Promise Bound

by Anne Greenwood Brown

“Jealous?” I asked. “Wha—Why?”

  “Now that I’m a mother, she thinks I’ll take over as head of the family.”

  “That’s what you want?”

  “Actually, it never occurred to me until I caught her thinking about it. She tried to scramble her thoughts right away, but it was too late. And … well … would that be so terrible?”

  “Pavati, the letter?”

  Pavati led me to a quiet cove, where the spring runoff had cut an inlet into the Basswood shore. She pulled herself up onto a semisubmerged rock and tipped her head back to soak up the sun. I stayed out deeper, growing more impatient with her delay.

  “The letter?” I asked again.

  “I’m getting to that.” Pavati reached down and picked off bits of plant life that were stuck to her scales, flicking them onto the rock.

  A low growl rumbled in my chest, and she rolled her eyes as she squeezed the water from her hair. “I sent Lily a letter after the New Year. I suggested to her that Jason, and you, and she might join me. Stage a coup, if you will. Actually, I was hoping Sophie might have changed by now, too.”

  “I thought you liked Sophie.”

  Pavati shot me a scandalized look. “I do! What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Only that the change hasn’t been good to Lily. It hasn’t come easy and it doesn’t show any signs of getting better. I’m surprised you’d want to put the little girl through that kind of pain.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  I believed her, and even though I knew better, it warmed me to her. “Did Lily ever respond?”

  “Why don’t you ask her?”

  “Pavati, I don’t have the patience for this.”

  “No. She hasn’t. Not yet.”

  Thank God. At least Lily wasn’t keeping too many secrets. If she had promised to join Pavati, I’d have more serious problems than Daniel. “We’re not going to join you, Pavati.”

  “Things would be different if I were the matriarch.”

  “Not so different.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Getting knocked unconscious has not hurt my short-term memory. Lily may be able to forgive, but it’s still not something I’ve mastered.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” Pavati said. “Do you think any of that would have happened if I’d been heading up this family? Do you think any of us would have endured those decades of hatred, searching for Hancock, taking down all those misidentified souls?”

  “It would have been the same. A promise was a promise. So long as Maris had us believing one had been broken—”

  Pavati slid off the rock and swam toward me, coming up under my chin, her lips nearly brushing against mine.

  I made a noise at the back of my throat to show my revulsion and turned away. She grabbed my shoulders before I could leave. “I’m begging you, Calder. I can’t raise my child under Maris. Look what a mess she made of your life. You’ve never been whole.”

  I pushed her away to gain some distance. “Leave Lily alone.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t promise that.”

  “What is Daniel’s place in this?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Will you keep him?” I asked.

  “What? Commit? Take a husband?” She laughed. “Oh … I see! This isn’t about me, is it? You’re wondering about you and Lily. Marriage is not for our kind, Calder. Don’t go trying to impose human foolishness on me. Or yourself. That’s always been your downfall. You’re not human.”

  “I used to be. I’m trying to be. And Lily still is.”

  “You think?”

  “And I didn’t say anything about marriage.” I’d always known there was no mermaid equivalency to marriage, although in many ways we were better suited for it than any other species. We held our vows sacred.

  “If we were to join you,” I said, “who would be left to keep an eye on Daniel? To make sure he returned Adrian next spring? Don’t you want some assurance? Leave me and the Hancocks alone, and we’ll do you that favor. You’ll have Adrian back, on schedule.”

  “But if Maris is still in charge of this family, is that really what’s best for him?”

  “You can’t mean to leave the baby with Daniel forever? The boy is clueless. He doesn’t know which end to kiss and which end to wipe.”

  “If you’re sure Daniel has no interest in being a father, then your decision should be easy. He doesn’t need watching. Join me. Lily and Jason will follow. We’ll be four strong against Maris. In another year, we’ll be five.”

  “And if you’re wrong and Daniel becomes a liability?”

  She shrugged. “It will be my score to settle. I won’t put it on the rest of my family like Maris did. You and Lily can live your life however you want. Even if you mean to marry her.” The corners of her mouth twitched with amusement. “Like I said. Easy.”

