Leap Of Faith

Chapter Four

[photo from sandiegouniontribune.com ]

Topher

I walk yet another lap around the massive blocks, carved of stone—which, ironically, I barely noticed the handful of times I came here for surfing lessons with Will. I've since learned this is a monument: actual foundation stones left behind to mark the former site of the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse. The locals call it the Circle of Stone. They think of this place as sacred.

It's that for me now as well. Although for an entirely different reason.

Or rather, it was when I came here the morning after my life was spared. I wasn't looking for Galene then. Necessarily. I just needed to stand at the shoreline, to regard the intimidating jetty and be grateful.

Now my reverence is tainted. I need answers. And perhaps even more, I need to see her again—with clear eyes and a clear head—so that I might put an end to these intrusive thoughts of Mum's bloody prophesy.

"Not that I believe it now any more than I did then," I tell a curious seabird.

The creature tilts its head, appearing dubious.

That's fair. I cannot, if I'm honest, say I wasn't a bit rattled at the time. I'd been certain Mum would be devastated by my decision to leave Europe. It's the reason I postponed sharing the news of my application to Duke's MD Program with either parent until I received word of my acceptance. The next day, I took a bullet train to Minori. The trip was meant to be a surprise, but Mum had Seen me coming. I arrived at her villa to find a note summoning me to Uncle Aldo's restaurant. The entire Fanella family was there to celebrate my impending journey—although none knew where I was headed until I filled in the specifics of her rather vague prediction.

The question of why I'd chosen to study medicine in The States—when there are so many, arguably more prestigious, programs in Europe—was not one I'd prepared myself to answer. But my Italian family readily accepted my honest reply of, "I don't really know. A calling?"

Later, when Mum pulled me aside to inform me that my highly-esteemed, brain surgeon father would not be impressed with this reasoning, she had...an episode. I'd not witnessed anything like it in my twenty-two years. She stopped speaking, mid thought, and her eyes went blank.

One might argue that it was a clever portrayal. But it was her reaction, post episode, that unnerved me. She huffed out an astonished laugh. "A calling," she said, her eyes brimming with happy tears—and reading mine with a windows-to-the-soul intensity I had to look away from. Then, with a casual swipe of a hand, she announced: "When you reach your destination, you will meet your soul mate." I laughed inwardly, imagining some afflicted woman in the airport waiting to ambush me the moment I deplaned. But perhaps I'd been too literal in my interpretation of the word, destination. 

And perhaps this line of thinking is born of exhaustion.

I unearth a chunk of broken shell with my toe, pick it up and change course. I should be walking away from the ocean, toward the parking lot—I'm knackered and my stomach is growling.

It wouldn't take long to drive into town for food. Then I could return.

Really? For my sixth visit in two days?

"I'm going home," I announce. To the ocean.

I remain a moment longer, breathing deep and intentional. Time to let go of the preposterous notion of finding Galene. For all I know, she's already returned to Olympus or wherever it is she belongs.

No. She'd been almost authoritative when she scolded me about the jetty. This is her beach.

I hurl the shell into a breaking wave and turn north, the direction she headed when she made her escape. I will give the search another hour—it will be proper dark by then—and then I'll let the matter go entirely.