The Selkie Spell (Seal Island Trilogy)

by Sophie Moss

  Tara gazed at Dominic’s jeans, rolled up and soaking wet. His sleeves were pushed back over the strong muscles in his forearms and his black hair was curling from the water splashed on his face. He’d gone out to find her soccer ball. He’d gone into the ocean in April to find his daughter’s ball. “I’m fine,” Tara said, wondering why the words felt lodged in her throat. “I have a lot of catching up to do.”

  “I’ll say,” he agreed, his gaze dropping to the charred loaf on the counter. “I thought you said you were a fast learner?”

  “It’s her first morning,” Caitlin cut in.

  “Still,” Dominic said. “Another morning like this, and our neighbors will start dusting off their own fry pans.”

  “I need a little more time,” Tara said, swallowing the lump in her throat. “But I will get better at this. I won’t rest until I do.”

  Dominic took in flash of determination, the slight lift of her chin. “I can’t pay you overtime.”

  “I know. I want to get this right.”

  Dominic let his gaze linger on her face for a moment longer before lifting a shoulder. “Suit yourself.” He nudged Kelsey back toward the door.

  “Dom,” Caitlin turned, trailing after him. “Maeve came in earlier. She’s got another leak in her faucet. Could you have a look at it?”

  He tucked the ball in the crook of his arm, holding Kelsey back with one arm as she grabbed for it, trying to knock it loose.

  “And Brennan’s got a fence down in the high field. He’ll need your help in mending it. His arthritis is making his knees weaker by the day.”

  Dominic’s brows knitted together in concern. “It’s getting worse?”

  Caitlin nodded.

  “He needs to see a doctor.”

  “You know he won’t. He doesn’t trust them.”

  Dominic dragged a hand through his wet hair. “Alright. I’ll head up there now. See if I can talk him into it.”

  Caitlin sent him a look. “Just fix the fence, Dom.”

  “If I fix the fence, it’ll just be something else next week. He needs help. There’s medicine that can make the pain go away. He’s too young to be suffering.”

  Tara set down the rag she was using to clean. “Don’t you have a traveling doctor who makes rounds out to the island? Someone who could prescribe something?”

  “We do,” Dominic answered. “But the visits are sporadic at best.”

  “And doctor’s cost money,” Caitlin added. “Plus they usually find more things that are wrong with you when they’re looking over the first. Most islanders think it’s easier not to know.”

  “But that’s crazy,” Tara exclaimed. “The faster you catch something, the easier it is to treat.”

  “You and I know that,” Dominic ceded. “But try convincing a farmer who’s lived on this island his entire life.”

  Tara stared at the three islanders across the room. She hadn’t considered the need for modern medicine on these islands. Even after treating Caitlin’s hand last night, it hadn’t occurred to her that they wouldn’t at least have regular access to a primary care physician. “Where does Brennan live?”

  “Why?”

  “Maybe I could talk to him.”

  “About what?”

  “About seeing a doctor.”

  Dominic smiled. “Tell you what, Tara. If you decide you want to have a talk with Brennan Lockley, you let me know. I’ll walk you over there myself.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to miss his reaction.”

  Tara angled her head. “You don’t think he’ll listen to me?”

  “I’ll be surprised if he even lets you into his house.”

  ***

  “He really doesn’t think much of me, does he?” Tara asked, still staring at the door Dominic and Kelsey walked through after they left.

  “No,” Caitlin admitted. “He doesn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  Caitlin reached for the book, flipped to a new recipe. “You remind him too much of someone else.”

  “Who?”

  Crossing the kitchen, Caitlin pulled a sack of potatoes off the shelf. “Kelsey’s mother.”

  “Kelsey’s mother?”

  Caitlin nodded.

  “Where is Kelsey’s mother?”

  “I’d rather not get into that at the moment.”

  “Is she on the island?”

  “No.”

  “Are they still… together?”

  Caitlin shook her head.

  “But I remind him of her?”

  Caitlin nodded.

