by Kathi Appelt
Meggie Marie swam right up next to them. “Signe, you’re so serious,” she said, swirling the water with her arms, making circles with her fingers. “We were just playing, weren’t we, little mergirl?” Then she flipped her long fingers so that the water splashed into their faces; she laughed again. Signe braced herself against the shifting waves.
“What were you thinking?!” Signe shouted at Meggie Marie. Keeper felt the charge course through Signe’s arms. Furious.
Then Signe took a step toward Meggie Marie, whose face was silver in the moon’s pearled light. There was no shouting now. Instead, Signe looked directly at Meggie Marie’s face and said: “You need to go now.”
Meggie Marie’s face was not laughing now. Instead, there was a different look, a new look. Then she began to shout out the girl’s new name, a name she’d never heard before. Not “mergirl” or “Good’un” or “Sweet Pea.” No, her new name, “Keeper.” Meggie Marie said it over and over.
“Keeper” was in Keeper’s ear and throat and chest. “Keeper.” It rang around her, in a circle around her head, growing thinner and thinner, until at last there was only a whisper. Signe turned around and carried Keeper out of the salty sea, carried her to the shore, back to the smoldering campfire. There she pulled the wet T-shirt and bathing suit bottom off of her and wrapped her in the new towel with the blue and red fishes.
Keeper had listened again for her new name, but she couldn’t hear anything except the sound of the waves brushing against the sand. How did they get so small?
She looked out toward the dark water and spied a fish’s tail, sparkling against the phosphorescent foam of the waves. Then it was gone. The charm around her neck was cold as ice. She started to cry again. She looked at Signe, and Signe was crying too. Signe scooped her up in her towel and tucked her beneath her chin. Together, they cried enough tears to fill up the entire Gulf of Mexico, solid blue.
Now, clinging to the bottom of the boat, Keeper knew.
There was no mermaid mama.
There never had been.
There had only been Meggie Marie, who had almost let her drown on a star-filled night just like this one, who had told her to ride the wave ponies.
Easy peasy!
Suddenly, a blaze of anger shook Keeper’s entire body. She yanked hard at the charm around her neck, snapping the pink ribbon, and threw it as hard as she could into the bow of the boat.
97
Somewhere there is a woman, a tall woman, her black hair pulled back. Maybe she is sitting in a café in a mountain town, sipping bitter coffee and eating a croissant; maybe she is on a train passing across the subcontinent of India, watching the monkeys along the tracks scoop up bits of mango that the passengers have tossed to them; maybe she is crossing a street in a large city, some city like New York or Hong Kong or Sydney.
Maybe she thinks about the oyster shell road and her grandmother’s house. She has paid the taxes on it every year, right on time. Maybe she will go back there someday.
And maybe, when she thinks about it, she stops what she is doing for just a small moment, looks up and sees the winsome moon. Maybe she thinks about the little daughter she left behind. Maybe.
And maybe she reaches for her heart with her right hand and feels it beating there, remembering that daughter. And maybe she whispers a prayer to the moon, as so many have done before, a prayer to keep watch.
“Keep her,” she whispers, “keep her.”
98
And Keeper knew this true thing: Signe had kept her.
99
As she hung in the sky, the moon held on to all those prayers from all those mothers, including the newest ones. The moon is the receiver of prayers and songs and even curses. But can the moon answer a prayer? Can she grant a wish?
There are only two things the moon can do for certain. One is to shine her silver light as hard as she can. And the other is to push and pull the tides.
All night long the moon has waited for the stingrays to give her the signal. They had been congregating for days, waiting for this moment. The moon had already pushed the tide up and down once tonight. Such is the way of a summer moon, a blue moon. Now, it is time to raise the tide again. The moon knows this. And so do the stingrays. There were thousands of them gathered up behind the sandbar, just waiting for her to push the tide as high as possible so that they could ride on its back, through the channel and into the Cut. Their bellies are full of the eggs they will lay once there, their mermaids’ purses.
They’ve come for miles for just this occasion. They’re waiting, waiting for the moon to give the tide a push.
100
Dogie ran after Too as he headed toward the salty pond. When he got there, he cast the beam from his flashlight along the banks and out onto the water. The water was still low, but he knew that soon it would rush back through the channel and fill it up. He stood there not knowing exactly what he was supposed to see. He had the distinct feeling that something was missing, but what?
“Yep, yep, yep.” Too raced onto the pier.
Dogie shone his light toward him. The little dog was pacing back and forth. Then he stopped, right at the end of it.
Where The Scamper should be tied, there was nothing. The boat was gone. He scratched his head. He remembered tying a good, strong hitch in the rope. Could it have come undone? He looked out across the water. It was quiet.
No. He didn’t think that the knot could have come undone all by itself on such a calm night. Then another possibility crept into his thoughts: Someone must have taken the boat out.
But who? Who would have taken the boat at this time of night? Mr. Beauchamp? Surely not.
Signe? She had never even been in the boat, much less at night.
