by Sophie Moss
“He wouldn’t tell me where he was from,” Caitlin said, lowering her voice. “I can’t help but wonder if something… happened before they came here.”
Tara’s eyes strayed to where Kelsey was turning the book around to show him the pictures. “Like what?”
“I don’t know,” Caitlin admitted. “But I have a bad feeling about it.”
Tara thought back to what she’d seen out the window this morning. The strange shimmer on Nuala’s cloak. “We should talk to Glenna.”
“No.” Caitlin shook her head. “She’ll just think I’m jealous.”
“What do you mean?”
“She thinks I’m sulking. I ran into her this morning and she accused me of giving up and letting Nuala win.”
“Are you?” Tara asked gently
“I don’t know,” Caitlin confessed, rubbing her thumb over the polished wood of the bar. “What would you do, if you were me?”
Tara’s gaze fell to the spot on the bar Caitlin was picking at. She thought back to what Liam said this morning—that he couldn’t remember anything about Caitlin or their relationship, which meant this wasn’t going to be easy for Caitlin. But what in life worth having was ever easy?
Tara thought back to everything that happened to her in the past year. She heard the familiar squeak of rusted hinges as the back door of the pub opened, followed by Dominic’s deep lilting Irish accent striking up a conversation with his grandmother in the kitchen. She felt the love surge inside her at the sound of his voice. She thought of Kelsey and Fiona and all her friends. And the life she would have lost if she’d kept running from her abusive husband instead of standing and fighting.
She lifted her eyes to Caitlin’s. “I’d fight back.”
Chapter 5
Owen gazed at the glossy pages and hard canvas binding of Kelsey’s book, mesmerized. “Where did you get this?”
“My uncle gave it to me.”
“You said it’s a… fairy tale?”
Kelsey nodded, setting the book between them and turning the pages as she read silently to herself.
He angled his head to see the pictures better. She was turning the pages too fast. He reached out, stopping her.
“Sorry,” she said. “Are you still reading?”
He stared at the open page. The creatures in the drawing looked so familiar. He traced a finger over the markings at the bottom of the page. “What are these?”
Kelsey looked up at him, puzzled. “The words?”
“I guess.”
She stared at him. “That’s what makes up the story.”
“Oh.” He gazed down at the letters. Maybe if he knew what they meant, he would know why these pictures seemed so familiar. “Could you… would you tell me what they say?”
Kelsey’s eyes widened. “Can’t you read?”
Owen’s gaze darted over to where Caitlin and Tara sat at the bar, still deep in conversation. He lowered his voice. “Sure, I can… read.”
Kelsey narrowed her eyes. “Then what does this say?” She pointed to a word at the bottom of the page.
He squirmed, trying to make out the letters. Or were they initials? Isn’t that what Caitlin had called the markings on the rock under the rose? Frustrated, he buried his hands in the damp material of his sweatshirt. Rocks and roses. Those he could understand. They had rocks and roses where he was from, wherever that was. But he’d never seen a book before. He reached out, touching a finger to the edge of the binding. It was sharp. Like the tip of a starfish.
“Owen?” Kelsey asked.
“Yes?”
“What does this word say?” She tapped the bottom of the page.
Folding his legs up, he wrapped his arms around them, hugging them to his chest.
Kelsey scooted closer, so their shoulders were almost touching, and lowered her voice. “It says, ‘selkie.’”
Owen’s eyes combed the page, staring at the dark creatures surrounded by silver fish and pink seashells. Like the ones in the cottage. He pushed his hand in his pocket and felt the shells. They were still there. He rolled them around in his hands and the quiet clinking calmed him. “What’s a selkie?”
Kelsey pointed to the creature on the page. “A selkie’s a seal that can turn into a woman on land.”
He picked up the book, looking more closely at the picture. “A seal that can turn into a… woman?”
