Submerging (Swans Landing)

by Norris, Shana

  The woman, apparently Josh’s new best friend Fiona, stood behind the desk sorting papers. She raised her eyebrows when we entered.

  “There she is,” she drawled, eying me up and down. “Your brother had a right good fit waiting on you.”

  “Well, now he’s being a right good ass,” I snapped.

  Josh glared at me and then stomped toward our room. I took that as my invitation to follow. Once in our room, Josh unfolded a map he’d bought at the general store and studied it.

  I sat down in the chair next to the window. I tried not to think about Callum and what had happened at the lighthouse, but the harder I tried not to think about it, the more I did. Should I tell Josh that this guy might know what we were? A gnawing feeling in my stomach warned me that I couldn’t brush him off.

  “So,” I said, clearing my throat, “what’s the plan?” I was chickening out, but I didn’t want to have that conversation with Josh right now.

  Josh didn’t look up from the map. “We need to look for clues.”

  “What kind of clues?” If I was lucky, we could leave this place behind before Callum spilled our secret to all his friends in the village.

  “I don’t know,” Josh said. “This was your idea. Didn’t you come up with a plan for once you got here in all those years you thought about this?”

  My plan had always been to find my mother. I’d never considered the work involved in getting to that point. I’d certainly never imagined months of swimming across an ocean.

  I’d always focused on the reunion between my mom and me. I’d thought about how she might look and what all the other finfolk she lived with were like. What would happen once I made it to Scotland hadn’t crossed my mind.

  “Well?” Josh asked.

  “We should go swimming tonight,” I said. “We’ll see if we can find something that will lead us to the finfolk homeland. A door, or I don’t know, a portal.”

  Josh rolled his eyes. “You’ve been watching too many movies. There has to be a logical way to get there. You need a concrete plan in mind before you decide to go wandering all over a place we aren’t familiar with. This isn’t Swans Landing. We don’t know anyone here and we don’t know who we can trust to help us.”

  I bit my lip. No way could I tell Josh about Callum. He’d freak and then blame me for wandering off on my own. It wasn’t like I’d gone out in search of someone to reveal our secret to. How was I supposed to know that some guy would sneak up on me during what was supposed to be a private moment?

  “Fine,” I said. “You make the plan, since you’re the one with the map.”

  After breakfast—Josh had a peanut butter sandwich and water, gag, while I had three candy bars—we headed down the main street of Pierowall. Now that I wasn’t in a rush to get away from everything, I could take some more time to look at the village, which was made up of mostly gray stone buildings and houses. I’d never before understood the definition of quaint or why people would describe something in that way, but if there was ever a time to use that word it was now. Pierowall was quaint. The homes were small, squat things with storybook chimneys rising from their roofs. Green fields and pastures rolled out to one side of the village, where cattle grazed, and on the other side, the semicircle bay sparkled and the shadow of Papa Westray emerged as the sun burned off the morning haze. The grass here was brighter than anything I had ever seen, a green so vivid and alive it almost hurt to look at it. Sunlight glittered on the water like it was full of diamonds.

  But it wasn’t only the village itself that captured my attention, it was the vibrations I felt. They flowed up from the earth under my feet and hung in the salty air. This land was old and alive, and it called out to the finfolk part of me.

  The village seemed to have enchanted even Josh. His gaze roamed over our surroundings for a moment, then he said, “It’s really nice here. Almost reminds me of home, in a way.”

  The reminder of Swans Landing sent a sting through me and I crossed my arms, sniffing and tossing my hair over my shoulder, though the wind blew it right back into my face. “It’s okay,” I contradicted. “Nothing special.”

  We were used to walking everywhere we went, so we didn’t mind going on foot as we searched for any clue that might lead us to the finfolk. We explored the northwestern part of the island, studying the small gray homes and the coastline of Pierowall Bay. We walked as close to the edge of the cliffs as we dared. We stared out at the sea, looking for any unexplained landmasses within the shifting fog. The clouds had a way of rolling in suddenly, obscuring the horizon for a moment, then lifting to reveal clear skies and seas. It was easy to see how an island could become lost within them.