He cast the flashlight beam out onto the water again. Maybe it had come loose by itself after all. He scanned the light all along the edges of the salt grass marsh. No boat. If it had come loose on the high tide, it would have wedged itself into the swamp grass.
Once again he scanned the marsh. There was no sign of The Scamper.
Suddenly, Dogie felt the hair on his arms stand up.
“Oh no,” Dogie said.
“Yep, yep, yep,” signaled Too.
“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” Dogie repeated.
Keeper.
Only Keeper could be out in the boat.
He spun on his heels and rushed across the yard. He bounded up the stairs of the haint blue house and pounded on the door. “Signe!” he shouted. “Signe, wake up!” He turned the knob. It was open.
Keeper had left the door unlocked.
He pushed it open. BD should have been right there, greeting him.
No BD.
Then he realized. They’re out there together.
“Signe,” he shouted again. “Wake up!”
101
The back of Keeper’s neck burnt from where the ribbon had snapped against it. She rolled her head back to lessen the sting. As she leaned back, she noticed that the moon was falling lower in the sky. Then she realized that the water was calming. Bit by bit, the boat settled down until it shuddered like it was catching its breath. Keeper felt like she was being rocked, rocked in a cradle, a small wooden cradle.
Done and undone, dizzy and cold, she stayed curled in the bottom of the boat. Water pooled around her. She wedged her feet tighter against the bench and rested her head on her arms. She could feel the need for sleep travel up her body. She was so, so sleepy. She could fall asleep in an instant. She blinked her eyes. She was too tired to even cry anymore.
She pushed against sleep.
She had to stay awake in case she spotted BD. What if he swam up to her and she didn’t see him?
BD.
Her chest ached. The sea grew calmer and calmer. She had lost BD. Every cell felt dislodged, every muscle burnt. Her fingers were cramped from holding on to the bench for such a long time. Her knees were scraped raw.
BD.
The water tapped out his name as it hit the sides of the
boat in a steady rhythm: BD. BD. BD.
The waves calmed a little more. Her eyes grew heavier and heavier. She sat up. She couldn’t let herself fall asleep.
Couldn’t let herself…
Right then, out of the blue, she heard, “C’mon, c’mon!” Captain! She tensed in preparation for his landing. Sure enough, he crashed into the bottom of the boat just beside her. “C’mon, c’mon,” he said. She knew that he was looking for BD. “C’mon, c’mon,” he repeated.
“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry” was all she could say.
As if the bird understood, he leaned against her chest.
102
After a while Captain grew weary of leaning. Where was BD? When he had left earlier, the dog was right here in the boat with the girl. Where had he gone? Captain hopped up onto the boat’s prow, the highest point. He scanned the entire boat from fore to aft.
No BD. He hopped down and looked underneath the front bench. Was the dog hiding underneath there?
Nope.
No dog.
Then Captain hopped down the middle of the boat and tried to look behind Keeper, where she was wedged against the back bench. Was BD behind her?
“C’mon, c’mon,” he called.
Keeper lifted her hand to pat him, but just as her hand came in his direction, he saw, from the corner of his eye, right by the toe of her sneaker… shazaam! His fallen star!
His one and only, most magnificent, most highly prized possession of all time, more beautiful and shiny than ever, glimmering in the moonlight. Right there by Keeper’s toe. He hopped over to it and plucked it right up. Brrrr… it was just as cold as he remembered it.
But cold schmold, it didn’t matter. It was his fallen star. He had found it again, calloo callay!
And because how valuable is a prize if you can’t show it off, he carried it right to Keeper and stood directly in front of her face. He could not say his customary “c’mon, c’mon” without dropping the charm, so he did the only other thing he could think of. He tapped her cheek with it.
103
The cold of the charm against her face gave Keeper a start. She blinked her eyes and looked right at the golden disk. Her lucky charm. It was still strung on the snapped pink ribbon.
“Ha!” she said to Captain. “Some lucky charm.”
Still, she was glad that the bird was with her. If only she had a chunk of watermelon to give him.
Watermelon!
That was it! Keeper pushed herself up to a sitting position.
The charm. Watermelon. The charm. Watermelon.
With her fingers shaking from the cold, she tried to pry the charm out of Captain’s beak. She gave it a tug, but there was no getting the charm away from him. Her hands were so sore, she couldn’t get a good grip.
Only one thing to do…
“Watermelon,” she said as loud as she could with her raspy voice.
“C’mon, c’mon!” he cried. And with that, he dropped the charm right into her hand. As quickly as she could manage with her fumbling fingers, she looped the ribbon around Captain’s neck and tied it.
Then she rasped, “Watermelon, Captain. Go find watermelon.”
Captain knew exactly what she meant. And he also knew exactly where to find it. At the haint blue house. Keeper didn’t have to ask him twice. Just the mention of watermelon, and he was there. To help him launch, she lifted him into the air with both hands and watched as he flew up up up and then disappeared.
“Maybe,” she said to the sky, “maybe… maybe… maybe… maybe… ,” until, exhausted, Keeper leaned back against the bench and closed her eyes. Sleep pulled her under its welcoming sheets.
