Wild Blue Under

by Judi Fennell

  He nodded.

  “But what about the throne and the prophecy and the succession, and… last night? Or”—she pulled her hand from his as the thought struck her—“was that only because you thought you’d be stranded on land forever and should make the best of a bad situation?”

  Her voice left her. Oh, God. Was that it? Was she really only good as a last resort when he couldn’t leave?

  She didn’t know which was worse: her father choosing to leave or Rod choosing to stay because he couldn’t leave.

  “Valerie—”

  “No!” She shook her head as she used one of the knotted ropes to pull herself onto a cot. She had to get out of here. She reached for one of the towels and began scrubbing at her tail, trying to soak up any water she could find. Now if she could just keep the salty tears from falling she might actually have a chance to do this with some dignity.

  Not gonna happen.

  When Rod joined her on the cot, her dignity went swimming off with the tide: one traitorous tear trickled out, no matter how hard she tried to stop it. She fought the tug of his fingers on her chin, but he wouldn’t let go.

  “Valerie,” he whispered, his thumb doing amazing things to her bottom lip, “you don’t believe that. How can you believe that after last night? I’ve never told another woman I love her. I love you, and if your life is in Kansas, so is mine.”

  “You’re going to just walk away from your birthright?”

  “Yes, I am. I’m going to walk away… and keep on walking. Down the aisle and into your life. For the rest of our days. I love you, Valerie, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  “But the council—”

  “To Hades with The Council. I get one life, Valerie. One. With the tail, it’d be an Immortal one, but it’s only one, and mortal or not, if I don’t have you, that life is not worth living. So, no, I won’t follow The Council’s rules blindly as I have for years. I won’t go along with their program simply because I was born The Heir. My father can keep running it. Or let them find someone else. What I want is a life with you. And if a man can’t be true to himself first, how can he be to any people he’s supposed to govern? My heart wouldn’t be in it because it belongs to you. Where you go, I go, Valerie.”

  He gripped her shoulders and turned her so he could look in her eyes. “I’ve always done what I’ve been directed to, but in this, I can’t. I won’t. Choosing the throne over you would be the biggest failure of my life. I’m not going to make that mistake, so you’re stuck with me.”

  He wasn’t going to leave her.

  She finally knew, deep down inside, that she didn’t need to go searching for anything any longer. That she’d come home, only to find home wasn’t a place after all. It wasn’t a building on the main street of a little town in Kansas or the apartment above it. It wasn’t the back corner of the storeroom, and it wasn’t in any of the jobs or cities she’d gone to.

  Home was in Rod’s arms, and she never, ever wanted to leave it.

  Livingston picked that moment to tap the small window at the top of their room.

  “Pardon me,” the gull said after Rod let him in. He set the package down on the cot next to him. “I can’t believe this is finally over. All the months of looking for Valerie, bringing her back, getting you your tails, and, well”—he nodded at their joined hands—“happy endings all around.”

  Something stuck out about Livingston’s comment. “Hey. Wait a minute,” Val said. “What’s that about finding me? How did you do that? You wouldn’t happen to know anything about a flock of seagulls attacking me a few weeks ago, would you?”

  “Attacking?” Rod sat up straighter, his jaw clacking shut so hard he might have broken a tooth.

  Livingston coughed and shuffled his webbed feet, hopping from one rope to the next. “Oh, I wouldn’t call it an attack, actually. More a fact-gathering mission.”

  Val reached for the package. “Baloney. You guys took my bologna, the rest of my lunch, and probably an inch of scalp when you yanked out my hair.”

  “What?” Rod grabbed for Livingston, but the Chief of the ASA was too quick. He flew to the top of a stack of towels on the far cot.

  “We had to get her DNA, Rod.”

  “Her DNA?” Rod asked, but then his shoulders relaxed. “That’s right. I forgot you couldn’t identify her with the birthmark.”

  “What birthmark?” Val grabbed Rod’s arm.

  He put his hand over hers. “The birthmark on your back that identifies you as royalty, Valerie.”

  Ummm… “Rod? I don’t have a birthmark.”

  Livingston coughed and hopped closer. “Actually, you do. Now.” He nodded at Rod who leaned back and lifted the hem of her shirt. He traced a small design on the left side of her lower back. She wasn’t sure if the shivers were from his finger or the fact that he actually found something there.

  “It’s a trident,” Livingston continued. “The symbol of your father’s hereditary line.”

  She twisted around, trying to see it, but if it was there, it was a damned awkward spot for a tattoo. “So how did I get it?”

  “The birthmark appears only after you get your tail. All royal-born Mers have them.” Livingston motioned for Rod to turn around.

  There, in the same area he’d touched on her, was a small blue, three-pronged trident.

  “You didn’t have that last night.” She traced it, unable to help herself.

  “I didn’t have a tail last night. It fades whenever we’re out of the ocean so Humans can’t identify us.”

  “Oh. So Mom never knew I had one?”

  “It fades when we have legs, so, I doubt if she even saw your father’s. She wouldn’t have known what it was anyway.”

  “I guess it’s a good thing it didn’t show up, then.”