  She made a persuasive argument, but still … “There’s one thing I know for sure, Pavati. There’s too much history between us and none of it was ever easy.”

  LILY

  Maris. Just my luck. I flipped around and tore off in the opposite direction. Oh, I thought, Calder will not like this. Or Dad.

  Maris was having the same thoughts, but unlike me, she was enjoying them. Plus, she seemed to be enjoying the pursuit. I tried to read her thoughts while hiding my own. I was surprised to find she was making no attempt at hiding hers. Maris’s mind was still a new frontier for me. Clearly, she had no more need or intention to hurt Dad. In fact, she was supremely curious about him. What color is his tail? How fast is he? And most of all: would he join her before Pavati staked her claim? If I had first dibs on the Hancocks, she thought, not caring that I heard, that would make all the difference.

  So Maris knew that Pavati had asked me to join her? At least that was one secret I wasn’t going to have to keep from her, because as fast as I was, Maris kept up easily. In fact, it didn’t seem like she was exerting much effort at all.

  The consequence of being a Half, Maris thought, answering my frustration. Within seconds she was even with me, swimming in tandem. I wouldn’t look at her and pretended she wasn’t there, which made me feel ridiculous.

  Darting in and out of sea caves, making abrupt turns around boulders, I raced through the underwater topography, but Maris matched my every move. Worse, she mocked every confused and nervous rattle of my mind. She took sadistic pleasure in the discomfort she caused, so I stopped. If I couldn’t outrun her, why go along for the ride?

  Maris pulled up, too, and held her arms out to me, palms up. Her pale hair floated around her face like an angel’s. “Peace,” she said, which was about the last word I expected her to say. When I stared at her openmouthed, she repeated the word as a question, clear and bell-like in my mind.

  The green beach glass pendant hung low around my neck. Maris stared at it for a few heavy seconds before looking up to meet my gaze. “Does it work?” she asked. “Have you heard our stories? What does Calder say about it?”

  I hesitated. “He’d rather I didn’t wear it.”

  “That’s because it contains stories that he doesn’t want you to hear.” Maris took my hands in a firm grip, lacing her fingers through mine. She pulled back the veil, revealing even more of her thoughts and inviting me in. I knew it wasn’t going to be a picnic. By the way Maris’s thoughts twitched, I could tell not even she enjoyed the workings of her mind. I winced as I slogged through her memories—it was like treading in molten tar. Maris almost seemed sympathetic.

  I focused on the one memory Maris was most insistent I see:

  Nadia was tucking her four children into the nest she’d made in a small rocky cave on the banks of Basswood Island. She cushioned the cave with leaves and moss. “Quiet down, now,” she told them. “Calder, quit pestering your sisters. I won’t tell you a story until it’s quiet in here.”

  “Calder, be quiet,” said a young Maris, her pale lank hair clinging to her face. Pavati and Tallulah giggled and cuddled
into each other. Nadia moved over to find her place between Tallulah and Calder. He fit his warm hand into hers.

  Satisfied, Nadia began. “Once upon a time—”

  “When the world was new,” Calder added. She squeezed his hand. (Or maybe Maris squeezed mine. I could hardly tell where reality ended and this vision began.)

  “The lake was warm with the love of the great Maighdean Mara. From her came the first of our people—three young maids—and do you know their names?”

  “Odahingum,” said Maris, “whose name means ‘rippling water.’ ”

  “And Namid,” said Pavati. “ ‘Star dancer.’ ”

  “Do you know the third, Tallulah?”

  Tallulah covered her face with her hands.

  “No? The third was Sheshebens, which means ‘small duck.’ ”

  “Why weren’t there any boys?” Calder asked.

  “The boys came later,” Nadia said. “Many centuries passed, and the world changed. Maighdean Mara worried about the future of her family. She decided to give each of her daughters a gift. A gift that—should they ever leave her—they could show her upon their return, and she would recognize them as her own.

