by James, Ella
“The queen pulls back up to the dock, and Prince Declan hops in, and he and the princess exchange smiles as best friends do. She says, ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ and he says, ‘Oh, of course. I would never dream of missing rainbow glitter dolphins on your birthday.’”
Pain or something like it swells in my chest, but we’re moving so quickly. I think of the coming ocean. I can see my mother’s yellow flower halo. If I start to drown, can he save me? I’m aware as we approach the dock that the sea is choppy—like it was that day. Fear fills my lungs, spins my head. Declan’s strong hand squeezes mine.
“Don’t worry. I’m going to take care of you. You trust me, Siren?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve spent a ton of time out on the ocean. And this ship’s expecting me. Money can’t buy everything, but I think it can buy a speedy departure for me and a plus one. If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. Please!”
My legs shake awfully as we step into the boat. We’re moving quickly, but he takes a moment to kneel in front of me and look into my eyes. “Are you sure?” He takes my hand in his and squeezes. “It’s okay if you’re not. I can stick around here with you. Try to work out something. I won’t leave you, Siren.”
Tears well in my eyes and spill down my cheeks. I nod once. “I’m sure.”
It’s a fact: nothing will ever be resolved here. Doctor would never absolve me of my vows. He’ll never let me go, and Father Russo told me with his own lips just today that he’ll never annul our charade of a marriage. After my four hours of Hail Marys, he’d been preparing to deliver me to Doctor for a consummation and re-dedication of our vows.
“I want to go with you, my Sailor. Even if we have to flee.”
I think of Baby, and I wipe fresh tears to be leaving her behind. Then he’s helping me into a life vest, and I can’t stop my body shaking. It smells the same, the life vest does. I feel nearly just the same: so frightened.
Rain falls faster as he unties the boat from the dock. My eyes cling to the hill that keeps the dock hidden from the village. Any moment now, someone might come.
“You okay?”
When I nod, he pushes the boat away from the dock. We bob a bit, and I hold my head as he starts the motor.
“Really soon, we’re at the ship, and you can go inside.”
“Okay,” I say between sobs.
I feel his foot against mine as the motor whurrs, and then the boat’s front end tips up. I uncover my face and grip my bench. That’s when I see the gold lights spilling down the hill—flashlights.
I gasp, and Declan glances back. After that, he revs the motor. The boat jolts up on the front end, and then it’s planning off. We’re flying over the dark water. I look back again. The lights are bobbing near the dock now.
I choke on a sob. “They’re coming!”
He tries to gun it, but the motor is so old. It’s weak and slow. As the flashlights bob—they’re getting on a boat—and I gasp deep, salt-water breaths, I wonder if they’re using the island’s emergency vessel. I’ve heard tale of how fast it is.
I clutch my seat and shut my eyes.
God please. If you can hear me, please oh please! Help us! I’ll do anything, endure anything, if you can make me safe—please!
I cross myself, and then the other motor’s hum sends my heart racing. I open my eyes, and my body goes ice cold. They’re perhaps a hundred meters behind. Declan’s face is stoic, but I feel his fear.
What will we do?
I turn toward our boat’s front, facing the for a view of the Celia. It’s about the same distance away: perhaps a hundred meters. I can’t stop weeping like a twit. Every bump over the waves throws my body back through time.
I cannot lose him, too! Please, Mummy!
“If we can’t leave together, I’m not leaving you,” he shouts over the wind. The rain tosses his words, needles my cheeks and forehead.
Sailor revs the motor again, and the boat seems to skip over the waves. Perhaps we could reach the ship in time. How long does it take to board? There must be some wait. I’m speculating on the logistics when I glance back up, finding the gold lights behind us have grown larger.
Stunningly quickly, they’re beside us.
Declan swerves away. Our boat’s front juts up. I shriek, and his eyes fly to mine as our motor makes a choking sound, and we’re tip-up again. I’m weeping as I grip the bench. My final glimpse of Declan is his face bent in concentration as their flashlights beam over his shoulder.
And then there’s a massive BOOM! It’s so forceful, so ferociously ear-boxing, I feel as if it knocks me back. In fact, it’s Declan who’s thrown overboard. I watch in horror as he hurdles to the water headfirst, his legs flying up behind him.
