The City on the Sea (City on the Sea Series Book 1)

by Heather Carson

  “Wait.” An almost painful sigh emits from the arrogant man behind me. “That wasn’t right of me to say. Listen please, let’s start over.” I reluctantly turn my head over my shoulder.

  “My name is Calder. It’s nice to meet you. I didn’t choose this assignment and I’d prefer not to have it.”

  “By assignment, you mean me.” I struggle to lower my voice. “Why do you have this assignment?”

  He raises his palms in defeat. “I’m really not allowed to answer that, but I’d appreciate it if you told me what is in the bag. Is it something I need to be worried about?”

  “Like I said,” I take a step onto the sharp rock and balance myself on its peak, “that is none of your business.”

  *

  Carefully I make my way across the jagged path. The image of me slipping onto my butt in front of that jerk is more than I can stand. His eyes burn a hole into my back, but I refuse to turn around. Once I make it to the cliff, I slide down the smooth face of the rock blocking the docks from my sight.

  My heart is beating so fast that my ears are pounding. I take a few deep breaths to center myself. It’s Lena’s words that stop me from collapsing as the ocean waves spit their spray in my face.

  “Who cares? Let them watch.” The roar of the sea today is deafening, and I allow it to drown out all other thoughts except for those words. Slowly the anxiety fades. The metal piping stands tall in front of me. There is no one who can see me in this rocky alcove, but I scan the cliff to make sure.

  I pull the tablets from the bag, keeping myself partially hidden in the boulders concave, and study the painting that my father left. The machine is built. Every detail he painstakingly drew on the slab stands perfectly before me. It’s only the topmost portion where the gear should be that makes this inoperable.

  I hide the tablets again. The top of the machine is easily accessible from the cliff. It would have to be. This was designed to go deep below the water to the ocean floor and bring up the soil to the rocky terrain. With enough time, my father would have created an island like the one inside our portion of the wall. Then he could have done it again. Connecting the island to the mainland. He could have made more machines like this. We could have rebuilt the earth.

  If only my crazy jealous mother would have supported my father instead of destroying his work like she smeared the black ink across my mural.

  “I’m sorry dad,” I whisper wiping the tears from my face and climbing up the rocks.

  When I crest the ridge, I’m elated to see that the watchman called Calder is gone. I try hopelessly to fit the gear back into place, but I don’t know what I’m doing. Sending a promise to the sea, and my father buried within it, I swear I’ll get someone to figure this out and right the wrongs of the past.

  *

  “Where were you?” Lena wraps her arm through mine, pulling me away from the afternoon crowd in the tavern. “We’ve been waiting forever.”

  “Are you not mad at me anymore?” I arch an eyebrow. She lowers her head and puts her tongue in her cheek as we walk to the staircase. I’ve known her long enough to know she is finding the right words to say, so I patiently wait for them to come as we climb the steps.

  “I was never mad,” she says each word carefully when we reach the top. “I was hurt. And maybe a little jealous…” Her voice trails off as she looks to the floor.

  “What could you be jealous of?” This revelation shocks me. “You’re beautiful and have so much love around you. If anything, I should be jealous of you.”

  “And you’re not,” Lena sighs. “Which makes me feel like a horrible person. But that’s not why I’m jealous.”

  “Okay.” I pull her back as she starts to walk in front of me. “Why are you jealous then?”

  “It’s stupid, really.” She casually sweeps her hair away from her neck. “It’s just that I was talking with Tordon and realized that I don’t have the choices you do. You get to live your life. With Ma and my sisters, well, I’ll never get to decide to live without them.”

  Even though her confession is profound, I can’t help but pick up on the odd bit of information. “When did you talk to Tordon?”

  “Oh, this morning,” she giggles.

  A man coughs from behind me and I turn to see Tordon standing by my bedroom door holding a large plank of something behind him.

  “What is this?” I ask.

  “Nothing!” Lena shouts and places a hand over my eyes. “It was supposed to be a surprise, but Gertrude wouldn’t give us the key. Go unlock your door and don’t look.”

