Chapter 6
Beck
Deliberately making my footsteps more pronounced so they can signal my arrival and not startle Lucille, I clear my throat as an added measure before knocking on the open door of The Dancing Daisy.
“Beck, right on time, as always.” The octogenarian greets me with a kind smile and ushers me inside her shop. Shelves of books line the walls, and even if they’re not in alphabetical order, I do believe Lucille has some kind of organization system for them.
I eye the colorful display of magical treats and candies at the back of the shop, and note which cases are emptierthan others. “Did you order more stock for those I need to pick up in the city, or do you still have enough in storage that I can use to refill them for you?”
“No need to worry about that now. Tea first,” Lucille says as she shoos me toward my favorite orange leather chair in the reading corner. She pours us each a cup of strong tea while I place a loaf of freshly baked rye bread on the table between us. As is our weekly tradition, I take the rattling cup out of her hands and wait for her to take a seat in her matching chair before I sit down next to her.
There was never a spoken conversation or a written rule for our weekly meetings. What started as scheduled monthly appointments to talk about her orders for her shop evolved into more frequent visits after the loss of her husband, Lochan—a jovial cyclops who was just as beloved by the Starry Hill community as Lucille.
Eventually, I started coming by early every Saturday morning before the other shops would open and we follow the same routine each time. Lucille brews us some tea and I bring her bread, and we sit in the high-backed chairs and talk about everything and nothing before going about our normal days. And now, I wouldn’t miss our Saturday dates for anything.
“What’s on the schedule for today?” Lucille asks as she lifts her cup toward her mouth, lightly blowing on the hot tea before taking a tentative sip from the dainty, floral cup. There’s a hint of a smile in the shape of her lips and something new in her gaze I can’t quite place.
Ignoring the unusual expression, I go through my list. “I’m heading to Cape Easton to pick up an order of ingredientsfor Richard and Annamae from a bake store, then visiting the pharmacy for an order for Samara.” I take a quick sip of tea and stare toward the window out front as I mumble quickly against my cup, “And then picking up Eleanor so she can spend the morning with you here.”
At the sound of Eleanor’s name, my dragon jolts upright in my chest, flickers of scales spreading across my body with his excitement to see her again—excitement I very much share even if I’m trying to play it cool.
Keeping my eyes straight ahead, I casually lift my hand to cover the side of my neck where the appearance of scales might be most obvious. I hope the move was subtle enough to not draw Lucille’s attention toward it, wanting to avoid the slew of questions that would surely follow. Today feels very important and I’m not quite ready to share with anyone what it means to me to reconnect with Eleanor.
Even though more than twenty years have passed, I’ve never forgotten her or the joy she brought to my life. Every so often, I’d spot someone with a similar shade of hair, only to be disappointed when I didn’t recognize any features when they turned around.
Having the opportunity now to get to know Eleanor again, to see if there’s a trace of that easy friendship we used to have—maybe more if I’m truly honest with myself—it feels like a second chance at something special that I’d never even dare to dream up for myself.
Could my luck finally have changed? Is fate finally smiling down on me? It’s too early to say, but I’m holding on to that thread of hope with both hands.
Throughout my life, I’ve had other friends, but no one has been able to replace that easy connection Eleanor and I once had, one without any weight of expectations, or duties, or responsibilities.
After I took Eleanor back to Cape Easton last weekend, it took me two days to gather the courage to call her. At first, there were a few stumbling attempts of accidentally talking over each other, but we slowly fell into a comfortable rhythm, one very similar to when we were young. We reminisced about old times, laughed at jokes we told as kids, but never crossed the line toward any serious topics, nor did we venture to talk about how we lost contact. It’s like we’re rebuilding our connection, brick by brick, and I’m nervous about saying something that might make the wall crumble and possibly lose her forever. I don’t want to do anything that’ll jeopardize that.
For so long, I’ve craved someone who can see me as me, not as a dragon, or a ferryman, not as a guardian, or any other label I’ve been given in my life—just me. Beck Shinsu.
Talking to Eleanor reminded me of who I was before I was weighed down by the expectations of others, or carried the responsibility of the safekeeping of an entire community, and by the end of our long phone call I felt lighter, happier, and perhaps a little less lonely too. Hopeful.
Lucille taps a finger against her cup, the smile in her voice evident as she says, “I am so looking forward to seeing that dear girl again. She was lovely when I met her. And a booklover to boot.”
“She is. And she’s very excited to see The Dancing Daisy and talk about books with you,” I say, not realizing the words are out of my mouth by the time the whole sentence is complete.
Lowering her cup, Lucille’s grin grows. “And, pray tell, how did you come by this information, dear dragon boy?”
I swallow the last dregs of my tea in one gulp and quickly, but carefully, place my cup back on the table. “Well, would you look at the time? I best be going. I’ll bring Eleanor by a little later and help you with that stock,” I promise, already backing away toward the entrance.
Lucille lifts her hand in greeting as her gaze softens. “I won’t press you for anything you don’t want to tell me, Beck. But I’m always here if you want to talk. About anything.”
Bowing my head, I utter a soft, “Thank you.” It might be rude of me to flee from the conversation, but I’m not ready to share yet. Not until Eleanor and I have a steady foundation again. I know Lucille will understand that when I do eventually tell her.
I slip down the small passage between The Dancing Daisy and The Lonely Rake, and take the back way down Starry Hill, away from the shops and any other conversations I’m not ready for. I need to get to Cape Easton as fast as possible so I can start picking up those orders. The earlier I can get done with my errands, the earlier I can focus on Eleanor.
Time passes quickly and slowly at the same time as I navigate the city streets and gather the things our town needs, depositing them in my boat before I settle onto a bench that overlooks the harbor, the same bench Eleanor and I sat on last weekend.
I stare down at the old phone in my hand, wondering if I should call Eleanor to see if she’s going to be on time, or sit here and wait for her to show up. On the island, we hardly use phones, the signal being spotty and no one really needing one. But for me, it is a necessity with my job, something I didn’t ever think I’d be grateful for until this past week.
Before I can spiral too far, my dragon bolts upright, practically panting as he calls my attention to a familiar scent in the air.
My head snaps up.
