Welcome to The Other Side of the Horizon! I’m posting these first four chapters as a preview. The Kickstarter campaign for a brand-new Special Edition trade paperback and hardback launches on Tuesday, September 24th!
Hope you enjoy!
Chapter 1
The hospital was crowded and noisy. Sobs and moans from the injured combined with the wails of families mourning lost loved ones to create a din loud enough to make a deaf man’s head hurt. The survivors of Port Ruby were packed into the hospital like tinned fish.
Eight year-old Dale Mortensen huddled in a blanket on a narrow cot on the far side of the room, nursing a broken arm in a cast. He sported a large scrape on one cheek— where his face had slammed into the trunk of the tree he’d been clinging to for dear life—and his brown hair flopped limply into his hazel eyes. He had not spoken a word to anyone in five days. Not even ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, which would surely have disappointed his mother.
Had she been alive to be disappointed, that is.
Overworked nurses tiptoed around the subject whenever they tried to talk to him, or rather, talked over him, but Dale was not stupid. He knew his mother and father and little sister were all dead. Of course they were.
After all, the tsunami had eaten them.
Dale clenched his good hand into a fist, barely feeling his short nails bite into his palm. He had never seen a tsunami before, had never dreamed that his beloved sea could turn into a deadly mass of angry brown water rushing onto shore. He remembered that day—the worst in his short life—in flashes. Little bits of memories, disjointed moments in time. He remembered the terror on his mother’s pretty face, the fear behind his father’s hazel eyes. His baby sister’s mouth had opened in a scream, but the roar of dirty water swallowed every sound. His palms still itched at the remembrance of rough bark on his skin.
He survived because his father had the sense to flee their home along the docks when the ocean retreated, laying bare an expanse of dark sand littered with shells, debris, and dying fish. Their family made it to higher ground before the ocean attempted to swallow up the coast, but it was not nearly high enough. His father had hoisted him up into a tree, but there had not been enough time for the rest of them to climb to safety.
In Dale’s nightmares, he reached for his little sister and the mud-colored water carried them both away. The backs of his eyes burned; he swallowed thickly and willed himself not to cry.
To distract himself, he looked over at the two old fishermen occupying two cots squeezed into the space between his cot and the wall. One had bandages wrapped around his head and his torso; the other sported a bushy gray beard and a broken leg. They were always arguing about something; today was no exception.
“I’m telling ya, it came due north,” insisted the man with the broken leg, in hushed, angry tones.
“O’ course it did, Cyrus,” his friend with the bandages replied dully. “North is the only way it could have come.”
“It’s the Wild Sea, come to claim more souls.”
A chill ran down Dale’s spine.
“For Pete’s sake, Cyrus!” exploded the other man. “Listen to yourself! You’ll be lucky if somebody doesn’t shut you up in the asylum before this is over!”
“Don’t think it’s still standing.”
The man with the bandages ground his teeth together and rolled over to face the wall.
Thus deprived of his arguing companion, Cyrus turned over-bright eyes on the closest person to him…which happened to be Dale. “You’ve heard of the Legend, ain’t ya, boy?”
Dale nodded slowly. A lump formed in the back of his throat. His father had spun wondrous stories about the Legend of the Wild Sea—stories as amazing as they were terrifying.
“Well?” demanded Cyrus, apparently expecting more.
“Leave the boy alone,” growled the man with the bandages, without moving.
“No one who sails due south on the Wild Sea ever comes back.” Dale’s voice, scratchy from disuse, sounded foreign to his own ears.
“Exactly.” Cyrus thumped his cot with the flat of one hand, which he regretted when it jolted his leg. He grimaced fiercely behind his bushy gray beard.
Dale was still too numb to feel the flicker of mingled fear and excitement he usually experienced when someone spoke of the Legend of the Wild Sea. He was saved from the old fisherman’s further ramblings by the approach of a harried nurse with dark, slanted eyes and fall of straight black hair tied back with a cord. Despite the general chaos surrounding them, Calli had been kind to him over the last few days.
“Dale?” She put a gentle hand on his shoulder and peered down into his face. “Your uncle is here for you.”
Dale remained glued to his cot, but he stared at her with wide hazel eyes. My uncle? His heart began to hammer in his chest.
Calli sighed at his obvious distress. Kneeling down in the tiny walkway between the end of his cot and the cot across from him, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Dale, your uncle is here to take you home with him. You’re going to live with his family now.”
Dale shook his head, his mouth set in a stubborn line. He knew he had family outside of his parents, but he had never met them.
“Dale…” Calli gave him a mildly reproving look. “You can’t stay here.” She motioned to the crowded room with one hand. “Your arm is healing and now it’s time for you to go. There are other children who need this cot.”
“I want my mother,” said Dale, in a very small voice.
Calli’s eyes widened—she had never heard him speak before—and her arm tightened around him. “Everything will be just fine, Dale. Your uncle will take good care of you, I’m sure.”
Taking Dale’s good hand, she helped him off the cot. He came grudgingly; the thought of meeting this never-before-seen uncle made him slightly sick to his stomach. I don’t even know where he lives. His parents had not talked much of their families.
Calli led him through crowded halls filled with makeshift pallets into an equally crowded lobby, where a short man wearing a brown tweed coat and trousers stood clasping a brown hat in his hands. He had short blond hair and ruddy cheeks, and he looked supremely uncomfortable. For a moment, Dale wanted to hide behind Calli’s skirts, though he knew he was much too old for such childish behavior.
“Mr. Salander?” Calli tugged Dale forward. “Here is your nephew, Dale Mortensen.”
A look of grief passed over the man’s face. “You look just like your father,” he said gruffly.
Dale thought he sounded less than pleased about this. He stared at his uncle, realizing with a little jolt that he was nearly tall enough to reach the man’s shoulder.
“I’m your mother’s brother,” continued his uncle, reaching out a hand to shake Dale’s. “You can call me Uncle Liev.”
Dale nodded slowly.