In my bones, I understand the violent boom, its otherworldly echo. I’m a ghost as I step to the boat’s side—terror caged in flesh and bones. At first glimpse, I see nothing but mad white caps. Then I hear his choking. It’s not a human sound, but more a water gurgle.
I realize in that instant—he’s not wearing a life vest! That’s what jolts my frozen mind. I’ve this notion of the water taking him, and that’s enough to help me clear the boat’s side.
Gold light spills around me. I see my shadow flick over the water’s surface milliseconds before impact. It’s so cold—so horrid cold—my body and my brain lock for a moment. Then I’m grabbing at the water. My hand swipes his solid body, and I grasp a fistful of his hair.
“DECLAN!”
He pushes weakly at me as his gurgled moan rends my soul.
“Grab onto me!”
His groans morph into hoarse screams as his face tilts toward the moon. The water’s swallowing him. I can only see his nose and upper lip as I grab for him frantically. My arm finds its away around his neck. I lock my elbow underneath his chin and lean back in my life jacket, pulling him onto me so we bob then sink a bit together. Declan’s hoarse bellows blend with my own sobs.
I can feel his body shake as his breaths come faster, weaker…
“Siren.” I’m aware of gold light as their boat idles up beside us, but all I see are his eyes, sagging half shut as he shakes so violently, and I realize the warmth I’m feeling is his spilled blood.
“I love you, Carnegie! I love you so very, very much!”
“Love…you.” His teeth are chattering. His fingers grasp weakly at my leg. He’s trembling so hard, near convulsing. “Worth it.” The words give way to a groan that breaks into a whimper. “Siren—”
That’s the moment I’m plucked from the water. I do my best to hold onto him, but the sea wins—again.
There’s a splash, and spinning starlight.
As I feel the boat’s hard surface beneath my back, another BOOM deafens my ears. Something heavy hits me. I smell blood before I’m taken by the darkness, and my last thought is a prayer: save him, not me.
Chapter Forty-Six
Finley
Eight Days Later
His headstone means less than nothing to me. It’s a slab of rock from…I don’t know where, in fact. I don’t even know who chose it. Someone fetched it in those days when I was bed-bound, sobbing beneath Anna’s blankets, being spoon-fed soup and forced to swallow sips of water.
Now I feel as if I’ll soon need my own resting place. I’ve cried so many tears for him—for everything that happened—that I’ve none remaining. I’m not the woman he knew any longer. I’m so very far from her.
I pull a letter from my pocket. Unfold it. I scan the simple message quickly, although I needn’t do so to remember it. Its words are blazed into my memory. My hands are steady as I shred the letter into pieces. I watch them flutter in our Tristan breeze.
The sky is gray today, and cloudless. I approve. Let it be winter. It’s winter in my heart, and I don’t want to look at blue skies or wildflowers. One rogue tear stings my left eye. I wipe it before I start across the sloping hillside toward two other headstones.
These mean even less than his. Neither of
them mark a body, for there are no bodies. There never were and never will be. Still, I kneel there by the left one—Mummy’s—and I wipe my damp eyes.
“I never came here much to speak to you. Didn’t feel I needed this place, I suppose. I know where you are.” I swallow against the sobs that threaten. “When I arrive there, I’ll be near the ocean. And you’re there, right? Mummy, I don’t ever want to leave you…”
I can’t help my weeping as I recall what I realized that horrid night I lost Declan. As I awakened from fainting, I remembered something new to me: this vision of myself with my chin on the boat’s side. No rain. Pale skies. Therefore it wasn’t that night. I remembered myself floating over glassy waters. And I didn’t want to leave her. I didn’t want to return to the island without Mummy.
When Charles Carnegie arrived here before dawn this morning, and I looked upon his face, I remembered those old feelings with even greater clarity. Perhaps it’s because I haven’t seen him in the flesh since that time. But seeing him made me remember.
I don’t want to be here. I won’t tell our secrets. A mighty promise from a small girl. And one I kept it for so long—never speaking—for Mummy.