Kelsey nodded. She reached over his shoulder, flipping through the pages while he held the book. “See,” she said when they came to a picture of a beautiful woman with long black hair on a beach, her seal-skin hidden beneath a rock.
“Are there selkies that can turn into a man?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never heard of one.”
Owen touched the page where the seal-skin was tucked under a rock. “Why does she hide it?”
“It’s complicated.” Kelsey smiled, reaching for the book. “Do you want me to read it to you?”
Owen held onto the book, shaking his head and refusing to let it go. Flipping back through the pages to the pictures of the seals deep in the ocean, he tapped a finger against the glossy page. “I’ve been there.”
“Where?”
“To this place.”
“You mean… snorkeling?”
“What’s snorkeling?”
“You don’t know what snorkeling is?”
Owen shook his head.
“It’s when you swim around with a mask that has a tube sticking up out of the water so you can breathe.”
“I wasn’t wearing a mask,” Owen murmured. “But I’ve been there before.”
Kelsey giggled. “You couldn’t have been there.”
“Why not?”
“Because humans can’t breathe underwater, silly.”
Owen stared at the pages. Slowly, he reached out and turned to the next page. Then the next. Then the next. He could taste it—the salt of the sea. The sense of weightlessness as the dark water surrounded him. The feeling of pushing through those cold waters with… he glanced down… something other than legs. He started to shiver as the song, an echo of harp strings in the distance, pulsed through that quiet kingdom of green.
Kelsey reached out suddenly, grabbing hold of his shirt. “You’re all wet,” she exclaimed, watching him shiver. “Is it raining out?” She pushed up on her knees to see out the window. “No. It’s still sunny out. How did you get wet?”
He could hear her voice, could feel her touching him, but he couldn’t make out the words. He stared at the picture of the pack of selkies swimming together. “How come all the selkies are black?”
“That’s the color of their seal-skin. It’s always black.” Kelsey tugged at his now-dripping shirt. “How did you get so wet?”
“Are there any white selkies?”
“I don’t think so.”
He flipped through the pages again, searching for one. “Do you have more?”
“More what?”
“More books.”
Kelsey sighed. “Yes, but I don’t think they have white selkies in them either.”
Owen bit his lip, flipping back through the pages. “Have you ever seen one?”
“A selkie?”
Owen nodded, looking at her intently.
Kelsey sat back and smiled. “Sort of.”
“What do you mean, ‘sort of?’”
“My mum’s part selkie.” Kelsey nodded at Tara.
Owen’s eyes went wide. “Your mum can turn into a seal?”
Kelsey giggled and Tara glanced over, smiling at them. “No, silly.” She lowered her voice. “But her great-great-great-grandmother was a selkie… It’s a long story.”
“Tell me.”
Kelsey’s brows lifted. “Now?”
He nodded urgently.
“I can’t. I’m playing football with Ashling and Ronan soon. You can come play with us if you want.”
“Football?”
“It’s a game.” Kelsey rolled her eyes. “Where did you come from?”
&nb
sp; He hugged his knees tighter to his chest.
Kelsey lifted her eyebrows. “Well?”
“I don’t know,” he whispered.
“You don’t… know?”
“I can’t remember.”
Kelsey stared at him, then scrambled to her feet, letting the book fall aside. She held out her hand. “Come on, we need to talk to my mum.”
“No!” He shook his head emphatically. “You can’t tell anyone.”
Kelsey’s eyes widened. “But we need to find out where you’re from!”
“I’ll figure it out. Please.” His eyes darted to the door. “Don’t tell your mother. Don’t tell anyone.”
Kelsey sank back down to the blanket. “Why not?”
“Promise me,” he said quickly.
Kelsey just stared at him.
His eyes darted around the room again. “If I come back tonight, will you tell me the story?”
Kelsey continued to stare at him when her great-grandmother came out of the kitchen, setting a piping bowl of porridge in front of Owen. “Extra brown sugar and cinnamon, like you asked for.”
