"There are so many other stories, other creatures. You know, there are even some legends about our lighthouse. The story goes that one of the first keepers got so lonely his first winter here; he got desperate for a wife. Back then, the town of Presteign didn't exist, and the closest settlement was where the city is now. Anyway, he wrote lots of letters and arranged a marriage. What he didn't know is that the woman wasn't really given much of a choice in the matter. Her father and stepmother were desperate to get rid of her, because, like her real mother, she was a Siren, like in mythology. Anyway, it turned out for the best, because she could use her abilities to lure stranded shipwreck survivors down the coast to the lighthouse, and safety. I would imagine Mrs. Sanworth has some books about that legend, being that it's local history. Have you asked her about local folktales?"
"We've discussed it a little," Shari admitted. "But I keep thinking of the Great Selkie, like in the song. I want ..."
"Oh, but stories with local ties can be really fun. I know, how about a Pooka? Just last year, some tourist stopped on the shore just to take some pictures, and she saw a horse galloping down the beach. She swore she'd seen a woman first, and the woman turned into a horse and ran away, and she babbled about Pookas, like the rabbit in Harvey. Chief Corrigan had to take her over to the Cameron place and show her their horses to persuade her she'd just seen a horse that got spooked by something and ran off without her rider. Pookas can at least be a little fun to read about, not always so sad."
"I don't know. There's just something about Selkies that makes me want to know more about them. The whole idea just fascinates me." Shari persisted, knowing by now that Gareth would not respond with anger or violence, and at last he gave in.
As it turned out, he knew some really old stories; ones that rarely saw print and were told only in tiny villages in the remotest corners of Scotland and the northern isles, legends that went back as far as the Biblical flood.
"When God sent the flood, Lucifer and the other angels who had followed him to rule over the humans were able to escape, but they had to leave behind their half-human children. Some of these poor souls had tried desperately to turn aside from their ungodly heritage and to live according to Yahweh's laws, and when they prayed to Him to spare their lives, He was merciful to them. Some say they hid themselves in the deepest caves of distant mountains, where they remained, separate from humans, becoming the elves, dwarves or other Faery Folk of legend. However, some were simply changed into a form that could survive the floodwaters, becoming seals, seeking refuge when necessary on small barren rocks that were high enough to rise above the water, and afterward, this rocky land became the kingdom known as Sule Skerry." With his accent, the story almost sounded like a song.
The Selkies were given a choice. They could retain the seal form, but would have only the lifespan of animals, without an immortal soul, or they could resume human form as long as they returned to the sea regularly. In this way they retained their souls, and lived as long as normal humans. However, Selkies could only have offspring with human mates, and these was the source of the better known legends of evil Selkies, males who would force, trick, or seduce human women into mating with them, only to steal the babies, using magic sealskins to change the children into Selkies. As Gareth continued the tale, there was sadness in his eyes and he was not looking directly at her. "There are kinder stories," he finished, "where Selkies and humans form permanent unions, even marry and have that marriage sanctified in the eyes of the Lord. These stories are known only to a very few, because they could not survive the age of witch-hunting, when Selkies were declared the spawn of Satan. If a story told of a good Selkie, it was denounced as heresy. Still, there are some remote fishing villages where the verbal tradition survives, and that's how I heard these legends."
He stopped abruptly, and then repeated his earlier statement that he found it all very depressing, certainly not good material for a late evening conversation. Shari could sense that no amount of begging on her part would get him to say any more on the subject, and she decided not to try. Besides, it was time for his daily walk. Within minutes, he was out the door, with the ever-faithful spaniel at his side. Still, throughout that night, she felt strangely unsettled, as though she had heard something she was not meant to hear. There had been a tense undercurrent in the story, or perhaps it was only the sadness in Gareth's voice, or that distant look in his eyes, but whatever the case, the subject obviously made him uncomfortable. He loved the sea so much—never once had she known him to direct his daily walk in any other direction—and yet, despite his clear interest in myth and legend, he obviously did not like to talk about this one seabased story. Why was he so ... uncomfortable, talking about that subject?
Her sleep was again uneasy, filled with strange dreams in which a male figure looking very much like Gareth approached a crying woman and took a baby from her arms. She woke feeling sick, and even though she knew the dreams were absurd, the product of an over-active imagination, she decided never to ask her lover any further questions about Selkies.
The sick feeling, though, refused to go away for very long, and often, her nausea coincided with music she alone seemed to hear, the sea songs carried over the waves by the wind, however distant and faint the sound was. The approach of Thanksgiving also made Shari consider how long she had been living in Presteign. This led to other considerations about dates, and she realized that there might be an explanation for these recurrent bouts of nausea, one that had nothing to do with the ocean's music.
How could she have so badly lost track of time? Of course, there had been other serious concerns that took a lot of attention, but to have missed at least two, maybe even three, months without even thinking about it? Birth control was something Charles had refused to discuss, as his family vehemently opposed contraception. In fact, one of the reasons he had grown more antagonistic and violent was Shari's failure to conceive. Gareth, however, always used protection. Since she had been so unfamiliar with condoms, they sometimes turned the matter into a kind of game, with her being the one to pull the rubber over his cock while using every possible part of her body to maintain his excitement in the process.
