Ch16: Stolen May 30th part 1

Shoving the sofa back from the front door has become my first task of the day. Second is to put a pot of water on the stove to boil for tea or coffee. I seem to be alternating days on that. Third is to wash and dress. Fourth is to peer out a window and see what weather is coming. My last task is to decide what to do for the day. There’s not much choice on that one – walk around the island following the cliffs (but only when the wind isn’t too gusty), go to the tidal pool, go to the loch, chase rabbits, try to make friends with a puffin, or watch the sea lions. Other than outside activities, I’m limited to reading one of the old novels on the bookshelves or read up on the wildlife on Vanir.

Another silly thing I’ve started to do is play a game picking my soup or stew for dinner. I close my eyes and fiddle about with the cans until my fingers decide on one. That is my meal.

After a few panicked days uncomfortable with my solitude, I have now embraced it. I’m done with my diary. I’ve left it in the hole under the floor. I want the memories to stay here. Getting them out has left me feeling cleansed, fresh and new. Last thing I want to do is take the notebook with me when Ian takes me home.

I am ready early, bag packed and on the sofa. There’s a light drizzle coming down but a glance to the south tells me that the sun will be paying me a visit soon enough. By ten I am down on the pier, hood up against the wet, watching for Ian’s boat. I have no idea what time he’s going to be here, but if we are to go back today, and that is what I intend, then we’ll have to turn around pretty quick.

As if on cue, I spot a dot of a boat on the water. I can’t help but grin. Ian did the best thing ever, I really think he saved my mind. I am ready to grow up, become the adult I am meant to be. Chris will always be part of my life, but he will no longer be my life. I will always be hurt by what Dad said at the funeral, but I am now ready to forgive.

The boat grows larger slowly, and I sit for ages on the pier waiting for him to arrive. I am itching to get away. It’s all I can do to make myself sit there and not go fetch my suitcase, ready to jump in and get Ian to head the boat straight back out again.

“Ian,” I stand up and call for him as the boat finally gets close.

He pulls the boat expertly up against the pier and jumps out. I run to him and give him a big hug.

“Thank you,” I say. I’m grinning and suspect I look a bit of an idiot.

“What’s that for?” He pulls away and starts tying the boat up.

“For letting me stay here on your wonderful island. I am healed.”

He raises an eyebrow as he takes a bag out of the boat. “I didn’t know you were sick.”

I tap at the side of my head. “I was broken when I came here. I’m fixed now. This island was just what I needed. You were right.” I give him another brief hug and then we set off up the path to the cottage.

“Turbine keep going for you?”

“No, gave out days ago. I did try to fix it, but the closest I got was getting the access panel off and staring at the insides.” I shrugged. “The aga kept me warm, cooked my food and heated the water, so I was okay.”

“What do you make of the simmer dim?”

“Simmer dim…?”

“The lighted nights. For about eight weeks the sky never gets dark, we’re in the middle of that time. It’s called the simmer dim. I find it hard to sleep through it.”

After two weeks marching around the hills of Vanir, I’m in much better shape. Two weeks ago I struggled to keep up with Ian and arrived at the cottage out of breath. This time I’m ahead of him, and he can’t keep up. “I had a few sleepless nights, and I guess I got used to it after that.”

“Make me a cup of tea and then you can help me get the supplies out of the boat.”

I fill the pan and put it on the stove. Ian must be planning on staying for a holiday here. “I’ll change the sheets for you. I’ll wash them in the tub before you take me back.”

Ian nods, but doesn’t say anything.

“I’ll help you mend the turbine as well. Is it complicated to fix?”

He waves a hand, like it’s no big deal. “Depends what’s broken. Usually it just needs an adjustment.”

While Ian has his tea I strip the bed and take the sheets to the tub outside, at the back of the house. I scrub the sheets as best I can and rinse out the soap. I’m still not used to hand washing, even after a couple of weeks here, and no matter how hard I try I put too much detergent in. Once the laundry is strung over the line, I go back inside.

“Come on, let’s empty the boat,” Ian says and leads the way.

He’s got bags of food, enough for another couple of weeks. We carry them back up to the cottage and this time I put all the supplies away while Ian sits and watches. As I close the door on the larder, he comes up behind me. Before I know it, he’s kissing me and pressing me up against the wall. For a moment I resist. But I’ve been starved of human contact for two long weeks, and his lips feel warm and soft against my own and my body craves his touch. Ian’s hands go places where no man has been since Chris, and before I know it he’s pulling me to the bedroom.