Page 14 of The Tides of Time (Storm Tide #1)

T he wind blew something fierce the next day. The sea would be rough that night. Passing by a window as he made his way down the spiral stairs from the lantern room at the top of the tower, Armitage caught sight of Lili down below. She bounced a little, arms tucked tightly around her middle. He wasn’t certain what she was doing, but there was no mistaking the fact that she was cold.

She’d rubbed at her arms during their walks to and from the village. How had he not realized until that moment, watching her through the window, that she had been chilled? The dress they had acquired at Mrs. Willis’s shop was warmer than what Lili had arrived in, but it was no match for the snithy air that came off the sea. And it wasn’t even winter yet.

He watched, his insides twisting with a helpless sort of worry. I don’t have money to buy you something warmer. But she was suffering. He couldn’t ignore that.

He continued his descent, thinking. She could wear his coat; it was made for the coastal weather. Except he needed it. Working down at the lower lights, especially, he had to have a sufficient buffer against the wind and the sea spray.

But I don’t want she to be cold. There had to be an answer.

He stepped through the door to the galley. The burner lids on the stove were the slightest bit out of place. A low warmth emanated from the stove, so the fire he’d built that morning hadn’t entirely burned out. Two empty pots sat on the table. A few vegetables lay there as well.

Something in the sight took him back to what felt like a lifetime ago, standing in this galley with his mum. His time had always been divided between learning from his dad how to look after the lighthouse and from his mum how to look after himself. They’d insisted that both educations were crucial. In the years since he’d lost them, he’d leaned on those lessons every minute of every day.

Thoughts of his mum struck him differently each time. Some days, her memory was comforting. Other times, he felt lonely, sad. In that moment, though, thinking of Mum brought a bolt of inspiration.

Armitage bounded up the stairs, not to his bedroom or the one Lili was using but to the empty one tucked in the corner. It had only ever been used for storing things during his lifetime. It had taken Armitage two years after his parents’ deaths to bring himself to move their belongings into the storage room, and another year to move from his childhood bedroom to the one that had been theirs.

He hadn’t opened the trunk of his parents’ belongings since putting it in this room. He’d not really had reason to until now. He opened the lid. The topmost item was the thick knit shawl Mum had so often worn.

Memories of her flooded over him, pushing heavy and poignant emotion immediately to the surface. He missed her so desperately. Losing her and Dad had irreparably fractured him.

Armitage set his hand on the soft wool. Countless memories rushed forth. Being bundled in it as a little boy sitting on his mum’s lap. Feeling it under his hand when he’d put an arm around her shoulders when he was older. Bringing it to her on cold days.

“Lili’s cold now,” he whispered to the mother he grieved so deeply. “I know you wouldn’t want she to be cold.”

He pulled it out, fully intending to close the trunk again. But beneath the shawl was a blouse and skirt that had also been his mum’s. They were thick and utilitarian, perfectly suited for the weather and elements here at the lighthouse. The simple style likely would be met with upturned noses in fashion-conscious France. But Lili might very well be cold enough that she wouldn’t mind the plainness of the attire here. The dress he’d obtained for her from Mrs. Willis didn’t fit right, and she still wore it every day. She’d likely not mind if Mum’s clothes didn’t fit right either.

Beneath the skirt and blouse was a pair of thick socks. He added those to his pile, then closed the trunk once more.

The door to Lili’s room was open. No one was inside. Careful not to disturb anything, he set the clothes, except for the shawl, on the foot of her bed. He brushed his hand over the pile. Mum would’ve wanted Lili to be warm, and she’d’ve wanted Armitage to do this for Lili.

He made his way down to the galley. She hadn’t come back inside yet, so he stepped through the door leading to the side yard, where he’d spotted her before. She was there still, but was now sitting on the low stone wall, looking out over the water.

Views of the sea hadn’t been Armitage’s favorite since his parents’ deaths, but no one who grew up on the seashore ever felt comfortable turning their back to the water. Nature was not to be mocked nor taken lightly.

He sat on the wall next to her. She had the cooking book on her lap, one hand resting on it. Her eyes were closed.

“Are you not bobbish?” he asked, a little concerned.

Without opening her eyes, she said, “I do not know what that means.” Her voice broke with sorrow-filled frustration.

“I was asking if you’re unwell.”

She looked at him at last, but her downtrodden expression struck pain directly to his heart. “I am so flustered, Armitage.”

“What has you upended?”

“I am not incompetent or unintelligent. I am not easily intimidated by unfamiliar things. I am not ... weak.”

“I’ve not ever thought you were.” In fact, he was shocked that she thought she needed to convince him of any of that.

“The longer I am here, the less confidence I have in myself, and the more frustrated I get, and I hate it.”

She hated being here? The idea sat uncomfortably heavy on him.