  I glance sideways at Tordon as I put the key in the latch. The purple blotches on his face and tight lips withholding his smile make him look like a young mischievous boy again. Lena holds me back at arm’s length while he slips into my room. Whatever he carries bangs against the doorframe.

  “Now keep your eyes closed,” Lena laughs. I squeeze them shut and darkness blankets the stream of colors that were shining through my lashes. She pulls me forward by my hand. “Okay, now you can open them.”

  “What is it?” I ask while staring at the large yellowing piece of fiberglass Tordon is securing to the wall. It covers the width between the mirror and window. Lena and Tordon look uneasily to one another and I’m struck by a closeness between the two of them that wasn’t there before.

  “It’s for you to draw on.” She speaks each word slowly as if I should already understand. “I asked Tordon to meet me at the wreckage yard this morning and we found the biggest piece of siding we could. Since I’m sure Gertrude won’t let you paint on the walls, we figured this would be the best way for you to redo your mural.”

  Happy tears well in my eyes as I squeeze Lena and then Tordon in a hug. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”

  “Don’t cry,” Lena smiles as she jumps onto my squeaky mattress and pulls me down next to her. Tordon finishes securing the supports and places his hands awkwardly in his pockets.

  “This isn’t such a bad room,” he comments as he looks around.

  “It’s not. Plus, I can come crash here after night shifts sometimes.” Lena pokes me in the ribs.

  I stare transfixed at the gift my friends brought. I don’t know if I can paint the same mural as the one in my old house. That was of my family and the elements from the earth I missed. It changed through the years as new parts were added to reflect my life. No, this mural would be something new.

  “Are you still with us Brooke?” Lena waves her hand in front of my face.

  “Yes.” I smile. “I was thinking of what to paint.”

  “Good.” She lounges back against the bedframe and stretches her arms out behind her head. “I’m glad you are happy. Anyway, I was asking if that’s your father’s bag. I’ve never seen you carry it until yesterday, but I remember that he used to wear it.”

  “Oh, this?” I struggle to keep my voice neutral and am unsure of how much to say. Instantly, I’m ashamed for hiding something. But how do I tell my friends that my mother sabotaged my father’s work? They’d only pity me even more than they already do.

  “I grabbed it to pack some stuff in when I left.” I shrug the bag from my shoulder and carelessly toss it under my bed.

  Lena knows I’m lying. Her eyes narrow as she studies me. She glances briefly at Tordon and relaxes her face. I’m off the hook for now, but that won’t last forever.

  “What should we do for the rest of the day?” Tordon turns to the window and looks at the clouds filling the sky. “It seems like it’s going to rain.”

  “Another storm?” Lena leans forward to see outside.

  “Not enough wind and the pressure barely dropped.” He shrugs. “It’ll probably just be a drizzle.”

  “Nothing outside then.” She chews the edge of her thumb as she thinks. “Baskin was supposed to have a party at his house tonight. Maybe we can go to that?”

  “Sounds good to me.” Tordon turns to smile at her. Once again, I see the spark of something blooming. A queasy feeling pulls
at my stomach, but I’m genuinely curious to see where this is going.

  “Why don’t you two go without me?” I suggest.

  “What?” Lena’s jaw drops. “Why? What else are you going to do?”

  My father’s bag calls to me like a ghost begging for resolution. I should go to Meghan’s and tell her about what Thomas said, but I don’t want to.

  “I think I’m going to stay here and paint.”

  Lena and Tordon seem so proud of my answer that I’m almost moved to tears again.

  We eat an early dinner at the tavern. The three of us sit and joke just like old times. Two more girls come in for the evening shift as the dinner customers begin to arrive. Tordan holds out his arm for Lena and they leave me alone for the night.

  By the time I get upstairs, a light rain has started to fall. The sound of the water dancing on the metal roof mixes with the muffled voices from the customers downstairs. I sit cross legged on the cold floor as I stare at the blank canvas in front of me.

