The House in the Cerulean Sea(122)

Arthur’s lips twitched. “Were you?”

“I didn’t know I had it in me.”

“Why did you?”

Linus spread his hands out in front of him. “Because I … I’ve seen things. Here. Learned things I didn’t know before. It changed me. I didn’t know how much until I no longer had it. When I could no longer wake up and walk to the house for breakfast. Or listen to you teach them. Or discuss your ludicrous thoughts on philosophy with you. Or go on adventures on Saturdays wearing ridiculous outfits while being threatened with a grisly death.”

“I don’t know,” Arthur said. “You don’t seem to have a problem wearing them now.”

Linus pulled on his shirt. “They’re growing on me. My point is that I left because I was scared of what could be, not of what already was. I’m not scared anymore.”

Arthur nodded and looked away, jaw tight. “And the orphanage?”

Linus shook his head. “It’s not … you know, you told me once that the word orphanage is a misnomer. That no one comes looking here to adopt.”

“I did say that, didn’t I?”

“You did. And as I told Extremely Upper Management, this isn’t an orphanage. It’s a home. And that’s what it will remain.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

“And what of the others? You said you thought you could help all the others.”

Linus scratched the back of his neck. “I might have done something … illegal? Stole a few files. Maybe more than a few. I have an idea, though it will take time.”

“Why, Linus Baker. I’m utterly surprised at you. Stealing, of all things. It’s not proper.”

“Yes, well,” he muttered. “I put the entirety of the blame on you lot here. You’ve corrupted me.”

Linus thought he saw a flicker of fire in Arthur’s eyes. “You really did all that?”

“Yes. I was frightened, but it was the right thing to do.” He hesitated. Then, “I also quit.”

Arthur looked surprised. “Why?”

Linus shrugged. “Because it wasn’t where I belonged.”

“Where do you belong, Linus?”

And with the last of his courage, Linus Baker said, “Here. With you. If you’ll have me. Ask me again. Please, I beg you. Ask me to stay again.”

Arthur nodded tightly. He cleared his throat. He was hoarse when he said, “Linus.”

“Yes, Arthur?”

“Stay. Here. With us. With me.”

Linus could barely breathe. “Yes. Always. Yes. For them. For you. For—”

He was being kissed. He hadn’t even seen Arthur move. One moment, he thought he was about to break, and the next, his face was cupped in warm hands, and lips were pressed against his own. He felt as if he were on fire, burning from the inside out. He reached up, putting his hands atop Arthur’s, holding them in place. He never wanted this moment to end. For all the love songs he’d ever listened to in his life, he hadn’t been prepared for how a moment like this could feel.

Arthur pulled away, and began to laugh as Linus frantically kissed his chin and cheeks, his nose and forehead. Arthur dropped his hands and wrapped his arms around Linus, holding him close. Linus could hear the children cheering in the house as they began to sway in the light from a setting sun.

“I’m sorry,” Linus whispered into Arthur’s throat, never wanting this moment to end.

Arthur held him tighter. “You silly, delightful man. There is nothing to be sorry for. You fought for us. I could never be angry with you for that. How I cherish you.”

Linus felt his heart settle in his chest.

As they continued to sway to a song only they could hear, the sun finally sank below the horizon, and all was right in this tiny little corner of the world.

Don’t you wish you were here?





EPILOGUE


On a warm spring Thursday afternoon, the sound of an old truck coming up the road to the house filled the air.

Linus looked up from where he was pulling weeds, wiping a hand across his brow, leaving behind a smudge of dirt.

“Sounds like Helen,” he said. “Was she coming to see you?”

Talia didn’t look up as she lovingly patted the soil around a bed of petunias. “Not that I heard. She was talking about another magazine wanting to see my flowers, but she said that wouldn’t be until next month. She didn’t say anything when we were in the village last weekend.”

Linus stood with a groan. “Better see what she wants.”

“If it’s my adoring public, tell them I’m not prepared for company at the moment and that it’s rude to come with so little notice.”

He snorted. “I’ll make sure they understand.”

Talia looked at him, eyes narrowing. “Don’t think this gets you out of weed duty.”

He patted the top of her cap. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Keep at it. I won’t be long.”

Talia muttered under her breath in Gnomish.

He shook his head, smiling to himself. She was getting more creative with her threats. He blamed that entirely on Lucy.

He wiped his hands on his shirt and walked out of the garden toward the front of the house. The Linus from a year ago wouldn’t recognize the man that existed today. His skin had burned and peeled and burned and peeled until he had what could be described as a minor tan. He wore shorts (by choice!) and his knees were dirty from kneeling in the garden for the last hour. He was still rotund, and had begrudgingly accepted it when Arthur had made his appreciation known. His hair was even thinner than it’d once been, but he had little time for such trivial things. He was comfortable in his own skin for the first time in his life. Perhaps his blood pressure was still a tad high, but life was so much more than worrying about a spare tire or hair on a pillow.