  “Good for you, bad for us,” Livingston interjected. “Luckily, after years of searching the coasts, someone”—he coughed—“came up with the idea of searching inland for you. It didn’t take us long to locate your mother once we sent word through the airwaves. The scouts thought you were the one, Valerie, but we needed DNA because we couldn’t verify your identity without throwing seawater on you. For obvious reasons, having you transform in front of a bunch of Bipeds wasn’t an option. Gods only know how we would have gotten you to the ocean. That’s why we needed you here first.”

  Livingston bowed to her. “I’m sorry if we hurt you. I did try to be gentle when taking your hair, but you were dangerous with your arms flapping and whatnot. I had to get the job done. I did my best. I even stationed sentries around you to ensure your safety until Rod arrived.”

  “Sentries? As in birds?”

  The look he gave her said, “Duh.”

  “Thanks for doing that, Livingston. It certainly explains a lot.” Namely stalking sparrows. “But, it doesn’t explain why my mom said I was allergic to the ocean.”

  “I’m sure she had a good reason. Telling your child she’s a Mer would not be easy to do,” Rod said.

  “Especially living smack-dab in the middle of the landmass,” Livingston added.

  All good points, but Mom had lied. Not by omission, but she’d consciously fabricated a story for no apparent reason.

  It was the “apparent” part that made her wonder.

  Especially since the last time she’d been home, Mom had started to tell her something several different times. Val hadn’t known what she was going to say and when she’d pressed, Mom had just looked at her with sadness in her eyes and a soft smile on her lips.

  The appearance of this gift was probably just coincidence, but the last time something had been too coincidental to be a coincidence, the birds and Rod had shown up—and look how that had worked out.

  Well, no more running for her. Val held out a section of the twine wrapped around the package. “If you’d do the honors, Livingston?
”

  Chapter 43

  The sharp bird beak made quick work of the twine, then Val balled up the brown paper and shoved it beneath the stack of towels.

  She peeled pretty floral wrapping paper from the fitted white lid, smiling when she saw the yellow tissue paper amid the packing bubbles inside. Mom always wrapped her birthday presents in yellow. Said it reminded her of what a beautiful day it had been the day she’d been born. The sun had been shining like a beacon from the heavens and Therese had felt hopeful that things would work out for them, hence her middle name.

  Blinking away tears, Val folded back the tissue paper. Rod and Livingston hadn’t moved but she could feel the curiosity rolling off them in, well, waves. She groaned at the bad pun.

  Taking a deep breath, she nudged the last of the paper out of the way. Beneath it sat…

  A bottle.

  A crystal bottle.

  No, not a crystal bottle.

  A diamond bottle… just like Rod’s.

  She lifted it.

  A diamond bottle exactly like Rod’s, stopper and all. Only this one didn’t have oil inside.

  Livingston made some odd bird clicks. “So that’s what happened to it.”

  “Happened to it?” She didn’t take her eyes off the crystal—diamond—fracturing the thin stream of sunlight from the window into tiny rainbows.

  “The Castor Diamond.” Rod exhaled. “It makes sense.”

  Val shook her head and set the box aside, twirling the bottle between her palms. “Maybe to you, but I’m stumbling over why Mom had such a valuable jewel and still owes back taxes on the shop.”

  “The Council’s going to want to know about this,” Livingston said, hopping onto the window ledge.

  “Go tell them.” Rod took the bottle from her. “We’ll discuss what’s to be done with it later.”

  Val waited until Livingston left. “Nothing’s going to be done with it, Rod. Mom gave this to me. She wanted me to have it.”

  Rod pulled the stopper out. “Actually, I think this is what she wanted you to have.” He withdrew a roll of white paper from inside the bottle.

  “What?” A letter. From Mom. Inside this crazy, unbelievable gift. That matched the one Rod had.

  And she knew, somehow, that this had to do with her father. With her tail. What Mom hadn’t been able to tell her the last time she’d been home.

  With shaking fingers she took the note, glancing up to find Rod’s eyes intent upon her.

  “It’ll be okay, Valerie.”

  Val took a fortifying breath and unrolled the note.

  My darling daughter,

  I’ve questioned myself over and over about sending you this gift in this way. Perhaps it would be better to wait for you to return home, as you invariably will. Oh, don’t take offense, sweetheart, but, you see, it is inevitable. It always has been.

  I’ve watched you come and go for years. Each time you leave me with such hope, and each time you return in despair. I know you’re searching for something, something you can’t define. What that something is, you don’t know.

  But I do.

  And I must beg your forgiveness.

  Val’s heart lurched. Mom had known the reason all along.

  Rod’s fingers circled softly on her back near the birthmark, and she fought the surprise, the disbelief, inhaling raggedly as she continued reading.

  What I’m going to tell you, Valerie, is unbelievable. I know that. But it’s true.

  Your father didn’t die.

  I know. I know you’re feeling betrayed. Hurt that I would keep this from you.

  I won’t make excuses; I’ll simply tell you my story, and you can draw your own conclusions as to whether or not I acted in your best interests.