  “To Odahingum she gave an iron chariot to travel the lake and survey the boundaries of their kingdom; to Namid she gave a pendant to wear above her heart to store the histories of our people; and to Sheshebens she gave a small copper-handled dagger that she herself had decorated with beach glass.”

  I broke away from Maris’s grasp. “I already know this story,” I said.

  “My mother told you?” She seemed both excited and offended at the prospect.

  “Calder did.”

  Her face fell. “I have to know. Does the necklace work at all? Does my mother speak to you through Namid’s pendant?” Maris asked, staring at the necklace with such longing, I could feel the intensity in my own heart.

  “I’m not exactly sure what’s happening.”

  Maris nodded, then looked away. If we weren’t underwater, I would have sworn she was crying. “Does she ever mention me?” she asked, her thoughts choking on the last word. “Is she proud of me? Does she understand I’ve done the best I could? That I did my best to do what she asked? That I tried my best to keep this family together?”

  “I’m sure she understands,” I said, but I felt the tug at my heart. Because I knew that Nadia wanted much, much more.

  9

  CALDER

  Just as the last vibrations of Pavati faded away, fingernails raked down my back. I wheeled around to defend myself against an attack, but it was only Lily, accusing me through the water.

  “Ha! Scared you!” she said.

  “I thought you were Maris.”

  Lily laughed guiltily. “That would be scary. But I’m glad you took my advice and came out without me.”

  “Apparently I didn’t. You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

  “I’m not alone,” she said. A serpentine current pulled at her hair. She wasn’t swimming in her usual band T-shirt, and my stomach leapt into my throat. How many times had I seen my sisters naked without any thought of it? This was a first for Lily.

  She eyed me speculatively. I didn’t know what to do. Or how to react. All I could manage to say was, “I see you’ve given up on modesty. No band T-shirt?” I tried not to let the internal eye roll show on my face. I was pretty sure—if she hadn’t caught me by surprise—I could have come up with something much smoother.

  “It started to feel kind of silly. Especially since I thought I was alone.”

  “Do you want me to leave?” I asked.

  She shrugged, and that ambivalent gesture hurt more than a yes.

  “We should go back,” I said, trying not to show the wound she’d inflicted. “Your mom will have dinner ready soon.”

  Lily coiled around my chest and squeezed to show me how strong she was getting. For a second, I was too transfixed by the bright pink flash of her new body to respond. Man, she was beautiful.

  Once more, she pulled her fingers across the width of my chest, only this time gently, like the brush of long grass, circling me as if I were prey, laughing at my confusion. I’d never seen Lily so overtly flirtatious. We should swim without Jason more often.

  When her fingertips reached my right shoulder, she circled, skimming them across my back, then over my left shoulder, until she was facing me again. I caught a flash of smile. Her behavior reminded me of Pavati’s, and I was both tempted to lunge at her and to hold her at bay for my own protection. But when she darted away from me—so fast I had to trail her thoughts to follow—I opted for the former. A second later, I lost the connection.

  “Where are you?” I called out to a silent lake.

  “Right here.” She grabbed my ribs from behind.

  “Man, you are getting seriously good at quieting your thoughts,” I thought, half impressed, half offended. “I can barely hear you at all.”

  “Can you hear me now?”

  “Loud and clear.” I pulled her into my arms and we spiraled together into deeper water. I felt the pulse of her belly against mine, basked in the images that flickered through her mind. Her thoughts were fleeting, like a slide show running too quickly. Some of them were so beautiful I tried to cling to them, to reinforce them with my own: the two of us together. Forever.

  But one of those slides worried me more than Maris ever could. Lily hoped I wouldn’t notice it, but she wasn’t quick enough to shield me from an image of myself in a car, leaving Bayfield, without her in the passenger seat.

  “Lily, there’s something I want to ask you.”

  “Later,” she said. “You and I need to talk about a certain dagger, and how it ended up in Gabby Pettit’s purse.”

  If she meant to distract me, it worked. I could feel the blood draining from my face. “What?”

