From The Deep

by From the Deep (anthology) [lit]

  It was perfect or almost so. Because after that first time when Jonah asked why and Marianne told him a small part of what lay in her heart, he hadn’t asked again. Instead he’d made love to her gently, with passion and patience as he tutored her in the skills that she’d never learned as a married woman. After her first experience with her husband, Silas had told her that good women did not move to entice their husbands so and that she should just allow him to take his pleasure of her. They must make children, thus fulfilling their promise to God and family. So Marianne had denied her impulses to try to enjoy what became coupling and not an expression of marital bliss.

  What she did with Jonah went way beyond coupling.

  She’d gone back into the sea for the lobster later in the day, long after they’d eaten the fish. They were pulling apart that lobster in the light of the fire, the stars scattering faintly against the soft blue of a young night when Jonah asked, “Are you not afraid that I’ll leave you with child?”

  The question took Marianne by surprise. Her inability to become pregnant had been a sore point in her marriage and with her husband’s family. She shook her head.

  “Most women in your situation would be,” Jonah said.

  “Have no fear, Captain McAdams. I am barren. You needn’t worry that I’ll burden you with a child.” Her heart ached that she couldn’t bear a child, but the reality of it had set in long ago.

  He laughed a short bark. “Worried, nay I wasn’t worried, madam, but only thought to set your mind at ease if the possibility concerned you. You could not be made pregnant by me.”

  “Ah.” That meant that they could continue with their sexual explorations without fear of creating a compromising situation. “So when we leave this place, we’ll simply say good-bye and that shall be that?”

  He inclined his head. “Isn’t that what you would wish, with going back to the island and setting yourself up as an independent woman and all? I would think you would appreciate the freedom of choice of new male friends.”

  “I am no light skirt like a dockside doxy,” she spat out, suddenly angry.

  “No, you are not,” he agreed. He tossed the last bit of lobster shell into the coals and held out a hand to her. “Come,” he said. “Walk with me. It will do us good to loosen muscles stiffened by pleasurable though unaccustomed efforts.”

  She did ache in unusual places, Marianne mused as she allowed him to pull him to her feet. They walked along the starlit beach in the firm sand just above where the waves shushed against the shore.

  The silence between them, though comfortable, had an element of tension that Marianne couldn’t put a finger on. Maybe it was the way her skin tingled where it brushed against his, or the way his eyes gleamed when he turned to look at her. All she knew was that she was falling in love with this green eyed god who made her feel like the woman she’d never known she could be.

  What would she do without him when they were finally rescued?

  Rescued. She turned to look behind them. The fire burned brightly but low. How would a ship at sea ever see such a puny flame? It would be an easy thing to build it higher, make it smoky so that it could be seen at some distance out to sea. Surely someone would have heard about their ship being lost by now. But perhaps not. This was only their second day shipwrecked though it seemed much longer.

  She blinked away unexpected tears at the thought that there was really no one who would know or maybe care that she’d been lost. Her father wouldn’t have received her letter yet so would not know to look for her. That bitter realization caught at her throat. Until now she’d only focused on getting back to Jamaica and becoming her own woman. Now she knew that it was still home because her father was there and she’d missed him.

  They stopped walking. A whistling sound came from beyond the rote and crests of the nearest waves. They stood near the boulder where she’d found the mussels yesterday, but the tide was high and they’d have to wade out to get to it now. A sliver of moon made its appearance. Its light gilded Jonah’s head like a coronet of silver. She could well believe him to be an ancient god of the sea, if he weren’t so loath to get into the water.

  He had a listening look on his face.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “The dolphins are talking to each other,” he said. “Can you hear them?”

  She focused her senses on the sounds. For almost a second it seemed as if she could make out some words, but … no. She laughed a bit. “That last day on the ship, you remember, when the dolphins surrounded us?”

  He nodded.

  “I almost thought I could understand them, that they were speaking. They seemed so intelligent, don’t you think?”

  “They are very smart creatures,” Jonah said. He put an arm around her waist and turned her back towards their familiar campsite. “Tell me how you learned to swim?” he asked as they walked along.

  “I never learned,” she said.

  “You swim like one born to the water. And you grew up on an island. How can you say you never learned to swim?”

  “Because it’s true. The one time I was allowed into the ocean as a child my father had to swim out for me. He was afraid I’d be swept away, lost like his mother. He never allowed me into the waves again. The night of the shipwreck was the first time I’d been in the sea since.”

  “Amazing.” Jonah laced his hands through hers, their fingers intertwined.

  He made love to her by the dying light of the fire, this time with a subdued passion, as if there was leisure to explore and pleasure each other. The joy of it brought tears to Marianne’s eyes as she reached the peak of pleasure. She kept her eyes wide and watched a look of wonder fill Jonah’s face as he surged into her one last time and cried out. Her heart did a little flip-flop and she knew that even with the freedom that awaited her, she’d never be free of this man. And she didn’t mind at all.