Was it possible that she had conceived during those last terrible days with Charles? No, she distinctly remembered the discomfort of cramps while she was still riding the bus for hours every day, after leaving him. If she was indeed pregnant, Gareth had to be the father.
Then she remembered the very first time they had shared their bodies, over two months ago now. There had been that nightmare, the first one she'd had here in Gareth's cottage, and she had clung to him like a desperate shipwreck victim holding tight to the spar that kept her head above water, before passion swept them both away. It was the only time she could remember when Gareth hadn't taken precautions. It was hard to believe that, after years of failure, one time could be enough, but there was no other explanation. She fought panic as she wondered how he would react. He rarely said anything about children, whether he liked them or wanted a family of his own. She decided she needed to confirm or deny her suspicions before she said anything to him, rather than threaten her new life needlessly. Thanksgiving Day was unusually warm and sunny, and shortly before noon, they had a pleasant walk into town to share a fine traditional holiday dinner with Bess and Gil. Afterward, they all worked together to clean everything up, and then while the men played chess, Shari and Bess had a quiet conversation. Bess was the closest adult friend Shari had ever had, and she had to talk to someone about her dilemma.
"I wasn't too worried, because I didn't conceive in all those years of marriage, but now... I don't know what else to think."
Bess sighed deeply, then smiled and said she would make an appointment for Shari to see her own doctor for tests. "I know they have these new home pregnancy tests, but I don't really trust them. Better to have the doctor handle it." Shari cast a look across the room, to where the men sat hunched over their game, and then, very quietly, she brought up Gareth's insistenc
e on his private daily walks down the beach. "I mean, he's so determined about it, every single day, regardless of the weather, and if I even mention the possibility of me going along, he almost has a fit." Trying to make it sound almost like a joke, she mentioned how she had gotten interested in Selkies, and wouldn't it be strange if that was why Gareth always went alone, with only the dog to guard the beach until he came back. "That would be typical for me, I finally find someone I think I can truly love, and he's really a seal!"
Apparently, she hadn't succeeded in making it a joke. Bess took a deep breath, and wrapped her arms around Shari. "Oh, Child, such worries you have! Please remember, there will always be people who are, well... just different. Not monsters or freaks, not better or worse than everyone else, just different. What is important, what you need to always hold close, is what a person is in his heart. Gareth has a good heart, much like my old Gil; neither of them would ever willingly hurt another person. Consider carefully now, can you really see that beautiful man seducing a woman so he could steal her baby? Of course not. Otherwise, if he does things a little differently, if he's not an ordinary everyday man, if he has few private needs, just accept them as part of what he is. My Gil needs his private time too, but I wouldn't trade him for the world."
Shari nodded, and smiled at her friend. She wasn't sure Bess really understood her fears; it still sounded stupid to her too, but the older woman's words were mildly reassuring. As it was getting dark earlier every day, Gil gave them a ride home. Shortly after they got there, Gareth took Aneurin and departed for his daily excursion. Shari sat down in the living room, picking up one of her interlibrary loan books, a text that had actually come directly from the British Library, but as she began to read, the phone rang. It was Colin. "I have some news," he said. "Charles has been behaving more and more erratically, even arguing in public with his mother, and then yesterday, he was arrested for embezzlement. I don't have a lot of details as yet, but I wanted you to know. I'll call as soon as I know more." In shock, Shari hung up the phone. She should have been relieved that Charles was in jail, but instead, she felt a strange foreboding. She reached once again for her book, but then the familiar nausea started. Folding her head toward her legs and trying to control the queasiness with deep breathing, she began to hear that strange distant music, eerie and indescribable. Suddenly, she felt so terribly sick, she ran for the bathroom. Even as she bent over, retching miserably, she could have sworn she heard Gareth cry out her name; the waves sounded as though they were breaking right outside the window instead of some distance down the beach, and for one brief moment, she swore she could taste sea water. She also felt as though her lover was right there, touching her, caressing her.
As she walked shakily out of the bathroom, Gareth burst into the house, calling for her. "I felt something," he said, as he wrapped an arm around her and helped her to the sofa.
"Somehow, I knew something was wrong. Are you all right?
Do you want me to call for help?"
"No, no, I'll be fine. It was just ..." What could she say?
She couldn't tell him her suspicions, not yet. "I got some news from Colin, and I guess it upset me and I just felt really sick." She told him about Charles' arrest, and he held her even closer.
"It could help us, you know," he said. "Maybe he'll have to give up contesting the divorce. At least now, he has something else to be angry about."
Gareth insisted on her going to bed early, promising to join her as soon as he took care of some email correspondence with his mother in Cardiff. Shari curled up under the covers, her thoughts torn and wild as the sea during a tempest. How had he known she was sick? Had she actually heard him call her name? And what about feeling his touch, his warm fingers on her arm, as though he'd been right beside her?
