by Sophie Moss
“Enough,” Dominic warned, hauling Liam off Donal. “He got the message.”
Donal rubbed his jaw where it had smacked against the wood. “Idiot.” He spat out blood from where his tooth bit into his cheek. “If I had a woman like Caitlin in love with me, I wouldn’t fuck it up the way you keep doing.”
In love with him? Liam took a step back. Since when was Caitlin in love with him? A storm swell slammed into the pier, sea spray splashing the back of his legs. And what the hell did Donal mean, ‘keep fucking it up?’ The water flowed over the planks, seeping through the cracks. A sweet, sickening perfume curled into the wet air and his gaze fell to the pier when the sea receded, leaving a single white rose in its wake.
***
Caitlin stripped off her raincoat as Tara reached for the light switch automatically, forgetting the power was out. She took Owen’s jacket and hung them both on the rose-colored antique coat hanger, ushering Owen over to the pale green sofa in the corner while Tara pulled a battery-powered lamp from the cabinet.
Islanders were wary enough of doctors. The last thing they needed was to walk into a sterile room before getting stuck with a needle. A doctor’s office should be a place where you went to heal and feel better, not get poked and prodded and shepherded in and out with clipboards and charts like cattle.
She and Tara had worked hard to make sure the island’s first medical practice was a soothing and calming experience. It helped that it was a converted cottage, so it already felt more like a home than an office, but she welcomed the sense of peace that washed over her as Tara switched on the small lamp, placing it on the coffee table filled with magazines and books.
“The kitchen’s pretty backed up right now,” Tara said, settling into the worn wooden chair across from them. “Everyone brought over what was in their fridge and Fiona’s trying to find a way to salvage it. We have at least ten minutes, maybe twenty at the most.”
Owen’s hand gravitated to the stuffed seal on the table in the corner and he picked it up, squishing it between his fingers. “Is it true?” he asked, glancing up at her. “That you’re a selkie?”
Tara lifted a brow. “Who told you that?”
“Kelsey.” He set the stuffed seal in his lap, patting its soft fur.
“I see.” Tara exchanged a glance with Caitlin. “What else did Kelsey tell you?”
“She said all selkies are black. Is that true?”
Tara crossed her legs, sitting back in her chair. “As far as I know.”
“Have you ever seen a white one?”
Tara shook her head. “I haven’t.”
“Owen,” Caitlin said quietly. “We don’t have much time. I think Tara might be able to help us, but she needs to understand the situation first.” She reached over, smoothing a lock of wet hair out of his eyes. “I saw something this morning that I’d like Tara to see, too.”
Owen’s hands froze on the stuffed seal. “What did you see?”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she soothed. “But would you be willing to show Tara your toes?”
His fingers gripped the fur of the animal. “Why?”
“Because I think it’ll help her understand… things.”
Owen stared at the floor. “There’s nothing wrong with my toes.”
“I know that,” Caitlin murmured. “But Tara’s a doctor. You can trust her.”
Owen squeezed the stuffed animal, but he nudged off his sneakers and peeled off one of his socks.
“Your feet are webbed,” Tara murmured, noting the thin translucent layer of skin threading between each toe.
“Can I put my sock back on now?” Owen mumbled.
“Of course,” Tara said, bending down and slipping off her own sneaker. “But like Caitlin said, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.” She took off her sock and Caitlin stared at the webbing that attached Tara’s last three toes together on her left foot.
“I didn’t know…” Caitlin trailed off, embarrassed.
“It’s not that noticeable,” Tara admitted. “Really, it’s much more common than you think.”
Owen looked up at her, relief swimming into his eyes. “It is?”
Tara nodded, looking back at Caitlin. “Is that why you came in?”
Caitlin bit her lip. “Not exactly.”
“Okay,” Tara said, slipping her sock and shoe back on and settling back in her chair. “Now that we’ve established that Owen has webbed feet and that’s perfectly normal, what did you want to talk about?”
Caitlin fished the book out of the sofa cushion she’d tucked it into. She set it on the table between them.