  “Do I look like her?”

  “No,” Caitlin answered, pulling the flour out of the cabinet. “She was blond and blue-eyed. Like Kelsey.”

  “If she looks nothing like me, then what about me reminds Dominic of Kelsey’s mother?”

  “Maybe it’s your lack of talent in the kitchen.” At the sound of the unfamiliar voice, Tara turned and came face to face with a woman whose hair fell in rich, chocolate ringlets. Her eyes were the same warm tawny as the amber stones that dripped from her ears and clung to her throat.

  Glenna McClure dropped the scone she’d snagged off a plate on the bar into the trash distastefully, taking in Tara’s thin white T-shirt and a stained apron. “Hello,” she said smoothly, extending a hand that sparkled with a variety of silver rings. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

  “Tara Moore,” Tara said, taking the other woman’s hand.

  “Glenna McClure,” Glenna said, eyeing the stranger curiously. “You seem… familiar to me. Maybe we have met before? Somewhere else?”

  “I don’t think so,” Tara said quickly, releasing her hand.

  “Tara just arrived yesterday,” Caitlin explained, walking over to give her friend a hug to welcome her back to the island. “How was Paris? Did you take pictures?”

  “You know I never do.” Glenna smiled. “But I brought you something better.” She pulled a package from her shoulder bag.

  “Glenna, I told you—”

  Glenna shoved the box at her and Caitlin took it, grumbling. Digging through the layers of tissue paper, she found a pair of three-inch heels the color of rubies and a matching silk scarf.

  Caitlin lifted a shoe with one finger, let it dangle between them. “What am I going to do with these?”

  “I don’t know, maybe wear them?”

  “Where?”

  “Here. Wear them to work. Show off your legs.”

  “Oh sure, and then I’ll have a broken ankle as well as a hand.”

  Glenna’s brows snapped together in concern. “What happened to your hand?”

  “I fell off a chair yesterday, and broke my finger.” She held up the splint. “It’s better now. Tara fixed it.”

  Glenna’s gaze drifted back to the newcomer. “How?”

  “It wasn’t a big deal,” Tara said, turning back to the stove. “She just needed a little wrapping.”

  “After you reset the bone,” Caitlin corrected. “Let’s not forget that part.” She glanced back down at her hand. “It hurt like crazy at the time, but it feels better now.” Turning, Caitlin set her new package on the counter and looked up at Glenna. “These are going in the back of the closet next to the dress you bought me in Italy.”

  “I’m only trying to add a little spice to your life.”

  “My life is fine the way it is.”

  Glenna clucked her tongue. “I bet you-know-who wouldn’t mind seeing you in those shoes.”

  Caitlin’s eyes narrowed. “You leave you-know-who out of this.”

  “Won’t be long before it’s summer again and Liam O’Sullivan’s back in town. You remember that tourist who came here last summer. What was her name?”

  Caitlin gritted her teeth. “Andrea.”

  “I bet Andrea owns shoes like those. And I bet she isn’t afraid to wear them.”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  Tara hid a smile and slipped off her apron. She scooped up the stack of books and turned a
way from the stove. “I’ll let you two catch up while I study. I’ll be back by four to start working on dinner.” She looked at Glenna. “It was nice to meet you.”

  “You too, Tara.” And aren’t we in a hurry to get away? “Where are you staying?”

  “She’s staying in the cliff cottage,” Caitlin answered proudly.

  “Dominic’s cliff cottage?” Glenna raised a perfectly winged brow. “How interesting. Come to think of it, I could use a bit of fresh air.” Crossing the room, she held open the door. “I’ll walk you home.” She winked at Caitlin over her shoulder. “I’ll stop by this evening for a drink and a chat.”

  The air was crisp and cool and refreshing when Tara stepped outside and she took a moment to soak in the view. She could hear men shouting over their motors down at the docks, bringing in their catch for the day. The ocean crashed turquoise over a silver beach, fading out to the Atlantic in darker blue. Sunlight sparkled, dropped like diamonds into the water. To the West, puffy clouds floated over the jagged peaks of Connemara, like rich dollops of cream.

