I nod. “Yes, I told him everything this morning.”
“Let’s go sit by the water, then,” she says as she steps in front of us and leads the way down to the docks.
Instead of sitting at our usual bench, she walks to the other end of the dock, where a wooden picnic table sits empty. She motions for us to sit on one side as she parks herself down on the other, facing us. She pulls her hair out of its bun and combs her fingers through it, letting it fall past her shoulders and down her back.
“That’s much better,” she sighs as she puts the yellow elastic in her pocket. Angling her body more toward Dylan, she places a hand on his shoulder. “Now that you know everything, how are you handling it all?” Her eyes are soft but curious, and her mouth sits in a straight line as she patiently waits for him to answer her.
He doesn’t look away; in fact, he shifts his body more toward her. I watch as his face displays all the manyemotions he’s currently going through—sadness, anger, frustration, even a bit of acceptance creeps in as his shoulders slump and he relaxes into his posture a bit more. He straightens his head, running a hand through his long brown hair.
“I’m still coming to terms with it, but—” He lets out a breath before continuing. “—I think I’m getting to the point of accepting it.”
“How very hard that must be to do,” Iris responds, her head tilted, like she wasn’t expecting that answer from him.
I squeeze his thigh and blink back my own tears that want to fall.This is not about me, I remind myself as they continue their conversation.
“It brings me some peace to know I saved them,” he adds.
Iris raises a hand and flits it in front of her, as if she’s waving away an invisible fly. “Yes, the brothers. They lived—so Lucy says. Thanks to you.” She pushes her glasses back up the bridge of her long nose, the thick lenses magnifying her eyes even more now.
“Iris,” I start before I can stop myself. “There has to besomethingwe can do to save Dylan.” I lace my fingers in his and slide over so I’m even closer to him. “We can’t just accept this. We have the luxury of information now. Can we find these boys and their family? Can we tell them to make sure they keep an eye on them?” How am I the only one who is trying to fight this and change things? “Can we barricade the edge? We have to do something!” The tears push their way through and fall now as I plead and beg with two people who refuse to listen. Who refuse to believe that we can change what happens. “Please,” I add, as my voice quivers. “Please…”
Dylan turns to me and rubs a hand on my cheek. “Luce?—”
“There is nothing we can do, dear,” Iris interjects. “Those boys’ families arrive the same day as the storm. You said so yourself. There’s no way to warn them. It’s going to happen whether we’d like it to or not. Wecannotchange the past, no matter how much wewishwe could.” She looks away at a fishing boat leaving the dock, and I watch as her fingers move to her ring.
My nostrils flare, and I bring a hand up in front of me, catching her attention once more. “Just becauseyoudidn’t try doesn’t mean we can’t!” I stand up and walk away. My legs take me across to the other end of the dock, where I sit down and hang my feet over the edge. Tears are falling, and my rage blurs my vision. I take deep breaths to try to calm myself down, happy I knew enough to leave before I said something even more damaging than I already did.
Once my heart rate normalizes, Iris comes over and sits beside me. I turn around and see Dylan, still sitting on the picnic table, tracing over the wooden top. She places her thin hands in mine and looks out at the ocean with me. I rest my head on her shoulder, and she sighs.
“You’re right, dear. I didn’t try enough. But I know that we cannot change what happens.” She leans over and whispers in my ear. “Remember, Dylan disappears. You told me that everyoneassumeshe died, but his body was never found, right?” I lift my head and shift my gaze toward her as she adds, “I don’t know if that means anything, but those are the facts, according to you.”
She’s right. My head rests on her shoulder once more, feeling the tiniest glimmer of something now. Maybe it’s hope. Denial? I can’t really be sure. Maybe I found this lighthouse for a reason. I’ve always wondered why it wasme who saw that bolt from the blue and was able to make it inside and back to 1993. Now I’m wondering if it’s because I am the type of person who will fight for what and who I love.
Dylan joins us soon after. He places an arm around my shoulder and kisses my forehead as he sits down beside me. “I know this is hard,” he says as we all stare out at the water, watching the waves lap along the wooden posts that go down to the bottom. “If you want to leave now, I understand. We don’t have much time together left?—”
“Don’t say that, Dylan. I’m not leaving. I would never leave you.”
He doesn’t respond, just pulls me in closer and tucks me into his chest. I feel his heart beating and close my eyes. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I have to do something.
I have to find a way to save him.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The next week away from Dylan goes by at a snail’s pace. We left things on Sunday in decent spirits, both emotionally exhausted from all the hard conversations we had and the truths that were revealed. We spent some more time on the dock with Iris and then headed back to the lighthouse. Dylan made us dinner, and we sat in front of the wood stove, curled up on the floor, and ate it. Afterward, we made love on the couch, and then, as much as I didn’t want to, I left, promising I would come back on Friday evening after I finished work.
My workdays have at least been quick. The pumpkin spice creamer has been selling really well, and Sarah has challenged me to come up with another fall flavour to showcase. I’m planning on heading back to the cafe this evening to work on the next creamer after my pit stop at the convenience store below my apartment.
“How’s it going,” I say to Mrs. Kim as I hoist up the giant tub of maple syrup that cost way too much money and five small bags of pecans onto the counter. Shecocks an eyebrow at me as she looks over my expensive and random haul of Buldak ramen and the creamer ingredients.
“I hope this isn’t all for one meal,” she says while she punches in the items and motions toward the POS for me to pay.
“Nope, it’s for work. Hopefully, we’ll be putting it in coffees soon,” I tell her while I wait for the receipt to print. Thankfully, Sarah said the cafe would cover the expenses for me since they asked me to do this. “Maple pecan creamer,” I say excitedly.
Mrs. Kim’s eyes widen, and she holds a hand up in front of me, asking me to wait where I am. She hops down from her stool and scurries out from behind the counter, meeting me at eye level. Her five-foot frame takes her to the back of the store, where the dairy section is, and she comes back with a few sticks of salted butter.
“Trust me when I tell you this. Brown the butter and add it to the creamer.” She rings it up, and I tap my card, taking the receipt from her small hands after paying.
“How do I even brown butter?” I ask.