I stroke my palm over her grass one last time before standing. I cast my gaze to the man standing over by the gate. His head is down. I believe he doesn’t want to make me feel as if I’m running short on time.
I walk to Gammy next. Despite how much I abhor weeping, I can’t stop my tears. I sink down to my knees and hold my face as helpless sobs rack me.
“I’m sorry,” I mouth.
“Never settle for an unkind man. That is the only thing I ask of you.”
“I’m sorry, Gammy! Now I have to go, and I don’t want to leave you! I don’t want to leave our Hobbit house.” I wipe my eyes and nose. “But…that’s not true.” Perhaps I’m really weeping because it’s not true. I do want to leave our island. I must.
“Gammy, I wish you were with me. I know you’re elsewhere now, but I so hate to leave you and your sea glass.” I touch a bit of what adorns her stone. That’s when I hear the footsteps behind me. I turn slowly and smile at wee Baby. She’s standing with her head raised, as if she’s posed for Gammy’s inspection.
“Come here, wee rascallian.” She bounds over to me, and I hug her warm body. “Are you ready, darling dearest?”
I cling to her, breathing deeply until I feel I can trust my eyes. Then I walk toward Charles, taking my time as I allow my gaze to explore the island from one of its highest slopes. I try to memorize each note of the scent here: the slight sweetness of the grass; the brisk, salty air; the smell of wet rock.
I look down at the village, with its colorful tin roofs. This is my home. I was born here on these rocky shores. No matter where I go, a part of me will always remain. I wipe a few stray tears. And then I’m near enough that his gaze touches my face. His mouth tilts slightly at the corners, making my heart ache as it reminds me of Declan’s.
Charles’s hair is peppered with gray and his face is leaner, slightly less feline than my Sailor’s. But he’s a handsome man. He’s still broad about the shoulders, and he shares his son’s kind eyes.
I imagine him before grief and worry etched their mark upon his heart, and I imagine my sweet Mum at his side. Then I force myself to quit. It makes me too sad.
I try to offer him a small smile.
He returns it. “Ready?”
I nod.
We walk the winding dirt trail to the village slowly. Baby runs out front. When we reach the lanes, I find each porch and lawn are empty. I take my time memorizing details: Mr. Button’s purple porch, Bill and Sarah Green’s collection of six rocking chairs, the mermaid bench on Holly’s porch—carved by her father. Then we’re near the café. I think perhaps all the island’s shown up for my farewell.
Inside, Charles and I are met with a crowd and a feast. I can’t eat a single bite.
I step into the kitchen, and Mrs. Alice hugs me tightly. I break down, and she takes me outside through the kitchen door, into the foggy morning.
“Let me tell you something, my dear. Something I don’t believe you know about me.”
“What?” I whisper.
Her eyes twinkle. “This old lady, lifelong Tristanian, wanted to stay back in England. More than anything.” She smiles gently. “Oh, yes. I was listening to Elvis Presley on the neighbor lady’s records. I’d walk down the way and get a cut of steak from the butcher. All that was lovely. But my Harold didn’t care for it. So we came back here to the island.” She looks wistful.
My throat knots, so tightly I can’t speak. I swallow hard.
“I didn’t know,” I whisper.
“I’ve had a lovely life here. I’ll be buried by my Harold, glad to have these bitter winds whistle over my headstone. But…” She lifts her eyebrows. “But.” She hugs me once more. “There’s so much for you to see, my dear. Your grandmother would be dizzy with pride. I’ll tell you a secret.”
“What?” I murmur.
“Your Gammy—I believe she wanted your mum to go. She liked that Mr. Carnegie. In fact, I helped her stitch your mother’s wedding gown. We designed it secretly to be befitting of a New York lady.”
I start sobbing then and never do quite get a handle on myself. Anna comes to fetch me from the kitchen sometime later, taking me to bid farewell to…well, to everyone I know.
Dot hugs my neck a long time. “I wish you the very best, my friend. No one deserves happiness more than you do.”
Holly says, “I’m green with envy.” She gives me a red-lipsticked smile. “Have the grandest time. And do send postcards.”
Rachel’s eyes fill with tears. “It’s my dream as well,” she whispers, so softly no one but I can hear her.
