Page 11 of Love Takes A Tumble
"I know what port is," she replied, though without the sharp edge such a correction might have held a few days ago.
His soft chuckle warmed her as they made their way to the padded bench seats running along the boat's left side. Settling herself took some work, but soon she was seated comfortably, crutches stowed beneath the bench, ankle propped on a cushion Harrison had somehow procured without her noticing.
"Better?" he asked, taking the seat beside her, not quite touching but close enough that she was aware of the space between them.
"Perfect," she admitted. And it was, between the gentle rocking of the boat, the salt-tinged breeze, and the golden light of approaching sunset. She pulled her small notebook from her bag, determined to remember her purpose here. "I've never actually seen the lighthouse up close. Hard to write about one when your entire experience comes from Google searches and library books."
"Nothing beats first-hand research," Harrison agreed, stretching his long legs out before him. He looked different today. More relaxed, his usual alertness softened by something she couldn't quite name. He'd exchanged his typical henley fora button-down shirt in a deep blue that matched his eyes, the sleeves rolled up to reveal tanned forearms.
The boat's engine hummed to life, vibrating gently beneath them as they pulled away from the dock. A handful of other passengers—mostly couples, Audrey noted with a flush—found seats around the small vessel. A young woman began a practiced spiel about the island's history, but Audrey found her attention drifting to the shoreline, to the Pelican Inn visible on its gentle rise above the beach.
"Strange seeing it from the water," Harrison commented, following her gaze.
"It looks smaller somehow. More vulnerable." The observation surprised her.
"Changes your perspective," he agreed. "Seeing things from a distance sometimes makes them clearer."
She glanced at him, wondering if they were still talking about the inn. "What have you been seeing more clearly lately?"
His eyes met hers, something unguarded in their depths. "That I've been running from one temporary place to another since my retirement. That maybe it's time to stop running."
The honesty caught her off guard. "Why did you come to Palmar Island?" she asked, the question she'd been wondering since their first encounter.
"No real reason. Saw a brochure at a rest stop in Georgia. Liked the lighthouse on the cover." He shrugged. "As good a place as any to figure out what comes next."
"And have you? Figured it out?"
The boat rounded a bend in the shoreline, bringing the lighthouse into view for the first time. It stood tall and proud, its white and red stripes gleaming in the golden hour light. Harrison's gaze lingered on it before returning to her.
"Getting closer," he said, and she wasn't entirely sure which question he was answering.
The tour guide had moved on to explaining the lighthouse's history—built in 1868, automated in 1956, nearly destroyed in Hurricane Hugo before being painstakingly restored. Audrey dutifully jotted notes, though her attention kept drifting to the man beside her.
"What about you?" Harrison asked as the guide moved to the other side of the boat. "Why a lighthouse for your novel? Why not a... I don't know, a plantation house?"
Audrey smiled, tracing her pen along the edge of her notebook. "Lighthouses are solitary but purposeful. Their entire existence is dedicated to helping others find their way safely home." She hesitated, then admitted, "I always wanted to be that for someone. A guiding light. But I spent so many years just trying to keep my mother's ship from sinking that I never got the chance."
The words had emerged without her permission, more honest than she'd intended. She felt suddenly exposed, vulnerable in a way that made her want to retreat behind her usual reserve.
Harrison didn't rush to fill the silence that followed, didn't offer platitudes or easy comfort. Instead, he simply nodded, his expression thoughtful. "It's never too late to light the lamp," he said finally. "Even lighthouses have to be built before they can guide anyone home."
Something about the simplicity of his response, the absence of pity, loosened a knot inside her chest. "Is that what you're doing now? Building your lighthouse?"
"Trying to figure out what it might look like," he admitted. "What about you? Is that what this novel represents?"
The boat glided smoothly through the water, bringing them ever closer to the lighthouse that now dominated the horizon. Audrey considered his question, turning it over like a shell found on the beach, examining its contours.
"Maybe," she said. "Or maybe I'm just trying to find my own way home first."
The sun dipped lower, casting long fingers of gold across the water. Without thinking, Audrey shifted to capture the view in her notebook, a quick sketch of light and shadow. Her shoulder brushed against Harrison's, a brief touch that sent a current of awareness through her. She didn't pull away.
"You know," Harrison said, his voice a low rumble beside her, "I don't think I've been this relaxed in years."
She glanced up at him, struck by the openness in his expression. "It's the ocean air," she offered, though she suspected it was something else entirely.
"Must be," he agreed, his smile suggesting he didn't believe it either.
As the boat curved around toward the lighthouse, Audrey found herself studying Harrison's profile. The strong line of his jaw, the laugh lines around his eyes, the silver at his temples. There was a steadiness to him that drew her, like a ship to safe harbor.
