“It’s changed everything.” Jonathan looked up at her, his brown eyes wide and earnest. “I feel like a new man. When I first went to Edinburgh with your treasure chest, I thought, this can’t be happening to me. Now I’m the richest man on Jorsay—not that that’s saying much, but still, nobody knows about it yet. I worried at first. Would I spend it all on drink? But I haven’t, and now…” He glanced over at a desk by the window, where a computer sat next to a stack of notebooks. “I know those numbers mean nothing to you, but I’m nearly ready to make an offer on the land.”

Jonathan’s lifelong dream was, apparently, to buy the same desolate stretch of land Hæra could see from the cottage windows. He thought it was beautiful. It had been part of a dairy where he’d worked off and on for twenty years. The last owner had died without issue two years ago, leaving the estate to a niece in Aberdeen who clearly wasn’t interested in maintenance.

Now, Jonathan wanted to raise livestock on it. At sixty-two years old, he’d given up hope it could happen. While many of Orkney’s islands had thriving farms and tourism, Jorsay’s only industry was fishing. The island’s few young men had mostly left to work the oil terminals off the island of Flotta. The presence of a viable farm would be good for something called “the local economy.”

In spite of his age, Jonathan wanted to start this enterprise. Then, he said, he’d finally have something to show for his life.

When he’d said that, Hæra had imagined a pair of wings growing from her back as she took flight.

“I’m glad it’s happening,” she said now. “You’ve held up your end of the bargain so far.”

Jonathan snorted. “I haven’t heard that in a while. Drunks aren’t known for it. Ask anyone on Jorsay how far they’d trust me with anything important.”

“Then why do you stay here?” For that matter, why was Jonathan building something that would tie him even more to the islands?

“Well, I…I’ve wondered that.” Jonathan’s brow creased, as it did when he was trying to remember something, or when something didn’t make sense to him. “I used to try to leave, after everything happened with your brother. Why shouldn’t I start over? But every time I tried, something held me back. There wouldn’t be a job, or something would fall through, or I’d drink away the chance, but in the end…”

“What?”

“I just couldn’t leave,” Jonathan said slowly. “That’s what it all comes down to. I think about leaving Orkney, and I can’t. That’s all.”