Her eyebrows raised a degree. “Justin? He has dark hair and skin and really straight teeth. He talks like Connor and he says a lot of technical things too.”
“No. I want to know what he is like as a man—how does he treat you.”
“Oh, fine, I guess. He doesn’t talk to me when Connor is around. Besides, Connor said I have to stay up here, so I just draw all the time. I’m so bored in here. I want to go back to the pottery before it’s too cold.”
It was not the answer Everett wanted, but as long as Mercer was keeping to himself, he could let it rest. “What have you been drawing?”
Bethany shrugged. “Everything I can think of. I just drew a new design I might try on a dish set.”
“Show me.”
“You won’t be able to see the detail from down there.” A quick smile lit her face and she held up a finger. “Wait a minute. I have an idea.”
Bethany disappeared inside the room and Everett stretched his tired neck while he waited. He heard paper crinkling inside the room, then her arm appeared in the window. She released a piece of paper folded into a peculiar, pointed shape. The white paper sailed through the air like a bird and circled overhead before it landed in the grass behind his feet. He glanced up at Bethany, then he stepped back and picked up the folded paper. “Clever.”
“It’s called a paper airplane. Justin taught me.”
Jealousy burned inside Everett’s chest, but he tried not to show it as he unfolded the paper and examined Bethany’s design. Though he recognized her artistic style in the flowering vine scrolled along the page, the lines had distinct angles foreign to her usual work. He traced the fold lines in the paper with his forefinger and he wondered if Mercer’s influence went beyond paper airplanes. “It’s different.”
“You don’t like it, do you?”
“I like it just fine,” Everett lied. “Does Mercer go up to your room?”
“Pardon?”
He cleared his throat, but it did little to tamp his anger. “When did he teach you to fold paper like an airplane?”
“I don’t know—the other day. Look, Everett, I know you are worried about me—just like my father and Levi are—but I’m fine. Justin apologized for getting me sick and I forgave him. You all will have to forgive him too. You just haven’t met him yet, so it makes you worry about me, but he’s nice, really. You will like him once you get to know him.”
Everett realized John was right: Bethany had no idea how he felt about her. She thought he wanted to protect her like the other men in her life. And he did, but the other men in her life were related to her; his feelings for her were much different. He would not stand in the yard and declare his feelings for the woman he loved as she leaned out a window. He would wait until he could stand close to her and touch her and watch the light in her eyes as he told her how much she meant to him.
Everett held up the paper. “May I keep this?”
Bethany smiled. “You may. Will you come visit me again?”
“I will.” Everett thought of all the work that waited for him at the farm—his farm. “It will be a few days, but I will come back.”
* * *
Bethany buttoned the front of an old flannel nightshirt and unwrapped the towel from her wet hair. Her damp waves fell past the shirt’s tattered collar as she leaned over the sink to wipe steam from the mirror. Though late at night, she did not want to go to bed. After a week of being stuck upstairs of the cottage, she was tired of being indoors, tired of being alone, and tired of wearing old clothes from the rag pile. Though she normally loathed housework, she was looking forward to the cleaning and sanitizing Connor said they would have to do to the cottage on the last day of quarantine. She glanced down at the ugly nightshirt and felt especially thrilled with the plan to burn the old clothes she had been forced to wear.
As Bethany opened the washroom door, she wondered what Justin was doing downstairs. He had seemed interested in her on the first day of quarantine, but then Connor had said something to him. Though Bethany had strained to hear, she did not know what was said, but Justin had not called her to the door since. He only came upstairs to use the washroom when Connor was in the cottage, and he rarely said more than hello when he passed through her room. Though Connor was trying to protect her, she had no one else to talk to and she doubted Justin was still infectious.
Bethany glanced around the quiet bedroom. It felt late. The only clock in the cottage was in the office downstairs. She walked to the door and cracked it—hoping to hear if Justin was still up—and heard the repetitive creak of the floorboards followed by a gush of breath. Curious, she crept down the first few steps then knelt to peer between the balusters. Justin was splayed, arms spread wide, pushing himself up from the floor. He lowered his straight body close to the floor, and then the muscles in his shirtless back tightened as he pushed up again. Bethany sat on the stair and tucked the hem of her nightshirt around her long legs as she watched him.
Justin continued exercising and did not look up. “Do you like what you see?” he asked.
“I’m sorry for staring. I only wondered what the time was.”
He pushed his body away from the floor one last time then stood. The faint light coming from the gray leaf log that burned in the fireplace highlighted one side of his face and body. The skin on the left side of his chest was marked with a dark symbol. It looked like a drawing of wings with something between them. Justin’s chest rose and fell with heavy breath as he glanced at the round mechanism strapped to his wrist. “It’s eleven twenty-three.”
Bethany peeled her eyes away from the mark on his chest and pointed to the clock on the bookshelf beside Lydia’s medical supply cabinet. “That says half past twelve.”
“Your village probably calibrates with the sun. It’s actually GMT minus one here.” He stepped closer to the staircase then stopped and grinned. A bead of sweat rolled down his whiskered jaw. “I’m glad you finally came downstairs.”
