A flash of gold caught his eye as he walked along the sand. He watched as a seal pulled itself out of the water. The seal's body began to ripple under its spotted gray-brown skin, convulsing until it looked like it belched up a slim human body. Erlend stayed still as the human body stood up, long sand-colored hair hanging to its hips. The figure stepped out of the seal-skin and moved down the beach toward the headland, either not aware of his presence or ignoring him entirely.
Erlend knew the legends. His gran had told him the stories of selkies just the same as his mum told them now to his children. The selkie of Suleskerry, even the story of Ursilla and her web-fingered children were told on winter nights when the power went out and the television wasn't working. Kirsten had loved those nights and the stories, taking things such as the lighting of the bonfires at Hallowmas and Midsummer far more serious than he did.
But he still knew the tradition. If you caught a selkie skin, and hid it somewhere so that it might not be found, the selkie would be bound to you for as long as it was hidden. Why the selkie, with her long golden hair and longer pale legs, didn't hide her skin better, he didn't know.
Not knowing why, he snatched the skin and ran as fast as he could. He made for his house, running as if the devil himself was after him. Slamming the door behind him, he bundled the seal-skin into a garbage bag to shove into the iron safe at the bottom of his wardrobe. He had laughed at Kirsten when she hauled the safe home from the ferry, saying that there was no need for anything like that in Sandwick. In Kirkwall maybe, where all the tourists were, but not here in lonely Birsay parish. To this day, all they kept in it were birth certificates for each of the children, and copies of their marriage certificate. Soon enough, Kirsten’s death certificate would join the paperwork as well.
But the seal-skin wouldn’t fit. When he peered into the safe, he saw the reason why. A pile of brightly-wrapped packages sat on top of the usual folder full of documents. Each was neatly-labeled in Kirsten’s precise handwriting: “Happy Birthday, Bryn! Love, Mam and Da”.
Erlend leaned against the safe, chuckling weakly. It was just like Kirsten to plan for this. Bryn’s birthday was still a month away, but she knew that, in the chaos of the birth, chances were that their younger son would get forgotten. She had every birthday and anniversary hardwired into her head, never forgetting even the smallest thing. That would be one more adjustment.
He carefully removed the gifts from the safe, setting them on the top shelf of the wardrobe, somewhere Bryn hopefully would forget to look when he went on his annual present hunt. Then he settled the seal-skin on top of the certificates, slamming the safe door shut and sighing in relief.
The loneliness would drive him mad, sooner or later. Maybe he should take Anna's advice and hire a girl to come in a few times a week, at least until school started again…
Erlend heard the back door open and shut, followed by the piping voices of his sons. His dad's voice answered them. "I'm sure your da has something for pudding, don't worry, boys…"
He moved into the hallway, surprised when Kieran and Bryn both ran at him full-tilt, throwing their small arms around his waist. At seven, Kieran was almost too old for hugs. And Bryn, still five, would reluctantly hold his Da's hand, but only when they crossed the street.
"Peedie skrecked all the way home, Da. Just like a banshee!" Bryn announced, looking at his little sister with pride. "She's a loud baby, innit she, Kier?"
"Gran gave her a bottle, but she fussed and fussed, Da." Kieran gave him a worried look. "Do you think she—"
Erlend had a suspicious feeling about what his oldest son didn't want to say. “Babies cry because it’s the only way they know how to talk,” he replied, swinging Kieran’s gangly body up to rest on one hip. His son rested his head on Erlend’s shoulder. “She probably wants a lot of things, and we just have to hold her and rock her and change her nappy until we figure out which one it is.”
After that, neither of the boys seemed much in the mood for pudding, not even Gran’s clootie dumpling. His dad stayed long enough to tuck the boys into their beds, hovering near the back door as Erlend fixed himself a sandwich.
“You’re all right, eh, boy?” His dad asked. “You seem a mite distracted.”