Tara lifted a brow. “The Little Mermaid?”
Caitlin nodded. “Owen has a theory about his mother.”
“That has to do with The Little Mermaid?”
Caitlin wet her lips. It had seemed like a good idea to bring Tara into this at the time. Especially after everything that happened this summer. But now that she was here, in her office, it all felt beyond ridiculous. “Owen thinks his mother is a character in this story.”
“Interesting,” Tara commented, threading her fingers together over her knee. “Which character?”
Owen hugged the seal to his chest. “The sea witch.”
Tara blinked. “I see.” Looking out the window, she studied the rain streaking down the glass. “And what makes you think this?”
He told her the story, everything he’d told Caitlin back in his cottage. When he was finished, Tara stood, walking over to the window where a bouquet of lavender hung from the sill. She let her fingers trail over the silver ribbon binding the dried herbs. When she turned back, her face was pale. “Are there any other legends on this island I should be aware of, Caitlin?”
“I-I don’t think so,” Caitlin stammered. She’d come to Tara for an explanation, a logical, rational explanation to put this theory to rest. Didn’t she see how crazy it was?
Tara turned to Owen. “Does your mother know who you think she is?”
He shook his head.
“Good.” She looked at her watch. “We might have a few more minutes. I think we should take a quick trip to the beach before getting you home.”
“The… beach?” Caitlin stood, shaking her head. “It’s crazy out there.” She jerked a thumb toward the window at the pounding rain and raging winds. “We can’t go down to the beach right now.”
“Actually, we can.” Tara took Owen’s jacket off the coat hanger and held it out to him. “I have a theory of my own I’d like to test out.”
Chapter 13
“Hey,” Caitlin hissed, grabbing Tara’s arm on the way out the door. “What’s going on?”
“I’ll know when we get to the beach.” Tara zipped her jacket up to her neck and hunched her shoulders against the wind. “Come on, we don’t have much time.”
Several steps ahead of them, Owen sloshed through the puddles heading toward the rocky path dipping down to the sea. The ocean surged against the cliff wall and the scent of wet earth mixed with the peat smoke curling from the chimney of the pub.
“Tara,” Caitlin called. “Wait.”
Tara turned, blinking as cold rain sprayed her face. Caitlin trotted over the soggy earth to catch up to her, lowering her voice so Owen couldn’t hear. “Do you believe him?”
Tara let out a long breath. “No.”
“Then what are we doing?”
“Taking him to the seals.”
Caitlin took a step back. “The seals?”
Tara nodded.
“That’s your theory? That… what? He’s…?
“I don’t know,” Tara said, cupping her hand over her eyes to shield them from the rain. “Let’s just see what happens when he sees them, and they see him.”
Caitlin searched her eyes. “What do you think is going to happen?”
“Hopefully, nothing.” Tara turned, lengthening her stride to catch up to Owen.
“But what if something does happen?” Caitlin called.
“Then I’ll
know,” Tara shouted back over her shoulder.
“Know… what?”
Tara slipped her hand through Owen’s as he stepped onto the narrow path leading down to the deafening sea. “Hold onto the side of the wall with your free hand,” she instructed, positioning herself between him and the edge. She looked back at Caitlin. “After everything that happened this summer, if Owen thinks his mother is a character in a fairy tale, we can’t afford not to listen.”
Angry clouds rolled in, spitting more rain into the sea and she scanned the churning surface for the seals. Owen’s foot slipped on a rock. “Careful,” Tara warned, helping him down the slick trail to the sliver of sand. Waves licked hungrily at what was left of the beach, the white sand glowing an eerie silver in the dark storm.
“What’s it like to be a selkie?” Owen shouted, staring out at the waves as the sea sucked them back in a giant breath, and then exhaled again. Sea spray pelted their jackets and Tara let go of his hand.
“I’ll show you.” She strode forward, stripping her jacket and walking into the sea.
“Tara!” Caitlin shouted, scrambling across the sand and grabbing Owen’s hand as he started after her. “Stop!”
