Nosy

Clockwork Nessie, Part 11

Thomas rowed with sure strokes. The island lay less than two kilometers from our boat launch, and soon the tiny vessel scraped the rocks of its eastern shore.

We walked to the lodge, but found it locked. A large sign affixed to its door said, “Closed until September 1. Trespassers may be shot.”

“See, Miss. We’d best clear out lest someone make good on yon threat.”

“Oh posh. That’s to keep the riff-raff away, which is why it says ‘may be shot’. We mean no harm. Come along.” I started down the path leading away from the main lodge.

Closer to the water’s edge, nearly fifty yards away, stood a barn. As we neared, a door flew open and man who appeared to be in his late twenties stepped out. He wore a lab coat and welder’s goggles, which he pushed down around his neck. He paused on the stoop and blinked into the sunlight, like Apollo on Mount Olympus.

He raised a hand to shield his eyes, and gazed our way. “Cyrus? Did you forget something? Oh. You’re not Cyrus. The island is off limits this time of year.”

On a hunch I asked, “Are you Robert, by any chance?”

(To Be Continued)

Happy Book Anniversary to me for The P.U.R.E., published one year ago TODAY! 

Lackluster Lothario

Clockwork Nessie, Part 10

“I’ll take my chances. Very well, then. After tea, I’d like you to row me to the island.” I wanted to find the mysterious lab my father had mentioned in his note.

“Yes, Miss. Be glad to.”

Once home, I tore from the carriage, and threw open the front door. As I approached the stairs, I heard my mother’s voice in the parlor where she entertained callers.

“She should be home soon. She went to the shore to collect a few marine specimens. She is her father’s daughter, but these excursions are really more of a hobby.”

I tiptoed along the wall to the open doorway to discern the identity of her visitor without being pressed upon to join them.

Blazes! Sir John Munroe sat taking tea with my mother. He had been a frequent caller since Papa’s passing, and had begun dropping hints we might be a perfect match. I had done my best to dissuade him, but my mother undermined my assertions. John was pleasant enough, but dull. His most serious character flaw, however, was his refusal to appreciate that a woman could be interested in science. I knew he and my parents had always assumed more domestic pursuits would crowd out my so-called hobby, and endeavored at every opportunity to distract me with such.

(To Be Continued)