Erlend looked toward the open door of his bedroom, where Peedie lay in her basket. “It is to be expected, isn’t it, Dad?” He sat down at the kitchen table, feeling very tired all of a sudden. “Dad, do you—“
“Aye, boy?” His dad took the seat across from him, the one that Kieran usually sat in. “What’s the matter?”
He rested his head in his hands, not sure how to ask, or even if he should ask his father. Dad had never been one to believe in the old fairy stories. Mum was the one who named them all—kings and queens and ancient Earls of Orkney, names that only myths remember. Dad always snorted and turned away whenever Erlend’s sisters asked for stories as a child. If Erlend asked about selkies now, his dad would probably call mental health services and immediately haul the boys and Peedie back to the main house.
“If I take some time off, Da, to spend with the boys and Peedie…” he began.
“You ought to name her, Erlend,” his father broke in reproachfully. “You’ll not be wanting her to go off to school known as ‘the little one’. I know the hospital granted you an extension, due to circumstances, but…”
Erlend grimaced before continuing. “But if I take some time for just ourselves for a bit…”
His dad put a hand on top of Erlend’s, squeezing gently. “Take what time you need, lad,” his dad answered gruffly. “And pay no mind to your sister and your mum. Do what you need to do for yourself and the young ones.”
One more brief squeeze to his shoulder and his dad left. Erlend sat at the table for a while, twisting the wedding ring that he still wore. Nine years of marriage didn’t seem like enough time. But at least Kirsten lived on in their three children. Some widowers couldn’t even say that.
He stared at his hands, feeling his mind drift away. Whatever daze he slipped into was broken by a sudden rap at the back door. It was an angry knock, which meant that it wasn’t any of his relations. It was possible that it was one of Kirsten’s, only some of who made it up in time for the funeral.
The naked man, crowned with a head of long sand-colored hair, was the last thing he expected to see.
“You have something of mine,” the man snarled with a hissing accent. “And I want it back.”
Erlend stared at the man’s face, his eyes trailing down the thin body. He stopped at the hips, not daring to look down further. It was easy enough to recognize the form of the selkie he saw earlier that day. Just as it had been easy to mistake the narrow hips and long hair for the backside of a young girl.
“You’re…”
“Stuck with you now,” the selkie answered, his face looking as miserable as Erlend felt.
“I bind you to this house and this family,” Erlend said, the ritual words he remembered from the stories falling easily from his mouth. He backed away from the door so that the selkie could enter. “Do you—do you have a name?”
The man returned his stare, the same disdain in his brown eyes as he’d seen in the seal’s, just that morning. “Ronan,” he replied as he stepped in. “My mam named me Ronan.”
Erlend actually smiled at that. “Little seal.”
Ronan rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t get too used to it. As soon as I find my skin, I’ll be back to the sea.”
They stared at each other for another moment before Erlend dropped his eyes. He looked at Ronan’s bare feet, noticing the long sandy toes. They weren’t webbed, which surprised him.
“Would you—would you like something to eat?” He said suddenly, moving toward the pantry. “There’s kippers somewhere, probably some haddock in the freezer. The neighbors keep bringing over casseroles because of the funeral and all and…” Erlend turned back to Ronan, his face burning. “I’m sorry, I’m just not sure what to do or…”
The selkie wa
lked further into the kitchen. Erlend noticed Ronan’s careful grace, like a seal moving through water. Erlend found himself staring at the selkie’s hips as he moved. He felt his face heat up, wondering if it was possible to blush even more.
Ronan gave him a speculative look as he took a seat at the table. “You could hand me my skin and be done with it. You aren’t some lonely fishmonger’s wife, so there’s obviously nothing that nights of passionate lovemaking will do for you.”
Erlend’s hands clenched at the idea. He hadn’t cried the prerequisite seven tears that the stories always said the girls cried into the sea, attracting the attentions of a selkie lover. Nor had he found a selkie maid as she danced on the beach under the moonlight. But Ronan, for all his brashness and sarcasm, was company. Adult company. Someone who was bound to him for as long as he held the seal-skin. Someone who, by the laws of magic and folklore, couldn’t leave him.
