Secrets of Selkie Bay

by Shelley Moore Thomas

  And her lips were pale. I felt her head.

  Fever.

  I started quickly toward home. I thought about going to find Da at the other side of the harbor, at the workmen’s dock, where the tourists never went because rusted-out boats in dry-dock didn’t look all that pretty. But it was a long walk past a couple of pubs that weren’t as fancy as the three named after the pirate queen. Maura said they were seedy and to steer clear. I hadn’t liked it one bit when I’d had to walk there before. Besides, I didn’t want Da to have to leave work early again.

  So I hurried home. As I jogged, Neevy bounced gently in the pram, but didn’t stir.

  * * *

  Neevy’s fever continued throughout the morning, and into the afternoon. I kept trying to feed her water and milk, but she liked neither.

  At two o’clock, Ione burst through the door. “Oh, Cordie, you’ll never guess what I did!”

  “Well, you’re a couple of hours late. Where have you been?” I asked, keeping Neevy covered up so Ione wouldn’t see her red arms and worry about the fever. Ione was too much of a worrier as it was.

  “That Mr. Doyle is … well … weird,” Ione said. She went to the kitchen and took a piece of bread and ate it hungrily. I had forgotten to put it away after I tried to feed it to Neevy. It was probably a little stale, but at least someone would eat it and I hadn’t wasted it. I needed to remember to take better care of things.

  “What work did he make you do?” I asked. “I had to dust, stack stuffed animals, and arrange pamphlets yesterday.”

  “Well, at first he just squinched his eyes up tight and looked at me, like I was a frog or something. He said that if he didn’t know better, he would think he was looking right at a young selkie, what with my eyes and hair being so dark and all. And then I told him ‘Well, that’s because my mum is a selkie, but it’s a secret. So don’t tell.’”

  “You told him what?” I stood up, nearly dropping Neevy. She roused, fussed a little, then went back to sleep.

  “I know it was a secret, but, Cordie, you won’t believe what he said.”

  “Let’s hear it,” I said, knowing what was coming next. He must have told Ione what an idiot she had for a big sister. He must have told her that her sister had told her a big fat lie. Both of which points, at this moment, were true.

  “He said ‘I knew it!’ and he slapped his leg, like I’d just told him a joke. ‘I knew it! I knew it!’ He danced around. I didn’t know he could move like that. He looked really funny. So I laughed. And, Cordie, Mr. Doyle laughed, too!”

  Mr. Doyle was not capable of laughter. There was some kind of mistake.

  “He wanted the details then, so I told him all I could remember. And I told him about the old book and he asked if he could borrow it, so of course I said yes. You know, I think I was wrong about him. I don’t hate him, after all. And then, oh, we had so much fun.”

  I was getting a little mad at Mr. Doyle. Sure, he hadn’t called me a liar and told Ione that there were no such things as selkies. He hadn’t crushed the tiny hope that I had given her.

  But maybe it would have been better if he had.

  “He took me out on his boat, Cordie. The one he gives tours on. He says he’s going to make a big sign for me to hold and put me right out in front of his store. Then we chugged all around the harbor in his tour boat, even though it smells like car smoke. He said it would be good for business to have a selkie girl seen riding in his boat. Cordie! Don’t you see? Mr. Doyle thinks I might actually be a selkie, too!”

  And this was the moment I knew it had gone too far.

  “Ione, calm down.” My voice was gentle and quiet, so quiet, in fact, that it actually got Ione’s attention.

  “What’s the matter, Cordie? Why are you like this?” she whined. Then her eyes got wide. “Did you hear something from Mum?”

  I felt my pocket for the letter to make sure it was still hidden, and took a deep breath.

  “Ione, the stories I told you, well, they were just stories. You know that, right? You are not a selkie. Mum is not—”

  Ione flipped her hand at me, brushing me off. “I knew you’d say that. Mr. Doyle told me you might.”

  “Ione—”

  She wasn’t listening. She was at the sink filling a glass with water, turning the tap all the way on to drown me out.

