by Sophie Moss
He gave Glenna a clean towel to dry her hands and reached under the sink for a First Aid kit, unwinding a wad of gauze. “Are you going to tell me what this is about?”
“We were fine before you came here, Sam. You brought trouble to this island.”
Sam shook his head. “That’s not good enough.” He took her hand and wrapped the gauze gently around it. “Besides, Liam asked to find his mother. Brennan asked me to help out on the farm.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and cut the strip of gauze with his teeth. “You need me, even though you won’t admit it yet.”
Glenna stepped back, out of his reach. “No one needs you, Sam.”
Sam set the gauze down. She might as well have jabbed the blade into his gut. Because the truth was, no one had ever needed Sam. He had only ever succeeded in bringing pain and heartache to everyone he loved by digging up awful truths and finding things that were better left buried.
But where he might have accepted that as truth before, he didn’t anymore. Not after the friendships he’d made on this island. Not after everything that had happened since he’d arrived. He was finally starting to have faith again, to believe he could have a different life.
Part of the reason he’d agreed to take on this last case was to prove to everyone, especially Glenna, that he’d changed. “I’m not leaving, Glenna. I’m going to find Dominic and Liam’s mother. And then I’m going to come back and help Brennan with the farm. Whether you like it or not, as long as we’re both living on this island, I’m a part of your life.”
Glenna looked down at her wrapped hand. “You need to stop this investigation. You need to stop it now.”
“I can’t.” Sam said. “I won’t. Not unless you tell me that this case is somehow putting you in danger.”
Glenna’s gaze shifted back to the window, where a ghostly glow illuminated those midnight-blooming roses. “I’m not the one you should be worried about.”
The bell on the door of the market jingled as Caitlin stepped into the street. The morning sun hung like a tarnished bronze ball in the hazy sky, and the warm winds blowing through the village smelled of sea salt and roasting ham. She headed for the pub, pausing when she spotted Glenna round the corner.
“Where are you going in such a hurry?” Caitlin asked.
Glenna glanced up, hesitating for only a second. “The ferry.” She dug in her purse, her silver bracelets jangling as she pulled out her watch. “I’m headed to Galway to do some shopping.”
“The ferry’s gone,” Caitlin said. “Finn and Sam left about a half hour ago.”
Glenna stopped short. “What?”
Caitlin shifted the paper bag she was carrying to her other arm. “Sam finally got through to a librarian he’s been trying to reach—the one who knew Brigid. She arrived home late last night from holiday and called him to set up a time to talk. He wanted to leave early so he could make it to Dublin on time.”
Glenna looked out at the water, fear swimming into her eyes as she spotted the ferry, barely a dot in the distance.
Caitlin frowned. “I’m sure Finn would have waited if he’d known you wanted a ride.”
Glenna pushed at her heavy hair. “Since when does Finn leave early for anyone? He always leaves at ten. Exactly at ten.”
You might still be able to catch a ride with Donal.” Caitlin glanced over her shoulder at the harbor to see if the fisherman’s boat was still there. “I’m not sure if he’s left yet.”
“He’s gone,” Glenna murmured, her gaze already locked on the empty boat slip.
A gull cawed, circling the harbor. Caitlin watched it land on a piling, noticing how low the water mark was on the wood. A wave of uneasiness washed through her when she looked back at Glenna, noting the dark circles under her friend’s eyes. Her thick brown waves were knotted around her silver necklace and a single garnet teardrop dangled from her left ear. She’d forgotten to put in her other earring.
“Is everything alright?”
Glenna slid her purse back onto her shoulder, looking back to the ferry. “I really needed to get to Galway today.”
“Well,” Caitlin said slowly. “You could help me shop instead.”
“For what?”
Caitlin held open the bag so Glenna could see inside. “Sarah special ordered them for me. I know it seems silly—it’s not like I’m planning some big fancy event—but I wanted to get some ideas.”