“Thank you,” he said softly, wrapping his hands around the steaming bowl.
As soon as she turned her back, Owen grabbed Kelsey’s hand. “Promise me,” he mouthed.
“Okay,” she whispered, pulling her hand away and crossing her arms over her chest. Sitting back, she watched him for several moments with a puzzled expression on her face. “I promise.”
He picked up the spoon, bringing the warm sugary bite to his mouth, soothing his hunger. But his eyes strayed back to the pages of the book. He didn’t know where he was from. But he knew those creatures—selkies—and that world.
He scooped another piping hot bite into his mouth, savoring the sharp taste of the cinnamon on his tongue. He would figure this out. And he would get back to his home. But first he needed to figure out why all these selkies were black, when all he could remember was a cold, blinding white.
***
“Thank you for showing me around the island,” Nuala said, pausing outside the door to her rented cottage and smiling up at Liam. White caps chopped at the surface of the harbor, rocking the fishing boats docked at the pier. Seagulls soared above the rocky coastline, their solemn cries echoing over the water as they dipped and rolled with the wind. “I can see why you come back here so much. It really is beautiful.”
“It’s the most beautiful place in the world,” Liam agreed, dipping his hands in his pockets. “But showing you around is the least I could do after you saved my life.”
“Please stop saying that,” Nuala said. “Anyone would have done the same thing.”
“I’m not sure about that,” Liam countered, his eyes holding hers. “And I don’t think a walking tour quite repays what you did. Why don’t you let me take you and your son out to dinner tonight?”
“I don’t know,” Nuala said, looking out to the sea.
“What is it?”
“It’s Owen.” Nuala said softly. “He can be shy around strangers. I wouldn’t want him, or you, to get the wrong idea.”
“And what idea would that be?”
She lifted her eyes back to his. “I’m only here for a few days.”
Liam smiled and little lines fanned out from his eyes, warming them. “It’s only dinner, Nuala. Besides, there’s only the one place to eat on the island, and it’s my family’s pub so it’s not like it’ll just be the two of us. But I can ensure you’ll get special treatment.”
He flashed her a winning smile, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re very convincing.”
“When I see something I want, I usually get my way.”
So did she, Nuala thought, holding his gaze. And nothing was going to stop her from getting what she wanted this time. “Let me run it by Owen first. But thank you. It’s been a long time since either of us got special treatment. An evening out at an island pub sounds innocent enough.”
He held her eyes for a long moment, and innocent was the opposite of what she saw deep in those eyes. She looked away, feigning shyness.
“Until then,” he said, turning on his heel and strolling back toward the pub.
She watched him walk away, that long, lanky build so easy on the eyes and when she heard him begin to whistle an old Irish tune, she smiled, fishing out her key and letting herself into the cottage. The cottage the redhead—Caitlin—had decorated. She laughed as she looked around at the small details. The ridiculous bowls of tiny broken seashells. The mismatched kitchen table chairs. The flimsy curtains that barely offered a hint of privacy.
She hadn’t expected Liam to be completely unattached. Men who looked like that didn’t go around long without a girlfriend. But she hadn’t expected her competition to be so pathetic. It was almost too good to be true.
“Owen,” she called out to her son, running her fingers over a worn brass four-leaf clover hanging above the fireplace. “Time to get up.”
When she didn’t get a response, she walked into his bedroom, and spotted the three rocks stacked on his pillow. So he hadn’t forgotten everything after all. She crossed the room, collecting the rocks and dropping them into the pocket of her long white sweater. Owen always left three rocks when he wanted her to know he’d gone out but would be back soon.
Her hands closed around the rocks and she backed out of the room. The wind rattled the windows, pushing the scent of the sea into the house. She closed her eyes, breathing it in, fighting the force that pulled her to it. Three days. She could do this. The sea spray beckoned, crashing up onto the rocky shore below. A small sliver of beach led away from the harbor, curving around the rocky coast leading up to the cliffs.
