The House in the Cerulean Sea(60)

Any lingering fear they might have had apparently disappeared immediately with the promise of food, as they all charged through the doorway, even Sal. Theodore squawked, but managed to hold on to the bigger boy.

Linus stayed right where he was, unsure of what he should do next. Zoe had offered an invitation, but it’d been to the children. He didn’t know if that extended to him.

Zoe pushed away from the house. With every step she took, the grass grew under her feet. She stopped in front of him, eyeing him curiously.

“Zoe,” he said with a nod.

She was amused. “Linus. I heard you had quite the adventure.”

“Indeed. A bit out of my comfort zone.”

“I expect that’s how most explorers feel when they step out of the only world they know for the first time.”

“You often say one thing while meaning another, don’t you?”

She grinned. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He didn’t believe her at all. “Arthur all right?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Arthur is fine.”

Linus nodded slowly. “Because he’s been here before, I take it.”

“Is there a question you’d like to ask, Linus?”

There were so many. “No. Just … making conversation.”

“You’re not very good at it.”

“That’s not the first time I’ve heard that, if I’m being honest.”

Her expression softened. “No, I don’t believe it is. Yes. He’s been here before.”

“But not the children?”

She shook her head. “No. This is the first time.”

“Why now?”

She stared at him, eyes alight with something he couldn’t quite place. “This island is theirs just as much as it’s mine. It was time.”

He frowned. “Not for my benefit, I hope.”

“No, Linus. Not for your benefit. It would have happened whether you were here or not. Would you like to come inside?”

He tried to cover his surprise, but failed miserably. “This island isn’t mine.”

She hesitated. “No. But I wouldn’t leave you out here by yourself. There might be cannibals, after all.”

“Could be,” he agreed. Then, “Thank you.”

“For?”

He wasn’t quite sure. “Most things, I suspect.”

“That’s all-encompassing.”

“I find it’s best to be that way, lest I forget one thing in particular.”

She laughed. The flowers along her hair and house grew brighter with the sound. “You’re very dear, Linus Baker. There’s a surface to you that’s hard but cracked. Dig a little deeper, and there is all this life teeming wildly. It’s a conundrum.”

He flushed. “I don’t know about all that.”

“I heard you philosophized in the woods. I think Arthur rather enjoyed himself.”

Linus began to sputter. “It’s not—I suppose we—it wasn’t anything much.”

“I think it was quite a lot, actually.” And with that, she turned and headed inside the house, leaving Linus to stare after her.



* * *



The interior of the house appeared to be an extension of what could be found outside. Instead of a floor, there was exposed earth, the grass forming a thick carpet. Pots filled with flowers hung from the ceiling. Tiny blue crabs and snails with shells of green and gold clung to the walls. The windows were open, and Linus could hear the ocean in the distance. It was a sound he had grown accustomed to. He would miss it when it was time for him to leave.

Food had been spread out for them on a wooden counter. The children held what appeared to be large shells, stacking food high on them. There were sandwiches and potato salad and strawberries so red Linus thought they had to be fake until Theodore bit into one, eyes rolling back in his head in ecstasy.

Arthur Parnassus sat in an old chair, hands folded in his lap as he watched with amusement as the children began to gorge themselves, even as Zoe warned them to slow down. Expeditions were hungry work; Linus’s stomach was growling too.

“I’m glad to see you survived,” Linus said, shifting awkwardly as he stood next to the chair.

Arthur tilted his head back to look up at him. “Quite brave of me, I know.”

Linus snorted. “Indeed. They’ll write epic poems about you.”

“I should like that, I think.”

“Of course you would.”

The corners of Arthur’s eyes crinkled. “Before they descended upon their bounty, I was told you were a good caretaker in my absence.”

Linus shook his head. “Lucy was probably having one over on you—”

“It came from Sal.”

Linus blinked. “Come again?”

“Sal said you held Talia’s hand without her needing to ask. And that you listened to all of them, letting them make their own decisions.”

Linus was flustered. “It wasn’t—I was just going along.”

“Well, thank you, regardless. As I’m sure you know, that’s quite high praise coming from him.”

Linus did know. “He’s getting used to me, I guess.”