Glenna pulled out one of the glossy bridal magazines. She looked at it for a long time with an unreadable expression on her face before lifting her eyes to Caitlin’s. “I should have been the one to give you these.”
Caitlin shrugged, tucking the bag back under her arm. “You’ve been busy.”
“I have,” Glenna admitted. “But not too busy to help my best friend shop for her wedding dress.” She draped her arm around Caitlin’s shoulders. With one last look at the retreating ferry, she steered her toward the pub.
GLENNA SETTLED ONTO one of the swivel stools at the bar as Caitlin went into the kitchen to ask Fiona to fix them a plate of scones. The last thing she wanted to do right now was look through bridal magazines, but her friend deserved this. She deserved to be happy, especially after the pain and heartache Moira—her own mother—had put Caitlin through.
She took a deep breath, running a hand through her hair. Maybe Sam would be okay on his own. Maybe it was proximity to her that caused the most danger. Maybe it would be best for all of them if she tried to act normal. She glanced up when Caitlin walked back out.
“Dominic’s trying to fix the broken refrigerator,” Caitlin explained as he started banging around in the back. “It blew a fuse this morning, probably because of this bizarre heat wave.”
Glenna nodded, looking away. The heat would only get worse as the days passed. She spotted Owen and Brennan in the corner. They were sitting in the two arm chairs by the window, the elderly man puffing on a wooden pipe while Owen read aloud. “Shouldn’t Owen be in school?”
Caitlin snagged two mugs from the rack above the bar, setting them on the counter. “Mary thinks we should wait until he’s a bit farther along to introduce him into the classroom. I work with him in the morning and Liam at night, but Brennan’s been chipping in a couple hours each day. He’s been a big help.”
Glenna took the magazines out of the bag, spreading them out on the counter. “Wouldn’t he learn faster if he was exposed to other students, even if they aren’t his age?”
“Yes.” Caitlin dropped a bag of Earl Gray tea into each cup, her expression clouding. “But some of the kids have been giving him a hard time.”
“Who?”
Caitlin poured hot water over the tea bags. “Well…Ronan, mostly.”
“Ronan’s always giving someone a hard time.”
“Yes, but lately he has his sights set on Owen.” Caitlin set the kettle down. Across the room Owen stumbled over a word as he read aloud. “Because he’s…different.”
Glenna’s heart went out to him. Owen was learning to read for the first time because he’d spent the first ten years of his life underwater.
She had a pretty good understanding of what he was going through.
Caitlin pushed one of the cups toward her and Glenna took it, blowing on the steam rising out of the water. “But he’s adjusting, right?”
“He is.” Caitlin walked around the bar and settled onto the stool beside Glenna. “It’ll take time. I have to keep reminding myself of that.” Poking at the magazines, she sighed. “I have to admit, it feels strange to plan a wedding after all this time. Liam and I have such a history together. It’s not like we met a couple years ago and this celebration is marking the start of our lives together. I gave birth to his son ten years ago.”
“A son who you just got back,” Glenna reminded her. “And who you’re both just getting to know.” She put her hand on Caitlin’s. “You deserve this.”
Caitlin’s eyes widened when she looked down at their joined hands. “What happened to you?”
Glenna
pulled her hand back quickly. She’d ditched the gauze from last night, using one of Tara’s balms to seal the wounds. But she’d forgotten the red scratch marks on her skin. “I was digging in the garden yesterday. I had a bit of a misunderstanding with the rosemary.”
“Since when does rosemary have claws?”
“I’m fine. The marks will be gone by tomorrow. I got carried away with the weather being so warm.”
Caitlin pulled her gaze from Glenna’s hand. “I know you like to garden, but take it easy, okay?”
“I will.” Glenna smiled, opening one of the magazines and turning the picture to face Caitlin. “What about something like this?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“What?” Glenna asked. “It’s pretty.”
Caitlin made a face. “It’s strapless. I have enough to worry about without my dress falling down.” She picked up a magazine and flipped through it, frowning. She tossed it down and reached for the next one. “Who wears these dresses, anyway?”