“I bind you to this house and this family,” he repeated slowly, now looking only at Ronan’s brown eyes. He could almost pinpoint the moment that the selkie’s resolve broke.
Ronan’s jaw clenched and he swallowed, nodding. “Best show me where I can sleep then. You needn’t startle the bairns by keeping a naked man in the kitchen.”
Erlend blinked at Ronan, not sure of what the next step should be. The legends never spoke of a situation like this, or if they did, he must not have paid enough attention. “Do you need to sleep in the bath?” he asked, rubbing at his forehead tiredly. “There’s only the one, but it’s large enough for me, so it should be enough for you…” He trailed off as Ronan stared at him in disbelief. “Or I can take the couch and you can sleep in my bed,” Erlend amended.
He led Ronan into the small bedroom off the kitchen. Ronan seemed unimpressed, taking in the unmade bed and clutter without a second glance. The only thing that did seem to catch his interest was Peedie in her Moses basket. His littlest was still asleep, by some miracle. Ronan reached out a finger, gently touching the baby’s cheek. He turned to Erlend, a softer look on his face.
“What’s her name?” The selkie’s voice was soft.
“We couldn’t agree on one,” Erlend said, a bit embarrassed. He couldn’t meet Ronan’s eyes. “The doctor said that she wailed something fierce for such a peedie one, so Peedie stuck, and there hasn’t been time since—“
Ronan snorted. “You call her Peedie? Her classmates will laugh the poor lass out of school.” He turned back to the baby, this time touching the sparse blond hair on top of her head. “That’ll be one thing we have to fix.”
“Fix? What gives you the right to fix anything in my family?” Erlend struggled to keep his voice quiet. Once Peedie took to crying, it was hard to quiet her.
Ronan’s reply was equally quiet, and equally full of anger. “The moment you stole my skin and bound me to you without even telling me your name.”
“You don’t have to stay here.” But looking at the selkie, Erlend had to wonder. Maybe in Stromness or in Kirkwall Ronan might get away with blending in. Most of the locals would just take him for another tourist, here on holiday. But here in Birsay, in lonely Sandwick where the cows still outnumbered the people…
He sighed, then turned to the bureau in the corner and began taking out y-fronts and vests, a gansey his mum knitted last winter and some sweat pants. “These should fit,” he said, handing them to Ronan. “Erlend. Erlend Kirkness. Welcome to the family.”
***
“Why’re you in here, Da?” Bryn’s voice woke him up out of an uneasy rest. Erlend never realized how lumpy and uncomfortable the couch in his office was. Not that it would matter, since by year's end, the room would be turned into a nursery for Peedie anyhow.
Erlend sat up, rubbing at his eyes. Bryn still peered at him from the doorway, looking at Peedie asleep in her basket on the floor next to the couch. “Why're you and Peedie in here and not in the bedroom?” Bryn’s voice grew more and more shrill with each question.
“We have company, buddo, come to help us now.” He reached out, pulling Bryn into his arms. “Help me fix him breakfast?”
He felt Bryn nod against his shoulder, then scooped his small son up and carried him the few short meters to the kitchen. Kieran was already standing at the counter on his wooden stool, cracking an egg into a bowl. He gave Erlend a guilty look when he noticed them entering the kitchen. “I was just helping, honest, Da. I wasn’t going to cook them…”
Erlend put Bryn down, grabbing his oldest son in a similar hard hug. “Easy, Kier. Thank you for helping. And thank you for not turning on the stove again.”
At that moment, Ronan walked out of the bedroom. Thankfully, he was dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of sweats he must have found in the dresser. “The pup cries," he said, and Erlend could hear the beginning of Peedie's wails from the office.
“You’ve never dealt with little ones?” Erlend asked when he re-entered the kitchen, Peedie in his arms. He jostled her for a moment, shushing to her until she settled down.
