by Sophie Moss
Tara took the candle from his hand, peeling his fingers off it and setting it back on the table. “We still don’t know how much Glenna knew. She told me what she could, but there were still gaps. There were still missing pieces from her story.”
“That she left out on purpose.”
“Maybe not,” Tara disputed. We still don’t know how close she is to her mother. How much she really sees in her visions. I think there’s a reason for Glenna’s secrecy. That maybe she wasn’t trying to hurt us. That maybe she was trying to protect us.”
“From what?”
“From something bigger.”
Kelsey stirred and Tara cooed into her ear, gently laying her head back onto her shoulder.
Dominic lowered his voice to barely more than a whisper. “Not everyone deserves our forgiveness. I suppose you think Sam was trying to protect you by staying on the island after trying to kill you.”
“Sam was wrong to lead my deranged husband here. But Philip was the one who tried to kill me. Not Sam. And as soon as Sam realized what he’d done he switched sides and fought alongside us.”
“Whose side is Glenna on?”
“I don’t know,” Tara said after a long time. “But I won’t push her away. Not yet. Not until I know the truth. Dom…” Tara took a deep breath. “Caitlin told me about how Liam found a connection to your mother in the library, to this fairy tale. That she was the last one who checked it only weeks before she left you.”
Dominic looked away, shaking his head.
“You and Liam were right to be angry with her for leaving you when you were children. For leaving you with a worthless drunk of a man. But now we know there’s more to her story.” Tara laid her hand on Dominic’s arm. “Your mother was the grand-daughter of a selkie queen—of a white selkie. Don’t you think it’s possible she might have had a bigger reason for leaving, and a reason for burying that fairy tale?”
Dominic lifted his eyes to Tara’s—disbelief and anger swimming in them. “I don’t care why any of them did what they did. I just want my little brother back!”
Kelsey lifted her tear-streaked face from Tara’s shoulder. “Do you think…” Kelsey whispered when Dominic put his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking in anguish. “That there’s a way we could bring him back?” She looked up at Tara. “I know we don’t go to church every Sunday. But maybe could we say a prayer? Or make a wish? All at the same time?”
“Of course, Kelsey.” Tara squeezed her hand, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Whatever you want.”
“Maybe if we all think the same thing together at the same time…” Kelsey’s eyes swept over the barroom. “Maybe if we all hold onto something that’s really special to all of us.” Her face lit up and she crawled out of Tara’s lap. “I’ll be right back.” She jogged up the stairwell, running into her old bedroom, her footsteps echoing over the floorboards. She padded back down the steps in her socks, cradling a bowl filled with dried rose petals.
“These were yours,” she said to Tara, setting the bowl on the table and the scent of roses drifted up between them. “Caitlin saved some of the petals. We dried them last summer. She gave me these and said I should keep them to remember.”
Kelsey sprinkled the red petals into each of their hands. “Maybe there still some magic left in them. Maybe if we put some in our hands and wish together, we can bring him back.”
“Kelsey.” Dominic shook his head, but his voice broke over the words. And his fingers closed tightly around hers when she laid her hand in his. Tara slipped her hand inside his other hand and they formed a circle of three. They bowed their heads around the candlelit table, and closed their eyes as a red sun rose over the ocean, streaming in the windows of the pub.
***
Sam sat on the edge of Glenna’s bed, holding her hand, watching the gentle rise and fall of her breath. Her rich brown locks were splayed out over her pillows. He’d lit every candle in the room, thinking the familiar smells might help her heal. But no matter how long it took, he wouldn’t leave her. Not until she opened her eyes. Not until he knew she would be okay.
And when she did, he would find a way to convince her he had changed. That he could be trusted. That he was worthy of her love. He picked a single dried rose petal from the dish tucked into the corner of the shelf behind her bed. He knew Caitlin had given her these. That they were the magic roses from Tara’s cottage last summer. Caitlin had dried them and given them each a handful, to remember. He knew because she had given him some, too.
He’d pretended, at the time, that it wasn’t necessary. That she didn’t have to include him. But it had meant something to him. It had meant the world to him. After everything he’d done, she should have hated him. She should have never spoken to him again. But, instead, she’d thanked him. She’d included him. She’d given him a handful of dried rose petals, which he kept in the same spot, right next to his bed.
Swallowing a lump forming in his throat, he laid the petal in Glenna’s limp hand, pressing his palm to hers so the petal was between them. He closed his eyes and did something he hadn’t done since he was a child. He prayed. For Glenna. For Caitlin. For Liam. For Tara. For Brennan. For every person on this island who had shown him what it meant to believe in hope again.
And as the first rays of a brilliant sunrise glowed through the curtains of the room, he opened his eyes and saw that Glenna was watching him. A faint smile played at her lips and she curled her fingers around his palm, squeezing his hand.
***
Caitlin held her breath, waiting. There was only silence, a cool breeze rustling through the taller grasses edging the bogs. She listened for the sound of footsteps. For the sound of his voice. But nothing changed. She waited for what felt like an eternity. But when she opened her eyes again, it was still only the two of them. “Owen,” she said brokenly. “Please. It’s time to go home.”