Glenna stifled a laugh. “Lots of brides think these dresses are beautiful.” She held up another picture of a model wearing a full-skirted gown with a heart-shaped neckline. “Like something out of a fairy tale.”
“Right,” Caitlin said sarcastically. “Come on, Glenna.” She pointed to a picture of a woman wearing a veil that resembled a puffed-up cotton ball. “Would you wear any of these dresses to your wedding?”
Glenna looked down, brushing a hand over the magazine.
“Oh.” Caitlin straightened. “Sorry. Sometimes I forget you were married before.” She set the magazine down and glanced back up at her friend. “If you don’t mind my asking, what was your wedding like?”
“I’d rather not…”
“Come on,” Caitlin urged. “You can at least tell me about the dress.”
Glenna’s gaze shifted to the open door. A gull glided over the village, riding the salty breezes. “It was white silk. Armani.”
Caitlin let out a low whistle. “Fancy.”
“Yes.” Glenna pulled her gaze back to the magazine, turning to the next page. “It was very fancy.”
“I know it wasn’t a friendly divorce, but do you ever hear from him? I mean, you guys were married.”
“No.”
“Do you ever wonder about him?” Caitlin pressed. “What he’s up to?”
“No.” Glenna paused in the middle of turning a page when she heard Owen reading a new story aloud. She swiveled in her chair. “What’s Owen reading?”
“I’m not sure.” Caitlin shrugged, eyeing Glenna strangely. “One of Brennan’s books, maybe?”
OWEN SET THE book down in his lap. “Brennan, how come I never saw a mermaid when I was living underwater?”
Brennan puffed on a pipe. Smoke drifted out the open window. “I imagine Nuala was careful to keep you well hidden when there were mermaids nearby.”
“Why? Don’t mermaids and selkies get along?”
“Not exactly.” Brennan leaned back in the chair, the leather creaking under his weight. “The mermaids are the protectors of the sea. The selkies are the connection between the sea folk and the land folk. They are supposed to maintain the peace between the two.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Aye.” Brennan’s lips closed over the pipe. “As long as the selkies hold up their end of the bargain.”
“Why wouldn’t they?” Owen tucked his legs under him, shifting to face Brennan. “Don’t the selkies want peace?”
“Most of them, yes. But every now and then a selkie is born who has a different agenda.”
Owen glanced across the room at Glenna. When he saw that she was watching him, he looked away quickly.
“Like Moira?” Owen asked, lowering his voice.
“Aye,” Brennan said.
“Are there others?” Owen whispered. “Like Moira?”
“No. But there have been.” Brennan glanced up as Fiona walked out of the bar, setting a plate of scones in front of Caitlin and Glenna. “In the past.”
The two women turned around to chat with Fiona. Owen scooted closer to Brennan. “What happened?”
Brennan stretched out his legs, his knees cracking as his muddy work boots scuffed over the floorboards. “A long, long time ago, a selkie princess fell in love with a merman.” Brennan dug in his pocket for his pipe tobacco. “Now, this was something that almost never happened,” he added, packing a fresh pinch of sweet-smelling tobacco into his pipe. “It wasn’t forbidden, but it wasn’t encouraged either.”
“Why? Because selkies are only supposed to fall in love with their own kind?”
“No.” Brennan shook his head. “Because of how powerful their child would be.”
Owen watched Brennan fumbling with his pack of matches. He took them from the elderly man’s stiff fingers and lit a match for him, holding it over his pipe.
Brennan puffed on the pipe until the tobacco caught fire, then settled back into the chair. “Selkies and mermaids are powerful enough on their own. But a child of a union of these two creatures has unimaginable powers.” He let the pipe dangle from the corner of his bearded mouth. “It’s all about balance, you see. When any one person or creature gets too much power, everything shifts out of balance.”
“Did they have a child?”