  “Takes your breath away, doesn’t it?”

  Tara nodded, awestruck. “This is the first time I’ve seen it on a sunny day.”

  “I remember the first time I saw this view,” she said, starting to walk. “It was exactly the push I needed to put my row house on the market.”

  “Row house?” Tara asked, surprised. “You’re not from here?”

  Glenna shook her head. “I only meant to come for the weekend, to escape a nasty divorce awaiting me back in Dublin.”

  “You came here for the weekend and just… decided to stay?”

  “Before I knew what I was doing, I made an offer on the McPherson’s cottage.” Glenna laughed. “As soon as they were packed and loading their things onto the ferry to make their way to their new home in Cork, I was ripping down the old flowered wallpaper and making plans to build a studio in the back yard. A few weeks later, I’d finalized my divorce and opened a gallery on the island. I never once looked back.”

  Tara glanced over at her. “You came here to start over?”

  Glenna nodded. “Seemed as good a place as any. Isn’t that what you’re doing?”

  “No.” Tara shook her head. “I’m just passing through for the summer.”

  “And then what will you do?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Glenna looked at Tara and was struck again by same strange feeling like she recognized her from somewhere but couldn’t place it. “Where’s home?”

  “I don’t have a home.”

  “You don’t have a home?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “What happened?”

  “I sold it.”

  “And you didn’t think to get another one?”

  Tara shook her head.

  “So you’ve no ties to anywhere at the moment?”

  “That’s right.”

  “How… freeing,” Glenna ventured.

  “It is.”

  “But isn’t it also kind of lonely?”

  “I haven’t felt lonely yet.”

  Glenna stole a sideways glance at the woman walking beside her. “Not even once?”

  “Not even once.”

  “I’m impressed,” Glenna admitted. “I’m not sure I could do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Set off without a destination. I’ve always had a place to come back to. Even when I made the move from Dublin to here, I knew it was here I was coming. I’m not sure I could have cut my ties with Dublin without having a place to land.”

  “Not everyone has that luxury. Sometimes you just have to get away.”

  Glenna’s gaze dropped to Tara’s left hand, noting the lack of a ring on her third finger, but at the same time there was the faintest discoloration where one might have been. “What did you have to get away from?”

  A gull circled overhead, its sharp calls echoing over the hillside. When Tara said nothing, Glenna lifted her gaze, following the path of the gull. She knew what it was like to be fresh off a divorce, to be carrying around all that anger, heartbreak, and remorse. If that’s what Tara had travelled half-way across the world to get away from, then she wouldn’t want to be reminded of it. At least not right now.

  Glenna pulled her attention back to the footpath as they climbed the final hill to the cottage, expecting the pretty picture she was used to—the purple door and matching shutters, the brilliant whitewashed walls set against the glowing green cliffs, the vision Caitlin had worked on for so long. But what she saw made her blood run cold.

  Red roses crawled up the sides of the cottage. They climbed and twisted, their thorns like knives piercing the whitewashed walls of the cottage, cracking paint as they coiled around the doorway.

  Walking past her into the cottage, Tara brushed the heavy roses aside easily, as if they weighed nothing and slipped into the house, setting her books on the table and then walking back out. “Would you like something to drink?”

  Glenna walked closer, until she was directly in front of the flowers and then she stood stock-still staring at the roses, trying to fight the sweet scent wrapping around her, tempting her to come closer, to sniff the fragrant blossoms, to touch their silky petals.

  When she reached up, brushing a finger over one of the scarlet petals, the air lost all its smell, the ocean all its sound. She yelped when a thorn pierced her skin and the blood that dripped from her finger pooled to the ground at her feet.

  In the pool she saw a vision—Tara curled into a ball at the foot of the stairs, her face bruised and bloody, one eye swollen shut, her arm twisted and broken as she begged the man above her to stop. The man’s dark eyes glinted as with cool, steady fingers, he began to unbuckle his belt.