  Lily raised her eyebrows, then darted toward shore.

  As was our habit, I left the water first. My clothes were where I’d shed them—but now neatly folded—on the dock. Lily’s were wind-tangled in the willow branches.

  “Do you want me to wait with you?” I asked, but she shook her head. Despite my persistent requests to hold her hand through her painful transformation, she always made me leave her behind, to suffer alone. It was the worst part of my week.

  Reluctantly, I entered the sleeping house. Mrs. H had left us dinner, wrapped in foil, but I didn’t touch it. Instead, I climbed the stairs to Lily’s bedroom.

  I flipped on the lamp in the hopes of finding a sweatshirt easily. She was going to need it when she came in. The room was in its usual state of disaster, so I didn’t find what I’d come for. Instead, I found Lily’s journal, MY SCRIBBLINGS (Vol. 3), half tucked under her bed.

  I hesitated. A muffled scream and crackling pop came from the beach. I took a flinching step toward the book, then stopped. She’d kill me if I read it. I couldn’t invade her privacy like this. But still … Maybe she’d written something about Pavati. Maybe she had started to write a response to Pavati’s letter. No. What was I thinking? It was wrong. But maybe if I picked the journal up, something would fall out. Accidentally.

  I crossed the room and picked the journal up, holding it in both hands. What secrets did Lily keep inside? What new poems had she written? I held the spiral binding and shook the notebook three times. A black-and-white magazine clipping of a woman in a formal gown slipped from the pages and fluttered to the floor. But nothing else. I won’t deny I was disappointed.

  I sat down on the bed. After a few seconds, I turned back the corner of the cover and peeked inside. It was a whole page covered in Lily Hancock-White, Lily White, Mrs. Calder White. Over and over again in curling, flower-laden cursive writing. It made me laugh out loud. At least I wasn’t the only one dreaming about our future.

  10

  LILY

  I watched with envy as Calder pulled himself into the shallows, curled into a fetal position, then extended with a giant popping sound. The pain I knew too well was evident on his face;
he grit his teeth, and the veins in his neck strained under his smooth skin, but he was so well practiced that no sound escaped his lips. In less than a minute he was fully human, pushing himself to standing, rivulets of water snaking their way over his scarred shoulders. The muscles in his arms and legs bounced involuntarily, still in the throes of aftershock. He kept his back to me as he found his clothes on the dock.

  When he was dressed, he turned around with an expression that showed more pain than anything I’d just witnessed. “Do you want me to wait with you?” he asked, but he knew my answer even before I shook my head.

  He nodded and walked up to the house, head bowed. After the front door shut behind him, he reappeared in the kitchen, closed the window, and drew the curtains. I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Then another. With my jaw set, I swam as close to shore as I could, then pulled myself onto the sand with my hands. I did as I’d seen Calder do, curling into a ball, pulling all my energy to the center, letting it stew there until I felt it hit a boiling point, then extended straight as a board.

  I couldn’t do it like Calder did it. A scream raced up my throat and I smothered it in the crook of my elbow. I bit down on my arm to choke off the next scream and panted through my teeth. When my lungs were empty, I sucked in the air that cut like razors across my lungs, giving me nothing more than the ability to scream again.

  It was fifteen minutes of this torture—like giving birth to myself—before I regained my legs and found my clothes tangled in the willow branches. I hobbled up the dark porch steps, clinging to the railing for support. I entered the house as silently as I could, camouflaging the sound of my wet footsteps in Dad’s gentle snores. I climbed the stairs on all fours, and when I got to the top, noticed my bedroom lamp was on and that someone was moving in front of it, casting strange shadows down the hallway.

  I braced myself against the wall and then—when I reached it—my doorframe. “What are you doing, Calder?”

  Calder threw MY SCRIBBLINGS on the bed and ran to hold me up as my legs buckled. “You got all the way up here by yourself? You should have called me to help. Oh, God, you’re bleeding.” He wiped the blood off my shoulder, then pulled a sweatshirt down over my head and body.