“Yes, sir,” prompted Uncle Liev, which earned him a stern look from Calli.
“Mr. Salander, up until five minutes ago, this boy has not said a word since he was brought to the hospital. Be gentle with him.”
A strange combination of expressions passed over Uncle Liev’s face before he settled on a curt nod. “Thank you, Nurse.” Looking down at Dale, his brows furrowed. “Do you, ah, have anything to bring with you?”
Dale solemnly shook his head. His clothes, toys, books, and everything else his family owned had been swept away with their little house.
“I see.” Uncle Liev scratched the back of his head. “That’s all right. Your Aunt Helena packed a few things for you, but…” he eyed Dale, “I suspect you’re too big for any of them. We’ll have to stop someplace.” He placed a hand on Dale’s good shoulder. “Come with me, lad. We’ve a bit of a journey ahead of us.”
He guided Dale out of the hospital and into the crowded street. Port Ruby was a large city built on a swelling hill, and the northern side had not experienced quite as much damage as the southern side of the city. The back of Dale’s throat ached as he looked down toward the Wild Sea and took in the wreckage still clinging to the coast, buried in mud and slime and other assorted debris. Part of him had hoped his father’s boat had survived, but he saw now that the chances of that were nigh impossible.
“Here you go, lad.”
His uncle stood beside an old steam-powered automobile parked along the street. He settled Dale in the front passenger seat without a word and hurried around to the other side. As he slid behind the wheel, he motioned to Dale’s arm. “The nurse said you’ll be wearing that for a few weeks more.”
Dale’s eyes slid to his cast and stayed there.
Uncle Liev started the automobile and backed carefully out into the street. They drove in silence for a little while, until he finally cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about your parents and your sister, Dale. Your father and I never quite saw eye to eye on some things, but he was a good man and he loved your mother.” His voice thickened; he had to clear his throat again.
His words helped, but only a little. Dale leaned his head against the side of the door and stared out the window. Houses and shops passed by in a blur of multicolored brick and stone. Part of him wondered where they were going; the rest of him was too tired to care. After the constant noise of the hospital, the automobile’s quiet chugging was a welcome relief.
“You’re coming home to live with me and my family,” continued Uncle Liev quietly. “Your Aunt Helena and I have five children. My eldest boy is just a year younger than you.” He rattled off a list of names that washed over Dale without leaving much of an impression. “I think you’ll like it in Falconcrest, Dale. We have a large farm, plenty of room for a young lad like yourself to run about.”
Those words alone penetrated the haze surrounding Dale—and sent an icy wave of shock coursing through him. “Farm?” he croaked.
“Yes.” Uncle Liev perked up a little at this, pleased Dale had finally spoken. “Over two hundred acres,” he said proudly. “Fields, trees, a little orchard, animals…your aunt and I have a bit of everything.”
Dale’s fingers tightened on the edge of his seat and his hazel eyes widened in panic. He knew about farms. They provided most of the food sold in Port Ruby’s markets, but his father had always said they were far from the sea. That could not be a good thing.
He struggled to put his thoughts into words. “We’re not—I mean, you don’t have a boat? I won’t be helping you sail? I won’t see the Wild Sea again?” His voice rose on the last sentence, full of worry and fear.
Uncle Liev took his eyes off the cobblestoned road long enough to look over at him. His brown eyes were serious. “No, lad. I don’t expect you’ll be seeing the sea any time soon. I don’t have a sailboat, y’see. We make our living from the land.” His face softened a little. “It’s not as bad as you think. There’s a lake not too far from us, and we’ve got a creek full of fish.” He paused. “And maybe, when you’re older, you can come back here to visit.”
None of it helped. Feeling sick, Dale wrapped his good arm around his middle and shut his eyes. Not for the first time in the last few days, he wished fiercely that he could have his parents and his baby sister back. He wanted their house back, and his father’s boat.
The last thing he wanted was to go to a farm where he would never see the Wild Sea again.
Chapter 2
Uncle Liev was not one for idle chatter. He and Dale spent most of the next two days in relative silence. That was fine with Dale; he was still grieving. The gentle rolling hills along the coast of the Wild Sea had long since given way to rockier terrain, constantly reminding him he was traveling farther and farther from home. He had plenty of interesting things to look at along the way; things he had only heard stories about. He could not quite muster the enthusiasm to care about them the way he might have a week earlier, but they did occupy his attention.
They stopped in a small town at the end of the first day, and Uncle Liev purchased Dale a change of clothes closer to his size. He pronounced Dale’s shoes in sufficient shape to survive the rest of the journey, much to Dale’s relief. He felt awkward enough in his stiff new clothes without having to worry about breaking in new shoes as well.
“Here we are,” said Uncle Liev, as they topped a ridge toward the end of the second day. “Falconcrest.”
With a flicker of interest, Dale leaned forward to get a better look. Falconcrest was nothing like his hometown. Instead of a bustling port on the clear blue water of the Wild Sea, it was a sprawling farming community nestled in a valley between two white-capped mountains. Despite his firm conviction that he would not like anything about Falconcrest, Dale found himself awed by those majestic mountains.
“They’re like giant waves of rock,” he said quietly.
Uncle Liev let out a low, surprised chuckle. “I suppose you could say that.”
They drove down the mountainside and he began pointing out various things of interest along the way. “Mr. Gershyn’s peach orchard—you’ll stay out of that if you know what’s good for you, lad.”
Dale absorbed all of this information in silence. Trepidation filled him, but he squared his shoulders in his seat. This is an adventure, he told himself firmly. Like the stories Dad used to tell. ‘Cept it’s on land instead of the Wild Sea.
He clung to that thought as his uncle’s automobile chugged its way over paved roads and dirt roads alike, carrying its two occupants ever closer to their destination. Dale thought about his Aunt Helena and the five cousins he had never met before and felt his heart start to pound again. What if they don’t like me?
He risked a sideways glance at his uncle’s profile. He was an orphan now, and storybooks abounded with tales of cruel relatives who abused their orphan charges. He gulped. Surely that was not his fate.