Ronan looked down his nose at Erlend, eyebrows arched. “Females’ work,” he replied. The selkie seemed to suddenly remember his surroundings, his eyes widening at the sight of Bryn and Kieran, who stared at him with huge eyes.
“He’s the guest, Da?” Bryn asked in a loud whisper, his small hands gripping Erlend’s shirt.
Erlend saw a brief smile flash across Ronan’s face at that. “Aye, buddo. This is Ronan, our guest. Can you get me one of Peedie’s bottles from the fridge?”
Bryn apparently didn’t hear, since he still clung to Erlend’s shirt. Kieran, being the brave seven year old that he was, manfully made his way to the refrigerator and brought Erlend back the requested bottle.
“Don’t forget to warm it, Da,” his son reminded him. “Gran says that Peedie can’t have it cold ‘cause it’ll give her a sore puggy.”
Switching Peedie to one arm and trailing Bryn behind him, Erlend made his way to the stove. He handed the bottle to Bryn, who still wouldn’t let go of his shirt. All the while humming tunelessly to the baby, Erlend took the pot of water that Kieran handed him and set it on the hob. When the water was hot, he took the bottle from Bryn and put it in. Erlend could feel three sets of eyes on his back as he watched the bottle bob in the water. It was no surprise that Bryn and Kieran stared, since neither of them were used to a baby, but Ronan’s conscious attention was a little unnerving.
Once the bottle was warm, he handed Peedie off to Ronan. “Might as well make yourself useful,” he said quietly at Ronan’s startled look. He tested the temperature of the formula against his wrist before handing the bottle to Ronan too. Carefully rearranging the baby in Ronan’s arms, he gave the selkie what he hoped was a comforting smile. “She’s a wee thing, but she won’t break. I dropped those two often enough to know.”
Ronan glared at Erlend before staring down at the baby. “Like this?” He touched the nipple of the bottle to Peedie’s lips and the baby immediately began to drink. Her small fists waved as her blue eyes focused on Ronan’s face.
Erlend looked at Peedie from over Ronan’s shoulder. “See?” he whispered in Ronan’s ear. “Easy as cake.”
"Don't get used to it," Ronan muttered back.
From there, breakfast proceeded rather quietly. Bryn and Kieran stared at Ronan as the selkie fed and then burped the baby, while Erlend watched everyone else as he fried up some eggs and ham on the stove. The boys were quiet as clams, something unusual. Ronan didn't seem to notice, he was so concerned with not dropping the baby. Once Erlend got the plates of food on the table, he took Peedie back. He was surprised at the grateful look Ronan gave him.
"I forgot--d'you eat regular food?" he asked quietly, trying not to catch the boys' attention.
"We don't eat just fish," Ronan replied with a sigh, as if it were the stupidest question he'd heard that morning. "We aren't.." He cut off as they caught the boys' attention again.
"Where're you from?" Bryn piped up, his mouth full of egg. "Are you from Kirkness? That's far 'way.
All our family's here, 'cept for Mam's family, 'cept they're here too 'cause of the funeral." Erlend choked down a laugh as his son gave Ronan a sad-eyed look. "Our mam died a coupl'a days ago."
Kieran smacked Bryn. "Stop it! It's not a joke, Bryn. Mam's not here anymore, so stuff it!" Erlend's oldest son pushed back his chair and ran from the room. He could hear the door to the boys' bedroom slam shut.
"That went well," Ronan remarked dryly, one eyebrow arched.
Maybe this wasn't the best idea for his family.
The first day went better than Erlend expected, even though he wasn't expecting much. Kieran spent most of the day in his room, refusing to come out. Bryn pestered Ronan with questions, bothering the selkie until Ronan finally snapped at him, and Bryn ran to his room crying. Peedie fussed the whole day, only quieting down if someone was holding her. At least she seemed to take a liking to Ronan, even if Ronan himself didn't seem too sure about how he felt about the baby.
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