  But despite all of that, we found nothing that brought us any closer to the finfolk homeland. I began to doubt it was even near Westray. Maybe we were on the wrong island. Maybe the fact that this island had Mara’s last name was a coincidence and not a clue.

  “There has to be something here.” Josh sifted grains of sand and broken blades of grass through his fingers. We sat in the field near the lighthouse, listening to the wind howling over the cliffs and the caw of birds as they circled through the air around us. We had brought our lunch—peanut butter sandwiches—and created a makeshift picnic.

  “Everything has been a dead end.” I pulled a piece of the crust off my sandwich and tossed it into the air, watching as four birds dove for it. There was a brief in-air battle, until one of the birds triumphantly snatched the crust away from the others and then flew off to eat it. “I don’t think the answer is here.”

  “It can’t be coincidence. It’s not just Mara’s name. My dad—” He cleared his throat. “Our dad wrote about these islands. He had come here once, the year before he married my mother. He was searching for something and he wrote about coming to northern Orkney.”

  I ignored the pang that shot through my stomach and focused on my lunch. I didn’t know much about my daddy, other than his name, Oliver Canavan. He had been married and his wife about to give birth when he and my mother first became involved.

  And then he had died, drowned, in uncertain circumstances.

  But I had no stories of him. No one had ever told me who he was, what he liked, what he wanted in his life.

  “What was he looking for?” I asked, hugging my knees to my chest.

  Josh shook his head. “I’m not sure. A key of some kind. My mom found me reading his papers and she took them away. I think she burned them all.”

  We sat in silence for a while. The wind whistled around us, and in the distance I could hear the lowing of cows grazing along the rolling grassy hills. The air was thick with salt, as if the land were a part of the sea in a way. It was a good place for finfolk to live. I felt stronger on land here than I had in Swans Landing. The vibrations of the earth were different, more invigorating.

  “He was a marine biologist, you know,” Josh said after a moment. His face was turned toward the horizon, where hazy fog drifted along the surface of the sea.

  I hadn’t known this. I had never thought before to ask what it was our father did for a living.

  “From reading his papers, I could tell he loved the ocean,” Josh went on. “He was drawn to it, probably by the finfolk genes inside him. He wanted to study it and the life within it.”

  I smirked as I pulled at the grass near my feet. “Too bad none of his college textbooks could tell him about the finfolk. He had to get closer to them in order to study them.”

  We both fell silent. We knew how this story ended. Oliver Canavan spent time with the finfolk, listening to them sing in the water during the new moon, getting to know them. Getting to know my mama. For which he lost his life.

  I had visited his grave once. He was buried in the only cemetery in Swans Landing, right behind the little white church in the center of the island. I had been eleven years old, and my curiosity about the man who had fathered me had gotten to be too much, so I’d walked the short distance from our house to the graveyard.

 
His headstone had been gray and weathered like the others around it. It didn’t stand out in any way, and it had taken me a few minutes to find it as I walked through the graves, reading names of people I didn’t know. There were other Canavans in the cemetery since the family had lived in Swans Landing for several generations. Oliver Canavan lay among them, nothing special that made his grave any different.

  I had stood in front of it for a long time, hoping to feel something that would let me know this really was my daddy lying in the ground. I didn’t know what exactly I had hoped for. Maybe some kind of residual connection to my mama still left in the air around him.

  But there had been nothing. He remained, as he had always been, a name of a man who had once existed. He had died before I was born. I didn’t know if he had even known my mother was pregnant, or if he would have been happy that he had created me.

  I closed my eyes and lifted my face toward the pale sun that barely broke through the gray clouds overhead. The scent of rain hung in the air, though it hadn’t yet started to fall.

  “It was probably torture,” Josh said quietly. “Feeling this urge toward the ocean, but not being able to be a part of it. Not like he wanted to be.”