The color draining slightly from his small face, Dale nevertheless summoned his courage. “Uncle Liev,” he began in a scratchy voice, “I’m an orphan, aren’t I?”
“I’m afraid you are, Dale,” said his uncle somberly.
Dale took a breath. “I’m sorry you have to take me in.”
Uncle Liev gave him a sharp look. “What are you saying, lad? It’s hardly your fault. If anything,” he muttered under his breath, “it’s your father’s for living someplace any wave could sweep him away.”
“The waves were never that big before.”
Uncle Liev brushed that aside, sparing him another glance. “What’s brought this on?”
Dropping his eyes to his cast, Dale picked at it with a fingernail. “Things don’t go well for orphans.”
“Who told you that?” demanded his uncle.
“All the stories say so.”
“Stories?” Uncle Liev’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel, before he visibly forced himself to relax. “Of course. Your parents were fond of stories, weren’t they? I never did understand how your mother could spend so much time reading.” He shook his head. “Put it out of your head, lad. You’ve nothing to fear.”
It was clear he did not wish to discuss it further.
The mention of his parents sent sharp pangs stabbing through Dale’s heart again. A sob rose in his throat; he manfully choked it down. Once again, it hit him that he would never spend another evening listening to his father read in his rich, lilting tones, or hear his mother’s soft, smooth voice. He did not even have the books they had loved so dearly.
“Do you have any books?” he asked when he could speak again.
Uncle Liev made a sound in the back of his throat. “A few. I reckon you’ll not have much time for them, though.”
That sounded vaguely ominous, Dale thought, but he let it drop. He would just have to visit Falconcrest’s bookshop when he had a chance. His forehead creased in a frown. Surely they have a bookshop.
“Here we are,” said Uncle Liev presently. “This is the start of my property line.” He swept a hand toward a field standing tall with green corn. They puttered down a curved dirt road sweeping around one side of a fruit orchard. Dale stared at the fruit trees as they drove past. Most of them were laden with young fruit.
Sensing his interest, Uncle Liev said proudly, “We have mostly apples, but we’ve got a few pears, plums, and cherries too. Your Aunt Helena makes a mean cherry pie.”
At the mention of food, Dale’s stomach growled. He placed his good hand on it. I hope we have supper soon.
A cluster of red buildings came into view—two barns, a chicken coop, and several other little buildings. They stood downwind from a white farmhouse with a gray roof. An empty clothesline stretched out beside the house. Beyond it, Dale saw cows grazing in a fenced-up field.
As Uncle Liev passed the house and headed for the barn, a horde of barefoot children spilled out of the house. They pelted after the automobile, shouting, “Pa! Pa!”
Dale felt the stirrings of anxiety again, but he recalled a lesson his mother had taught him about meeting new people. “Be polite and shake their hands,” she had instructed him. “You want to put your best foot forward when you meet someone new.” Clumsily, he opened the passenger door and climbed out of the automobile.
His uncle had already stepped out and swept the littlest boy up in his arms. “Look at you! I swear you’ve grown since I left.”
The children swarmed around their father and then all fell silent at once as they noticed Dale. He felt himself growing hot under the collar with five sets of curious eyes on him.
The only girl in the lot, two years younger than Dale and as tall as her older brother, flipped a dark brown pig tail over her shoulder and reached over to tug on her father’s waistcoat. She wore a green calico dress with a white pinafore. “Pa, is this our cousin?”
“Yes, darling. This is your cousin Dale.”
Dale stepped forward and awkwardly extended his left hand. “How do you do?”
His cousin’s eyes flicked from his hand to the cast on his right arm and back, before she met his gaze. “I’m Gloria. How do you do?” She took his hand and dropped a little curtsey.
“I’m Wayne,” said the older boy, cutting in front of his sister. He, like his brothers, wore a blue cotton shirt, suspenders, and trousers with the legs rolled up to his knees. “What happened to your arm? And your face?”
The scrape on Dale’s cheek was still healing. “I, er, smashed into a tree.”
“Oh.” The look on Wayne’s face sharpened. “Is that how your parents died? Hitting a tree, I mean?”
The other children looked at him with wide-eyed interest.
“Wayne,” said his father sharply.
Wayne flushed and scuffed a bare toe in the dirt. “Sorry.”
“The Wild Sea ate them,” said Dale stiffly, after a moment.
His words elicited a collective gasp from his cousins.
“Dale.” Uncle Liev directed a stern look at him, too. “I don’t think you’d best talk about that now.” He introduced the rest of his children and then said, “Come along and meet your Aunt Helena.”
Aunt Helena was a tall, buxom woman with dark, wavy hair tied up in a bun. She looked very much like an older version of her daughter. When they trooped into the house, she took one look at Dale and wrapped her arms around his stiff little figure.
“Oh, you poor dear,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry.”
Dale closed his eyes, unwilling for the tears that suddenly burned his eyes to escape. Aunt Helena did not smell like his mother—her perfume was different and there was no sea brine mixed in with it—but she exuded the same sort of comforting calm. She ruffled his hair before letting him go enough to get a better look at him. She touched cool fingertips to the side of his face and then examined his cast. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”
Dale shook his head.
“You’re s’posed to say, ‘No, ma’am’,” Gloria scolded him.
Aunt Helena silenced her with a look. “I’m your Aunt Helena,” she said to Dale, meeting his gaze. “I know I’ll never replace your mother, but I would very much like for you to think of me as your second mother.”
Dale nodded again. He could not have spoken if his life depended on it; a lump the size of his father’s boat was lodged in his throat just then.
“All right then.” Aunt Helena straightened and dropped her hands from his shoulders. “Liev, we were just sitting down to supper. Have you eaten yet?”
“No.” Uncle Liev offered her a tired smile.
“Very well, then. Gloria, please show Dale to the washroom. The rest of you, wash up after he’s finished.”