“Wait,” he said squinting into the distance. “I think I see something.”
Caitlin followed his gaze and it did look like something, far off in the distance, like a faint wisp of smoke. She rubbed her eyes and when she looked back it was darker, almost like a shadow, or an outline of a person. When it started to move, she froze.
“Come on!” Owen said, tugging her with him onto the stone-and-boulder path that led to the northern shore.
Caitlin’s heart skipped a beat when she saw the dark shape form into a man, when she recognized Liam’s long, lanky strides heading toward them.
“It worked!” Owen yelled, letting go of her hand racing through the bogs, splashing through the puddles to meet him.
When she saw him standing there, the shells woven into his dark hair, a thin silver crown encircling his head, her breath caught in her throat.
“We did it!” Owen jumped up and down. “We brought you back.”
Caitlin paused, a yard away from him. What if he was just a figment of her imagination? What if none of this was even real? “Is it really you?”
He nodded, holding out his hand to her.
She saw the sea still shimmering on his skin, the starfish clinging to the hem of his dark pants. “Are you… here to say goodbye?”
“No.” He caught her hand, pulling her into his arms. He felt real. Warm. Muscular. Strong. Like Liam. She leaned into him, breathing in the scent of the ocean. When she started to shiver, he edged back, lowering his mouth to hers and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “I don’t understand…” Caitlin breathed, looking up at him. “We tried to bring you back. Last night, Glenna tried everything. But it didn’t work.”
He took her face in his hands. “It did work.”
“How?”
Liam smiled. “You brought me back.”
Caitlin shook her head. “But I don’t have any magic. I’m not…”
He cradled her face in his hands, brushing his lips over hers like the first rays of sunlight shining through a long winter’s snow. “There is no magic stronger than true love.”
Chapter 32
“And look,” she joked, “all twelve of them are yellow this time.” She closed her eyes, taking a good, long sniff. When she opened them again, they were shining. With love. For him. He would never tire of seeing that look in her eyes. Ever. She held out her free hand. “I missed you.”
He rubbed his thumb over her cheek, leaning down for a kiss. “And I missed you.”
She laughed when he pulled his hand back and showed her his fingers, covered now in pink paint. “Yes, well.” She gestured to her paint-splattered apron. “I thought it might be fun for the kids to help me paint the set of chairs I picked up at that flea market a few weeks ago. I haven’t decided on a place for them yet, but they’ll find a home in one of my cottages, someday.”
“Cait, you’ve talked about turning the cottage by the bogs into a home—into your home—for a long time. Since we were children. Do you still want to do that?”
“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I used to think that’s what I wanted. But I rather like living in the middle of the village, being a part of the hustle and bustle.” She rolled her eyes at herself. “As much of a hustle and bustle as there ever is on the island. But we can talk about it, if you…”
“No.” He shook his head, relieved. “I’d much rather be here, too. I had some time to think on the ride over and I wonder if you might want to turn that cottage into your workshop. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about where to store things.”
She laughed. “I think when you see inside the house, you’ll want that particular project to get moving sooner rather than later.”
Children’s laughter and conversation bubbled out into the street through Caitlin’s open door. Liam spied Tara inside, her hair covered in paint, pointing at the furniture and trying to talk the kids—Owen, Ronan, Ashling and Kelsey—into painting the chairs instead of each other. “Looks like she’s got her hands full.”
“I’m afraid we lost control hours ago.” She angled her head. “Are you sure you’re ready for it? You’ve lived a pretty quiet life up until now.”
He grinned, reaching for the door. “I’ve never been more ready for anything.” When she caught his hand, he paused.
“What’s that?” She pointed to the envelope sticking out of his pocket.
He pulled it out, sending her a lopsided smile. “I almost forgot.”
Caitlin saw the official stamp and her eyes widened. “It came.”
He nodded. “Today. Sarah stopped me on my walk up. Asked me to bring it to you. She knew you’d want to see it right away.”
She didn’t bother wiping her hands. She tore into it, reading the letter and letting out a long breath. “He’s ours. The test results came back positive.”
“Not that we needed that letter to know.”
“Still.” She tucked it in her apron pocket, looking up at him. “I’m glad we have it. And it’ll make things easier from a legal standpoint. For doctor’s visits. For when he applies to university.”
He smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear. “That’s a bit of a ways off, I hope.”
She smiled. “He’s a fast learner. He’ll catch up in no time.”
Liam nodded, glancing through the doorway again and watching Owen try to dab Ashling’s cheek with a brush of paint. She ducked, squealing and batting his hand away. “He seems to be adjusting well.”
“He is.” Caitlin nodded. “But he’ll be glad you’re back. He’s been after me to stay up with him and read late into the night. You’ve been spoiling him.”
“And I plan to continue spoiling him. For a very long time.” He grinned and pushed open the door. The children squealed and rushed over, all wanting to show him what they’d done at the same time. Liam scooped Owen up in a bear hug, not caring at all when he rubbed his paint-covered hands all over his sweater. “I see you’ve been helping your mother.”
“She let me mix the colors. I came up with a new one. It’s called chocolate mint.”