Every bad thought she had ever had about his solitary hikes washed over her, even her crazy dreams where Gareth took a baby from its mother like the Great Selkie of Sule Skerry. She was afraid that if she spoke to Gareth now, she would blurt out her questions, her worries, so when he finally joined her in bed, she pretended to be asleep. This was something she had practiced often with Charles. It had been easy with her husband, because he didn't really care about her that much, but she had to struggle not to respond to Gareth's quiet hand brushing her hair back and his warm lips touching her forehead. It would have been so easy to curl up in his arms and let passion wash her fears away, but she felt a deep need to keep her head clear, to think about these fears instead of just dismissing them again. Somehow, even as part of her recognized the thorough craziness of it, the thought that kept surfacing, over and over, was that he was, impossibly, a Selkie. There was his reluctance to discuss the subject, and the intensity of his words and his emotions when he finally did tell her of the Bible-oriented legends. Maybe he hadn't just heard those stories in tiny, isolated fishing villages. He'd lived all of his life near the ocean. Maybe his father's preference for photographing the seacoast was actually a similar need to go to the ocean every day. And the elder Maclachlan had died trying to protect baby seals!
Gareth's hair always smelled of a sea breeze, and every time Shari kissed him, or tasted his skin, she tasted salt, however faintly. Perhaps it hadn't just been sweat, as she had occasionally thought. She'd also tasted salt water that evening, in the bathroom. And every time they made love, she could hear the sound of the waves, just as she had while she was sick.
There was also that mysterious, beautiful music she heard, both in the throes of passion and every time he was taking his seashore walk. In some of the books she'd been reading, the Selkies loved music, and made their own out on the ocean.
She recalled the entry from his great-grandmother's journal. The woman had waited for her husband and her son to "return from the sea they love so much." More than just daily walks to the shore, perhaps?
All night, these thoughts churned through her mind, even as she tried to relax and sleep, spooned against her lover, his arm draped casually across her shoulder, the sound of his breathing keeping her awake instead of reassuring her. By morning, she had reached only one conclusion: she had to find out, one way or another, even before a doctor confirmed something else she already knew in her heart was true—that she carried this man's child.
Right after breakfast, Gareth had to leave for a few hours, to visit with his accountant. He asked Shari if she wanted to go along, perhaps to be dropped off at the library or the general store, but she simply told him she preferred to get some housework done.
As soon as he left, Shari went into his office, searching through the documents and papers on his desk, snooping like she had never done before. She found his translations of the journal entries, and began looking for the part he'd read to her. When she found it, she sat in his comfortable desk chair, and began to read. She didn't have to go very far to find a passage that, despite the beauty of the words, chilled her heart. "Through our passion, through this child that our love has created, we are connected, and that connection is never lessened by distance, or by the differences between us," she read. "For we are very different, and there is a part of his life, their lives, that I cannot physically share, yet even as I sit here, alone, separated from them by ocean and physical form, we are joined. I feel what they are feeling, the water around me as they swim so joyfully. This is the power of our Love."
Shari could read no further. She sat at Gareth's desk, looking out at the rocks that marked the sea coast, and cried, the salt of her tears tasting so different from the sea salt she could taste in her lover's kisses. Finally, she took several deep breaths, wiped off her face, and carefully replaced the pages on his desk where she had found them.
It wasn't like she could just ask him if he was a Selkie. If he wasn't, if there was some other explanation for everything, he would think she was truly insane. If he was, he would probably deny it anyway, and afterward, she might be in danger, although somewhere in her heart, she knew that he would never intentionally hurt her. That part of Bess's advice she c
ould accept fully and without question. For one thing, obviously neither his father nor his grandfather had stolen their children and abandoned the mother; no, there had been real family connections.
There was only one solution. Somehow, she would have to watch him, to see him sweep the sealskin around himself and change form before leaping into the water. That was the only way she would know. Until she found a way to do that, she had to keep him from knowing that she even suspected. She went to work, diligently cleaning one room of the cottage after another. By the time Gareth got back from town, she was done with his bedroom and the bathroom, and was working on the kitchen. She paused for lunch, during which she made simple conversation about small things, like the weather, of course, and the weekly grocery order. After lunch, she finished cleaning the kitchen and moved on to the living room, when Gareth laughingly told her that since she'd done two days' worth of work already that morning, she should rest for the afternoon. A quick thought sprinted through her mind. "Would you mind if I visited the tower? The weather's so nice; I really think the view will be perfect." He'd taken her to the tower once before, shortly after the first time he'd discussed the subject with her, so she was familiar with the layout, and knew that the staircase would hold her weight without any problems. "Of course. You don't need my permission, you know. Just watch out for the tools and everything else lying around."
He went into the office to handle some correspondence pertaining to the foreign language sales of his last two novels, and Shari strolled over to the tower. She climbed up to the lens chamber and went out on the keeper's walk. The view was indeed beautiful, but she was more interested in just how far she could see down the coastline. She could just make out his oft-described cove, and hoped that the visibility would stay clear, so she could see it later that day as well, when he and Aneurin went out for their walk.
By the Salt, Salt Sea Page 4