The Price of Desire

by PE Kavanagh

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The Price of Desire

  PE Kavanagh

  THE PRICE OF DESIRE

  Copyright © 2017 PE Kavanagh

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For information contact : Pascale Kavanagh

  http://www.pekavanagh.com

  Cover designed in collaboration with Bliss Designs

  Top image True Kiss by Karl Filip, courtesy of Deviant Art

  E-book ISBN: 978-0-9994679-2-3

  First Edition: October 2017

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Contents

  Preface

  1. Underwater

  2. Monique

  3. A Family Affair

  4. A Scary Step

  5. Rule Of Threes

  6. Vegas, Baby

  7. Sleek Black Limo

  8. Get The Party Started

  9. Penthouse View

  10. Wanting And Having

  11. Family History

  12. Dinner Date

  13. Shopping Cure

  14. A Guide And A Plan

  15. Unions And Reunions

  16. White Wedding

  17. Taking A Bite

  18. Shaky Ground

  19. Lockdown

  20. Truth Prevails

  21. Calm After The Storm

  22. Argentina

  23. A Secret Spot

  24. The Mess Of Home

  25. The First Song

  Afterword

  Gratitudes

  About the Author

  Preview

  PRAISE FOR The Price of Desire

  (previously released as Fish Tails & Lady Legs)

  "Pascale has a way of embodying the essence of human emotion through written word. While reading along one cannot help but find one's own story being told. An easy to read book for pleasure yet personal growth is inevitable."

  Sarah Jenkins, UK

  “Pascale Kavanagh’s character, Nik, has just the right mix of sass and vulnerability. At times, I felt the character was speaking both my own desire and doubts. As she conquered the doubts and moved into her sensuality, it made all things for me seem possible. Brava!”

  Priscilla Orr, Pushcart Prize-nominated author of Losing the Horizon

  "Pascale Kavanagh creates a fiery love story where the reality of ordinary life is juxtaposed with a mystical, glorious sensuality that takes your breath away."

  Carole Oligario, Hollywood writer and director

  Fish Tails & Lady Legs is a fun read that will entertain and inspire. The reader gets two stories for the price of one. Lalune's story is that of a mermaid whose true passion is to sing, obviously stifled by the fact that she lives underwater. Whether you believe in the existence of mermaids is inconsequential - her struggles and journey are relatable to those of us 'land-dwellers'.

  The second story of Monique, who left her true calling as a chef for a more 'traditional' life, chronicles the effects of going against her passion and her journey back to life. Pascale's writing is eloquent and entertaining - equally perfect for a cozy Winter evening or an afternoon in the Summer sun.

  M. Linehan

  A superbly written and perceptive novel, by turns graceful and trenchant. Kavanagh is particularly good at rendering the inner life of a woman in love, her dreams and insecurities. Every man in a relationship with a woman should read this book.

  Gregory Dime

  For my own little mermaid, whose song changed everything.

  Chapter One

  Underwater

  She let out a deep sigh, the bubble containing her would-be sound floating all the way up to the surface, untouched. There it lingered for just a moment before popping softly, heard by no one. There were numerous sounds deep in the ocean, but none of that variety. A sigh was not a productive issuance from a mermaid and so dissolved into nothing.

  It was another day in the cold, dark ocean for Lalune. Another day yearning for anything outside her watery home.

  "Lalune! Where are you?" She heard her sisters calling for her. Or more accurately, she felt the vibration of the sound. She supposed it was time enough to get started with the day. Floating around wasn't going to grow her legs any faster.

  Lalune was partly glad to have her reveries interrupted. Pondering the hopelessness of her life did not make for a wonderful start of the day. There was plenty to do to keep busy in the vast ocean, and many creatures to keep her occupied and even entertained. Maybe a bit of distraction would be helpful.

  "Lalune, why are you always hiding out in Nori Cove? Do you have treasure back there? I can't imagine what could be so interesting?!"

  "I like to have a little private time‚ for my thoughts. Is that so bad? I'm not hiding anything, I promise." Did anyone believe her? Did she believe herself?

  "That sounds terribly boring, sister. And it makes you morose. Who's ever heard of a sad mermaid?? It's just not natural. We are the most beautiful and interesting creatures on the planet. What is there to be sad about?"

  "I'm not sad, necessarily. I just like to think about things. And I think all of the world’s creatures are beautiful and interesting. Even… the land-walkers.” She knew this statement would not be taken well, but said it anyway.

  "Ughhh. They are just awful! Clumsy, rude, unkind. Haven't you seen how they act? Thank goodness they could never be in our world. And I would never want to go out there. Especially since everything is perfect down here."