  ‡ Chapter Nine ‡

  In a time far away from this one my father sorted shells by colors. I wanted the blue of the sky. I clung to his neck as we dove beneath the waves gathering rocks and worn bits of earth from the ocean floor. The saltwater burned my eyes, but I didn’t dare blink, so I didn’t miss the right color.

  Mortar and pestle, crushing pebbles and shells to powder and mixing them with whale oil. Sections of my hair clipped and fastened to metal poles with wire.

  “Here. Paint with this.”

  I could never make a true sky blue.

  The paintbrush dips into the slate gray. One of my least favorite colors, but this stroke needs to be made. Tin for time. The time we lost. A feathered streak. Focus on this line. Spread it gently like the ever-flowing sea. Just stay in this moment and forget everything.

  I work feverishly in tune to the steady patter of the gentle rain falling. Coral pink is my favorite. It’s easy to come by and so versatile. Browns add depth. It’s an easy color too. Dull renditions of the earth I know. It isn’t the first time I’m unsatisfied with the color, but I’ve grown used to this hollow ache. The yearning for a different shade. There are some things that can’t be changed though. Maybe, one day…

  Twilight has fallen and a cool breeze whips around me as I take a step back to see what I’ve created. It’s a large ship sailing into the sunset. I’ve never drawn a ship before but I’m in awe of its likeness.

  It dawns on me how quiet the tavern is, and I peak down at the empty walkways below to see that the world is sleeping before closing the shutters to block out the chilling breeze. I must have lost hours painting. The stiffness of my neck and back begs me to put away the brush.

  *

  “Your sister is worried.” Rowan stands blocking the exit to the tavern kitchen with his wide shoulders.

  “Meghan is always worried.” I roll my eyes as I shift the weight of the tray so that it balances on my forearms.

  “You should have come by yesterday,” he sighs as he takes the tray with one hand. “Where is this going?”

  He doesn’t budge. I reluctantly grumble, “To the traders in the back,” and trail behind him as he hands out the plates of food to the customers. I ask if they need anything else.

  Their mouths are full the minute the plate touches the table and they grunt out “no” between bites. Rowan follows me to the kitchen. Gertrude raises a suspicious eyebrow in my direction. My cheeks flush as I smile to let her know it’s alright.

  “I’m working,” I mumble to Rowan between clenched teeth. “I’ll come by as soon as I’m done.”

  “That’s all I’m asking.” He nods. “And I think you should bring the bag.”

  “I’m not making any promises,” I say. He opens the door to leave and rubs a calloused palm across his eyes in frustration. I grab another tray to carry out.

  *

  “What was that about?” Zoe wipes down the chair beside me as I gather the plates from the empty tables. It’s the first time she’s spoken to me unprompted. Although I’m tempted to keep my personal life private, I don’t want to miss this opportunity to connect.

  “That was my brother-in-law Rowan,” I explain.

  “Yeah. I’ve seen him dropping off Zander in the mornings.” She dunks the rag into the bucket and carries it to the next table. “But what was he doing here?”

  “I didn’t go see my sister yesterday. She worries a lot. Plus, she just had a baby, so she worries a little more.”

  Zoe nods. “I remember. The newborn baby sickness. It’ll pass.” Her eyes are distant when she talks. There are so many things I want to ask her, but I don’t want her to clam up again.

  I stack the plates slowly on top of each other as I think. “You know, I never asked what your daughter’s name is.”

  “Iris,” Zoe whispers the word like it’s a treasure to speak aloud.

  “That’s beautiful. I’ve never heard it before. Where did you get it from?”

  A cloud passes over her face and she begins to slip away. “Her father named her.”

  “Wait.” I impulsively reach out my hand to anchor her to the spot. She shivers under my touch and I jerk back as if I’d burned her skin. Her eyes are pleading, begging me not to ask any more questions. I begin to ramble because I don’t know what else to do.

  “My sister Meghan is as strong as a hurricane. If you can believe it, she’s even shorter than me. Rowan stands a good two feet taller than her, but she’s definitely the boss in their marriage.”

  Zoe chuckles softly as she begins to wipe down the chairs. “Good for her.”

