Chapter 10: A sudden wedding

That evening was a difficult one for me; I couldn't sleep, and everyone seemed to want to talk to me but not have the courage to say anything. I settled myself in front of the drying sheets of paper and started trying to figure out what they were.

"Anything?" Travis asked, sitting next to me and resting his chin on my shoulder.

"Recipes. I think. What is 'baking powder'? Or 'cocoa'? Or 'icing sugar'? Or 'Worcester sauce?' I've never heard of some of these ingredients. These all seem to be cookery books or hand-written stuff."

"What about this one?"

"I hadn't gotten to that one yet. I'm not sure what it's supposed to be."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to try to open it until the pages have dried a bit more. Otherwise I'll rip them."

He nodded. "You mind going down again tomorrow?"

"So long as it's not cloudy. I can't see well as it is. Can we get more ropes?"

"Maybe, but there's still the question of what we can pull up."

I nodded. "Fine. I'll go help shut down the still and head to bed."

"You need a hobby," he said. "I only ever see you working or sitting still."

"Like what? Polishing a knife collection?"

"Still stubborn." He shook his head. "See you in the morning. I'm beat."

"Beat?"

"Tired," Greta translated for me. "Tuckered out. Wiped. Lethargic. Wasted."

"I thought wasted meant drunk or drugged."

"Oh, that, too. It's like the difference between pissed and pissed off."

"Here we go," I sat down, kicking my boots off. "Ow."

"Problem?"

"Blisters. I'm not used to boots."

"You know something? He was right. You need a hobby."

"Oh, forget it." I rolled into my bed and was out like a light.

Morning came; it was raining heavily. We went to work storing all the water we could. It was also getting very windy with rough seas, which meant our atoll was more than a little wobbly. Micah looked terrible; I guess pregnancy wasn't helping her balance.

It was a lousy day outside, but Travis pulled me inside and we sat around keeping warm and dry. I remember I was working through the cookery books, and he kept looking over my shoulder and driving me nuts asking what the words meant.

Then he stopped asking. After a bit I realised he had fallen asleep, sagging back in the corner behind me on the bench and head handing down. I edged away a little to give him room and went back to reading.

"He must like you," Greta said. "I've known him for most of my life. He's never just fallen asleep like that around someone he didn't like and trust before."

"How'd you meet him?" I didn't want to think too hard about that part.

"Me and Jason were living on a small atoll, just one big family. Smokers came. Our family told us to hide, and we stayed behind a partition below the deck. We were just kids. He came by a few days later and found us there. He took us to Frank, on the next stop on his route, and left us there; checked up on us when he came back that way. When he started building this place, we wanted to come."

"How old are you?"

"I don't know. Ten, twelve - I could figure it out. Jason's a few years older."

"English isn't your first language, is it?"

"No. Our family spoke Portuguese. How did you know?"

"Your accent is a bit off."

"Off?"

"Strange. How'd you get a name like Greta?"

"Our mother spoke German."

"Oh." I turned a page. "Don't suppose you know what pepper is, do you?"

"I think it's a type of fabric."

"It says here to sprinkle pepper. But this one says to hollow the peppers out and stuff them."

"What's that bit?"

"Oh. Black pepper. Green and red peppers. Oh, and there's a reference somewhere to peppercorns."

"Is that like corns on the feet?"

"I think it's something to do with barleycorn, or maybe Cornwall, whatever that was. Why build a wall of food?"

"It does seem rather a waste. Maybe it was food that keeps, and they took bits off when they needed them."

"Built on what?"

"Er…" She trailed off. I don't know what images were in her mind, but I know what images were in mine, and they were really bizarre. We shook our heads in unison.

Someone chuckled.

Just then Tyla and Mitchell came in, looking nervous. "Can we have your attention, please?" Tyla asked a little shakily.

"Sure," Toby said, sitting up and giving his sister a full-strength stare. "What's up?"

"We, ah…" she trailed off. "We want to get married." It came out all in a rush.

I'd thought Tyla could face anything with calm competence. I was wrong.

This once, I didn't mind, and I wondered why not.

Toby leaped up and hugged her; Mitchell received a hearty slap on the back from the newly awakened Travis. Frank was smiling. Jason and Greta were clapping. Micah was laughing.

I felt more of an outsider than ever.

"Frank?" Tyla asked. "Will you..."

"Sure," he smiled. "It's not like this is an instant decision." We all stood up and listened while he preached the most peculiar mess of religion I've ever heard and pronounced them man and wife.

I knew they weren't sleeping alone - sound carries at night. I doubted they'd just decided this. Evidently they'd decided to skip the feast and gifts in favour of also skipping the jokes, teasing and general hard time that people could give even without meaning to. I'd already learned that both of them had been on the atoll for several years. Tyla was twenty-something, she was old for a first marriage. Or a first kid. Could be she'd decided to give Micah's kid a cousin.

I shook the thought aside and went to cook up a really good meal for everyone.