  I opened my eyes again and studied Josh’s profile. We didn’t look much alike. My delicate features were a contrast to Josh’s more prominent ones. I had never seen a picture of our father. Whenever I tried to imagine him in my mind, his face was always a blank. Being partially finfolk, our daddy would have been Scottish and most likely some other western European blood was mixed in from his human ancestors as well. Josh had his mama’s light brown skin and dark hair and eyes, but his features weren’t hers. How much of our daddy was in his face?

  “Do you think he wanted to be finfolk?” I asked. “To change forms?”

  “He never said so in his papers, not any of the ones I read. But if he had been given the choice, I think he would have chosen a life tied to the water. He already had, as much as a human could.”

  I laughed harshly. “A half-life, stuck somewhere between human and not. Hiding who we are, always afraid of what might happen if the rest of the world finds out about us.” I shook my head. “He should have been thankful he couldn’t change.”

  Josh gave me an annoyed scowl. “I thought you hated humans, and were glad not to be like them.”

  I looked away, digging my fingernails into my palms. “I don’t hate them. I hate how they take their place in this world for granted. They live such easy, simple lives, and yet all they do is complain.”

  “Not everything is as simple as it looks.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe, but here’s the simple fact: If our daddy hadn’t been so caught up in trying to be something he wasn’t, maybe he wouldn’t have died. This obsession he had with the water is what killed him.”

  Josh tore up a handful of grass, letting the wind sweep the blades from his open palm. “And if he hadn’t been so obsessed, maybe you wouldn’t have been born.”

  I smirked as I clambered to my feet, brushing sand and grass from my jeans. “And that would have made everyone much happier.”

  Chapter Seven

  Josh was already up when I rolled myself out of my bunk the next morning. He was eating a peanut butter sandwich, which he had eaten for breakfast, lunch, and dinner the day before.

  “Aren't you tired of peanut butter?” I asked.

  Josh shrugged. “I eat a lot of peanut butter at home. I'm used to it.”

  I bit my lip, feeling guilty for how little I knew about Josh’s home life. He never talked much about life with his mama. The only thing I knew about Silvia Canavan was that she was prone to panic attacks that would make her act crazy and yell things. Especially when she was around finfolk. I assumed she hadn’t always been that way, but for as long as I could remember, she’d been the island lunatic.

  I didn’t know what to say or if Josh wanted me to say anything, so I decided not to comment and went into the bathroom to change and pull my hair into a messy bun. When I returned to our room, Josh had finished his sandwich and was brushing crumbs off his pants.

  He watched as I grabbed my shoes, which were a pair of sandals. “Where are you going?”

  “Out,” I said. “Running.”

  “Since when do you run?”

  “Since now.” I didn’t meet Josh’s gaze as I buckled the straps around my feet. I wanted to go back to the lighthouse, to see if Callum would be there again. I’d stayed awake most of the night, staring up at the ceiling with an uneasy feeling deep in my stomach. I had been too careless to let Callum hear me, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew a lot more than he was saying. I needed to get a better idea of what that might be before I told Josh about him.

  “You’re running in sandals?” Josh asked.

  I sighed. “Sandals are all I have. I’ll make do.”

  Josh stood. “I’ll come with you.”

  “No,” I said quickly. “I mean, I want some time alone.”

  Instantly, Josh’s expression darkened. “We shouldn’t go off alone. We don’t know who or what might be here. This isn’t Swans Landing—”

  “I know that!” I let out a long breath to calm my irritation. Sometimes Josh treated me like I was a small child. We were only a year apart in age. He wasn’t that much more mature than I was. “I want ten minutes to myself. I’m not used to having someone hovering around all the time. Don’t you remember what it was like to be alone?”

  Josh’s jaw twitched, his forehead creased into a frown. “Being alone isn’t always a good thing.” But he sat back down on his bunk and waved a hand. “Go. If you’re not back in an hour, I’m coming after you.”

  I hurried away from the hostel and down the road toward the lighthouse. I knew Josh would be true to his word and I’d have only a short time to find Callum. I needed to know what exactly he knew or thought he knew, and then find a way to keep him quiet.