“It looks more like slime,” Kelsey argued.
Liam looked down at Owen’s greenish-brown hands, a mixture of every paint color in Caitlin’s stash. “I can see that.” He laughed, setting him back down.
Tara walked over, picking paint out of her hair. “Kelsey, Ashling, Ronan, time to go.”
“You don’t have to leave,” Liam said.
“Oh, believe me,” Tara said. “It’s way past time to go.” She shook her head as the three kids dashed out into the street. “Ashling and Ronan’s parents are going to kill us when they get a look at their clothes.” She picked another glob of paint out of her hair. “I take it the presentation at the conference went well?”
“Very well,” Liam answered. “Though, I might have left out a few bits and pieces of the ending.”
Tara winked. “Best not to let the general public in on all of our family secrets. By the way,” she lowered her voice. “I’ve talked to Sam about tracking down your mother. He’s agreed to look into it.”
“And Dominic’s okay with it?”
“Not quite yet,” Tara admitted. “But he will be.” She smiled, waving goodbye to Caitlin as she followed the children into the street. “I’ll see you both at the pub later for dinner tonight.”
Caitlin nudged Owen into the hallway. “Go on into the washroom and scrub the paint off your hands. And use the faucet in the tub,” she called out, shaking her head when she heard the one in the sink turn on.
Liam wandered over to where Caitlin was cutting the end of the stems off, fussing and fluffing the flowers, moving them around until they were perfect and then carrying them over to set in the center of the kitchen table. “I’ve been meaning to ask… why are yellow roses your favorite?”
Caitlin glanced up. “Because they’re the color of friendship.”
“You knew that?”
“Of course, I knew that. Did you know that?”
“I found out… recently. But, then, would you have preferred I brought you a dozen red ones this time? If only for the meaning?”
“Not at all.” She moved one of the flowers around again. “I’ve always thought love—true love—should be based on friendship. Love can’t last unless it has a strong foundation to grow from. And I believe the strongest foundation is real friendship.” She edged one more flower a quarter of an inch, and then stepped back, satisfied. “I want to know that when we’re wrinkled and gray and hobbling around with sticks, we’ll still have things to talk about. We’ll still enjoy each other’s company. We’ll still be able to make each other laugh.”
“Love based on friendship…” Liam echoed. “Like a childhood friendship?”
“Yes.” Caitlin’s lips curved. “Exactly.” Her eyes sparkled as they met his across the room. “In my opinion, that’s the best kind.”
The sound of the water running stopped and Owen dashed into his bedroom—the spare room they had fixed up for him—and came back out holding a book. “I read a full sentence while you were gone,” he told Liam. “Do you want to hear it?”
“Of course,” Liam answered, feeling a rush of pride well up inside him as he listened to Owen reading him a line from one of his old children’s books. It was hard to believe this was his life now. That Owen was his son. That Caitlin had finally admitted her true feelings for him. That after all this time, all he’d ever wanted was finally going to be his.
Half-painted furniture cluttered the living room. A tarp, covered in paint cans, was pushed up into a corner. There were dirty paintbrushes piled up in the kitchen sink. It was exactly the kind of chaotic but simple life he’d always wanted to live here on the island with Caitlin. “Owen, I have a sentence I’d like you to read out loud for me. It’s a question I have for your mother.”
<
br /> He unfolded a piece of paper from his pocket. “I wrote it down on the way over. Would you read it to her, from me?”
Owen took the paper, his mouth forming a thin line like it did whenever he was trying to concentrate. “Will you… mah… mah…” He glanced up at Liam, who looked down at the paper.
Liam touched his hand to the paper, sounding out each syllable. “Mar-ry.”
Owen’s eyes lit up. “Will you marry me?!”
Liam withdrew a ring from his pocket. He dropped to one knee and Caitlin sucked in a breath when he held out a sparkling circle of gold, glittering with an exotic cluster of pearls, sapphires and diamonds. “It was my grandmother’s,” he whispered, his heart in his throat. “She wanted you to have it.”
“Your grandmother…?” Caitlin’s eyes went wide when he slipped the ring onto her finger.
Liam rose, his eyes twinkling. “From my mother’s side. She wants to meet you one day—the human woman whose love was so strong it could break a white selkie’s spell.”
“Mum,” Owen tugged on her hand. “Are you going to say yes?”
Liam grinned down at her. “How would you like to be a princess?”
Caitlin stared down at the ring. She let out a long shaky breath. “You can’t lord it over me, you know—that you’re selkie royalty.” She looked up at him, a warning in her eyes. “Even if I say yes, you’re still the same ordinary land-man as far as I’m concerned.”
Liam took her face in his hands. “I don’t care who I am.” He pressed his lips to hers. “As long as you’ll be my wife.”
Caitlin wrapped her arms around him and he lifted her up off the floor. “God help me, Liam O’Sullivan. I thought you’d never ask.”
***
On a lonely stretch of beach, a driftwood fire burned. Glenna stood in the sand, gazing out at the sea, her long hair whipping around her face.
Her mother stood beside her, watching the fishing boats bob around the string of islands to the north. “You’re getting soft.”