  Lalune nodded, pretending she agreed. In her heart, that was the furthest from the truth. Most mermaids had nothing but disdain for the land-walkers, but Lalune felt differently. In her eyes, they were splendid.

  Not that she knew this from any personal experience. The stories she heard from her friends and family were amplified to grand proportions by her own imagination. An entire fantasy lived in her head, about their charmed lives, and the wide variety of experiences they must be having. The one that was most intriguing, of course, was their ability to make music. She could hear it sometimes, all the way from the distant shore, vibrating through the water. It was mesmerizing.

  Many of the creatures in her world could make music – she especially loved the whales’ song – but it was not the same. A sense of joy, not just utility, permeated the land-walker’s music. They made music for the sheer pleasure of it, not just for basic communication. Lalune knew this had to be true based on how the sounds she heard made her feel.

  Despite all the others thinking it was reckless and ridiculous, because only land-walkers sing and sea creatures hum, Lalune loved to sing. The pleasure of hearing her sound, c
arried on the soft breeze above her home, made her feel alive. Yet her song was stifled and muted in the sea, where she was supposed to keep herself hidden.

  She knew that on land it could be heard in its fullness, from the few times she had snuck over to the island and let herself sing. She knew, without knowing why or how, that it would be on land that her voice, and her life, would find its purpose. Each day, it became more and more difficult to stay silent in the depths.

  Lalune had known since she was a child that she had been built for something different than the life she was living, if only she could figure out how to get it. What she wanted most in the world, enough to give up everything she currently knew, was to be a land-walker. To have two beautiful legs that would carry her around on the land, and to hear her song, her true voice, carried through the air. This would be her salvation.

  Still, the ocean contained everything she knew. Why couldn't she be satisfied with that life? Why did she come to believe that her only hope was to leave everything behind? No one else seemed to suffer this same malady, this discontent. Her friends and family were perfectly happy with their glorious kingdom.

  A large tail flapping in front of her once again startled her out of her daydreams. Her sisters had swum away and she was supposed to be following them.

  Off she went to live another day in the life of a magical mermaid. There were adornments to create, games to play, and beautiful scenes to explore. She and her sisters were close (other than the big secret Lalune carried) and had a vast repertoire of diversions to keep them occupied. Occasionally they would sneak up towards the surface and watch the land-walkers fumble around in the water. It caused no shortage of giggles, except from Lalune, who observed with awe.

  She could see herself, wiggling those legs and needing that funny facemask to breathe. All their awkwardness was endearing and she could only imagine how poorly she would do in their environment. It would be impossible, actually.

  She wanted to know the feeling of sand between her toes, sun on her skin and the beauty of her song in the faces of those who heard it. Could she find her boldness, her voice, and take her place in the other world?

  The legends said it was possible to transform, to grow legs where her tail used to be, but what if it wasn’t true? What if Lalune was destined to live out her days swallowing this secret, ashamed and unheard?

  It was too easy to hide in the darkness, and nearly impossible to live with her desire. Without being able to sing freely, all the magic in the ocean was useless to her. Her beauty, her talent, even the love in her heart, were all wasted.

  There was no one to talk to about this, and certainly no guides she could ask for help. The land-walkers knew of song, but not of mermaids, and the mermaids knew nothing of a two-legged life. It was a leap of faith, to believe all the pieces would come together, but what choice did she have?

  Lalune’s search for someone to guide her, someone who knew the way, had to be done in secrecy. No one could discover her desire to leave their underwater kingdom. There were severe consequences for mermaids who tried to cross over and did not succeed. Making it all the way through to the other side would be her only option.

  What scared her most was knowing she could never come back. The comfort and familiarity of her dark depths, as unsatisfactory as they were, would be lost to her forever. She would live or die as a land-walker.

  Chapter Two

  Monique

  "Mama!"

  Was it wrong to wish that your children were mute?

  "Maamaa!!”

  Okay, maybe it would’ve been easier if I were deaf.

  "MAAAAAAAAMMMMAAAAAAAA!!!"

  Somebody better be about to lose a limb over there, I fumed as I stomped over to the bedroom.

  "Yes! What requires so much yelling?" I was also yelling. They looked at me with wide eyes, startled by my testy response. Guilt poured over me.

  "Mama, Lola was doing a perfect handstand! She did it, she really did it! Oh my gosh, it was so amazing. She just balanced there like her hands were her feet. It was so cool..."

  My baby Claire jumped up and down, just like her aunt Lizzy always did.

  Lola couldn’t have been standing any taller or smiling any broader. She’d been working so hard to do this, and now couldn’t even speak, while happily accepting the accolades from her usually critical little sister.

  "Let me see," I said with a broad smile.