Bethany smiled back and looked at the clock on his wrist. The mechanism was as strange and foreign to her as he was. After being under the same roof for a week he should feel familiar, yet when she studied him, her mind filled with questions.
He lifted his forearm. “Haven’t seen a watch like this before, have you?”
When she shook her head, he turned his arm and worked a buckle on the underside of his wrist. He removed the rubber watchband and stepped close to the staircase as he held it out. She reached through the balusters to take the watch then remembered what happened the first time she touched him. When she pulled her hand back, Justin angled his head. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m sorry, I just don’t want to get sick again.”
“Don’t worry—that’s over. I’m completely healed. The gray leaf took care of it.” He held the watch closer and nodded when she took it. “It’s cool, huh?”
Bethany examined the strange timepiece. The clock’s hands seemed to glow in the dim light of the room. The band was smooth and still warm from his body heat. She touched the buttons on either side of the clock’s outer ring. “What are these?”
Justin leaned against the staircase; his face was mere inches from hers. She stared at the watch but could feel him looking at her. He reached his hand through the balusters and touched the buttons on the watch. “These two set the time and date, this is the countdown timer, and that is the backlight.” He slid the watch out of her hand.
Bethany’s gaze followed the watch as he strapped it back around his wrist. Her eyes trailed up to the black mark on his chest. She could see more detail now that he was close: the lines of the feathers, the shield between the wings, and the anchors below the shield. “Did you draw that on yourself?”
“No, it’s a tattoo.”
“Oh. I’ve never seen one before. Will it wash off?”
Justin rubbed a palm across the mark as if to prove its permanence. “No. A tattoo artist injects ink under the skin with needles.”
“What does the symbol mean?
”
He glanced at the tattoo then kept his chin low as he looked back at her. “It’s the naval flight officer insignia.”
Connor was a naval aviator but his skin was unmarked. Bethany asked, “Why do you have it?”
Justin leaned against the edge of Lydia’s desk. His eyes cast downward. “I worked so hard during flight training that when I finally got my wings of gold, I swore I would never take them off. That wasn’t practical, so I figured if I got the symbol tattooed over my heart, I would never forget what mattered most to me—wings.”
“Wings matter most to you… out of everything in life?”
“Yes.”
“Still? Even after what happened and not flying for three years?”
Justin didn’t answer. Bethany followed the lines of the tattoo with her eyes. She remembered when she first met Justin and how he had laid her hand over his heart—over that mark. He had said he spent three years trying to find the Land, but now he said wings mattered more than everything. Bethany wrapped her arms around her knees. “Would you go back to flying if you could?”
Justin looked her in the eye. “In a heartbeat.”
“When Connor first arrived, he tried to find a way to leave the Land but couldn’t.”
“That’s bull. There’s always a way out.”
Bethany thought of the fierce ocean currents that ripped close to the shore of the Land. Those churning currents had taken the lives of two of her classmates when she was fifteen. The idea of another person trying to leave the Land made her feel sick. She put her hand around one of the balusters. “Are you going to try to go back to your ship?”
“I don’t know yet.” Justin looked at the door and then back at her. He leaned close and lowered his voice. “I wanted to find this land so badly, but now that I know the cure for the disease, I want to get some of that gray leaf medicine back to my ship. A buddy of mine is sick—he may be dead by now. The other men onboard are all sick too. If I could get the medicine to them, something good could come of all this.”
“Connor says the atmosphere keeps the Land hidden and—”
“Hidden and impenetrable are two different things. If I got in, I can get out. But since I was unconscious when I arrived, I have no idea how far away my ship is. Connor said he took an old telescope out to the shore today and looked, but he couldn’t see anything. Maybe I’ll wire a coconut radio and try to call the ship from here.”
“A what?”
“Nothing.” Justin grinned. “It was a joke.”
Bethany smiled back even though she did not understand. She liked him and felt a twinge of disappointment at the thought of him leaving, but she understood his desire to get medicine to his friends. Her finger traced the beveled line of the baluster. “Are you going to leave as soon as the quarantine is over?”
“I don’t know.”
“If you are going to try at all, shouldn’t you go before your friends are dead?”
Justin crossed his arms over his bare chest. “You ask a lot of questions.”
Bethany drew her head away from the balusters. “I’m sorry if I’m annoying. I’m just bored with being stuck in this place.”
“Me too.” He dropped his hands to the desk and a slow grin reached his eyes. “We don’t have to be bored, you know. There are things we could do to entertain ourselves. I know one thing I’d really like to do.”
Bethany glanced around the room then her eyes settled on a stack of the founders’ books on the desk beside Justin. “I’m tired of drawing and there is nothing else to do in here but read.” She pointed at the books. “Connor keeps bringing me books.”
Justin’s brow furrowed. “That’s not exactly what I meant.” He chuckled. “Yeah, he keeps bringing me these old journals from your founders. He says if I’m going to live here, I need to learn about your society.”
“Have you read any of them?”
“Only a couple. I don’t know if it’s because these journals are a hundred years old or what, but this place seems pretty uptight. I can see why Connor likes it—he always seemed like the churchy type. He probably fit right in here, didn’t he?”