  “I mean you were right,” she went on. “Of course she’s a selkie. Otherwise, why did she leave?” Ione whipped around and faced me again and within one second, she had gone from bubbly to heartbroken. “Because she doesn’t love us? She does love us, doesn’t she?” she asked, the tears coming.

  “Of course she does.”

  “Then we have to try and get her to come back,” Ione wailed.

  * * *

  And that’s how we ended up back at the shorefront that afternoon, feverish baby and all, the midsummer wind whipping at our cheeks and tugging at the ends of our hair, except for Neevy, of course. Facing west toward the waves, we stood and did the only thing we could think to do to get our mum to return. The only thing the legends said would summon a selkie. It was Ione’s idea, and I just didn’t have it in me to say no. It would have looked strange to passersby, so luckily there weren’t any. Just us, the three Sullivan girls, crying our seven silver tears into the sea and letting them float atop the foam, hoping they would bring our mum back to us.

  Alone

  WHEN DA GOT HOME we ate a simple meal of soup and cheese sandwiches. Mum hadn’t liked cheese sandwiches, but the rest of us could never get enough of them.

  “There’s an old boat that needs restoring at a museum over in Glenbay,” Da said finally, as if testing the words on his tongue. “The money is good, very good in fact, but I feel bad leaving you girls all alone.” He paused and took a spoonful of soup. “It wouldn’t be for long, a couple of days maybe.” He didn’t have to say that we needed the money. We all knew it. And it wasn’t the first time his work had taken him away from Selkie Bay, just the first time since Mum left. “I could have Maura watch over you.” He gestured toward town with his soup spoon. “I’ll phone her about it tonight.”

  Ione started to protest, but I kicked her under the table, not hard, but just enough to get her attention. “I’ll do it, Da. I’ll talk to Maura tomorrow for you.”

  Da took a bite of his sandwich and looked over at Ione, whose eyes were watering from the kick. Such a drama queen.

  I gave her a look. A hard, hard look. Shut up or he’ll find out Maura’s gone and then he won’t be able to go.

  “But, Cordie—” she blurted out, cheese and chewed bread completely visible. If I could have shot lightning bolts out of my eyes and fried Ione’s tongue into silence, I would have.

  “It’ll be fine.” I was smiling too much, in that forced way where your cheeks do all the work, pulling your mouth up and crinkling your eyes, like the happiness is real.

  Da turned to me and said, “If you could do that, Cordie, if you could talk to Maura about looking after you girls, it will save me from having to find time to do it.”

  He turned back to his dinner and I glared at Ione, praying that she wouldn’t ruin this. Then she started to smile, the real kind of smile. She probably thought our little trick at the dock would bring Mum waltzing back through the door. Thankfully, at least she was silent.

  “Sure, Da. I’ll see to it in the morning.”

  True, I didn’t like lying, but I was a practical person—a person who does what needs to be done (like making up stories for Ione that she needs to hear, even though I worried about making a big mess of it all) and what needed to be done now was Da going off to Glenbay and making lots of money, and Ione and me looking after ourselves.

  And Neevy, too.

  “… and Neevy looks better,” Da was saying. I nodded, trying to pay attention. Neevy was on a blanket on the floor nearby, playing with a large rubber spoon from the kitchen. “How’s the fever?”

  “Gone, I think,” I said. This time I was telling the truth. Ne
evy was better this evening than she had been this morning. But maybe it helped that the night was bringing a cool, salty breeze to the house from the nearby sea. Neevy always seemed more active when the air had a chill. And a thick, moist fog was rolling in.

  “Good,” Da said. “I’m catching a ride with Old Jim to Glenbay in the morning. Can’t imagine him on those winding roads in a fog like this.” Da rose, went to the sink, washed his bowl, then proceeded to sort through his toolbox, making sure he had the things he needed for the job.

  “I’ll clean up,” I told Ione. “Why don’t you play with Neevy for a bit?”

  Ione hated chores, so she rose and swept Neevy away to the sitting room before I could change my mind. I gathered the bowls and plates from the table and began to wash them, debating with myself whether I had the courage to tell Da about the lies I’d told to Ione. The big, fat, selkie lies. It had been wrong and I knew it. I just didn’t know how to get out of it. I didn’t know how to tell her the truth and make her believe me, without making everything worse.

