Leap Of Faith

Chapter Seven

[photo by Juja Han from Unsplash]

Topher

I follow Galene's gaze to the ocean—to her ocean. Which is a bit of a mud hole, comparatively speaking. I'd love to be standing beside her the first time she sees the Mediterranean.

Right. Well. I take a step back, seeking literal distance from that soft-eyed, flush-cheeked...moment. It helps she's gone tense, like at any second she might dive in and swim back to Atlantis.

"Are you hungry?" I ask. "I believe I promised you breakfast." I point inland and take a few more backward steps, hoping to lure her from the water's edge.

Her eyes shift—past me, to the monument—but she doesn't move.

"The coffee might still be hot," I say.

"I don't drink coffee." 

"A bagel, then?"

She squints a bit, drops her eyes and smiles. Small and sly like the Monalisa. 

"Any chance of you letting me in on the joke?" I ask.

"It's not really a joke. I was just expecting something more British—like tea and crumpets?"

"And here I was trying to impress you with my grasp of all things American."

Her smile widens but she remains, ensconced at the water's edge. "I have a very British-looking plaid blanket," I say.

A small nod announces her decision. The magnitude of my relief is absurdly disproportionate.

She walks determinately, and with fisted hands. But then stops just short of my blanket to frown. "You don't like British plaid?" I ask.

"No. I mean—it's fine. I was just thinking about the monument. To the lighthouse keepers?"

The sacred Circle of Stone. "Yes, I read all about it."

Her gaze tracks inland, toward the lighthouse, now hundreds of yards from its original location. "I was here when they moved it," she says, with the sweetest reverence. "I came every day for an entire month."

I read about that, too. It's a well-documented feat. But I can imagine the experience of it would've been quite a bit more impactful.

"I love that they left the lighthouse's footprint here," she says. "But eventually, if something isn't done, the stones are going to end up in the ocean."

"Ah, yes. The erosion persists. Despite the efforts of the great and terrible jetty."

Her eyes meet mine for a scrutinizing moment.

"Sorry," I say. "I shouldn't make light of my bad decisions."

She bites into her lip. This is obviously a thing she does. A tell. Then she sits on the edge of my blanket, knees bent, feet in the sand. I lower myself beside her and offer the bag of bagels. She peers in, but declines. I'd like to segue into the subject of my tremendous good fortune at having been rescued from my bad decision to swim near the jetty, but her gaze has gone back to the ocean, her posture rigid. Still a bit of a flight risk, it seems.

"So," I say, heralding a subject change. "We've established that you're no longer a lifeguard. May I ask what it is you do now?"

"I work at the aquarium on Roanoke Island."

I laugh and Galene looks, yet again, like she might be judging me.

"You're having me on," I say. "Or aren't you?"