She did not see the fin break the surface of the water. She did not see the moon slide down toward the horizon.
104
How far can a land dog swim?
As soon as BD fell into the water, he tried to get back to the boat, back to Keeper. He paddled his front legs as hard as he could, but just as he was about to reach the boat, a huge wave separated them. He paddled and paddled and paddled until his whole body burnt. The life vest helped keep him on the top of the water, but it was also popping up under his chin, making it even more difficult for him to catch his breath.
His lungs felt like they were on fire. He couldn’t see anything but water. He couldn’t see the boat, couldn’t see his girl, couldn’t see the moon.
But even though every muscle cried out in pain, he kept swimming until he couldn’t swim anymore.
Finally, he stopped and let himself be carried.
Carried by the water.
Carried by the waves.
Carried by two strong arms, all the way to the shore, where he lay down on the edge of the surf and let himself be carried into darkness.
If someone else were watching, maybe a shrimp boat sailor or treasure hunter, they might have cried, “Monster!” But that is not what BD saw at all. Only an old swimmer with hair as white as snow and eyes the color of the sky. Where his legs should be, a fish’s tail. And down his back, a fin.
105
The dog was not the first one Jacques de Mer had carried to this strip of beach along the Texas coast.
The first was the drowned body of a little boy, so quiet in the deep waters. He had found him just past the sandbar that jutted up out of the waves.
When he looked at the boy’s silent face, he knew that someone was missing him. Didn’t he know about missing? He recognized missing when he saw it, even on the face of the drowned boy, so he had tenderly lifted the small body and carried it to shore.
But that had been a mistake. A shrimper had caught sight of him and called out, called out to his comrades, “Monster! The monster has taken the child and drowned him!”
He had swum away as quickly as he could to avoid the cruel nets and dangerous rifles of the others. More than that, he had swum away from that word, “monster.” The cruelest word in the world.
He had not returned to these waters for years and years. He thought he would never come back here. Ever.
But then tonight, out of the blue, he had gotten a signal, a signal to swim back here, to this lonely patch of coastline, along the Texas coast. He should have known that it could not have been the same signal he had been waiting for all these years.
It had taken all of his courage to carry the dog onto the shore. What if another fisherman saw him again? What then? Would they hunt him down? He had only barely escaped last time.
And the dog was so spent. He wasn’t even sure if he would make it. Nevertheless, he could tell that the dog was important to that little girl.
And now, what about her?
All alone in the small boat?
What was she doing out there? He swam back to the red boat, leaned over the side, and saw her sleeping. This was a child who was loved; it was obvious on her face that she had been well taken care of. A beloved child. Friend to a beloved dog. He had seen her sorrow when the dog slipped over the edge.
So as quietly as he could, he swam behind The Scamper and pushed it toward the distant shore.
He looked up at the sky. The sun would rise soon. He couldn’t risk swimming all the way in again, so instead, he let out a low whistle. In an instant the stingrays—water angels—surrounded the boat. Hundreds of them. Thousands. A flotilla of stingrays.
“Take her,” he told them. “Keep her with you until you reach the sandbar,” and as he watched, he saw the beautiful rays, their wings wide and gentle, steer the little boat toward the shore and lodge it against De Vaca’s Rock.
And then he swam away.
106
Signe’s entire body hummed with worry. She was crazy with it. Electrified by it, as if she might throw off sparks if she touched anything. How could she have let this happen?
This was all her fault. If she had not yelled at Keeper about the talking crabs and mermaids, her girl would still be sleeping in the room next to hers, right where she was supposed to be.
She needed to call someone, b
ut who? Dogie handed her the phone.
She called them all: the Coast Guard, the sheriff, the police. She even called the veterinarian, Dr. Scarmardo, the only veterinarian in Tater. Woke him up and then didn’t know what to say.
And all of them told her to wait by the phone.
Coast Guard: “Please wait by the phone, ma’am.”
Sheriff: “We’ll be right there, please wait by the phone.”
Police: “Stay by your phone.”
Dr. Scarmardo: “I’ll be there in an hour.”
They all said: Wait by the phone.
“How?” she had screamed. How could she wait by the phone, wait for an hour, when Keeper was out at sea in a boat that was meant for a pond? ALL BY HERSELF!!! Signe felt like her skin was pulling away from her bones, like she would fly apart any second, like the world was coming undone, unwound, unglued. She felt like she needed to run into the water herself, to swim from one end of the gulf to the next.
“That’s it,” she said.
She would not wait by the phone. She couldn’t.
And like a bolt of lightning, Signe was on the move. She flew out the door and ran down the steps.
And Dogie ran beside her, followed by Too.
They ran, all the way to the beach, and then stopped right at the water’s edge. Suddenly, the enormity of the gulf, so dark and restless, overcame Signe. All she knew for certain was that Keeper was out there. Somewhere. And then, beside her, Dogie lifted his voice and called…
107
“KEEEEEPPPPPEEEEERRRRR!!!!!
108
“KEEEEEPPPPPEEEEERRRRR!!!!!