  The girls set themselves up near the wall and Claire positioned herself as the spotter. I noticed how much she had grown; she was nearly as tall as her older sister. I had stopped being confused by the balance of power between my girls. Lola was older but her sister was the boss.

  Claire had exhibited brilliance and domination from the outset. I prayed she would find the right outlet for those strong characteristics. Lola on the other hand, was a natural athlete, but spent more time in her inner world than with others. I wondered what medium she would eventually use to express the thoughts she naturally withheld.

  I looked at both girls, one standing so powerfully upside down, not even using the wall for balance, and the other being an encouraging and supportive coach. There was almost too much pride to fit in my adult body. They embodied everything I lacked. Lola had an uncanny sense of her body, so graceful and strong, and so unlike the gangly, clumsy one I carried around, while Claire was a born leader, which I certainly was not.

  Lola landed fluidly and asked, "How did it look, Mama?"

  "It was perfect, baby. You totally nailed it. Like a flagpole. I really liked how you held your arms really straight and pointed your feet. Wow! I am completely impressed.

  “And you, Claire... what a great coach you are! I didn't know you could do that. You guys are incredible."

  I wrapped my arms around my girls. My strong, beautiful, talented girls. I was happy. And lucky. To be their mother and to have this life and to witness their greatness. I buried them with deep squeezes and slurpy kisses. "Who's hungry?"

  We all scrambled to the kitchen so that I could finish making their dinner. This was our brand new life, which still felt awkward, even after more than a year. Just like relearning how to ride a bike, the process was causing some soreness in tender places.

  My knives were getting dull, leaving me frustrated with the extra effort I had to put in to get through the carrots. I had gotten lazy, after having been so fanatical for all those years. Everything was harder, now that I was out of practice. But the girls loved it anyway. They didn’t complain that my vegetables weren’t perfectly diced, or that my sauces were lumpy instead of silken.

  That meal was all delicious flavors and sweet little-girl giggles. With every smile and compliment from them, I remembered how un-accommodating I had been to their calls just a short while before. And all they wanted was to celebrate with me. My frequent companions - shame and inadequacy - settled in to either side of my squeaky chair at the kitchen table.

  I couldn’t claim that motherhood was new to me - Lola was eleven and Claire was about to turn seven - but the learning curve just hadn’t let up. Sometimes I reverted to being the selfish little girl who had always been in the middle of all my siblings’ needs, and just wanted her own time and privacy. I didn’t want to share and I didn’t want to be responsible. Sometimes, all I wanted was to be invisible.

  That little girl had grown up and become somebody else’s mother. Despite how much I adored my own girls, I couldn’t seem to get past my own self-centeredness. What had made me so selfish and needy? Why couldn’t I just be the person I wanted to be?

  I was resisting allowing the answer to complete itself in my head, when my phone rang with the pop song Lola had installed as my ringtone. It was Nora, my older sister.

  “What’s up?” I asked, startled out of a potential spiral.

  “Can you come over tomorrow night?”

  “I guess… is something going on?”

  “Nope.” Her answer was sharper than I expected. “We just want to see you. I know it’s bee
n a shit-storm over there. Just come over, okay?”

  I wasn’t really in the mood to hang out with my sisters. They’d want to talk about all the drama and it was just too exhausting. I would’ve much rather avoided and denied, frankly. But there was no getting out of it. When Nora wanted something, she got it.

  “Fine.” I knew I sounded ungracious. “Thanks Nora. See you tomorrow.”

  Family. Mine was better than most, I had to admit, but we were an odd bunch with such diverse interests, strengths, and personalities. Of my siblings, Nora, the oldest, had been given an extra portion of brains, Danny got the best personality and Lizzy, the baby, got exuberance. My gift? A strange affinity to blades and flames, and the ability to create something from nearly nothing.

  That skill had served me well in the kitchen, but kept me constantly in the world of my imaginings. It made me a daydreamer, like our mother and my oldest daughter. It also allowed my hypersensitivity to blossom into fantastical stories that helped me easily escape the world, for better or worse. Family, however, was something I had yet to successfully escape.

  Bedtime was easier than usual. The meal seemed to have shifted us past my earlier grumpiness and everyone was in a good mood. I didn’t allow the worry about going to my sister’s consume me, although I could feel it trying to make its way to the front of my thoughts.

  The girls and I fell into bed playful and snuggly, a tangle of little bodies and big bodies, all vying for the best patch of bed and the most comfortable corner of pillow. We didn’t do it as often anymore, but when we piled into my enormous bed, I had a glimpse into the feelings I used to have… that everything, in fact, was perfectly fine. The next thing I realized, we’d all fallen asleep. As it had been for so many nights, sleep did not last.