I’m standing for hours as I hug everyone I’ve ever known.
Mrs. Petunia White assures me, “I’ll manage nicely till the next physician arrives. Mike Green has agreed to help me.”
Mrs. Dillon presses something into my hand. A bank note. I frown, and she smiles kindly. “Some of us pitched in for you, dearie. Give it to that Mr. Carnegie. He’ll turn it to the proper currency.”
“The dollar.” I note the amount and nearly pass out. “Nine hundred pounds! That’s a fortune.”
“Oh, that’s pocket money. In America, you’ll sell your gorgeous pottery. This is just a token of our well wishes. After all you’ve been through, my dear…” She hugs me close. “You know I adored your mum. She’d be so proud.”
There’s one person I haven’t seen, and he appears as I stand near the coat rack, wincing at my aching feet.
“Father Russo.”
At first I think he’s looking at my feet as well. When he finally lifts his eyes to mine, I realize he’d been avoiding my gaze. I’m near stunned when his arms wrap around me. “Finley Evans—I’m so very sorry!”
For a moment, I fear perhaps he’s weeping, but he pulls away, his eyes squeezed shut, shaking his head as if he’s quite disgusted. When he opens them, they’re brimming with tears.
“I am…so remorseful.” He covers his face with a kerchief, shaking his head before pulling it away, revealing a grooved frown. “I’m not sure what to say. I was blind to what was there before my eyes. So foolish. And so arrogant in my assessments. You have suffered greatly for my errors. And now what I’ve done…” He rubs his lips together, shaking his head once more. “Simply devastated over the young Mr. Carnegie. And…what happened with Daniels…it’s on my soul.”
I can’t find the proper words. Father Russo hugs me again, and I pat his back. I find as we embrace that my heart feels…softer. As if something’s shaken loose.
“What happened in the boat was merely tragic, Father. Not intentional nor your fault. Thank you,” I say softly. “I forgive you.”
And I do. I find I truly do.
Later in the afternoon, Mr. Carnegie comes to me and gives me his small smile, and offers me a plastic water bottle.
“We’ll need to be leaving soon.”
“I’m told by the crew that the waves are picking up again.”
“I understand.”
And still…it’s near impossible to imagine what fate awaits me.
At half past three, nearly the entire village gathers outside the café to shout goodbye. I’m fighting tears and losing as Anna and Kayti, Freddy, Holly, and Dot walk Charles Carnegie and I to the dock, where we find Mark Glass waiting with three trunks of my belongings—and dear Baby. She’s wearing a lappy, her bow collar, and a leash. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a sight more beautiful.
I can’t help weeping as I squish wee Kayti and inhale her lovely baby scent. I was there when she was born. Now I’ll miss most of her life. Anna’s eyes well as I pass sweet Kayti back into her arms.
I hug Holly again. “Don’t forget to write me,” she says.
“I’ll send all sorts of trinkets,” I promise.
Freddy and Mark Glass load my trunks into the largest of the island’s fishing boats. Anna steps in, followed by Dot and Charles Carnegie. He holds his arms out for Baby, and I smile a bit as I hand her over. Then I’m in a padded seat. I’m holding Baby as Mark fires the motors up, and soon we’re off.
It’s a large boat. Perfectly safe, I tell myself. I stroke Baby’s soft head as my belly quivers with each swell that lifts the boat up toward the white sky. Dot rubs my back, and Anna smiles like a doting mum. After all that’s happened, she seems genuinely pleased for me—which brings me enormous peace.
My eyes well again as my yellow and blue chariot comes into clearer view.
“Someday I’ll come get you in a plane and take you to get tacos.”
“You can’t land a plane here. There’s no air strip.”
“Not all planes need landing strips.”
“I want a glimpse inside,” Dot says to Anna.
The odd contraption’s called an Albatross. I’m told it floats like a boat and flies like a plane. When I first spoke to Mr. Carnegie by phone last week, he explained we won’t be making any stops en route to Cape Town. We’ll be airborne for some four hours and twenty minutes. I don’t think of what will occur after. One thing at a time for me, beginning with the tethering of our fishing boat to the sleek Albatross.