  Except that if I told Da, then he’d know I was a person who told lies, and he might figure out that I was lying about having Maura watch over us. I was staring out the window over the sink, trying to organize my jumbled brain when Da said, “Cordie, you all right? The water’s been running an awful long time.”

  I quickly shut off the tap and turned to face him. He was squatting on the floor of the small kitchen, right in front of the toolbox. That’s when I saw it.

  “What’s that?” I asked, even though I knew exactly what it was. Mum’s sugar jar. Sitting right there, in Da’s box.

  “Um, it’s just an old jar. It holds … things … screws, nails…”

  “It’s not just a jar. That’s the sugar jar. And I know what’s inside of it.”

  My voice was shaking and my finger was out in front of me, pointing like crazy. It was shaking, too.

  “Cordie, what are you talking about?” His voice was quiet, like he didn’t want Ione to hear, because he probably didn’t.

  “That jar is full of money. I know because Mum’s note told me.”

  “You have a note from your mother?”

  I nodded and pulled it from my pocket. It was wrinkled and soft and my trembling hand held it like an old branch holds a dry leaf.

  He was trembling, too. But he read it, folded it, then handed it back.

  “How could you, Da? How could you let us work for Mr. Doyle if you had the money?”

  “Cordie, I…”

  But he didn’t say anything else. He just sat there on the floor of the kitchen, looking down at the jar in the toolbox. Then he reached in, picked it up, and handed it to me.

  It was heavy.

  I opened it. It was filled with money. Lots of money. The bottom was heavy with coins, but the top overflowed with all kinds of paper money.

  “Why, Da? Why don’t you use it to pay the bills? Wouldn’t Mum have wanted you to pay the bills?”

  “Sometimes there are more important things than money,” was all he said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He shrugged and I could tell he was climbing into that place inside of himself where he didn’t talk to anyone. But I was too mad to let him retreat into his little chamber of silence.

  “Why does every grownup in this house have to lie to me? Why does one disappear far away and the other disappears right here, right in front of my eyes?”

  Da stood then and put his hands on my shoulders. “Hold on to the money, Cordie, I hope you won’t need it while I am gone, but just in case.”

  I wanted to let the jar drop to the floor and shatter into a million pieces.

  But I held it.

  “I was keeping it for a reason, Cordie. I can’t tell you because I made a promise, although I am beginning to wonder if it was a very smart one to make. There are things I can’t tell you, and even if I could, I am not sure how.”

  His hands were firm, like he was trying to send the secrets he could not speak down through his arms and into me.

  But if he was too much a coward to say them, then I was too angry to try to understand them. Instead, I stuffed the jar under my shirt so Ione wouldn’t see it and went into my room.

  “Cordie…” I heard him say, but I didn’t turn around.

  The Empty Hanger

  WITH THE DAWN LIGHT just peeking through the window, I felt Da’s kiss on my forehead and his whispered, “Goodbye, Cordie. See you in a couple days.” I pretended to still be asleep as Old Jim and his rattley car arrived to pick up Da.

  As the sound of the car faded, I got out of bed and began to search for a place to hide the sugar jar. I couldn’t leave it where Ione might stumble upon it, and there were no hiding places in our room that she didn’t know about. The coat closet in the hall, however, didn’t get much use, with it being summer and all. The door barely creaked when I opened it. The barren high shelf seemed too obvious, so I knelt down, searching for … what? I wasn’t sure.

  “That’s where it used to hang, isn’t it? Her coat. The one that changed her back into a seal,” Ione said, sneaking up on me as I sat on the floor moving Neevy’s foldable pram and some old boxes. She flicked the empty hanger with her fingers and it made tiny squeaks while it swung back and forth.

  Well, now I couldn’t hide anything in there. “Why are you up already? And why do you always follow me?” I snapped.

  “Why do you have to be so mean?” Ione said, sinking to the floor beside me. She gave a big sigh. It was going to be a moody day.