***
SUPPER was a noisy affair. His cousins chattered back and forth while his aunt and uncle exchanged quiet bits of conversation. Aunt Helena had asked about the damage to Port Ruby, but Uncle Liev put her off with a shake of his head and a meaningful glance in Dale’s direction.
Dale did not notice; he was having enough trouble managing his fork with his left hand. As soon as they said grace, Gloria asked him if he wanted any help. Before he could do much more than gape at her, she had briskly whisked his plate out from under his nose and began cutting his meat into tiny pieces.
Wayne caught his eye. “She does that,” he confided in a low voice.
Dale only nodded in reply.
When Gloria passed his plate back to him, he cleared his throat and said, “Thank you.”
She smiled at him and picked up her fork.
After supper, Aunt Helena and the children escorted Dale up to see his room. He would be sharing with Wayne and Davy. The youngest two boys shared the smaller room. Gloria, being the only girl, had her own room.
That night, Dale lay awake in his trundle bed, listening to the quiet sounds of his cousin breathing. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine he was home and listening to his little sister breathe. Almost. The air was too different; it should have been tinged with salt.
Dale clenched his good hand into a fist at his side. Things will never be the same. A fresh spasm of grief overtook him; he turned his face into his pillow to hide hot tears.
Chapter 3
For the first year he lived with his aunt and uncle, Dale missed the Wild Sea desperately. He smelled salt brine everywhere, and in everything—even his aunt’s very best strawberry shortcake. He overheard Uncle Liev remark irritably one day that he must have gotten too much water up his nose during the tsunami.
Transitioning from his old life to his new was hard on Dale. Not only was he mourning the loss of his family, but there were so many things in Falconcrest he’d never done before. Mucking out stalls, tending crops, caring for animals other than chickens…all of it was new and unfamiliar business. At eight, he could sail his father’s small boat and was well-versed in catching and cleaning fish. But here…
Here the largest body of water was a lake—and no one made a living fishing.
When Dale was ten, his aunt had a sixth child: a little girl. It was soon obvious to everyone that Gail had Dale wrapped around her little finger. This irritated Wayne on more than a few occasions; he was getting older and did not want to be followed around by a little girl. But Gail reminded Dale of the little sister he would never see again and he loved her.
If she needed a playmate, he was hers. If she wanted someone to give her piggyback rides all over the farm, he did. And when she wanted to hear stories, he quietly spun them for her and her alone.
He did not tell anyone else stories; storytelling had landed him in a great deal of trouble just a few days after he arrived at the farm. As soon as the children had a moment to themselves, away from their parents, his cousins plied him with questions about his parents’ death.
“How does the sea eat people?” demanded Wayne. “My father said it was a sue-nommy that got ‘em.”
Dale swallowed. The memories were hazier than they had been, but he still woke trembling from nightmares. “You’d best listen,” he said bravely, “because I’m only telling this once.”
He began with the tales about the Wild Sea that his father had told him—how strange things happened on the Wild Sea, like ships disappearing, never to be seen again. “They say,” he relayed solemnly, “that if you sail due south across the Wild Sea, no one will ever see you again.”
His cousins all shivered.
Dale went on to describe how the sea had suddenly drawn back from the shore…and then how a massive wave of mud-colored water had swallowed everything in a roaring surge.
“I’m never visiting the sea,” declared Davy shakily, when Dale finished.
White-faced, Wayne and Gloria nodded in agreement.
Though Dale warned his cousins to keep the story to themselves, they gleefully relayed it to other children in Falconcrest whenever they got the chance—just to watch them squirm. Eventually, the tale reached adult ears and one of their neighbors told Uncle Liev about it. After supper that night, Uncle Liev sat Dale down in the parlor and forbade him to speak of the Legend of the Wild Sea any further.
“It’s just a story, lad,” he said sternly. “A tall tale your father dreamed up to scare you.”
“He didn’t dream it up!” protested Dale. “At the hospital, the old man next to me was talking about it, too.”
“No more, Dale.” Uncle Liev’s face settled into grim lines. “Do you understand?”
Dale held his uncle’s gaze for a few seconds before dropping his eyes to the dark green carpet. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now, off to bed with you.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dale lay awake long after everyone else had fallen asleep, going over every reference to the Wild Sea and its Legend he could remember. There were quite a lot of them—his father had been a fisherman, after all, and Dale had grown up surrounded by people who made their living from the sea. He was hardly the only person to know that the Wild Sea was called Wild for a reason.
He made a face at the low ceiling above him. Except here in Falconcrest I’m one of the only people who knows anything about the Wild Sea—or any sea at all. His uncle and aunt’s friends and neighbors knew of valleys, and mountains, and dreadful things like avalanches and river floods, but very few of them had ever seen a blue expanse of water stretching out before them as far as the eye could see.
There’s only one thing for it, Dale decided firmly. When I grow up, I’m going to go back to the Wild Sea and find out if the Legend is real.
***
His life in Falconcrest settled into a routine. Dale grew quickly, clearly taking after his father’s side of the family. This came in handy when it came to manual labor chores around the farm, but it made it difficult on Aunt Helena’s furniture and chinaware. By age twelve, he was as tall as his uncle. By seventeen, he was both taller and broader than the majority of his uncle’s friends and had the appetite to match.
Aunt Helena teased they had to plow an extra field just to feed him.
Most of Falconcrest considered him an oddity. The only person who did not care that Dale was a small giant was his youngest cousin, Gail. She was now a little blonde-haired sprite of six; he could never refuse her anything when she peered up at him with somber chocolate eyes. Even if it meant he carried her around on his shoulders for an hour—much to her mother’s dismay. Helena thought Gail was getting too old for that sort of thing.
In his spare time, Dale collected knowledge about sailing, steam engines—and about the Wild Sea. His goal was always in the back of his mind; as he grew older, he began to develop ways to implement it. He worked a few odd jobs for other farmers periodically and used part of the money to buy books on sailing and steam engineering.
