Page 78 of Beacon

“Oh, how did I know you wanted something to communicate with?” He considered. “I…don’t really know. I just…guessed?”

His answer, though simple, caused my heart to pound. I sensed the unspoken words that Owen himself didn’t seem to realize. He’d somehowknownwhat I’d wanted, an instinct he’d already demonstrated many times in the past and one I was certain he’d only continue to display in the future…all thanks to our connection that deepened every moment we spent together.

Concern filled his gaze as he leaned closer. “Something is clearly bothering you. Did I push you into talking yesterday? Do you regret it?”

I shook my head and picked up my slate. I didn’t yet know how to spellregret, so I settled forNot sad talked.

Owen’s shoulders slumped in clear relief, but my reassurances weren’t enough to satisfy him. “Then what’s troubling you? If there’s anything I can do to help…”

Crimson stained his cheeks, as if embarrassed by the sweet invitation. His gentle thoughtfulness pushed through my usual habit of remaining silent in order to confide in him. I struggled to write my next words:Want to talk but scared. Easy last night, now hard.

I frowned at the broken sentences and was about to erase them and start again but Owen had already deciphered the childishly worded message.

“Despite being able to speak again last night, for some reason you’re struggling to speak today?”

Relieved he’d understood, I nodded. Seriousness settled over Owen as he considered my feelings. After a moment’s thought, an idea brightened his eyes.

“I wonder if you found it easier to speak last night because you found yourself in a soothing environment.”

He started to stand as if he meant to go to the ocean right now but paused when he noticed my wide, panicked eyes.

“My apologies, it’s not my intention to force you to speak. As much as I long for your voice to return, I wantyouto want it. After yesterday I thought you possessed a similar desire, but now I realize that was nothing more than an assumption made from filling in the gaps created by your silence. The last thing I want is to force you into a situation you find uncomfortable.”

This thoughtfulness eased the anxiety tightening my chest. Once again he seemed to understand me on a deeper level than I could have ever supposed. How could he know me so well despite me having been able to show so little to him?

I ached to allow him to see all the parts I kept hidden, ones too complicated to be shared through anything other than speech. I yearned to talk with him, ask him all the questions I’d ever wondered about, contribute to the conversations that had become as dear to me as him.

I stood and leaned against the railing to stare across the ocean, glistening gold from the rays of the rising sun dancing across the water. Each wave seemed to extend a silent invitation, beckoning my locked away words to resurface. Last night had been the longest I’d spent with the ocean since Mother’s shipwreck. Perhaps the sea was connected to more than my powers but also to all the memories from before I’d given up my voice.

The ocean had remained constant. Despite my neglect, it’d returned to me when I’d most needed it. Perhaps Owen was correct in assuming it had provided the strength I’d needed to speak again. And although I’d neglected my words for just as long, they too had remained, waiting for me to finally be ready to use them once more.

I could no longer ignore the ocean’s silent call drawing my heart towards it. With a steadying breath I held out my hand, my silent wish for Owen to accompany me.

For a moment he only stared at it. Heat prickled my cheeks and I started to withdraw, but I didn’t get very far before Owen intertwined our fingers as gently as if holding something fragile he desperately wanted to protect.

I stared at our hands before shyly lifting my gaze. Though a blush caressed his own cheeks, his look remained soft. “Are you sure you want to go to the ocean?”

I took a deep breath and nodded. He tugged me towards the balcony stairs that led to the beach but paused on the top step to glance back.

“Even if the ocean doesn’t help you find your voice, I still value the time we spend together, whether or not you ever speak.”

I held the slate a little tighter against my chest even as my heart swelled. Whether or not I ever found the words I desperately sought, he was only strengthening my desire to find a way to communicate with him,somehow.

Owen led me down the balcony steps to a beach secluded from the lighthouse and the dock. We paused near the shoreline. I tugged off my shoes and, still holding Owen’s hand, stepped close enough for the water to caress the tips of my toes as the waves washed across the shore before receding back into the ocean.

For a while neither of us spoke as we stared across the water, as beautiful beneath the golden light of day as it’d been beneath the silvery moonlight last night.

As Owen had hypothesized, the ocean had a soothing effect. Each gentle wave seemed to ease open the gate guarding my words inch by inch, allowing the desire that had retrieved my voice last night to emerge to enfold me once more. I stroked it gently, allowing it to grow so that I wanted to speak again. More than that, I had the courage to search for all the places my words were hidden in order to uncover them one by one until I successfully recaptured the only word I’d been able to speak, the one already the most dear to me.

My hands naturally pressed over my heart. “Owen.”

I tenderly whispered his name almost more quietly than I had last night, feeling more exposed now that I was no longer beneath the protective cover of darkness. Though I didn’t look at him, I sensed him turn towards me.

“Yes, Marisa?”

But that was currently the only word I could manage. He didn’t seem to mind, simply waited a moment for my response, and when none came, he gave my hand a gentle squeeze and returned his gaze to the ocean.

“It’s truly lovely, isn’t it?”

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