It would be so easy to run down that worn path, to feel the wet sand beneath her feet, to dive into the salty waves and feel the cold ocean welcome her home. Home. She leaned against the frame of the door, breathing in the scent of salt and kelp. She would be there soon enough.
And everything she had ever wanted would be hers again.
She bolted the lock on the door to the cottage, in case Owen was on his way back now, and slipped into her bedroom. She dropped to her knees, cursing those flimsy lace curtains, and reached under the rug, prying the wooden floorboard loose with one of Owen’s rocks.
Pulling the carefully folded bundle from its hiding place, she ran an oiled rag lovingly over the soft seal-skin. She tucked the smaller child’s pelt back into the corner, and then pulled out a third pelt, letting the silky coat run through her hands. In three days they would return to the water.
And this time, they wouldn’t be going alone.
Chapter 6
The man had balls. Either that or Liam O’Sullivan was the stupidest man on the planet. Standing in Caitlin’s crowded living room, Glenna took in the gorgeous blonde walking with Liam through the doorway and shook her head. What was he thinking, bringing Nuala to Caitlin’s house tonight? Even if it was a fake birthday party, he didn’t know that. He didn’t know they’d already celebrated Glenna’s birthday last week and patched together this last minute party to help him get his memory back.
She watched him take Nuala’s coat and hang it with his on the hook beside the door. Oh, she wanted to knock some sense into that handsome face of his. She’d been so proud of Caitlin for coming up with the idea. But it was going to take a lot more than creativity to lure Liam away from this blonde. Glenna’s fingers curled around the stem of her glass when Nuala smiled up at Liam and whispered something in his ear. Distracted didn’t begin to describe the way she already had him wrapped around her pretty little finger.
“You don’t like her.”
Glenna jumped at the sudden voice in her ear. Sam. Just what she needed. He was close enough that she could smell the musk of his soap and the leather of his jacket. His hair was still wet, like he’d just stepped out of the shower. It was getting longer, curling down around the collar of his shirt. Why? Why did that have to make him more attractive? And why did Caitlin insist on inviting
him tonight? “No, I don’t.”
“How come?”
“Just a gut feeling.”
“I could ask her to leave,” he offered.
She turned to face him, gazing up into those whiskey-colored eyes. “How chivalrous of you.”
“What can I say?” He took a sip of bourbon. Ice clicked around in the glass. “You bring out the knight in me.”
He smiled and Glenna rolled her eyes. As much as she’d love to take this delicious man home tonight for an entirely different sort of birthday celebration, that was the problem with Sam. She’d need more than that. And then things would get complicated. As Caitlin so bluntly stated this morning, Glenna didn’t do complicated. “Thanks,” she said. “But I can manage.”
He reached out, twisting a finger around one of her long russet locks. Little shivers of pleasure danced along her skin. “You look incredible tonight. As usual.”
“And you look like you showered.” She smiled pleasantly, taking a sip of her wine. “How is life on the farm treating you?”
“Why don’t you come down sometime and I’ll show you.”
She lifted a winged brow. One of the guests brushed past her, jostling her, and she grabbed hold of his upper arm to steady herself. She could feel the rock-solid mass of muscle through his jacket and she drew her hand back quickly, smoothing it down her cashmere sweater. “I was there this morning, actually.”
“At Brennan’s?”
She nodded.
“Doing what?”
“Oh, just a little research.” She flipped her heavy hair back over her shoulder, out of his reach. She couldn’t have him rolling it around in his fingers like that. It was driving her crazy. “I needed to borrow some books.”
“What books?”
Glenna’s lips curved. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Sam leaned back against the wall. “Maybe I’ll just ask Brennan.”
“You could,” Glenna said slowly. “But I doubt he paid any mind to what I took.”
“You enjoy this, don’t you?” Sam’s eyes held hers, the little flecks of gold in them warming like the first snapping sparks of a fire. “Making me wonder what you’re up to.”