Uncle Liev disapproved of his choice of reading material, but as Dale read them in snatches of his free time, he could hardly complain. Had he known precisely what his nephew was planning, however, he would have put an end to it at once. He had very definite ideas about his nephew’s future—and it involved farming.
“The world needs good farmers,” he declared several times a week at supper. “Without us, they’d have no food to eat.”
Dale agreed with that, but he disagreed with the notion that he was cut out to be one of those good farmers. As far as he was concerned, a life of farming was a life of slow torture. He longed to feel a good, stiff sea breeze against his face and feel a boat swaying beneath his feet.
Only one thing in Falconcrest could have tempted him to stay—a lass by the name of Belle Owens. She had blue eyes set in a creamy face, sleek black hair, and a laugh Dale swore sounded like tinkling bells. The only problem was that she seemed unaware of his existence. Whenever he passed her by on the street in town, Belle never looked at him. Only through him, as though he were a giant, invisible wraith floating along the cobblestones.
Dale thought he could have eventually overcome this obstacle, but it soon became blindingly clear that his cousin Wayne had eyes for Belle, too. She was the only child of an older couple; when her father died, she would inherit his farm. And while Dale knew that was not his cousin’s sole interest in Belle, he knew Wayne well enough to know that it played a role.
He comforted himself with the thought that Belle would probably look straight through Wayne too, and then the two of them could commiserate about being invisible to pretty girls. That lasted all of a week—until the day Dale walked past the general store to see Belle and Wayne engaged in an animated conversation.
It was all downhill from there.
Within a month, Wayne was courting Belle. She still treated Dale like he was invisible, but he had resigned himself to that. It did not, however, lessen the sting.
That was the beginning of the end to Dale’s time in Falconcrest. As though the clouds had rolled back to reveal a glimmer of the path before him, he realized it was time for him to go. He had no desire to be a farmer for the rest of his life; if he stayed any longer, that was exactly what he would become.
Besides, he thought, I’m nearly nineteen now. Certainly old enough to go out into the wide world to make my own way.
With that in mind, he waited for the right moment to break the news to his uncle. Preferably out of earshot of Wayne; Dale did not need his cousin’s take on things so far removed from his current scope of interest.
His chance came a few days later. Wayne was dining with Belle’s family and was not expected back until late. Amid the general bustle that pervaded the house while supper was being laid out, Dale took his uncle aside. “Uncle Liev, I need to talk to you.”
Uncle Liev craned his neck up to examine his nephew’s serious face before nodding. “Of course, lad. Meet me in the parlor after dessert.”
Despite the nervousness fluttering inside him like a baby bird, Dale enjoyed supper. He liked good food. Besides, as his Aunt Helena was fond of saying, there were few ails a hot meal, a bath, and a good night’s sleep could not cure.
If he was even more taciturn than usual, no one said anything. Aunt Helena kept shooting him looks over the milk pitcher every so often, her expression both kind and sympathetic. As he finished the last of his dessert, Dale realized she probably thought he was upset about Wayne and Belle.
He took a moment before he headed into the parlor to give her a gentle, one-armed hug. “Thank you for the meal, Aunt Helena. It was amazing, as usual.”
“Thank your cousins,” said his aunt with a smile. “They did most of the work today.”
Dale nodded to Gloria and Gail. “It was good.”
“I peeled the potatoes,” explained Gail gravely.
“And excellent potatoes they were,” Dale assured her before he continued down the hall to the parlor. His heart began pounding.
Uncle Liev was already there, filling up his pipe. He glanced up as Dale entered, but said nothing. He only motioned for Dale to have a seat in the brown armchair on the other side of the empty fireplace.
Dale carefully lowered himself into it and clasped his big hands together. His mouth was dry; he swallowed twice before he could speak. “Uncle Liev, I am a grown man now and I think—” he drew in a deep breath, “—I think it’s time I made my way in the world.”
Uncle Liev blew out a trickle of smoke. “I wondered if something like this was coming,” he said gruffly. “It’s that blasted Wild Sea, isn’t it?”
He caught Dale’s look of surprise and chuckled darkly. “Oh, yes, lad. I know you’ve been reading everything you can get your hands on. I’m not blind.”
Dale wondered fleetingly if the bookstore owner kept him apprised of things as well, but he pushed the thought aside. It was hardly important now. “Do you remember what you said to me when you brought me to Falconcrest?”
“As I recall, I said several things.”
Dale leaned forward in his seat, hazel eyes intent on his uncle’s face. “I asked you if I would ever see the sea again, and you said that I might someday, after I grew up.”
Uncle Liev shook his head slightly. “It always comes back to the Wild Sea. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear salt air was contagious.” He eyed Dale over his pipe. “You know your mother grew up here?”
Yes, he did know that part. Dale nodded.
“Well, what you may not know is that your father breezed into town one day on some business or another and swept her right off her feet.” Uncle Liev transcribed a vague arc with his pipe. “It was like the smell of the ocean clung to him and sucked her in. She was never the same after that. He took her back to the coast and I only saw her once before…” He trailed off, cleared his throat. “Anyway, it was like the sea had got hold of her too.”
Dale chose his next words very carefully, thinking them through before he allowed them to exit his mouth. “You talk about this farm, Uncle Liev, like it’s a part of you.”
“It is,” replied his uncle promptly. “Been in the family for eight generations.”
“That’s how it is with me and the Wild Sea.” Dale spread his hands. “I know I haven’t seen it since the day I left Port Ruby, but it’s a part of me. Wherever I am, I’ll spend the rest of my life thinking about it.” He cracked a wry smile. “And, let’s face it, sir. I’m a terrible farmer.”
This prompted a small smile from his uncle. “Not terrible, exactly. You do have a way with the animals.”
“But not the plants.”
The two men shared another smile. Aunt Helena had said for years that if she needed a plant killed, she sent Dale to tend to it. He had no idea what he did wrong, but he had a long and disturbing history of being the kiss of death to garden plants, field plants, trees, and the odd houseplant. The only plants he handled now were the dead ones he fed to the cows and goats.