“I don’t know how to cook on the stove, how to make parts of it hotter. I’m trying to follow the instructions”—she moved the book a little on her lap—“but I don’t read English overly well, so I am getting very confused.” Her tense breath shook a bit. “And I fear the fire in the stove will extinguish itself, but I haven’t found any flint for starting another. I can do nothing at this point worthy of being paid, which you and your grandfather will resent. The village will despise me for being a burden on you.” She shook her head. “And the sea is often very loud at night. And it is so very cold here.”

“I can help with that last bit.” He held up the shawl. “It’s wool, so it’ll keep out the damp. And it’s thick, which’ll help you stay warm.”

Lili shook her head. “I bent on the matter of the book, but I’ll not allow you to keep spending your money on my needs.”

“No money spent, Lili. Thissen was my mum’s.”

If anything, she looked even more concerned. “I can’t take something that belonged to your mother. It’ll be a treasure to you.”

“If her were here, Mum’d insist on it. Her’d not want you to be cold. I don’t want you to be either.” He set it around her shoulders. “Please take it and use it.”

Despite her protests, there was no mistaking the flash of relief that crossed her face as the warm shawl offered immediate respite from the frigid air. Still, for a moment, he thought she would give it back to him.

“You did a fine thing for my grandfather yesterday. Consider this a thank-you from all my family, even them that aren’t here any longer.” Other than himself and Grandfather, none of his family was here any longer.

She used her free hand to pull the shawl closed around her. “ Merci .”

“You’re welcome.”

“Once I have money of my own, I will buy myself a shawl and give this one back to you,” she said. “And I’ll take very good care of it until then.”

If that meant she would use it and be warm, he would allow the arrangement, though he didn’t begrudge her the shawl. It ought to be used, and there was something very nice in the idea of Lili using it.

“I can help you sort out the stove as well,” he said. “There are a few tricks to it.”

She shook her head. “I’m meant to be saving you time so you can do your work and see to Mikhail’s training. I won’t keep you from it.”

“But it ain’t your fault you’ve found yourself surrounded by unfamiliar things.”

“It isn’t your fault either.”

“Us is being very considerate just now.” He gave her a smile. “A couple of saints, it seems.”

Her gaze wandered over to the water once more. “ Sainte Elisabeth . I suspect that saint name is already taken.”

“Is that your given name? Elisabeth?”

“ Oui. Lili is a ...” She pressed her lips together, thinking.

“A nickname?”

“ Oui .” She looked at him. “Did you ever have a nickname?”

“I’ve always been Armitage.”

“Armitage,” she repeated, the French flavor of her voice making his name sound poetic. “Yours is a lovely name.”

“ Merci beaucoup .”

Absolute delight immediately entered her expression, and he felt certain she came close to smiling. “I do enjoy when you speak en francais .”

“I learned a little from my mum. But I’m main rusty, I’m afraid.”

She didn’t look the least disappointed in him. If anything, her expression grew softer. Lili sighed, but it wasn’t filled with tension and worry as her voice had been when he’d first found her sitting on the wall. She looked very close to content.

Lili adjusted her shawl, then shifted on the wall the tiniest bit. The minute movement brushed her arm against his, and she kept it there, barely touching. Armitage’s heart responded immediately, beating a little harder and a little faster. No matter that it was a cold day, warmth climbed up his neck and spotted his cheeks.

He wasn’t certain how long they sat there, Lili looking out at the Channel. The contentment he saw in her face settled over him as well. He could have happily sat there with Lili for hours, which surprised him thoroughly.

“Your grandfather said that your grandmother would sing to the sea because her heart was happy.” Lili watched the waves. “I very much like the idea of that.”

“I still can hardly believe him spoke at length about Grandmother.” Armitage had even heard Grandfather use Grandmother’s name. He didn’t think that had happened in years.

“I liked learning about her. And about you.”

“About me ?”

She turned her eyes in his direction once more. They were mesmerizing, truth be told. “He told me that you can sing, which I thought was a lovely thing to discover about you.”

“I don’t sing anymore.”

“He told me that as well.” She set her hand on his, a gesture he suspected was meant to be reassuring but that proved heart-pounding instead. “Do not worry, Monsieur Armitage. I will not ask you to. I simply like knowing that you can.”

“Do you sing, Lili?”

She shook her head firmly. “The Tribunal would likely arrest me on the spot if I inflicted that on anyone. And I would not argue with them.”

He nodded somberly. “A person oughtn’t torture people the way you are threatening to do. A horrid thing, Lili. And certainly not saintly.”

She didn’t smile, but she did look amused. “I need to return to my work.” That she sounded reluctant did his heart good. “And I know you have more than your share to do as well.” She slipped off the wall, holding her book in one hand and clasping the shawl closed with her other. “ Merci encore , Armitage.”

“My pleasure, Lili.”

“In French, we say, ‘ avec plaisir .’”

Knowing how much she appreciated his use of French, he nodded and said, “ Avec plaisir , Lili.”

Almost a smile. Before it could even begin to bloom, though, she made her way back to the lighthouse.

Armitage remained behind, reluctant to end the pleasant moment he’d passed there. Lili was still a mystery in many ways, but he was happier with her here than he’d been in some time.