Tara turned, the icy waves rolling over her waist and in one graceful move, she lowered herself into the sea, disappearing under the surface.
“Where is she going?” Owen cried, struggling to go after her.
Caitlin wrapped her arms around him when Tara reemerged and a black shape materialized in the surf beside her, slowly rising out of the water. It bobbed on the surface, edging closer, tucking its head under Tara’s hand, those black eyes staring at Owen.
Tara lifted her other hand and held it out to Owen.
Caitlin’s eyes went wide. “No!”
“Let him go, Caitlin.”
More seals slid up to the surface, dark sleek shapes surrounding the woman in the sea. “Tara, what are you doing?” Caitlin cried as the ones on the outer edge of the circle started to swim toward the beach. She shrank back from them, pulling Owen back with her. “This is insane!”
“Caitlin, let him go.”
Owen tried to pull away and Caitlin locked her arms tighter around him. “He’ll freeze!”
“No, he won’t.”
The seals snorted water out of their noses, shuffling onto the sand. “What’s going to happen?” Caitlin cried.
“Let him go.”
It was like her own child was being ripped out of her arms and she felt hot irrational tears well up in her eyes as she let go and he scrambled out of her reach, racing into the icy water.
“Be careful,” she whispered, her words lost in the wind as she stumbled back, gripping the wet mossy rock wall behind her.
Tara caught Owen’s hand in hers and the waves swirled around them, the seals forming a circle. Tara squeezed his hand. “Are you cold?”
“No.” Owen shook his head, staring wide-eyed at the seals.
“Neither am I.”
The rain poured down around them and Caitlin watched, numb, as the ring parted slightly to let something floating over the surface of the waves inside the circle. She squinted through the curtain of rain, struggling to make out the shape as the seals edged it toward the child.
Owen caught it in his hand, steadying it in the waves.
Caitlin stopped breathing, her hand covering her mouth when she saw what Owen held—an infant’s cradle carved from the palest sun-washed driftwood, encrusted with pearls. “Hey,” he called, brushing his fingers over the grooves in the wood. “It has the same markings as the rock by the cottage.”
Caitlin’s fingers curled into the moss. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.
“What rock?” Tara asked.
“The one under the rose.” Owen explained, looking over at Caitlin. “What did you call them? Initials? I think they’re the same ones.”
“What rose?” Tara asked, her voice sharp and hard as glass.
“The white rose,” Owen explained, looking up at Tara as Caitlin sank to the sand, the ocean a roar in her ears.
“Caitlin!” Tara shouted as one by one the seals slid under the surface, disappearing back into the waves. “What rose?”
***
Glenna felt the shift, the sudden change in the energy of the air. Alone in her cottage, she closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of the ocean and loosened earth. The candles flickered erratically as a cold wind blew through the house and she stood, walking to the door.
The two women huddled on the other side were soaking wet. She took one look at the matching haunted expressions on Tara and Caitlin’s faces and pulled them inside without a word. She ordered Tara straight into the bedroom and made her change into dry clothes. She sent Caitlin to the fire and nestled a copper kettle onto the hook in the hearth, boiling water over the flames.
“Where did you find this?” Glenna asked quietly, nodding to the driftwood cradle.
“The ocean.” Caitlin set it on the carpet between them, letting her fingers drift off the soft, weathered wood. “The seals. They pushed it to shore.”
“To you?”
“To Owen.”
“Nuala’s son?”
Caitlin nodded.
“Where is Owen now?”
“We took him back to the cottage,” she answered as Tara came out of the bedroom, wearing a pair of Glenna’s slacks and one of her sweaters. She handed Caitlin a fresh towel, but Caitlin ignored it, letting it drop to the floor. Her red curls were plastered to her pale face and her fingers were white from the cold, but she couldn’t stop staring at the cradle.
Fat pillar candles of jasmine and sandalwood filled the room with a warm, earthy scent. Tara’s gaze fell to the intricate encrusting of pearls around the edges, the soft hollow scoop where a child would lay. “The seals sent this to us for a reason.”