“I don’t think this is a good idea, Dale,” said Uncle Liev, after another puff. The lines in his ruddy face deepened. “I’d rather you stayed here in the valley. But I’ll not keep you here if your heart’s set on going.”
“Thank you.” Dale hesitated, and then made a small noise in the back of his throat. “Uncle Liev, I’ve been meaning to ask you for a couple of years now…” His heart started thudding in his chest again. The answer was an integral part of his plan. “Do you know what happened to my parents’ house?”
Uncle Liev looked startled, as though that thought had not occurred to him in years. “The house? It was destroyed. By the tsunami.” A flicker of old grief flashed across his face. “I went there, you know, before I found you at that hospital.”
Though Dale had expected this news, it still hurt. “What about the land?” he pressed. “They owned it—I remember the day they paid it off.”
Color rose in his uncle’s cheeks. “I sold it,” he said softly. “A few years back. Don’t look at me like that, lad,” he rushed on. “Up until a year ago, I was your legal guardian. I waited long enough for the value to recover a bit, and then I sold it.”
Dale did his best to keep his expression open and impassive. Something was off about his uncle’s reaction. He could not quite put a finger on what it was, but he had a sinking feeling he was about to find out. “Have I got an account down at the bank, then, that I didn’t know about?”
Uncle Liev dropped his gaze to the dark green carpet and Dale knew.
“It’s gone, isn’t it?” he said hollowly. His mind flicked back through the major events of the past few years. “That drought four summers ago? The bad winter before that?”
The only answer he received was the way his uncle’s fingers tightened on the stem of his pipe. He looked suddenly older and grayer than he had two minutes earlier.
Hot anger pulsed through Dale, but he pushed it down. What his uncle had done was not right, but he and Aunt Helena had fed, clothed, and housed him for over ten years. He swallowed. “That’s how much you love this place.”
“It wasn’t just to save the farm.” Uncle Liev’s head snapped up. “Did you want your aunt and cousins to go hungry or freeze to death? Did you want to starve?”
“That doesn’t make it right,” said Dale sharply. He paused. “Does Aunt Helena know?”
If anything, Uncle Liev’s expression became more miserable. “She knows I used it, but I promised to put it all back.” His eyes found Dale’s. “I meant to put it all back. And I will. We’ll have a good crop this year.”
“We had a good crop last year.” The words were out before Dale could stop them. This had shaken him; Uncle Liev was usually unflinchingly honest.
“Aye, that we did. Until the plow broke down.”
Silence fell over both of them.
“I’m sorry, lad. It was a terrible mistake.”
“Were you ever going to tell me?”
Uncle Liev sighed. “I’d hoped to have it all back before the subject ever came up.”
It was Dale’s turn to stare at the carpet. His mind whirred, trying to arrange all of this information into its new configuration. He looked up. “How much was it?”
His uncle started to hesitate, but he knew as well as Dale that all his nephew had to do was ride down to the bank and ask. “Five hundred sovereigns.”
Dale just barely managed to keep a straight face. It was a modest number, but more than he’d ever seen in his life. For a second, he allowed himself to dwell on the lost possibilities that money represented, the things he could have done with it. Then he let it go.
“I’m still leaving, Uncle. I have some money saved up, but…” He hesitated. Should I really ask? He decided he should. His uncle had, after all, used his money. “Do you have anything you can give me now?” He held up a hand to forestall any argument. “Just a little. You can wire me the rest later when you have it.”
“That’s very generous of you, Dale. I’ll see what I can put together.” Uncle Liev’s expression shifted. “I would appreciate it if you did not mention this to your aunt.”
“Yes, sir.” Internally, Dale snorted. He did not know how his uncle intended to keep this a secret permanently. He’ll have to tell her eventually. Aunt Helena is too sharp.
Shaking his head slightly, he stood to leave. The conversation was over. “Goodnight.”
His uncle lifted a hand in acknowledgment and Dale left him staring into the cold, empty grate of the fireplace.
Chapter 4
Dale broke the news to his aunt before breakfast the next day. He was mildly alarmed by the tears that welled in her eyes as she threw her arms around him in a fierce hug.
“I’ll miss you, my boy,” she said into his shoulder. “You’re as good to me as one of my own sons, Dale.” She pulled back to offer him a watery smile. “But I’m glad it’s not because of Wayne and Belle.”
His stomach clenched. Wayne and Belle?
Aunt Helena tightened her grip on him; his expression had given him away. “My dear, I’ve noticed how you’ve looked at her over the last few years.” Her mouth firmed. “And how she didn’t see you. I was afraid…” she broke off, waving a hand. “Well, let’s just say that going off to seek your fortune will go easier if you aren’t nursing a broken heart along the way.”
Dale mustered a smile. “If you say so, Aunt Helena.”
“I do.” She patted his cheek. Almost instantly, her expression sobered again. “Gail…”
“I’m going to talk to her.” Dale’s face bore equal concern.
“She really loves you,” said Aunt Helena gently. “Don’t be surprised if she’s upset.”
That prompted a small smile from Dale. “I think I’d feel awful if she wasn’t,” he said truthfully, “but I don’t want to hurt her.”
Gloria swept into the kitchen just then to start making a pan of sausage gravy.
“I’ll save you two some biscuits.” Squeezing his shoulder, Aunt Helena moved back to the stove.
Dale intercepted Gail as she enthusiastically bounded down the stairs into the dining room. “Good morning, sunshine.”
“Dale!” Beaming, his little blonde cousin launched herself off the fourth stair, fully expecting him to catch her. He did. He always caught her.
“Come outside with me for a few minutes?” asked Dale. “I need to talk to you about something important.”
Gail nodded. “If you give me a piggyback ride.”
“As the princess commands.” Letting her slide back down to the floor, Dale turned around and knelt. Strong little arms fastened around his neck. “Ready?”
“Ready!” chirped Gail.
