Once Upon an Island

“Sit down,” she interrupts in a firm headmistress voice I recognize from my mom. Apparently all professors, researchers and teachers can emulate that “obey me, or else” tone.

Declan sits down. In fact, he sits down on the blanket so quickly that I nearly do a double-take.

I take it back. Harriet doesn’t need to know who she’s up against. She’s a bulldozer.

Arya gives Harriet an appalled look. She’s set down the fairy cake she was gobbling and looks a little pale. Maybe the stress of an imminent meeting with Percy is giving her intestinal distress.

Harriet beams at Declan and pulls out a paper plate from the picnic hamper. She stacks a sausage roll, coronation chicken and a pile of chips onto it, then she hands it to Declan.

“Eat,” she says.

And he does. Although while he’s taking a bite of the chicken he looks at me as if he doesn’t quite understand how he came to be sitting on a plaid picnic blanket, eating mayonnaise-slathered chicken.

“I’m Doctor Harriet Racleaux, famed researcher, I’m sure you’ve heard of me…” Harriet pats her orange hair and looks at Declan expectantly.

“No, I—”

“But enough about me. My dear Isla is writing an entire biography detailing my accomplishments. You can read it when it comes out. Tell me about you. How did you find Mariposa? Is it as charming and delightful as Isla leads me to believe?”

Declan has a mouthful of coronation chicken. He stops chewing at that and stares in consternation at Harriet.

I wonder if he has the gall to tell her that he didn’t find anything of “interest” there.

She claps her hands and Arya jumps in surprise.

“Mr. Fox is speechless. I knew it was beautiful. I knew it.”

“Mmm,” Declan says through his mouthful of mayo.

I hold back a snort but can’t manage to cover the little noise of disbelief that comes out.

Declan looks at me and raises an eyebrow. I’m sure it’s meant as a silent reproach, but the brisk sea breeze ruffles his short hair and his cheeks are pink from his walk, and I decide he looks too boyish for any reprimanding.

“Isn’t that wonderful,” Harriet continues. She takes the spoon from the bowl of chicken and drops another large scoop of curry mayo-coated chicken onto Declan’s plate. “I’ve always wanted to visit, but as you know, I’m a world-renowned researcher and there are no Roman ruins on Mariposa. My fame directs my schedule, alas.” There’s a distinct twinkle in Harriet’s eyes when she says this, and I get the feeling she’s having a good laugh on the inside.

I put my hand over my mouth to hide my smile.

Harriet keeps on talking about Mariposa and how much Declan must’ve loved it. There hasn’t been space for him to respond, not that he’s wanted to. Instead, he’s been watching me.

“Tell me, what did you like most?” Harriet asks.

Declan’s mouth is full of chicken, but instead of swallowing and answering, he grabs a chip and shoves it in his mouth. He crunches noisily.

I raise my eyebrows at him. Unbelievable.

He watches me the entire time he chews. I try not to squirm. Honestly, his gaze is disconcerting.

So, I turn away from him and address Harriet. “I don’t think Declan cared for Mariposa.” I give her an apologetic shrug. “The hot sun, clear seas, and slow, tropical days were not to his taste.”

Harriet wrinkles her forehead and the wind blows briskly so that it looks like her hair is standing up in surprise. “Truly, that doesn’t…” begins Harriet.

Declan clears his throat. “On the contrary, I found it very much to my taste.”

He…what?

I turn back to him, but I can’t read his expression.

“Really?” I ask skeptically, remembering his voicemail for Kate and of course, all the conversations he and I had. “I find it surprising that your opinion concerning the ordinary pleasures made such an about turn.”

“I’ve felt this way for some time now,” he says.

Harriet looks between the two of us like she’s watching a tennis match.

I feel myself starting to flush, so I scowl at him.

“Is Percy here?” Arya asks abruptly. She wipes the fairy cake crumbs off her wool pants.

Declan turns to Arya and I don’t see anything in his expression that speaks to guilt or remorse.

“No. He’s not.”

Declan says this with cold finality so it’s no surprise that Arya flinches. The way he said “he’s not” implied that she shouldn’t get her hopes up. Ever.

“Shame. The young ladies will be here for two weeks.” Harriet dangles that tidbit out for Declan to grab ahold of.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he sets his plate down on the blanket and says, “Thank you for the delicious meal and the pleasant company.”

“Surely, you don’t have to leave so soon?” Harriet says.

“I do. It was a pleasure.” Declan takes Harriet’s hand and gives her a polite parting shake. Then he says, “Arya. Isla.”

And that’s that. He’s already walking away.

I didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye.

Harriet sighs. “What a specimen. I’ll bet my eyeteeth that he has the blood of the Roman invaders. Well, plenty of us do, but still.”

Harriet follows Declan’s retreating form. She seems smitten. Arya, unfortunately, looks almost as bad as she did the day Percy left. I think she must’ve been holding tightly onto the hope that we’d see Percy, and now Declan’s shattered it.

Which reminds me…

“I’ll be right back,” I say, then I run after Declan.

I race down the path. My boots thump over the dirt and grass as I chase him down.

“Hey, wait up.”

The breeze is stiffer along the path, since it’s closer to the shore, and it carries my voice away. Declan doesn’t notice me until I’m next to him.

I tug on his sleeve, and when he sees it’s me the side of his mouth turns up. “Yes?”

I ignore the flushing of my cheeks and poke at his arm. “Are there any sharks here?”

Clearly that’s not what he was expecting me to say.

He shakes his head. “What?”

I point at the gray, surf painted water. “Sharks. Here.”

He narrows his eyes on me. “Why?”

“Because I’d love to feed you to them.”

A slow grin spreads over his face. And I have the realization that he really is one of the most magnetically attractive people I’ve ever met. His smile hits me low in my belly, so I clench my fists and fight the urge to lean toward him.

“Are you truly so upset that I didn’t say goodbye?” he asks. There’s a gleam of amusement in his eyes.

“Ha. I couldn’t care less. You not saying goodbye has nothing to do with feeding you to ravenous sharks.”

His smile grows broader. I’ve never seen him smile so much, and it’s doing funny things to my insides. “Stop smiling at me,” I say.

His eyes crinkle. “That’s my line.”