Brennan nodded. “They did. A daughter. And she grew up to be the most beautiful siren anyone had ever seen. Both families showered her with love and affection and the most precious jewels in all the sea. But after a while, she became greedy and spoiled. She wanted more than what her parents could give her, and she started to spend long hours on the surface by the busy sea ports, where the trading ships came and went.
“She began to abuse her powers, luring helpless men into the sea. She would sing to them from the rocks until they followed her into the waves and drowned. She got great pleasure from exploiting her power over men. She disrupted entire armies preparing a ship for battle or sailing out of port. When she lured one of the greatest warriors mankind has ever known into the sea, the men became enraged and fought back.”
“Did they catch her?” Owen asked.
Brennan shook his head. “They could never get close enough to catch her, but they rounded up dozens of innocent seals and slaughtered them instead. They captured entire families of mermaids in massive trolling nets and murdered them.”
Owen shuddered, wrapping his arms around his stomach.
“You see,” Brennan continued, “back then, mermaids and selkies were more common in the shallow waters and men knew who and what they were. They were not the creatures of legends and myths as they are now. But men viewed selkies and mermaids as one and the same—terrors to mankind, creatures to be feared.”
“But it was only the one siren,” Owen protested.
“It was,” Brennan agreed. “But when the mermaids got word of what was happening, they demanded the siren be handed over to them. The selkies refused, and almost started a war between the two species. As punishment, the mermaids corralled the selkies into the waters around these islands and set up boundaries. They took away their freedom to roam the seas and declared that if a child was ever born of a selkie/merman union again, they would destroy it.”
Owen’s eyes went wide. “The selkies aren’t allowed to leave the waters around these islands?”
Brennan shook his head. “These waters are a sanctuary. They are protected space for the selkies. As long as they stay inside the boundaries, they’re safe.”
“What happens if they try to leave?”
“The mermaids will kill any selkie who tries to leave the boundaries. It’s the only way they can ensure that they maintain control, and that everything stays balanced.”
Owen’s gaze fell to the book. He thought back to the years he’d spent underwater with Nuala. He remembered how they’d lived in that empty white palace, surrounded by tall locked gates. He remembered how sometimes they would hide for days in one room, and she wouldn’t let him come out. “It was really
dangerous for Nuala and me to be banished from the safe haven, wasn’t it?”
“Aye.” Brennan said quietly. “I’m amazed you survived as long as you did.”
“HEY,” CAITLIN WHISPERED as soon as the kitchen door swung shut behind Fiona. “What’s going on with you? You hardly said two words the whole time she was out here.”
“It’s nothing.” Glenna picked up a napkin, wiping at a nonexistent spot on the bar. “I guess I’m curious…why isn’t Owen reading selkie stories? The legends of our islands, our culture? He should be reading those, not mermaid stories.”
“Is that all?” Caitlin said, gathering up her magazines. “I don’t care what story he reads as long as he’s reading.”
Glenna turned, catching a glimpse of Owen out of the corner of her eye. Caitlin’s hands stilled on the magazines when she saw the look on her friend’s face. “Glenna,” Caitlin said quietly. “Is there some reason he shouldn’t be reading that book?”
“Of course, not.” Glenna lifted a shoulder lightly. “Owen should read whatever book he wants.”
The working class neighborhoods on the outskirts of Dublin were a jumble of gray stone buildings and winding streets. Remnants of Christmas still clung to some of the homes; tattered garlands drooped from metal railings and dried-out trees lay across the gritty sidewalk, waiting for the weekly trash pickup.
Sam pulled onto a narrow street and parked, cutting the engine. He took in the squat row house at the end of the block. Green shoots sprouted out of the tidy beds flanking a brick stoop and a stack of colorful pots leaned against a bag of soil.
Someone was hoping to get a jump start on spring.
Unfolding himself from the car, Sam ignored the dog barking at him from behind a barred window of one of the neighboring houses. He strode up to the cherry red door and rapped lightly.