Caitlin’s gaze flickered up, stricken. “Who is he? What is he? What does this mean, Tara?”
“I don’t know,” Tara admitted quietly. She looked at Glenna. “Do you… have you… seen the rose?”
Glenna nodded.
“Three more petals have fallen,” Caitlin whispered.
“What does it mean?” Tara asked.
“I don’t know yet,” Glenna admitted.
Tara searched her eyes. “You’d tell us, wouldn’t you? If you knew?”
“Of course.” Glenna laid a hand on Tara’s shoulder. “I would never let either of you walk into a danger you could not defeat.”
Tara swallowed the lump in her throat, remembering how she barely won the battle against her deranged ex-husband. Fear swam into her eyes as she looked over at Caitlin. Glenna squeezed her shoulder, reading her thoughts. She knew how hard it was to be on the sidelines. It was easier being the one it was happening to, the one who needed to do the fighting.
“Is he… safe with her?” Caitlin asked, lifting her troubled eyes to Glenna’s.
“Owen, you mean?” Glenna asked. “With Nuala?”
Caitlin nodded. “I’m afraid of him being alone with her.”
“What do you think she’s going to do to him?” Glenna asked gently.
Tara’s gaze drifted back to the cradle. “He thinks she’s the sea witch in The Little Mermaid.”
“Does he, now?” Glenna lifted a brow. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” Tara said, wringing her hands. “But I know she’s hiding something.”
The fire hissed, the flames licking at the copper kettle. When steam started to leak from the top, Glenna pulled it from the hearth and poured three cups of tea, setting one in front of each of them. She wrapped her hands around the cup, watching Caitlin for a long time as she continued to stare at the cradle. “She’s not the only one hiding something.”
Caitlin lifted her gaze to Glenna. Her steaming mug sat untouched on the floor in front of her. “What are you talking about?”
Glenna took a sip of her tea, the sharp taste of jasmine floating onto her tongue. “What are you hid
ing, Caitlin?”
“This isn’t about me.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No.” A warning sparked behind Caitlin’s eyes. “This is about a child who wants to escape from a mother he’s afraid of.”
“And you want to help Owen out of the goodness of your heart?”
“Yes.”
Tara looked back and forth between the two women, confused. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know.” Glenna set her mug back on the table. “Caitlin, why don’t you tell Tara what happened when you left the island ten years ago.”
Caitlin stared at Glenna, stunned. “Excuse me?”
“When you left the island,” Glenna repeated. “What happened during the time you were away?”
Caitlin’s eyes flashed. “You know nothing about that.”
“I might know more than you think.”
Caitlin pushed to her feet, anger and fear rippling off her in waves. “How?”
“Let’s just say I have my ways.”
“You’re crossing a line,” Caitlin warned.
“Caitlin.” Glenna rose, gazing across the candlelit room at her friend. “That line was crossed the moment Nuala and Owen arrived on this island.”
Caitlin’s voice was strained as her hands clenched at her sides. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“All you have to do is open your eyes.”
Chapter 14
Caitlin slammed the door, shoving her arms into the sleeves of her jacket, not even bothering to zip it. Cold drops of rain splattered her face as she splashed through the mud, heading for the cottage by the bogs, the one place on this island where no one would follow her, where she could be alone.
Open her eyes? What was that supposed to mean? She spotted the white rose and stalked over to it, grabbing it with both hands and trying to yank it out of the soil. The icy petals burned her fingers and she sank to the ground. What was it doing here? Why couldn’t she pull it up by the roots and get rid of it?
She wrapped her fingers around the frozen stem and squeezed, the thorns biting into her palms. She closed her eyes, remembering what happened to Owen when he touched it and fell into that terrible trance. She squeezed harder, reaching for that place, trying to see what he’d seen. But all she saw was the image of him wading out into the ocean and taking Tara’s hand as the seals surrounded him. She felt the sick pull of protectiveness again, that instinctive fear that only a mother can feel about her own child.