“Who cares?” Heather counters. “Have a fling. You deserve some fun, Rose. When was the last time you let loose a little?”
I bite my lip, considering her words. Ithasbeen a while since I’ve had any sort of romantic entanglement. And there is something undeniably attractive about Levi… “Maybe,” I say finally. “I’ll think about it. But enough about that. Tell me what’s been happening at home.”
As Heather launches into a story about her latest dating disaster, I find my mind wandering.CouldI have a fling with Levi? Should I? The idea is tempting but also terrifying. And with everything else going on – the mystery of the creature in the harbor – do I really want to complicate things further?
“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” Heather asks.
I pick up the itinerary from the small kitchen table where I’d dropped it on my first day here, scanning it. “Looks like I’m visiting a tide pool and – oh yay! We’re finally taking a guided tour of the lighthouse. I drove out there yesterday but could only explore the outside since it was closed to visitors.” I launch into a detailed description of the lighthouse – leaving out my ill-fated kayak trip. Levi’s worried words about going out alone are stillfresh in my mind, and I’ve learned my lesson – no need to give Heather an excuse to pile on too.
“Ooh, that sounds perfect! You’ll finally get to see the inside of the lighthouse that inspired your tattoo and this whole trip.”
“I know! I’m excited about it,” I say, and I mean it. Despite everything that’s happened, the lighthouse still holds a special place in my heart. It represents something more than just a beautiful structure – it’s a symbol of adventure, of stepping out of my comfort zone.
“It sounds wonderful,” Heather says. “But you know what? I miss you. And Purl’s been rejecting her treats because she’s so sad.”
I can’t help but laugh at that. “Now that’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one. No matter how sad she is, Purl will never pass up a treat.”
“Okay, you got me there. But she does miss you. We both do.”
“I miss you guys too.”
Heather needs to open her shop, so we say our goodbyes. I grab a fresh cup of coffee and watch the morning unfold. The harbor hums with activity now – fishermen loading their boats with gear, the distant drone of engines warming up, dock carts rattling with supplies. A few early sailors check their rigging while weekend cruisers scrub their decks. Above it all, seagulls wheel and cry, hoping for an easy breakfast from the bait buckets below.
My eyes are drawn once again to the waterproof bag and the paddle. Tangible proof that yesterday wasn’t a dream, that somewhere out there is a creature beyond anything I’ve ever imagined. A creature that not only saved my life but cared enough to return my belongings.
With a sense of anticipation, I head back inside to get ready for the day. The tide pools and lighthouse await, and who knowswhat wonders they might reveal? In a place where krakens rescue stranded kayakers, anything seems possible.
As I dress, my fingers trace the outline of the lighthouse tattoo on my arm. I smile to myself, still hardly believing I’m finally going to step foot inside it. I’ve lived with this image inked on my skin for years, dreaming of seeing the real thing. Now it’s just hours away, and my stomach flutters with anticipation.
I grab my recovered camera, excited to document the day ahead. As I do, a thought strikes me. What if I managed to capture something on camera yesterday during the storm?
I turn on my camera and scroll through the images with trembling fingers. Most are what I expected – shots of the harbor, the town, and the lighthouse in the distance. When I reach the final photos I took as the storm rolled in, they’re mostly blurry, but the storm’s chaos is evident in every frame. I squint, bringing the camera closer to my face, searching for any sign of the creature. But there’s nothing – just rain and waves.
I feel a mix of relief and disappointment. Part of me had hoped for tangible proof of my encounter, while another part is glad there’s nothing that could potentially expose the creature’s existence. Sighing, I power off the camera and tuck it safely into my bag.
Heading out and locking my door, I see Levi exiting his houseboat at the same time. He spots me and waves, calling out, “Morning, Rose! Have you had breakfast yet?”
“Yes, I have,” I reply, smiling.
“Great! How about we head out to the tide pools?” Levi suggests. “Are you wearing closed-toe shoes with good traction? It can get slippery on the rocks.”
In response, I lift my leg, showing off my tennis shoes. Levi chuckles at the gesture.
“Perfect,” he says. “You might want to pack an extra pair, though. Your shoes will probably get wet, so make sure you’re okay with that.”
After grabbing a spare set of shoes and socks, I join Levi in his truck. As we pass through the town center, I spot Lily and Koko outside the hardware store. They are chatting over a shopping list and looking excited about whatever they’re working on. Levi taps the horn lightly, and they look up, beaming and waving as we drive by.
“Oh my,” I say, noticing an elderly woman spinning slowly in front of the post office, her arms outstretched and eyes closed. “Is she okay?”
Levi chuckles warmly. “That’s Mrs. Peterson. She claims she’s a Vila – a Slavic fairy who controls the weather. Says she must dance each morning to keep the winds favorable.” He shakes his head fondly. “She’s harmless, just loves the old stories a bit too much, I think. Though I will say, she’s surprisingly accurate with her weather predictions.”
As Levi drives, the town thins out behind us. Weathered storefronts give way to wild meadows and dense pine forests, and the road curves closer to the coast. Through the trees, I catch glimpses of the steel-blue ocean.
Levi pulls into an empty roadside dirt parking lot with only one other car. “It’s usually pretty quiet out here on weekdays,” he explains. “Most people are at work.”
We make our way down to the rocky shore, the salty sea breeze whipping through my hair. Above us, seagulls circle against a soft blue sky, their cries echoing off the cliffs. The coastline takes my breath away – massive rocks thrust up from the shore like broken teeth, their jagged surfaces dark against the foam-white surf. Waves crash against the stone in an endless rhythm, sending up plumes of spray that catch the morninglight. It’s beautiful in a wild, untamed way, so different from the sunbaked deserts and mesas of New Mexico.
The receding tide has revealed a vast expanse of tide pools, each a microcosm of marine life. The air is thick with the pungent smell of exposed seaweed and the mineral scent of wet rocks. I step carefully, mindful of the slippery surfaces covered in a patchwork of greens and browns – slick seaweed, fuzzy algae, and sharp barnacles. Levi hovers close by, his presence reassuring as I navigate this treacherous but beautiful terrain.