  Jonah waited until the lingering somnolence of spent passion brought restful sleep to Marianne before he went back down the beach across from where he knew the dolphins frolicked. He’d heard another voice earlier, one he hadn’t expected for another day. His cousin, Sebast, waited with the dolphins.

  He contemplated simply diving into the sea and swimming out to them, but decided against it. Transforming back sapped too much from him. The day of lovemaking had given him a thrum of energy, but not the kind that would help him transform. He called in the language of his people to Sebast and hoped his cousin would come close enough to shore so that they could talk.

  While he waited he thought about Marianne and wondered about who her grandmother had been. Had she been a mermaid transformed by love into a human? It happened but rarely, and never with happy results. Mating between his people and humans was pleasurable, but children were next to impossible to conceive unless a huge amount of magic was spent in the process. Besides, the only mermaid he knew of who had ever been the lover of a human male had been an old crone when he’d last heard of her.

  Had the magic of her youth been spent in conceiving a human child, Marianne’s father?

  He’d ask Sebast to find out. A fountain of water erupted in front of him. His cousin, glistening and dark, appeared in front of him. Sebast, the one full of mirth and joy from the time of his birth, now wore a frown and carried sadness in his face. His beard, black as the depths of the sea, curled in a mass down his chest matched only by the waves of hair that were pushed back off his face.

  “Come swim with me, cousin,” Sebast called out. His voice boomed like waves crashing in a stormy sea, full of grief.

  “Nay, not yet, Sebast. I grieve with you. Your father will be missed.” Jonah stayed well back from the waves though he longed to join Sebast and comfort him.

  “We have revenge to wreak. Why will you not join me? It is your duty,” Sebast called out.

  Aching for his cousin’s loss tugged at Jonah. “Do you know who was responsible?”

  “I have a guess. It had to be Mestaline. She’s wanted your return for decades a
nd decided to make a big play for you.”

  “Mestaline?” The idea had merit. The mermaid had been impatient when Jonah had been given twice the allotted time of any previous sea prince to learn about the life above the water. She was one of several maids in the swimming to be his consort. All the same, the kind of power required to both make the sea rise as well as keep it hidden from him was more than he’d ever credited her with.

  “What does my father say to your accusation?” Jonah asked.

  Sebast slapped at the water. “He advises patience, as always. Though how he can advise patience when his own brother is dead is beyond belief.”

  “My father is wise in the ways of the ocean, cousin. Perhaps he knows something you do not.”

  Sebast whirled around until the sea near him foamed into a whirlpool. “I knew you would take his side,” he yelled. “Come with me, help me revenge my father.”

  “I cannot.” Jonah looked down the beach where the fire glowed golden against the dark. “At least not yet,” he amended. “I have a responsibility here.”

  “I smell the responsibility on your body. The dolphins said you had a human female in your care, but she is not of our race and not yours to be responsible for. You’ve had her, now let her own kind find her and take care of her.”

  “No,” Jonah didn’t hesitate. “I cannot leave her.”

  “You must, and soon. If you don’t return by the next full moon, you’ll never be able to.”

  “I know my duties to the kingdom.”

  Sebast let loose a harsh laugh. “You have spent too much time in the land of men, cousin. Come, swim with me and take your place. We have much to do to set the kingdom to rights.”

  “Soon,” Jonah promised. “By the next full moon. You must learn patience, Sebast, even in your grief.”

  The night air and the movement of the sea stilled as Sebast and Jonah stared at each other across the water.

  Finally Sebast rose to his full length above the waves. He looked mighty in his despair and again Jonah felt a reflection of the grief and anger that resonated from his cousin.

  “I will wait until the full moon for justice, for your return. But no longer.” With that, Sebast used his strong tail to leap into the air and dive beneath the waves.

  The dolphins chattered and played as if the strong emotions of the nearby mermen meant nothing. Sadness welled up inside Jonah for Sebast’s loss as well as for the reminder that his days above the water were numbered.

  He turned back to the fire, to Marianne. His feet trudged sluggishly until he saw her sleeping form. For some reason she had put her nightgown back on. The low burning flame flickered, creating shadows and licks of color along her body as if the cloth were alive.

  As he watched her sleep a deep possessiveness came over him. She was his until the moment he returned to his duties. Returning to those duties had never been an onerous fate, just what he had to do. Now….

  Her eyelids fluttered open. In this light it looked like her eyes were afire.

  He went to her, took her into his arms, and tried to forget about duty for one more night.

  When the cool breath of dawn touched Jonah, he woke knowing that he had to tell Marianne of what he suspected of her heritage. Because if she was part mermaid then she could choose to leave her human world behind and join him as his consort in the sea.

  He didn’t understand the roiling emotions that filled him when he considered the alternatives. He didn’t know what was best for her or for him. All he knew was that he didn’t want to live his life without this passionate woman by his side. Neither did he know how to live without the sea that was his soul. If he could convince her to come with him, to cast off her nether limbs and embrace his world, then he would live his long lifetime in complete bliss.