  I met Lance Dumere on a vacation at the beach, just like I’ve always told you. That’s true. I fell madly in love, and we were inseparable. You were the result of that, Valerie, and I’ve never regretted it for a moment, although you know how your grandparents felt about my “shame.” You were never a cause of shame to me, Valerie. You must believe that.

  Your father told me he was a sailor, and as I write this, I laugh at the irony. Oh, he most certainly was a sailor of the seas; there is no disputing that. So, when my vacation and his shore leave ended, we promised to return every year to “our place,” until he was finished with his commission.

  How little I knew.

  I wrote to him every day, more when I knew I was pregnant. My letters were returned as undeliverable, and I was frantic. I didn’t know how to get in touch with him. I called the Navy and the Coast Guard, but they could find no record of him.

  I didn’t know what to do. The man I’d fallen in love with couldn’t have been a fantasy or a liar. I refused to believe that.

  So I made plans to return, but then you got viral meningitis that first year and ended up in the hospital. It wasn’t until the next year that we could make the trip.

  I’m sure you can imagine how thrilled I was when he was there. But I was cautious, too. The government said he didn’t exist, and I’d had only his word to go on.

  He was still charming, still wove that spell around me as he’d done from the moment I’d met him. But I’d grown. I’d become a single parent and had gone through a frightening, life-threatening illness with you. I’d learned to depend on myself and raise you as I saw fit.

  Suddenly, he was making plans for us. Or so I’d thought at the time. What I realized later was that those plans had been all about you. But he still blinded me with his charm, his persona. Make no mistake, I loved him. But I had questions. Questions that were answered that night you remember as your allergic reaction to the ocean.

  Forgive me, Valerie, but I had to lie to you.

  You aren’t allergic.

  Val blinked back the tears, knowing she would continue reading this but not so sure she wanted to. Mom had still been holding a torch for her father, and the bastard hadn’t loved either of them enough to leave the ocean. Tail or not, that still stung.

  You see, your father wasn’t in the service. He wasn’t even from this country. Perhaps not even our world.

  Yes, sweetheart, I know how hard this is to believe, but every word of it is true. I saw the truth with my own eyes that night.

  I’d brought you to a deserted beach on a cloud-covered night at his insistence. I’d thought he’d planned a midnight wedding ceremony. How wrong I was.

  You looked so adorable in your pink dress, your toes curled in the sand, strands of seashells around your neck. I’d bought a beautiful white dress for the occasion and hadn’t considered silly things like blood tests and marriage licenses.

  I should have.

  He looked magnificent in a cream button-down and cargo pants. Barefoot. It was the most romantic setting, and I fell in love all over again, knowing you and I would finally have the perfect family.

  He lifted you in his arms, then kissed me, murmuring, “Thank you for my daughter,” against my lips. I admit to standing there, swaying, listening to the soft lap of the waves on the beach, the muted cries of seabirds in the distance, my eyes closed in the magic of the moment.

  But then nothing happened.

  I opened them to see him carrying you toward the ocean, your pink dress whipping behind him as he almost ran to the water.

  Something inside me said it was wrong. Something told me to go after you. Call it mother’s instinct, woman’s intuition, I don’t know, but don’t ever discount that feeling in your gut.

  I ran after you, calling his name, calling yours. He looked back once, and the expression on his face was one I’d never seen before. Steeled determination.

  He started to run, and I did, too. He was taller, his legs longer, he was closer to the waves. He made it there before me.

  And then his legs started to change.

 
I know how this sounds, but I swear to you, it’s true. His legs changed, Valerie. They changed… into a tail.

  I screamed, and you turned in his arms just as he sank into the water. You reached out for me then, and I saw a look cross your face.

  I’d seen that look before—when you were in the hospital and they’d put the IV in. It was pain.

  I ran faster, screaming your name, begging him to stop. You were crying, but he didn’t let you go.

  And then I saw that your legs had begun to change, too.

  Val glanced at her tail. Yes, she recognized that feeling. It explained her memories of that night.

  You hear stories of women who lift cars off their children, of mothers who are infused with almost super-human strength to save their kids. It happened to me that night. I ran as I’d never run before, and from somewhere I found the strength to wrench you from his arms and pull you back onto the beach.

  He couldn’t follow, though he tried. To this very day I can see him pulling himself onto the beach, see his silvery tail tracking through the sand. I can hear his words imploring me to bring you back, that you were his heir. That he wanted to give you your birthright, but I couldn’t let him, Valerie. You were mine.

  You were my sweet baby, and he’d tried to take you from me. You were crying, and your legs, oh, God, your legs.

  Your feet were covered in pink flippers, like a dolphin. I know this sounds crazy, but I swear to you, it happened. I ran to the room I’d rented, locking the door behind me, and watched as the skin around your ankles slowly turned the same pink. It started up your calves. You kept screaming. I didn’t know what to do, except to put you in the tub and wash the seawater off you. The pink stopped spreading and you stopped screaming.

  When I scrubbed your skin dry, the color receded and your feet returned.

  I ran then. I packed everything, got in my car, and just drove. I wanted to be as far from the sea as possible. We ended up in Kansas—the center of the country, as far as I could go. I hoped he wouldn’t be able to follow. I told you that you were allergic so you’d never go to the ocean where he could take you from me.