Page 59 of Restoration

“Are you sure? Because I always like to know what’s going on in that fascinating brain of yours.”

I chuckle at that, although I’m not entirely certain he was teasing. “I’m sure. Don’t you ever get caught up in a weird spiral of thought that’s utterly unimportant?”

“All the time. But you’re a lot more serious than I am, so I didn’t think you’d have trivial thoughts like me.”

“Well, I do.” I lean sideways to rub my cheek on his shoulder. “And I think you’re more serious than you’ve ever given yourself credit for.”

He doesn’t respond to that, but I can tell he’s thinking about it. He squeezes my hand again and still doesn’t let it go.

We’re about three-quarters of the way around the island when I step on a fallen tree branch. It’s small and fairly smooth, so it doesn’t hurt me, but I give it a little kick to get it out of the way.

It flies farther from the kick than I would have expected.

Intrigued, I let my hand slip out of Edmund’s and walk over to pick it up. It didn’t break even though I stepped on it. But it’s very light and thin.

“That’s from those tall trees,” Edmund says, stepping over to join me in peering at the branch. “Look at the leaves. We already tried those branches.”

The first wood we tried for the kite was from the tallest trees on the island. Neither of us is educated on kinds of trees, but these look more like the regular trees we’re used to than most of the others on the island. They’re not palm trees or pine trees. They’re tall with a lot of sturdy branches. They don’t flower or grow fruit, and they’re covered with medium-sized green leaves.

“I know. But this one is a lot lighter.” I frown as I peer up at a cluster of those trees. “Look. It must have come from near the top. The branches are smaller and thinner up there.”

I try bending the branch. It will fold all the way in half if forced, but it still doesn’t break. And it holds its shape a lot better than the bush branches we’ve tried.

“Shit.” Edmund reaches over to take the branch from my hand, pulling off the leaves and then flailing it around. “This might work.”

“But we’ll need to get more from way up at the top of the trees. These branches don’t break off much, so we’re not likely to find more of them on the ground.”

Edmund peers up the height of the trees. “I can climb up there. I’ll bring the knife and the hatchet to cut them off.”

I don’t at all like the idea of Edmund climbing those tall trees, particularly when he’ll need to use tools to cut off branches. It doesn’t feel safe.

“I can’t climb up now because I don’t have anything to cut with. Let’s go back home to eat lunch,” he says, sounding excited and invigorated the way he always does when he’s got a new idea. “There are trees like this closer to our camp, so I can climb up one of those. I really think this will work.”

I gulp and nod, recognizing that there’s nothing particularly irrational about his plan. Climbing trees isn’t the most dangerous activity in the world. I used to climb trees myself when I was a kid. If there are enough branches, even if you slip you can usually catch yourself.

But it still terrifies me to think of Edmund all the way up at the top of those trees. I’m silent as I brood about it on the way home.

If Edmund notices my mood, he doesn’t mention it. He’s all energized about figuring out how to make a flyable kite.

We grill the fish we caught that morning and eat it with some grilled bananas and coconut meat. We usually take a swim and a nap after lunch, but Edmund isn’t going to delay any longer.

He’s hooking the hatchet and the knife to his waist with a rope of braided vines, and I stare up at the tops of those trees swaying in the breeze.

“The wind looks pretty strong up there,” I say. “Maybe we should wait until it’s calmer.”

“It’s never calm.”

“I know, but look at the trees blowing. It’s not always that bad. It feels like one of those afternoon storms might blow in during the next hour. You don’t want to be up there when it does.”

He frowns, studying the sky and then the trees. “It’s not storming, Autumn. It looks fine.”

“But—”

“What are you all worried about?” It sounds like he really wants to know.

I’m worried that Edmund—the most important person in my world and the only companion I have for the foreseeable future—is about to climb a tall tree, putting himself at the mercy of a strong wind.

I don’t like it. He might fall. He might hurt himself.