Locking his hands around her knees, Dale stood up and marched out the front door. He scanned the front yard for the best place for a tête-à-tête and settled on the plum tree. Gail loved plums. Gently, he set her down on the grass beneath the tree. Then he sprawled out beside her.
“Gail,” he began, a lump in his throat, “I’m leaving soon.”
“To go to town?” she asked brightly, investigating the grass for green plums that had fallen.
“No. I’m going back to Port Ruby, where I was born. I’m going to be a sailor again.”
That caught her attention. She whipped around to stare at him, her brown eyes wide. “You’re going back to the Wild Sea? The place that ate your parents?”
Dale found himself taken aback. He had not realized his version of events from so many years before had filtered down to his youngest cousin. He nodded slowly.
“No!” Gail clenched her fists, her brown eyes filling with tears. “I don’t want it to eat you too, Dale! Don’t go!”
He hated it when she cried. “Don’t cry, Gail. It’s not going to eat me. I promise.” At least not like that, he added silently. His plans were big enough that it was possible he could disappear too, but no…he would not think of that now.
Gail stood up, putting her on eye level with him. “You don’t have to leave,” she insisted, waving her hands. “This is your home!”
“I can’t stay here forever,” Dale told her gently. “Neither will you. Someday, you’ll grow up and a handsome prince will fall in love with you and want you to be his wife.”
Gail was not convinced. She spent the next ten minutes crying and trying to reason with her beloved older cousin, but eventually she had to admit defeat. He was gentle, but remained unmoved. She clutched at his shoulder. “You will come and visit us, won’t you?”
“I’ll visit as much as I’m able,” promised Dale. He stood up and offered her his hand. “How about some breakfast?”
Sniffing, Gail lifted her chin the way she’d seen her older sister do. “I’m sure I can’t eat a bite.”
She subsequently ate two helpings of biscuits and gravy. Dale wisely refrained from commenting.
***
Having prepared the two people who would take it the hardest, Dale announced his imminent departure to the rest of the family just before breakfast ended. His words were met with wide eyes and slack jaws.
“You’re going back to the Wild Sea?” demanded Gloria sharply. “To live on the coast?”
“I’m going to be a sailor,” Dale corrected her.
The color drained from her face. “But isn’t that dangerous?”
“Only if he heads due south.” All eyes turned to Wayne. “Supposedly. If you believe the Legend.” His eyes met his cousin’s in a challenging stare.
“And that’s all it is,” said Uncle Liev firmly. “A legend. A story somebody made up to frighten little children.” He shot a dour look at Dale.
Well. That was hardly fair, considering Wayne had been the one to bring up the taboo subject, but Dale shrugged it off. It doesn’t matter. In a few days, I’ll be gone.
Excusing himself with a mutter, Wayne left the table and disappeared outside.
Dale suppressed a frown as he watched his cousin leave. They were plowing the west field today; there would be no avoiding Wayne. He shook his head slightly to himself. Might as well get it over with.
He found Wayne in the barn, hitching up horses to the plow.
“What do you think you’re doing, leaving in the middle of planting season?” demanded Wayne, as soon as Dale’s shadow darkened the doorway. “Pa needs you here.” His eyes flashed. “I’m getting married this summer and he’s going to need some help! Davy’s not big enough to take on your job yet.”
Dale stared at his cousin, nonplussed. So it’s all right for you to go off and leave the farm to get married, but I’m not allowed to leave? He let Wayne carry on for another moment or two before he said quietly, “You’re his eldest son, Wayne. This is your responsibility. I’m just the nephew.”
He did not remind his cousin of the occasions over the years when Wayne had flung that in his face after a disagreement.
It was not necessary. Wayne’s thunderous expression shifted into grudging pleading. “Can’t you stay a little longer? Just until Davy can take over?”
Dale wanted to ask why Wayne could not put his wedding off another year, but he only lifted his broad shoulders in a shrug. “Uncle Liev can probably hire someone to help out.” Ignoring the way his cousin’s chest puffed up with anger, he continued, “I’m a year older than you, Wayne. This is my time.”
“It’s because of Belle, isn’t it?” sneered Wayne. “You can’t stand that she’s marrying me when she wouldn’t give you the time of day.”
Just as intended, the words stirred up a swell of anger in Dale’s chest. But he had long experience tamping things down; he let the urge to smash his fist into his cousin’s face pass him by. Instead, he fixed Wayne with an icy stare. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and say you’re not awake yet.” They had been up since before dawn, but that was beside the point.
“We took you in.” Wayne’s face was mutinous.
“And I’m grateful. But that doesn’t mean I have to stay here the rest of my life.” Shaking his head, Dale held up a hand to forestall any argument. “I’ve worked on this farm just as hard as any of you. But this isn’t what I want out of life.”
“Oh, no,” said Wayne sarcastically, “you don’t want to do anything productive. You just want to go chasing after a fairy story.” The morning sun slanted through a gap in the barn door to stripe his face.
“It’s real,” said Dale stoutly.
Wayne threw his hands into the air. “Dale, listen to yourself! All you’ve got to go on are some old stories you heard as a child and a few wild yarns in those newspapers you read.”
“There have been dozens of disappearances in the last ten years alone,” said Dale quietly. “Nobody who sails south is ever heard from again.”
Wayne shrugged. “Occupational hazard, if you ask me. Taking a little tub out on a body of water that big? No, thank you.” He shuddered. “That’s like having a yodeling competition up in the mountains after a hard winter.”
“We’re never going to get anywhere with this.” Dale suppressed a sigh. “Look, Wayne, I think it’s best if we agree to disagree. I’m leaving in four days. That’s all there is to it.”
“And Pa and I still think you ought to stay.” Wayne shrugged, looking faintly resentful. “But what can we do?”
Dale almost wondered if his cousin was jealous that he, Dale, would be escaping Falconcrest, but dismissed the thought immediately. Wayne had a good life ahead of him. A life in a place he wanted to be, with the girl he loved.
There are worse things.
