“A million.”
“I love you, Daria. With all my life.”
“I love you too.”
CHAPTER 46
Finally, the day came for Mr. Wilson’s visit. She wasn’t sure what to expect or how long he even planned on staying, but she made sure Kallias knew to stay far away.
It was around noon when she caught sight of her father’s little boat arriving around the bend, and in fifteen more minutes, he was coming up to her dock.
“Mr. Wilson!” she cried, waving. No matter what, he was still a dear—and her only—friend, and it was good to see his face.
He waved too. “Daria. How do you do on this fine day?”
“You seem cheerful.”
“And why should I not be? I’m about to have lunch with the prettiest woman in town.”
“I’m not in town.” She smirked.
“Ah, but if I say out of town, it’s only you and the rogue fishers, and that may not be the compliment I was going for.”
“No,” she agreed, laughing. “What did you bring with you there?” There were more than a few baskets.
“It’s not all from me,” he said. “After your little escapade, the villagers and I decided you needed more rations. Ah, Mrs. Allen made butter just for you. Mr. Clarke threw in some milk. Mrs. Clemson even baked you some bread.” After tying down the boat, he passed her up some baskets. “You’re much loved. Probably because everyone’s glad someone’s crazy enough to do this job.” It was clearly a tease and his light-green eyes sparkled accordingly.
“Stop,” she teased back. “I’m sure they’re just being kind.” Though if she truly had to guess, it was Mr. Wilson who was being kind and he had roped them into it, for she could not even put faces to thenames. He likely thought she was suffering from losing those men and wanted to cheer her up. She wondered how often she would have thought of that night if not for Kallias’s comforting arms. “Will you thank them for me?”
“Of course.” He nodded, stepping out of the boat himself with the last basket. “And this one, I packed. I know a lighthouse keeper is never to leave her post, but surely you have time for lunch.”
She gave a cheeky smile. “Are you trying to get me fired?”
“No, no,” he jested, playing innocent. “But during the day, with no storm in sight, can I steal you for a few hours?”
“You sound as if you wish me to leave the island.”
“Oh, no, I just was worried about distracting you. I’d never do anything to actually get you in trouble.”
She smiled to that. “Thank you. Unlike some people”—him—“I do have a boss.”
He laughed. “It doesn’t suit you.”
Why was she inclined to agree to that? But what was the other option? Images of her and Kallias sailing amongst the islands popped to mind and she couldn’t fight off the smile. Maybe that actually wouldn’t be so bad.
“Let me put these inside,” she said. He had even gone so far as to bring a block of ice. “Would you care to step inside?”
“I’d be delighted.”
She wasn’t openly thrilled by the idea of showing off her home. It was small—likely most would call it cramped—and it was dark with only a few small, circular windows, one or less per room.
But it was snug in more ways than just mere space. Items from her father and his father before him—who had been the real collector—were packed in. Bookshelves covered all the interior walls. They were stacked with books on top of books with little trinkets from Grandpa’s travels hiding in between so that there was no space left to store anything—if one didn’t resort to aggressive shoving.
The furniture was dark, almost as if it all wanted to devour the minimal light. The bookcases were a deep shade of wood, their books and trinkets mostly deep shades of greens and reds and browns as well. A deep-red velvet sofa was pressed against the far wall. There was a painting of a ship behind it with five tinier pictures of miscellaneous things surrounding it, such as one of an umbrella and another of an egg. She didn’t know where her grandfather had gotten them or why he had even wanted them in the first place, but she was exceptionally fond of them now.
The rugs were dark red too, though with none of the purple tint the sofa had. They were allegedly Persian, and though faded and worn now, their designs of cream and black patterns were still exquisite in her eyes.
The only walls not stuffed of every inch of space were the circular outer walls, though Lord knew they had still attempted. When the curve tightened and furniture could no longer properly hug it, that was when piles of books alone started, curving along with the walls. And of course there were the random standalone pieces there as well, such as that suit of armor Grandpa had gotten that no one knew what to do with.
