Page 45 of The Curse of Indy Moore (The Cursed Duology #1)
I took his hand, stepping out so the carriage could pass. Turning, I faced an endless blue I had only ever pondered over. Wave after wave caressed the sand. The ships, so large at the port, were little more than specks on the horizon, nothing in the face of an ocean’s depth.
Mr. Hawthorne rolled up his pants legs, then kicked off his shoes and stuffed his socks into them. Holding the shoes in one hand, he trudged over the sand dune, where solitary blades of grass sprouted. I mirrored him, removing my shoes to carry, grateful that my skirts fell just below my knees.
The warm sand squished between my toes. I struggled momentarily to walk, perturbed by how my feet sank.
I felt heavier, even more so over the wet sand, where the water washed over our ankles.
A surprised shriek escaped me at the unexpected temperature, a little too cool to swim in, but I found myself wading out a little further, giggling from every brush of the waves over my legs.
I sank further into the sand, having to move about to ensure I wouldn’t stick.
Aunt Agnes and the girls would love this. I’d love to bring them here once this…
I pressed a hand to my aching chest. I had no idea if I would ever bring them to the ocean, if we would even see each other again, if I should go see them, just in case.
But I feared what I would do if I went to Westshire, if I would even bother returning to Ivory House out of fear that I’d never see my family again.
Not as myself, perhaps. Maybe as a wolf wandering the woods, walking through the field to steal sheep and having no idea that my family slept nearby.
“Is it everything you hoped it to be?” Mr. Hawthorne brought me back to him and the water kissing my ankles.
“Better,” I answered with a longing breath finally fulfilled. His voice eased the concerns, the fears that I shoved far, far away before they could invade me entirely.
The water was such a clear blue, I could see my feet, and the sun caught on the waves, making them shine a nearly blinding white.
The wind caught in my hair, sending my hat soaring.
I jumped at it. My feet caught in the sand, and I fell against Mr. Hawthorne’s outstretched arm.
His grip tightened around my waist to pull me against his chest, where his unique scent gathered with that of the sea.
“Careful,” he said, using his other hand to draw a rune in the air. The rune flickered with light, and my stolen hat fluttered in reverse to fall into his palm. I had no idea artificers could perform acts of magic without a scepter.
Mr. Hawthorne sat the hat on my head, making me miss the sensation of his arm around me. “You have the best artificer in all the kingdom with you, so you needn’t run after your hat. We wouldn’t want you to trip and hurt yourself.”
His attention strayed to my lips. He should have sounded teasing. I told myself that he did, that it was my imagination running wild to believe he cared. He was naturally flirtatious, and this meant nothing.
“I can take care of myself,” I said.
“You say that often, and I’m believing you less and less.” He tugged the hat down too far, blinding me.
I swatted at him, feeling his chuckle rumbling in his chest. Then he stepped aside, and I fixed the hat in time to see him walking along the water’s edge.
My legs carried me after him: first steps behind, closer, then by his side.
Others walked the beach or rode their bikes.
The port was further down the beach, packed full of workers.
Their voices carried all the way here, a cacophony of life and trade.
A pang of guilt continued to ring in my chest; I ignored it because it felt like that’s all I could do. We walked for a while in silence, enjoying the water against our bare feet. Once or twice, our hands brushed. My fingers tingled. I gripped them at my waist to avoid the connection.
“I do have somewhere to go this evening,” he finally spoke. “You can come with me, if you would like. It would only take a moment.”
“What’s it about?” I asked.
“An acquisition—a piece of land, to be exact—for the new schoolhouse. Donations have been flowing in, and I think construction can begin in a year or so.”
“So earlier, with Rachelle, you did have good news to share.”
He kicked a piece of sand ahead of us. “Not quite yet, as anything can happen, but I am hopeful.”
“That’s incredible.”
“You sound surprised. Have I not been anything but incredible?”
“It’s incredible you are doing something so nice for other people.”
“Who’s to say it isn’t for me?” He threw a dramatic hand in the air. “I may slap my name on it, and all those who graduate and make names for themselves will have me to thank.”
I laughed at that. “You may fool others with that pompous talk, but we both know that isn’t what this is about.”
It was about those like Rachelle, like him, born outside noble lines and thus looked down upon by all others, even if they had the same abilities or were even better.
No doubt Mr. Hawthorne’s school would struggle to be perceived as anything more than another Trinity Schoolhouse, but he was living proof of how far anyone could go.
More would follow in his footsteps. He ensured that.
“Well, keep such thoughts to yourself; otherwise, you may ruin my image,” he said.
“I’ll go with you.”
“Good.” He tugged a pocket watch from his jacket. “We have another hour or so before we should leave. Shall we stay here?”
“Yes, I’d like that.” Even though we shouldn’t. We shouldn’t have come out here at all because, as we walked and the sun caught in Mr. Hawthorne’s eyes, I had the horrible, horrible thought; oh, I like him quite a lot, don’t I?
And it felt like a heartbreak worse than any other.