  “To be honest, she scares me too,” I laugh.

  “Is that why you are hanging out here after your shift is over?” She pushes the chair back under the table.

  “Oh, am I?” I bite my lip to hide my grin. “I just thought you could use the extra help.”

  “Go on.” Zoe smiles as she swings the dirty rag playfully in my direction. “Go deal with your hurricane of a sister. I’ll finish up here.”

  *

  I didn’t bring the bag. The excuses run through my mind as I slowly push my way through the crowd of people gathered on the main wharf. Zoe was watching me. It would have drawn attention. The truth is I didn’t want to bring it. This newfound freedom of being able to do as I please must be going to my head.

  I knock on Meghan’s door. Zander answers and squeals in delight. Meghan rushes from the sleeping room with a finger pressed against her lips to stop him from waking the baby. She hesitates when she sees me standing there and I’m instantly filled with panic.

  “Where’s the bag?” she asks as I close the door behind me.

  “In my room,” I answer quietly.

  “Okay.” Meghan treads lightly across the floor and the knot in my stomach twists. She’s going to yell at me any second now.

  But she doesn’t. Instead, she sits calmly at the table next to Rowan. I am beyond confused at this point.

  “Look Auntie Brookie.” Zander pulls me to the floor to show off the tower of blocks he built.

  “This is amazing.” I smile brightly and the pride beams across his face.

  “Would you mind picking him up from the wall tomorrow?” Meghan’s voice is relaxed and steady. “It’s time for him to go back.” Zander’s smile fades. He tears down the wall and begins to rebuild it.

  “Of course,” I say watching my nephew as he plays. “But do you really think he is ready to go back?”

  Zander’s shoulders sag but he says nothing in protest. This conversation already happened without me present and the vote has been decided. I want to reach out and hold my nephew, but I wasn’t there to speak up for him when the decision was made. Guilt washes over me.

  “It’s time to get back to normal.” Rowan clasps Meghan’s hand in his own as he speaks. Shocked would be an understatement. I’ve never known Rowan to make the rules. Zander buries himself in his imaginary world. I run a soothing hand across his back before standing up to join my s
ister at the table.

  “This feels odd,” I say as I sit on the bench across from them. “Want to tell me what’s going on?” Meghan’s fingers curl tightly around her husband’s fingers like seaweed strands wrapping around the poles of the pier.

  “I’m worried about you,” she says.

  “That’s nothing new,” I sigh. “You’re always worried.”

  “We are worried.” Rowan’s husky voice cuts through the familiar conversation. My eyes dart from my sister’s face to his.

  “We are worried,” Meghan says again, more forceful this time. For a moment I’m relieved. She’s just convinced Rowan of her outlandish anxieties. He is only supporting his wife.

  “The tablets,” Rowan says softly. My brain spins. None of this makes sense.

  “We need to get rid of them,” he continues. “I want you to bring them here so I can dispose of them and I want you to forget they ever existed.”

  This isn’t Meghan speaking. My fire breathing sister’s face is pale as she studies the knuckles on her husband’s hand.

  “Why?” I cry out, willing her to look at me.

  “It’s dangerous.” Her lip quivers as she answers. “Father died building that machine.”

  “It was our mother’s fault,” I whisper harshly. “She sabotaged his work. I showed Thomas the gear and he explained everything…” My voice trails off as a look of abject horror distorts my sister’s face.

  “Oh gods, what did you do?” she cries.

  I stare at her, silent and overwhelmed. “I didn’t tell him about the tablets if that is what you are worried about. He asked about the gear father was supposed to bring to him, so I showed him that.”

  Meghan turns and silently watches her son play on the floor. Rowan rubs her shoulder.

  “That’s okay,” he whispers, to which one of us I’m unsure. “There is nothing we can do about that now. The only option is to move forward.”

  “Listen.” I place both of my palms on the table. “I don’t know why you are both acting this way.”

  “You know.” Meghan’s eyes are full of tears as she turns again to look at me. “You have to know. They are watching you. How could you not see it?” My breath catches in my throat and I swallow hard to choke it down.