  Chapter Nine

  He made love to her as the sun came up, waking her with the tender torture of his hands and lips on her body. When they were spent, Marianne went to the spring for a drink and brought back a leaf full of water for Jonah. She found him sitting cross-legged under a tree tossing sticks into the fire.

  “Thank you,” he said as he took the refreshment from her. When he was finished, he pulled her down to sit beside him.

  “You’re frowning.” She rubbed at the wrinkles on his forehead, tenderness for him filling her.

  He didn’t laugh or kiss her. He took her hand and examined it again. Finally he planted a kiss on her palm. Bubbles of awareness floated through her. She tried to snuggle closer but he moved so that they faced each other. A shiver of foreboding raced along her spine. His eyes glowed with strong emotion; he kept his hand fisted in his lap.

  “What is it?” she finally said.

  He took her hands again and let his thumbs stroke them. “You told me of your family on Jamaica, of your grandmother from whom you got your eyes and this extra skin between your digits.”

  “Yes. My grandmother who threw herself into the sea after my grandfather died.”

  “Did they find her body?”

  Suddenly chilled, Marianne snatched her hands back and rubbed her arms. “No, though they searched. But a storm had come up. She just … disappeared.”

  “What was her name?”

  “Her name?” She’d always thought of her as Grandmamma. It took a minute of searching through memories of her father’s stories to come up with Grandmamma’s given name. “I believe she was called Ellyra.”

  Jonah nodded. “Yes,” he whispered.

  “Jonah, you are acting so strangely this morning. What is going on?”

  “I met your grandmother once,” Jonah said. “Years ago, before she knew your grandfather. Then I heard of her after….”

  Marianne stared at him. “How could that be? She disappeared years ago, I was just a child.”

  “There are some things you should know about me, Marianne. Things that you and I have in common.”

  “Well, our eyes are the same color, of course. Many people share a common eye color.”

  “All of my people have the same color eyes. Have you ever known of anyone but your father and grandmother with this sea green eye color?”

  “No. I mean, I never thought of it before.” Confusion had Marianne trying to stand, but Jonah held her hands again.

  “And the tiny webbing between your fingers and toes, Marianne. When my people are in this form we all have the tiny vestigial webs.” He traced the delicate flesh, heat rose through her at his touch. He stretched his fingers wide so that she could see the webbing between his fingers.

  “Jonah, you aren’t making sense.”

  “My people live much longer than humans, Marianne, many hundreds of years.”

  She laughed at that. “You make it sound like you are of a different race.”

  He didn’t join her laughter. “A different species, in fact.” He paused. “As are you.”

  She ripped her hands from his grasp and stood. “You shouldn’t say things like that, Jonah. People will think you are quite mad.”

  He stared at her. “What do you think?”

  “I think you’ve had too much sun and not enough food.” She trembled when he simply sat and stared at her. “Why did you make up such a tale?”

  He drew some lines in the sand. “Do you remember the night of the shipwreck? You said you saw me swimming towards you but I said that couldn’t be true, you must have imagined it.”

  Marianne rubbed at the back of her head. “Yes, I thought I saw you swimming towards me quite as swiftly as the dolphins go in the water. But that’s not possible. You don’t even like to get wet.”

  “I told you that because I couldn’t have a regular human find out about me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If a human saw me in my true form I would never be able to transform again into the shape you see me now.”

  She stared at him, unable to decide if she should be afraid or not.

  He went on. “Whenever I go into the sea I transform into my true shape, that of a mer
man. My body breathes water. I swim with the swiftness of fishes. I am a prince in my kingdom fathoms below the surface of the sea. But when I come back to land the only way I can become human again is to use a great deal of my magic. It causes pain and loss of consciousness.” He met her gaze with his own intensity. “Do you understand?”

  Marianne thought of the mornings she had found him either barely dressed or completely nude on the beach above the waves. She cast back in her mind to that night and to the vision she had just before losing consciousness of the bald headed captain swimming to her rescue, the imaginary image of a tail undulating behind him. He’d told her he hated the water and couldn’t swim. He made her wade out into it and had watched her cavort in it, but he had refused to join her.

  He--no, what he was saying was impossible. To imply that she was similar to him, madness.

  She stepped back from him. “No, I don’t understand, Jonah. Either you are mad or you are trying to put distance between us.” She waved her arms, distraught at either possibility.

  He stood and tried to hold her, but she stumbled away from him. “I don’t have much time left, Marianne. I must return to my father’s kingdom before the next full moon or remain as a human forever.”

  She shook all over. “Why are you telling me this?” she whispered.

  “I want you to come with me,” he said, closing the distance between them.

  Unable to move, she allowed him to hold her. “Come with you?”

  “Yes, be my consort. Become your true self, a mermaid of my kingdom.”

  Hysterical laughter bubbled from her mouth as tears flowed down her cheeks. Sadness caught her up in a dark storm. “You’re quite mad,” she gasped, too weak to pull away from him.

  The grim line of his mouth was a ghost of the lips that had kissed her into euphoric tremors less than an hour ago. “I’m not mad,” he ground out. “Nor are you. What shall it take to convince you?”