“Jupiter,” she murmured, rubbing my back once more and then letting me go. “So far, Beatriz. It’s good you’ve come home. Take off those wet things and sit awhile. I’ve got some soup and the rosemary biscuits you always loved so much. Goodness, child, you’ve gotten so skinny. They must not be feeding you well in space.”
Ethan must have noticed that I moved slowly with fumbling hands to take off my coat and remove the scarf from my face. I unwound it and placed it on the hook, and put my coat and hat on top of it, gathering courage before turning around.
I could see their expressions as they took in the scar, a reminder of my life on Tern Island. Mrs Cardenas’s lips parted; Ethan’s face was unreadable. I tried to tell myself I didn’t care. A little flirtation between old friends; that’s all I wanted anyway.
“Oh, Beatriz,” Mrs Cardenas said softly. “We should never have left you there.”
“It’s all right,” I said. I managed a smile and touched my scar. “I survived. Every day it reminds me that life is good.”
“Well,” Mrs Cardenas said. “Let me get you some food.”
While his mother went to bring back dinner, Ethan took off his coat and watch cap and hung them next to mine. He wore a knitted sweater and kept the scarf around his neck. All that clothing made me wonder what he looked like without it. Heat crawled up my cheeks and I looked away.
“Here you go,” Mrs Cardenas said, bustling back in with bowls of soup, and balancing a basket of biscuits. Ethan grabbed the biscuits, and I cleared a spot on the long table that doubled as workspace. It was just like I remembered when we were kids, and I breathed deep, taking in the aroma of minestrone and rosemary biscuits. The first spoonful was heaven.
“You’re right, Mrs Cardenas, there’s nothing like this in space,” I said, and she beamed.
“How long will you be staying?” Ethan asked, his voice neutral.
“Not very long,” I said, feeling awful at the look on his mother’s face. “I do plan to sell and return to Bifrost Station. I just needed to check on the place – I mean, I don’t have to, but—” I quit my excuses.
After all, I could hardly tell them I had seen a ghost.
“I see,” Mrs Cardenas said. She glanced at her son. “Well, if you hurry, Ethan can get you there and back before dark.”
“Oh no, I intend to stay the night,” I blurted in a rush, just as Ethan said, “We can’t do it in one afternoon, Ma.”
We looked at each other.
“Not if you really want to see the place,” he amended.
“Yes,” I said firmly. “I do. Mrs Cardenas, the lawyers told me they prepared the house for my arrival and it’s perfectly habitable. Surely Ethan ferried over the supplies and workers?” I looked over at him for support.
He nodded, but reluctantly. “It’s all ready. They upgraded the Stirling heat exchanger and fixed the roof and some other stuff.”
I remembered the cranky old Stirling that used to creak and groan and keep me awake at night.
“So you see? Everything is set. In fact, the wind is kicking up. We should probably go before it gets worse,” I said, then winced inwardly. I sounded as if I was eager to be rid of Mrs Cardenas, but I really just wanted to reassure her.
Mrs Cardenas didn’t seem offended. She patted my hand. “I know you’re anxious to be on your way, Bea, but I just think—” she didn’t finish. “Ethan, perhaps you should stay, too.”
“What?!” We both exclaimed. Ethan looked as shocked as I did. And perversely, that irritated me.
Despite her worry, Mrs Cardenas tried to keep from smiling. “I just think that Bea shouldn’t be alone on Tern Island, especially so soon after returning from space.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “Really. I appreciate your concern, but Ethan doesn’t need to babysit me.”
“Tell you what, Ma,” Ethan said. He cast an anxious eye at the weather. “We’ll see how it goes. If the weather is too bad, or if Bea doesn’t feel comfortable about being by herself, we’ll update accordingly.”
Mrs Cardenas smiled up at her son and he kissed her on the cheek, and then picked up my duffle bag with an ease that I envied. She watched us from the window of the office while I trailed after him to his boat.
“What’s the big deal about me staying alone on Tern Island?” I asked him. He looked at me and sighed.
“My mom, she thinks there’s something not right about that house. And I don’t know, Bea – you grew up there. You tell me.”
I opened my mouth to say something and found I couldn’t lie. Back then Ethan came and played with me whenever his father ferried over supplies, but he wasn’t there every day, and his parents never let him stay overnight. Some of that was due to my grandfather, of course. At my expression, Ethan cocked an eyebrow as if to say, “See?”
“I don’t believe in ghosts,” I said finally. And maybe it’s about damn time that someone told the ghosts of Tern Island that. As if he could hear that last unspoken bit, he snorted and shook his head.
We reached the ship, and my heart sank further. It wasn’t a ship but a mere boat, rusted and peeling, with a spray-soaked deck and a small pilothouse aft.
“Now, don’t judge,” he said, taking in my appraisal. “She’s a good little ship, especially in weather like this.”
“Not judging,” I promised, and made a cross-my-heart gesture. He laughed and took my hand, helping me jump onto the swaying deck. He threw my duffle bag to me and hopped on board. He untied the lines and coiled them efficiently and once again beckoned me.
“Come into the wheelhouse with me – there’s no heat, but it’ll be warmer than on the deck.” We all squeezed into the wheelhouse – him, the duffle bag, and me – and with the door closed it was warmer, though still dank. He started the engine, and I could smell the acrid chemical note of biodiesel.
The boat dipped and swayed as it pulled away from the wharf. He piloted with concentration, standing easily as we bounced along through the waves. I swallowed nausea. The odors from the engine and the sea were strong, and overwhelming me with scent memories.
“You can open the door if you need fresh air,” he shouted over his shoulder. I shifted the duffle bag and opened the door a crack, and the fresh sea air rushed in, making my eyes water but relieving my stomach. I kept my gaze fixed firmly on the bow as it plowed through the waves, the ocean frothing over it like a scene out of The Odyssey. I, too, was going home to my island, but in my case there would be no welcoming dog, no waiting wife to recognize me. Unlike Ulysses, I intended to leave as soon as I had settled my affairs.
The island was just a dot at first, and then it steadily grew until the engine slowed and sputtered, and we puttered gently alongside the long jetty until Ethan cut the engine and we drifted.
“Give me a hand,” he said, and I followed him out on deck. He jumped the distance between the deck and the jetty. I threw out the ropes, and he made his little boat fast with quick knots. I grabbed my duffle, threw it onto the jetty and followed more awkwardly, unaccustomed gravity complicating my movement. I slipped and he caught me, holding me close. His eyes had green flecks, and he had dimples around his mouth. I was staring and reddened. He steadied me and set me back a step, but he didn’t let me go.
“Don’t fall, Captain,” he said softly, and the way he said it made it sound like a caress. “Water’s cold.”
“I remember,” I said. You could only swim in August, and even then it was brutally cold. Ethan and I used to swim until our lips were blue and then run shivering into the house, where Mrs Dawes gave us hot chocolate and wrapped us in enormous towels.