made of small poles lashed together with twine. It looked like the fence for a fairy garden, and the moss around the bottom of the fence made the impression even stronger.
Due to the storm, it was a bit of a mess. Part of the fence had blown down, and there were some deadfall branches and twigs scattered around the small beds of raised earth, delineated with rocks, that made up the garden. But on the whole, it didn't look too badly damaged to Mira.
"I think this is all right," she said.
"Yes, I thought it would be worse."
She helped Dane wrestle the fence upright and then went in through the garden gate to pick branches off the plants. The garden was—as she had come to expect from Dane by now—very tidy and well tended. There were lettuces growing in rows, and the feathery tops of carrots. Pea and bean vines climbed the fence, and there were some flowering vines as well.
"This is beautiful." Mira knelt to pick up a small branch from a knocked-over lettuce. She tossed the branch into the woods, and carefully pushed some dirt with her fingers to prop the lettuce back up again. "Did you grow all of this from scratch?"
"A friend brought me the seeds," Dane said. He seemed a little shy, as if he felt that it didn't count if he hadn't grown and preserved the seeds himself.
"But the rest of this, you made all this?" She turned around in place, noticing new plants by the moment. There were some tomatoes growing in old cracked dishes for pots, and herbs planted here and there, wherever there was a spare bit of dirt. Dane had used the entire space with incredible efficiency and care.
"Yeah, it's nice to have fresh things. I thought about getting some chickens, but—" He broke off again, another of those sudden stops as if he'd started to cross over into some thought that was too personal to share.
"I think chickens would be wonderful," Mira said honestly.
It had never even occurred to her that she might like gardens and chickens. Her life had been that of a nomad. Even back when she was a kid, she had been an Army brat, bouncing around between a series of military bases and brand-new towns and schools. And then there had been her time in the service, and after that she had drifted through a series of jobs and towns, even a whole new country or two. And she had ended up onMerrylegs, with the entire ocean as her home.
Settling down had never crossed her mind as something she might want.
But now, in this sunlit space in the woods, surrounded by green and growing things, she began to absorb the new, surprising awareness that she really did like it here. A lot. She could imagine herself being happy in a place like this.
In a place like this—with someone like Dane?
Yes. Maybe. I don't know.
It was all too much to take in. She found her legs wobbling, and then Dane was there, catching her arm to stop her from falling over.
"You had a rough time. You're not back to full strength. I shouldn't have dragged you all over the island." He sounded like he was beating himself up about it.
"No, no, I'm fine." She got her balance, but she could tell that her strength was starting to wane. "I wanted to see it. Is there much more to the island?"
"Not a whole lot," Dane said. He still had one hand resting lightly under her elbow, like a point of contact grounding and steadying her. With the other hand—sure hands, dusted lightly now with the rich garden soil—he pointed into the woods. "The path keeps going to the top of the island. You can see all around from there."
"I think I'd like to see it ... soon." Mira pressed the palm of her hand to her forehead. She was starting to have a mild headache. "Right now, I wouldn't mind going back to the cabin and sitting down for a bit."
She didn't want to describe Dane ashovering, exactly, but he definitely stayed close to her on the walk back to the cabin. By the time they got there, she was very tired and felt ready for a nap—at least until she remembered the one-bed situation.
"I can't steal your bed again. I'll sleep on the floor."
Dane shook his head firmly. "You're a guest. Guests get the bed."
She would have argued further, but it was hard when the bed was right there, compelling her with its turned-down heap of blankets and appealingly dented pillow. Her body had escalated its demands for sleep from a gentle suggestion to a mafioso-style takeover of her nervous system, making her an offer she couldn't refuse that if she didn't lie downright now, she was going to collapse where she stood.
"All right, but just tell me if you need me to do anything in return, okay?" she said. She sat down on the edge of the bed, and then it was as if the bed reached up arms to pull her into the mattress's embrace. She barely even remembered lying down. "I don't want to be—" She yawned. "A complete freeloader."
"You're not." Dane's voice was gentle, and she was dimly aware of those strong, capable hands pulling a blanket over her. "You never could be."
She wasn't sure what he meant, but before she could ask, sleep pulled her down again, a gentle undertow drawing her into a warm, comfortable sea.
DANE
Mira slept as soonas her head touched the pillow. Dane stayed for a bit, having another cup of coffee, to make sure she was going to be all right.