***
Aunt Helena insisted in throwing Dale a going-away party on Saturday afternoon. Embarrassed, he tried to dissuade her, but she merely smiled at him and sailed on with her plans. She promised to keep it small, but once news of the party got out, it spread like poison ivy.
Over the course of the afternoon, three quarters of the town showed up at the farm to wish Dale well. He suspected most of them were there simply for the novelty, but he was honestly flabbergasted by the rest. He had not thought people in Falconcrest would care he was leaving them.
Fifteen minutes after the first guests arrived, however, it became blindingly obvious that their friends and neighbors had all heard he intended to sail the Wild Sea. By the time several well-meaning old dears cornered him in the parlor to insist that he not do anything crazy, Dale realized the tale of his upcoming adventures had taken on a life of its own. A criminally insane life, at that, he thought, mildly panicked.
He felt trapped by the attention; people came at him on all sides to offer well-wishes and crucial bits of advice. Then most of them stood around the edges of his Aunt Helena’s parlor, dining room, and kitchen nibbling on cookies and finger food while speculating over Dale’s motives for leaving and wondering how long he would last on the Wild Sea. Considering none of them had any sailing experience and very little knowledge of the ocean, their estimations took on stranger and stranger proportions.
As far as Dale was concerned, the only bright spot in the otherwise tortuous event was Belle Master’s arrival with her family. She actually approached Dale, weaving her way between other party guests, and—for the first time in her life—looked him straight in the eye. “I hear you’re off to have a grand adventure.”
Caught off-guard, Dale shuffled his feet and tried not to blush. “Well, I don’t know about that.”
“Still,” continued Belle, “it’s terribly exciting.” Wayne hovered at her elbow; she did not spare him a glance. Instead, she offered Dale a wistful little pout. “I’d like to see the sea someday.”
Swallowing, Dale looked at his cousin, who was starting to turn brick red. “Well, maybe someday you will.”
“You will have to come back sometime and tell us all about it.” Belle touched his arm. “Don’t forget about us.”
Dale felt rooted to the spot. Is she flirting with me? He could not believe his ears. Belle Masters had never so much as acknowledged his existence, and now she was touching him and telling him with a soulful glint in her blue eyes that he had better not forget about Falconcrest? His eyes were so wide he was sure they were about to fall out of his head and roll around on his aunt’s freshly-scrubbed floor, where they were bound to be squashed by someone’s specially polished boot. And then where would I be?
“Dale?” Belle was batting her eyelashes at him, looking slightly confused.
Not as confused as I feel. With a start, Dale came to himself. “I, uh, I’ll see what I can do, Belle.”
She only had time for a coy smile before Wayne bustled her off to find her parents.
Bemused, Dale shook his head to clear it. Had I known that all it took to get Belle’s interest was to leave Falconcrest to become a sailor… He chopped the thought off at its knees. She’s Wayne’s girl.
Speaking of Wayne, his cousin had not looked happy. Dale had no doubts he would be receiving an earful later. He pushed the thought away. Not my fault.
Over the next few hours, he tried slipping away a few times, but Aunt Helena seemed to have a sense for when he was about to bolt. At those precise moments, she appeared to link arms with him and lead her nephew off to greet some other neighbor or another who wanted to wish him a safe journey. She was beaming, practically glowing with pride in him, and Dale found he did not have the heart to refuse her.
Aunt Helena was the closest thing he had to a mother, and today she was showing the world she was proud of him. A lump formed in Dale’s throat and stuck fast. If his voice was a little gruffer than usual, no one commented on it.
***
The sun had sunk behind the mountain by the time their last friend and neighbor departed. The entire family—sans Wayne, who was driving Belle home; she had opted to stay longer after her parents left—collapsed into chairs in the kitchen and surveyed the damage.
Gloria propped her feet up on the rungs of Davy’s chair, fanning herself rapidly. The hem of her pinstriped blue skirt slid down her legs to reveal the tops of her button-up shoes, but she did not seem to care. “Oh, my stars,” she said breathlessly. “What a day. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many people in this house before—why, it looked like the entire town came to visit!”
Aunt Helena nodded. She was humming under her breath. “I’m glad they came to see Dale off.”
Uncle Liev said nothing, but he nodded.
“Mama,” complained Gail, after making a round of the kitchen and the food tables, “they ate all the cookies.”
“Don’t remind me.” Gloria draped the wrist of the hand not holding the fan over her eyes. “I’ve never seen three days’ worth of work disappear so quickly either.”
“It was worth it,” said Aunt Helena firmly, looking at Dale. Her cheeks were still pink and her eyes, though tired, were soft. “People will miss you, Dale.”
He scuffed the toe of his shoe along the stone floor of the kitchen. “If you say so, Aunt Helena.”
Wayne now returned, striding up the back steps, through the door, and into the crowded kitchen. His mood had not improved. Dropping into the last remaining chair at the table, he announced, “Belle wants a honeymoon by the seashore now.”
“Oh, does she?” Gloria let her wrist fall as she turned to look at her older brother. “That sounds interesting.”
Scowling, Wayne tipped his head in Dale’s direction. “It’s all because you’re leaving.”
“Perhaps she’ll change her mind in another week or two,” said Aunt Helena mildly.
“One can only hope,” muttered Wayne.
“And what’s wrong with that?” Gloria sat straight up in her chair, bringing her feet back down to the floor with two little taps of her heels.
“Nothing,” Wayne waved a hand irritably, “except that I don’t think we’ll be able to afford a honeymoon by the Wild Sea. That’s all.” Standing up, he motioned to the door. “We’ve got to go see to the cows.”
Casting commiserating looks at each other, Dale and Davy followed him out to the barn.
As his hands worked in automatic rhythm to send little jets of warm milk into his bucket, Dale marveled at the fact that this would be one of the last times he would perform this chore for the foreseeable future. The thought created a wondrous, fluttery feeling of excitement in the middle of his chest. In two days, I’ll set eyes on the Wild Sea for the first time in ten years.
He could hardly wait.
~~~~
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