  I was mad, but still I reached out and patted her hair like Mum would have done. “Don’t start. Let’s not fight today.”

  She sniffled and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her pajamas. “You are right. We shouldn’t fight, not with Mum on her way back.”

  I wished that Neevy would wake up and start crying and that we’d forget we were ever sitting in this stupid closet. But Neevy was silent.

  “What were you doing in here, Cordie?” Ione asked, as if it had finally occurred to her that it was strange to see me on my hands and knees rummaging around on the closet floor. “And why do you have the sugar jar?” Faster than I could stuff it behind me, Ione swiped it and jerked the lid off.

  “Oh my gosh.” Ione’s eyes were as large as cereal bowls as she took the thick wad of bills from the jar. “Cordie, how did you—?”

  Neevy started crying up a storm, too late to save me, of course. Ione couldn’t stop looking at the money in her hand, so I grabbed it and rewadded up the bills. “Go and get her,” I said.

  “But, Cordie—” Ione whispered, even though there was no one in the house who could hear us but Neevy, who couldn’t understand, anyway. “What—how—?”

  “I’ll tell you later,” I said. “Now go and get her before she tries to climb over the rail of the crib again.”

  Ione nodded and got up. She must have been in shock, because she actually listened to me, then looked back twice before she turned the corner of the short hallway and made her way to Neevy’s room.

  How to explain …

  Was this how Da felt last night when I discovered the money?

  * * *

  “She’s all fresh now,” said Ione, who had changed our sister impossibly fast and was now smiling like a cat who has just discovered a gallon of cream. “And hungry.”

  I popped two pieces of bread in the toaster for Ione and me. Neevy was quiet while I made her a bowl of oatmeal, occupied and excited by the blandness that was to come. But I could feel Ione’s eyes on me, waiting for me to say something.

  “I’ve got to go to Mr. Doyle’s today,” I said, even though I didn’t want to.

  “Why? It’s not like we need the money.” Ione put Neevy in her little chair and began feeding her, first the oatmeal, then a bit of leftover applesauce. Neevy’s spoon skills were horrible when she was left on her own. “We could even eat in a restaurant! You’ve got that jar—”

  “That’s not my money to use. Not fo
r ordinary stuff, anyway.”

  “Did you steal it, Cordie? Did you steal it from somewhere and hide it in the closet?” Ione’s voice was more curious than upset, as if it wouldn’t have bothered her one bit if I’d stolen the money.

  “I don’t steal. But the money isn’t ours to spend. Not really.” I had no idea how far behind we were on the rent and the rest of the bills. This might not even catch us up. Besides, I couldn’t stop wondering about what Da might have been saving it for. I took the spoon and Neevy’s almost-empty bowl and began washing them in the sink. “You need to eat your breakfast now, Ione. And I am going to Mr. Doyle’s.”

  “Maybe I should go instead. He said he needed a selkie girl—”

  “I remember what he said. And no, you’re not going. It’s my turn.” And Mr. Doyle was going to get a big, fat piece of my mind. “I’ll hurry back for lunch and check on the both of you. Everything is going to be fine,” I said.

  “Of course it will. Mum will be here soon, remember? We cried the seven tears and all.” Ione plopped herself at her usual spot at our small kitchen table and eyed her toast and jam distastefully, but took a few nibbles. In that moment, she didn’t even look eight. She looked so little. So little and young and filled with hope.

  “Ione,” I said. “Mum is not … um … it will probably take a while for seven tears to travel all the way from the dock to the isle,” I said before I could change my mind.

  Sometimes it was just easier to go with it.

  “But she came so quickly before, when she saved Da.”

  “Well, she was close by, swimming around like a selkie does. She was probably already in her sealskin.”

  “She’s in her sealskin now, don’t you think? Her coat is gone, after all. I used to love that coat. It was so soft.”

  “Yes, sealskins are very soft. I am sure Mum is in hers right now, swimming someplace far away, probably. Otherwise, don’t you think she’d be looking in on us? Watching out for us from the bay?”