“I don’t know. I’d rather not speculate.”
She didn’t want to think of the island right now. Her eyelids half drifted shut, screening the bright blue sky through her lashes. She wondered if he was going to suggestshifting next, and she wasn’t even sure if she would say yes, she was so lazy and relaxed and full of lunch.
Instead, Tyr said, “You know, we haven’t talked about the future. Do you want to?”
Cela rolled onto her side, propping up her chin in her hand. “The future?”
“Yes, let’s just say we get all of this resolved, we don’t have to deal with the tattoo anymore ... what do you want to do? You can’t keep working as a bakery kitchen assistant forever.”
“Why not?” Cela asked. “I like it, and it’s part-time work that goes well with your work, since I’m back before the greenhouse gets busy.”
Tyr turned to look at her too. “You don’t want more?”
He seemed to be asking about more than just the bakery.
“No,” Cela said honestly. “I don’t. I like our lives. I’m enjoying learning about this place and getting to know your kids and—and raising the twins together.”
She watched his face ....melt, was the only word for it, growing impossibly soft.
“Yes,” he breathed, reaching out to brush his hand over her hair—very carefully not touching, but skimming across the surface, not stirring a single wisp.
“I know that I may discover other things I want to do someday,” Cela said. “College might be interesting. Or training for a different job. But I couldn’t do that without having to leave. And I don’t want to leave. I like being here.”
They lay side by side, drifting. Their hands were very close to each other on the blanket, but still carefully maintained that safe inch or two of separation.
Finally Cela said, very quietly, “And if we never fix it ... what then?”
“We’ll fix it,” Tyr said firmly.
Cela closed her eyes and let the sun soothe her.
“Whatever happens, it’ll be all right,” she said at last. “It’s all fine.”
But she and her griffin both knew that it wasn’t.
CELA
The countdownto the full moon crawled along. Peyton had showed Cela how to download an app showing the moon phases on her phone. Cela doubted that Peyton had the faintest clue what she wanted it for. But Peyton was happy to help when Cela asked her if there was any way to find out how long until the next full moon without having to count, and now she could look at her phone whenever she wanted to know. Not all that often ... just five or six, ten, twelve times a day.
She was desperately worried about more bad weather on the full moon. It rained off and on all month. The damp weather was wonderful for the greenhouse, as the plants grew ever more lush and the fruit in the trees in the orchard grew larger. But Cela found herself pacing the house anxiously, causing the babies to be cranky and fussy as they picked up on her nervousness. She and Tyr couldn’t miss out on their one chance and have to wait for another month. She didn’t think she could bear it.
But it seemed as if the saints of star-crossed lovers were listening, because the last couple of nights before the fullmoon were clear and bright. A moon barely distinguishable from the full moon floated above the trees, and Cela stood on the porch and held her arm hopefully in the moonlight. Her tattoo did nothing, and her heart plunged yet again. Maybe it was one time only, a single reprieve to make the rest of her exile all the bleaker.
On the promised day, the weather was gorgeous and sunny. Cela’s moon app told her that the full moon rose at sunset. She went through her work shift at the café in a haze, apologizing repeatedly to Peyton or Gaby when she messed up an order. At home after work, she played with the twins and tended to their needs in what was almost a fugue state. She kept looking at her tattoo, feeling more obsessed with it—and loathing it more—than she had since she got it.
Tyr was busy on some inexplicable project of his own. “Don’t look in the backyard,” he told her as he bustled through the kitchen, collecting items into a canvas shopping tote. Looking around, Cela found that all the curtains to the back of the house had been drawn, although it was only late afternoon.
“Why on earth not?” she asked.
“It’s a surprise. If you want to be surprised, please don’t.”
It was the “please” that did it for her. Curiosity, no matter how burning, could not contend with that simple “please.” At least wanting to know what Tyr was up to gave her a distraction from waiting for sunset.
The twins, in their own way, obliged by being fussy and hard to handle and then absolutely refusing to go down for sleep, even as the moon rose and flooded the front yard with silvery radiance.
“Oh, comeon,” Cela moaned, as one of them rolled over and woke the other up with a squall just as she was about to tiptoe out of the room. She had no idea where Tyr was. Shewould have burst into tears, except that it would have upset the twins even more.
“Here, let me try,” said a soft voice from behind her.