  As I approached the cliff where the lighthouse stood watch over the cold ocean, I spotted a lone figure standing in the grass, his back to me. The bright red hair that blew in the wind was unmistakable.

  “So do you really come here every day, or were you hoping to see me again?” I asked as I stepped to his side.

  Callum’s lips curled into a smile, but he didn’t look at me. “Is that a pickup line?”

  “You wish.” I crossed my arms, shivering in the cool morning. “So you heard me sing yesterday.”

  He nodded. “Aye, I did. You have a beautiful voice. But then, you should, shouldn’t you? It’s in your genes.”

  “You don’t know anything about me,” I said.

  “I know your name is Sailor, and that you are a long way from home.”

  A cold blast of wind howled over the cliff’s edge. Birds swooped around on the currents as they dove back to their perches along the rock wall under our feet.

  “Look,” I said, “I think you’re confused. I’m just a tourist. Whatever it is you think you know, forget about it.”

  His green eyes twinkled. “You remind me of my sister.”

  “What?” I asked, startled by the unexpected response.

  He turned back to the water. “Her name was Pearl, and she really was one. A gem from the ocean.”

  He didn’t say anything else and instead, turned and starting walking away from the cliff, back in the direction of the village. I followed after him, hurrying through the tall grass.

  “Who are you?” I asked him.

  “I told you my name,” Callum said. “What else do you want to know?”

  “Are you—” I couldn’t say the word. I couldn’t risk revealing myself if he wasn’t who I thought he might be. I studied him hard, looking for any sign that he might be something other than an ordinary guy.

  “Was there something you wanted from me?” Callum asked, stopping suddenly.

  I skidded to a stop on the wet grass, only inches from him. My nose was level with his chin and I could see light freckles scattered across his cheeks.
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  “N-no,” I stammered. “I don’t want anything from you.”

  “Then if you don’t mind, I must be going,” Callum said. “Unless you plan to follow along and ask me half-questions all day.”

  He started across the field again and I watched him make his way through the grass. Panic seized my stomach, curling it into tight knots. He knew more than he was saying, I was certain. If he told anyone I’d be in huge trouble. Josh would kill me. The humans might even do it themselves if they found out about us.

  “Wait!”

  Callum stopped and waited as I ran toward him, already feeling breathless.

  “Don’t tell anyone about me,” I said.

  He raised an eyebrow. “What would I tell?”

  I glared at him. “You know what I mean.”

  Several seconds of silence passed between us, with only the sound of the wind and ocean in my ears.

  “And if I did tell?” Callum asked. “What would you do?”

  “I—I’ll—” My brain couldn’t think fast enough to come up with a response. I hadn’t expected him to challenge my threat. “You’ll regret it. So don’t.”

  He laughed, his face breaking into a rosy glow. “Aye, I’m certain I would. Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

  The wind whipped strands loose from my messy bun as I watched Callum disappear beyond a hill. I let out a frustrated sigh. I was done with mysterious Scottish psychos. I pushed all thoughts of Callum Murchadh out of my mind.

  I met Josh on the road to the hostel. It had obviously been longer than an hour, judging from the deep scowl on his face.

  “We have a lot of work to do,” Josh said. “We need to explore more of the island today.”

  “I’m tired,” I whined.

  “You weren’t tired a few minutes ago when you decided to go exercise,” Josh said. He looked me up and down. “How was your run anyway? You look remarkably well rested for someone who ran for an hour.”

  “It was fine,” I growled, stomping past him.

  We left Pierowall and headed along the narrow road away from the village, back in the direction of Rapness Pier where the ferry had dropped us off two days before. Every few steps, Josh would stop to examine random things—a rock, a hill, an abandoned building. He even suspiciously eyed a cow chewing cud near a wooden fence for a while. But we found nothing out of the ordinary. If anything, the vibrations that were so strong closer to the village seemed to fade slightly the farther away we traveled.