“I guess. It seems like so long ago, but I remember at first people were suspicious of him—especially my brother Levi—but then Connor wanted to help keep the Land hidden from the outside world and everyone saw how sincerely he cared.”
“How sincerely he cared,” Justin repeated and shook his head. He stepped away from the desk and paced the office floor then turned and ran a hand over his short hair. “Yeah, I would’ve done the same thing. I would’ve tried to keep this safe, beautiful place to myself too. Clean water, miraculous medicine, gullible women—I would’ve done the same thing. Only I wouldn’t be able to play along with all the prudish rules for as long as he has.”
Bethany heard the change in Justin’s voice and wondered why he sounded perturbed. She tried to sense his emotions, but he gave such conflicting signals she could not read him. “I know you’ve been stuck in here for a week, but once you see the village and meet people, you will probably like it here.”
“Bethany—” Justin rubbed the back of his neck as he slowly stepped back to the stairs. His pants were slung low on his hips and she watched the lines of his body as he moved. When he reached the stairs, he rested his forearms against the balusters and leaned close to her. “So far you are the only thing I like about this place.” He looked at her lips. He had said he liked her and she sensed his attraction. They were alone and it was late—Connor wouldn’t come in. No one would ever know. Part of her wanted everyone to know. All the young women in the village would be intrigued with Justin when they saw him, but he liked her first.
She held her breath and waited for him to move. Justin glanced at the door then pushed away from the stairs. “Go to bed, Bethany.” He turned and stepped to the cot on the other side of the office.
She watched him and released the breath she had held. “Good night, Justin,” she said as she stood and walked back up to her prison.
Chapter Seven
Bethany glanced in the mirror of Lydia’s old dressing table and then back at her unfinished sketch. A spare graphite pencil rolled to the edge of her temporary desk and she stopped it with her elbow. Connor’s footsteps echoed up the stairway. She glanced at him as he walked into the room, then she returned her attention to the face on the page.
Connor lifted a plate of half-eaten food from the side of the dressing table. “Are you finished with this?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Nice sketch.” He hovered over her while she penciled in the iris of an eye. She intentionally left a spot of white to capture a light she barely remembered.
Connor pointed to the page. “Who is it? Adeline?”
“No, it’s my mother. At least it’s supposed to be. I don’t remember her features very well.” She pulled her pencil away from the sketch and looked at the face staring back from the page. “I miss my family.”
“Only one more night to go, Beth. You can do it.” He rubbed a palm across her shoulder. “You’ll be back in the house tomorrow morning.”
“I can’t wait to get out of here.”
Connor motioned to the plate in his hand. “Me too. Get some sleep. Tomorrow morning we’ll clean this place, burn the rags, and be done with it.” He gave her a sympathetic grin before he walked back down the steps.
“Thank goodness,” Bethany mumbled as she tossed her pencil onto the dressing table. She stood and stretched her arms overhead. One last night in quarantine—Connor was right—she could do it. Glancing around the messy room, she decided to start gathering her things to make the cleaning go faster in the morning. As she packed her satchel, she heard Connor and Justin speaking downstairs. Last night when Justin leaned against the stair rail, shirtless, she thought he might be intrigued with her. But his flirtatious interest had turned into abrupt dismissal. Curious as to what might be said, Bethany pushed back a tangle of bed sheets and sat on the edge of the mattress as sh
e listened to the low murmur of the men’s voices downstairs. Connor spoke too quietly for her to understand his words. She wanted to sneak to the door and listen, but they would hear the floorboards creak with her steps. She stayed on the bed and strained to decipher their conversation. Justin mentioned her name.
“No, she’s too young for you,” Connor said. “She just turned eighteen.”
“That’s legal.”
“You’re thirty.”
“Not for two more months.”
“Still,” Connor insisted, “she is not your type.”
“Sure she is—she’s eighteen,” Justin chuckled. Bethany did not know why he found that funny, but she liked the sound of his laugh.
“Things are different here. These people have old fashioned values and everything moves at a slower pace.” Connor raised his volume then lowered it again. “The women here are different from the women you’re used to.”
“Oh, yeah? Are they all as tractable as Bethany? Cause I could get used to that.”
“Tractable? No, most of the women here are strong and independent. Bethany is too in her own way. The men in her life are the leaders in this community. That’s all she has known, so she is trusting—probably too trusting—of men. But don’t let that give you any ideas. She may be young and naïve, but we are protective of her.”
Bethany ran her fingers through her knotted hair as she sat on the bed. She felt flattered by every word Justin said about her. Every time he said her name she wanted to giggle but proudly considered herself mature for holding it in. Her fingers caught a particularly stubborn knot and it stung her scalp. She worked at the knot as she listened for more.
“Lydia says you’re free to go tomorrow.” Connor’s voice returned to its regular volume. “So long as no symptoms return before then.”
“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Justin replied. Bethany desperately wanted them to go back to talking about her.
Uncharted Inheritance (The Uncharted Series Book 3) Page 9