Heaven and Earth
Page 60

She was up again. “A part in what?”
“Balancing the scales.”
“Do you believe, in that detail-filing brain of yours, that this island is doomed to fall into the sea? How can you buy some centuries-old curse? Islands don’t just sink like swamped boats.”
“There are a number of respected scholars and historians who would argue that point, using Atlantis as their example.”
“Of which you would be one,” she said sourly.
“Yeah, but before you get me started on that and I bore you senseless, let me just say that there’s always room for less-than-literal interpretations. A force five hurricane, an earthquake—”
“Earthquake?” She’d felt the earth tremble under her feet. She’d made the earth tremble. And didn’t want to think of it. “Jesus, Mac!”
“You don’t want me to start on plates and pressure and shifts, do you?”
She opened her mouth, shut it again, and settled for shaking her head.
“Didn’t think so. I’ve got degrees in geology and meteorology, and I can get really boring. Anyway, put simply, Nature’s a bitch and she barely tolerates us.”
She studied him consideringly. Earnest, sexy, quiet. Somehow unshakably confident. Hardly a wonder that she’d fallen for him.
“You know what? I bet you’re not as boring when you get going as you think.”
“You’d lose.” Because he thought she would accept it now, he reached out to take her hand. “Heaven and Earth, Ripley, do more than hold us between them. They expect us to deserve it.”
“And we have to decide how far we’ll go.”
“That pretty much wraps it up.”
She puffed out her cheeks, blew out a breath. “It gets harder to tell myself this is all crap. First Nell, then you, and now this,” she added glancing down at the copies of journal pages. “It starts to feel like
somebody’s added bars to a cage, so there’s less and less chance of squeezing out again.”
She frowned down at the pages as another thought sprang into her head. “You’ve got a blood connection to the Sisters.” Her gaze flashed up to his. “Do you have magic?”
“No. Seems like a rip-off to me,” he said. “I may have inherited the interest, the fascination, but none of the practical usage.”
She relaxed and slid down on the seat beside him. “Well, that’s something at least.”
Fifteen
Mia read the first journal entry while sitting at her desk in her office. A freezing rain had come in behind the wind and was now battering her window.
She’d dressed in bright, bold blue to dispel the gloom and wore the little stars and moons Nell had given her for her last birthday at her ears. As she read, she toyed with them, sending star colliding with moon. When she’d finished the entry, she leaned back and studied Mac with amusement. “Well, hello, cousin.”
“I wasn’t sure how you’d take it.”
“I try to take things as they come. May I keep these a while? I’d like to read the rest of them.”
“Sure.”
She set the pages aside, picked up her latté. “It’s all so nice and tidy, isn’t it?”
“I realize it’s quite a coincidence,” he began, but she stopped him.
“Coincidence is often what tidies things up. I can trace my family back to its start on the Sisters. I know some stayed, some scattered. And I remember now, there was a MacAllister branch. The one son, among three daughters. He left the island, survived a war, and began to make his fortune. Odd, isn’t it, that I didn’t think of that until now, or connect it with you? I suppose I wasn’t meant to. Still, I felt something for you. A kinship. That’s nice and tidy, too. And comforting.”
“Comfort wasn’t my first reaction when I put it all together.”
“What was?”
“Excitement. Descended from a witch and a silkie. How cool is that?” He broke off a piece of the applesauce muffin she’d urged on him. “Then I was pretty irked that I didn’t get any power out of the deal.”
“You’re wrong.” The affection and admiration in her voice nearly made him flush. “Your mind is your power. The strength and the openness of that mind make very strong magic. Stronger yet because it doesn’t close off your heart. We’ll need both.” She waited a beat. “She’ll need you.”
It gave him a jolt. Mia had said it so quietly, so simply. “Do me a favor and don’t mention that to Ripley.
It’ll just piss her off.”
“You understand her, recognize all of her various flaws, numerous shortcomings, and irritating habits. But you love her anyway.”
“Yes, I . . .” He trailed off, set the muffin aside. “That was very sneaky.”
“I’d apologize, but I wouldn’t mean it.” Her laughter was too warm and soft to sting. “I thought you were in love with her, but I wanted to hear you say it. Can you be happy living on the island?”
He said nothing for a moment. “You really know her, don’t you? Ripley would never be happy anywhere else. So, yes, I can be happy here. I’ve been heading here all my life, in any case.”
“I like you, very much. Enough to wish, just a little, that it had been me you were meant for. And you,”
she added when he looked slightly panicked, “who’d been meant for me. Since neither of those things is, I’m glad we can be friends. I think you’ll help each other find the best you can be.”
“You really love her, don’t you?”
For an instant, Mia’s calm ruffled. Color washed her cheeks, a rare occurrence. Then she shrugged.
“Yes, nearly as much as I’m irritated by her. Now, I trust you’ll keep that to yourself as I keep your feelings to myself.”
“Deal.”
“And to seal it—” She rose and turned to the shelves behind her. She took down a carved wooden box and, opening it, removed a star-shaped pendant of silver, set with a sunstone.
“This has been in my family—our family,” she corrected, “since we began here on the Sisters. It’s said that she who was mine forged the pendant from a fallen star and the stone from a sunbeam. I’ve kept it for you.”
“Mia—”