She frowned. But ten men were, and who was she to choose not to save them?
But she understood what he was saying. In certain death, it was best not to go out for she would only be adding to the death toll. But who was to say it was certain death without attempting it? Maybe if they hadn’t gone for the captain, she could’ve saved at least three.
“Yes, I understand,” she said quietly.
“We don’t want to lose you,” he said, frowning as if he could tell he was hardly getting through to her.
“Yes, sir. I will be more thoughtful in evaluating risk next time.”
He nodded. “Do you feel you wish to stay in your post?”
The question surprised her, and it must have shown on her face for he said, “You nearly died, so I merely wanted to ascertain you were not traumatized.”
“No, sir,” she said. Maybe it had yet to sink in or maybe it was because she had been unconscious, but she didn’tfeelas though she hadalmost died at all. “I do not wish to leave my post.”
“Well, thank God for that. And thank God for preserving you.”
“Yes. Thank you, sir.”
And when she left the office and wandered about town, she could hear them all talking, so much of it the same conversation only in different words. She was brave—perhaps stupidly so—and it was only by God’s hand that she had been preserved.
She wasn’t sure what to make of it. She never was, never understood quite what to do when the ladies would stare and whisper, when the men would gawk like she was a wild animal come to town.
And when they spoke to her, she was even less unsure. Growing up, there had only been her and her father on that tiny island, and he had always been a man more inclined to read than talk—and that was when he was around, for he was often off manning or tending the lighthouse—so interactions always felt so foreign to her. Things seemed to be expected which she didn’t understand, and people often seemed to follow some sort of script that she didn’t know and which made it all the more confusing.
One thing she was certain of was that the way people treated her was different than how she had seen them treat her father on those yearly trips they would take to town. Few seemed to appreciate thatshewas the keeper and far more seemed to think it was improper, seemingly only because she was a girl, which seemed even more confusing than anything else they ever said. Why should it matter? She could save men just as well, and even Lionel had said few men would have dared to go out last night. So why did everyone look at her through the side of their eyes like some stray dog?
She rounded a corner to get to the carpenter’s and two fishermen stopped her. “Ey, girlie,” the one said, a man in his fifties with a patchy beard and an inch-long, greasy, low ponytail. “Did you really go out last night or are you just saying that?”
She blinked once in confusion. “Why would I justsaythat?”
The second, a redhead with bulging muscles in his late twenties, stepped closer. “Lord, are you dumb?”
Dumb? She tried not to frown. Maybe she might seem that way for not understanding, but she had never come across a book she failed to understand, not of anatomy or music or physics or astronomy, and she had never once struggled to apply any of what she learned to instrument or invention.
“I don’t think so,” she said, which startled bothmen and they stared at her blankly, reminding her something of fish, and when they said nothing after a moment, she said, “Excuse me,” and stepped past them, only to see the carpenter up ahead, arms crossed and laughing.
“Oh Daria, you never cease to amuse me,” he said as she stepped into the shop. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“I’m not dumb,” she pouted.
“Is that what they said?”
“They asked if I was fabricating going out last night for the rescue. Then when I didn’t understand why they would even ask that, they asked if I was dumb.”
He smiled at her fondly, a warm smile that reminded her somewhat of Father’s. Mr. Wilson was a man in his late twenties, with muscular arms and a broad back and chestnut-brown hair. He didn’t have a family, one of the few men his age to have not yet done so.
“Are you about to say something of how I should have socialized more as a child? Or that I shouldn’t be a lighthouse keeper?” she asked.
“WouldIsay either of those things?”
Hmm, perhaps not. And perhaps that was why this place had always felt like a refuge, like the only place in town she actuallywantedto be. The rest was just a trial to get here each and every time.
“Want me to teach them a lesson?” he asked, smiling dangerously.
“Mr. Wilson!” she cried.
“I’m kidding. I’m kidding. Lighten up. They only said that becausethey’renot brave enough themselves to go out, so it’s easier in their minds to tell themselves you didn’t either. Their little egos can’t handle it otherwise.”
