The Corsica Ferry – Part 2: Landfall

She woke at five to a sky of rose and pearl.

The ferry was steaming steadily across a sea of silk. The air was cool and clean. To the east, the first light was spreading in a long band of gold along the horizon. And ahead, dark and enormous, rose the mountains of Corsica, their peaks catching the dawn.

Louise sat up, blankets falling from her shoulders. Antoine was already awake in the next chair, watching the island, his face lit pink.

"There," he whispered.

"It's huge."

"It is a mountain in the sea."

"It's beautiful."

They sat in silence, watching the island grow. Gulls appeared, wheeling above the wake. A fisherman's boat bobbed far off. The sun lifted at last over the water, flooding the deck with gold. A smell of coffee drifted up from the café below.

"I haven't been this happy in years," said Louise, quietly.

"I'm glad."

"I'm supposed to be on a beach. For a week. Doing nothing."

"You could do nothing on a mountain."

"Is there a path?"

"There is a very long path." Antoine turned to her. His eyes, in the morning light, were warm and a little afraid. "I have been walking it alone for years. This time, I hoped I might not."

"Can I ask you something?" said Louise.

"Yes."

"May I kiss you, Antoine? Before we land?"

"Yes," he said, very softly. "And if you say stop, you must walk the first stage with me."

"That isn't a punishment."

"No. I was hoping you'd say that."

She kissed him, salty and sweet, a hand rising to his woolly hat. He kissed her back, slow and gentle, the blanket sliding off both their shoulders. The ferry horn sounded across the water. The mountains turned gold.

When they parted, both of them were smiling.

"Green?" he asked.

"Green," said Louise. "Very green."

She walked the whole of the long path with him. Her feet blistered. Her heart did not.

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