  Glenna stumbled backwards, tripping over the stepping stones.

  “Glenna? Are you alright?”

  Glenna shook her head, backing away from the cottage, trying to put more distance between her and the roses. Because it wasn’t just the vision that chilled her to the bone. You couldn’t grow up in Ireland without knowing a thing or two about magic. And magic, like her art, suited Glenna almost as well as the Italian shoes she’d picked up on her last trip to Rome.

  From her studies, she knew that white roses grown out of season meant your angel was watching out for you. Pink meant love would soon knock at your door. Peach meant passion. Yellow, renewed friendship. But red roses, blood red roses grown out of season, meant someone was coming.

  And you wouldn’t want to be alone when he arrived at your door.

  ***

  It was close to midnight when Caitlin slipped out of the pub and headed for Glenna’s. In minutes she was knocking on her best friend’s door and huffing out a breath when she got no answer. “Glenna,” she called out, pushing the door open. “I know you’re not asleep yet…” Caitlin trailed off, pausing in the doorway. “Whoa.”

  “Pour yourself a glass of wine,” Glenna said, quietly, gesturing to the half-empty bottle of red on the table. She didn’t bother to look up, instead continued to stare into the dancing flames in the hearth.

  Caitlin bypassed the wine and sank onto the sofa beside her friend. The room was completely dark. Her bags sat unpacked on the rug. Every curtain was drawn. “What’s going on?”

  “Why don’t you tell me?”

  Caitlin’s brows snapped together in concern. “What are you talking about? I thought you were stopping by for a drink at the pub tonight?”

  “I was.” Glenna held out her glass for a refill. “I needed some time to think.”

  “About what?”

  Flames snaked up from the log of peat, teasing a curl of smoke into the chimney. “I went up to the cliff cottage this afternoon.”

  “Right.” Caitlin nodded. “With Tara. I tried to ask her about it earlier but she changed the subject so fast, I never got an answer. And then we were so busy I forgot to bring it up again. Did something happen between you two?”

  Glenna swirled the wine around in her g
lass, rich fingers of red clinging to the spotless crystal. “Have you been up there?”

  “I dropped her off the first night, showed her around a bit.”

  For the first time, Glenna pulled her attention away from the fire and focused on her friend. “Then you’ve seen them?”

  “Seen what?”

  “The roses.”

  “What roses?”

  “I was afraid of that,” Glenna murmured, her gaze straying back to the flames. The log of peat, almost gone now, puffed out little clouds of smoke. “What do you know about her, Caitlin?”

  “Tara?” Caitlin reached for Glenna’s wine glass and took a few sips. “I know she’s a terrible cook. Other than that, she’s mentioned a few bits and pieces about her past, but I can’t say whether or not I believe them.”

  Glenna nodded, processing. “Has she ever said anything about a man?”

  Caitlin shook her head.

  “Do you think her being here could have something do with a man from her past? Someone she’s trying to get away from?”

  Caitlin set the wine glass down with a clatter. “Now wait a minute. Let’s not go getting ahead of ourselves. You only just met her this afternoon.”

  “I saw something,” Glenna whispered.

  “You’re always seeing things.”

  “Not like this.”

  The scent of roses, the faintest of perfumes drifted into the room. “Okay,” Caitlin let out a sigh. “What did you see?”

  “Someone hurt her, Caitlin. And he’s after her.” Glenna rose from the sofa and started to pace. “What do you think she’s doing here?”

  “No.” Caitlin shook her head, refusing to believe. “She answered the ad for a server. She came to the island for work.”

  “Why would she come here?” Glenna spun around, facing her friend again. “To this island?”

  “Because...” Caitlin stalled, struggling for a reason. “It’s nice here.”

  “Have you told her?”

  “Have I told her what?”

  “The story. The legend of Seal Island. Have you told her?”

  Caitlin looked down, picking at the fraying gauze around her broken finger. “No.”

  “Are you going to?”

  “I don’t see why—”