Page 17 of The Lighthouse Keeper and the Mermaid
She had never heard her name said so poetically or so dreamily. His tones held the warmth that she imagined a lover’s might and it made her want to blush.
“I’m so happy you’re back,” she murmured. Then pointing to her smile, she repeated, “Happy.”
He struggled a bit with the sounds of it as he tried to repeat it, and they went back and forth until it sounded right.
He pointed to himself. “Happy Kallias.”
She laughed, feeling warmth all over, and touching her own chest, she said, “And I’m a happy Daria.” She grabbed the plate from behind her. “Want some?”
His eyes practically shone and he said something—long like a sentence—but his face gave away no meaning as he shoved an entire biscuit in his mouth.
She laughed. Should she make them smaller? But he didn’t seem to struggle at all, and she hated to be the one to introduce him topropriety when she herself broke almost all of the rules that there were.
She was tempted to try eating one whole herself, but she hadn’t brought any water and the last thing she needed was to choke in front of him.
On his fourth one, he pointed to it as if in question.
“Biscuit,” she answered, taking her second one. “These are biscuits.”
“Biscuits.” He stared at it inquisitively, like a scientist would a new specimen.
“Do you like it?” she asked but of course he didn’t understand. She thought for a moment and then strung together with gestures, she said, “Biscuits make Kallias happy.”
He laughed and nodded.
“That means youlike. Kalliaslikesbiscuits.”
“Kallias likes biscuits,” he repeated. He then rattled off some long strand of words that she didn’t understand, but then he seemed to motion as if curious and then pushed his hands together as if molding an invisible biscuit.
“Oh! It’s a long process. But you probably won’t understand anything even if I tell you. Oh!” She stood quickly, actually startling him. “But I can show you! Stay right here.” She gestured to the spot, pointing at it firmly, and when it seemed he wasn’t going anywhere, she started back to the lighthouse, leaving the remaining biscuits behind in the hopes he’d stay.
Inside the lighthouse, she grabbed a bowl, put in the right amount of flour, put the right amount of butter on a plate, grabbed some beer, and put some milk in a little cup—both the milk and the butter were quite luxury items for her; she only had them because she had been in town. Putting it all on a tray along with a spoon to mix, she started for the door, but as she went, an old book her father had used with her as a child caught her eye. It had all the animals in it and it was how he had taught her what she could never otherwise see. She grabbed it along with a small towel.
“I’m back!” she said, before she could even see him, probably before he could even hear her. But he was waiting all the same when she approached enough for the rocks to move out of view. And he was smiling in a way that seemed amused by her antics and it almost made her feel self-conscious.
“Oh.” Well, maybe he didn’t actually care and she was getting ahead of herself. Maybe—
But he gestured for her to come closer so she did,all the while trying her best to not feel that strange unease she felt around the townspeople, that feeling that made her want to break eye contact and run away.
“Maybe you’re not interested,” she said, feeling silly.
His smile dropped, his eyebrows minutely scrunched together, and he looked at her with such sympathy it could nearly take her breath away. He said something. It sounded kind whatever it was and he gestured for her to sit. She did and placed all her stuff beside them, but it felt hard to look at him. Why would he really care about learning about different animals or even learning her language for that matter? What was she thinking?
He frowned a bit, then actually reached out, so tentatively now as if, despite doing so before while saving her, he was now reluctant to touch her. When he finally did, his hand was gentle, so light and tender it was like the air. “Kallias likes happy Daria,” he said, staring up at her with a warm smile and blushing cheeks, and the blood that seemed to rush to her head overwhelmed her to the point that she could barely think.
Good Lord, was she even breathing? She wasn’t sure, but she put down her stuff and grabbed both his hands to his shock and said, “Well, you’ve certainly made me one. A happy Daria.”
He was so close, and all her joy quickly dropped away at the sight of his lips and was replaced with some feeling she didn’t even know, and though she had never kissed a man before nor thought of doing so, she wanted to kiss him.
Instead she quickly let go, as quickly as if she had burned herself, and rubbing the back of her neck as if she could rub away the awkwardness, she said, “So I brought some flour.”
CHAPTER 13
Thankfully, he actually laughed and came a bit closer to peer into the bowl.
“This is flour,” she said. “It comes from a plant”—she gestured to nearby plants—“like those. But it’s called wheat.” She traced a picture of it in the gravelly sand. “They grind it”—she motioned it—“to make wheat.”
He gestured to the bowl and she nodded, not really thinking how he was wet, for he reached in and grabbed some. “Oh, you can dry your hand on me if you want or it’ll clump. Actually, where was that towel?” But he didn’t understand and as she looked, she realized it was already too late: the flour had clumped together in his hand.
