Merlicious 2

by Diane Merlin, Alexis Ke, Cara North

  "Martha will tell you the truth, whether you'll stay here or go home,” Lucy informed her.

  "You can always go by Martha's words,” Serena added. “She is a good turtle."

  The thought of a sea turtle telling her future astounded Lorelei. The conversation switched over to other matters. Lorelei inwardly sighed with relief.

  "Lars, how was the salvage hunt?” Serena asked.

  "It was quite eventful. We found supplies to last us another year."

  "That is a relief,” Elvira sighed.

  "We hate to break up this get together, but Lorelei and I should get going. We don't want to keep Martha waiting. I'm sure Lorelei is anxious."

  "Come back, and let us know what Martha has to say,” said Serena.

  "We will be dying to know.” Elvira sighed again. “We hope you get your wish."

  Gemma bent over and kissed Lars on the cheek before leaving. Gemma and Lorelei swam off in the direction of the turtle's residence. It didn't take long to get there. Martha was waiting.

  "Sit, my dear.” The table was a large old flat piece of wood. “Shuffle these cards and pick out any three you like from the deck."

  "I have never seen any cards as fancy as these.” Lorelei was fascinated by the designs on them. She picked out three cards then handed the deck back to Martha.

  Gemma sat down on a shell across from them.

  "They are very special cards,” Martha answered. She reshuffled the deck and laid out five cards, face up.

  "Place your three cards face up on three of my five cards."

  Lorelei placed her three cards on top of the middle three cards Martha had placed face up.

  "My dear, it is not time for you to become one of us."

  Lorelei wanted to jump for joy, but Martha put her hand out. “You will return to your beloved John, but someone else will be waiting for you."

  "My father?"

  "No, my dear. Someone more precious than your husband or your father is waiting for you."

  "Who can it be?” She started in surprise and remembered. She was going to have a baby. Hers and John's baby. Did she have a baby, and was it all right? The thought that it might not be upset her.

  Before Martha could answer, the seabed beneath them started to move and shake, frightening them all. The cards went flying. George's books, papers, pens and seashells flew through the water. Fish tried to swim away from the swirling vortex.

  Caught in the swift undercurrent, Lorelei was spun around in a powerful whirlpool. She reached out and called to Gemma, but she could not find her. She felt herself being lifted by the whirlpool in an upward spiral of never ending circles. Up, up and away, she was trapped in the vortex of the swirling tempest. She seemed to be spinning faster and faster. The water was getting darker. Before she blacked out, she called to John.

  * * * *

  She felt the soft sheets and blankets as she slowly settled in her bed. She opened her eyes to a room full of sunshine. Their room, John's and hers. Her heart jumped for joy. It was heavenly. She was back in EarthLand. Then she heard his voice. An actual voice, not a thought-talk. She was no longer in the submerged world of Seacrest.

  "Hello, China Blue Eyes. We were so worried you wouldn't come home to us."

  "Oh, John, I have missed you so much."

  "And I you. How are you feeling?” He brushed her hair back from her face.

  "Drained and tired."

  "It has been a tough couple of weeks. We worried about you and were beginning to think we lost you forever"

  "Oh, John, I do love you."

  "I love you, too."

  "You caught influenza after Mae Ling was born. It was very hard on you."

  "The baby! Is she all right?” She looked at him with questions in her eyes.

  "Yes, our baby is fine and as beautiful as her mother. She has your eyes.” He stopped talking so Lorelei could see for herself.

  The nurse put Mae Ling in her arms. She pulled the blanket from around her daughter's face so she could admire her.

  "Oh, John. She's beautiful.” Lorelei started to laugh. “Our baby has curly hair like yours."

  "We shall share our love with her,” John told her.

  "Our daughter. It sounds wonderful.” Lorelei continued to look at the infant. “Oh, darling. Look at her tiny hands and feet."

  "She is ours. No matter what happens, I will always have my China Blue Eyes to love forever."

  The End

  Dreams of the Deep

  by

  Liz Isola

  Self-conscious about life in a wheelchair until Andy and Ray express interest in her, Dolly wonders if either will deal with the reason why.

  www.artgally.com/lizisola

  www.artbyelizabethisola.com

  lizisola@cox.net

  Liz Isola has been writing since her early childhood, but only recently for publication. Her taste in literature is eclectic and that also extends to her writing. As well as this current novelette, ‘Dreams of the Deep', she recently completed a novel about an abused child and another one set in the ancient world of Phoenicia and Egypt. It is her intention to continue writing books, novelettes and short stories because they are there, inside, clamoring to get out.

  Dreams of the Deep

  by

  Liz Isola

  Dolly swam with slow strokes toward Lookout Rock, a great monolith that appeared to have been dropped on the beach by a giant's careless hand. Just now, the tidal flow reached halfway up Lookout Rock as she began her transit of its perimeter.

  The sun was full strength, unusual on this customarily foggy stretch of coastline. Dolly stretched on the waves and let her body rise and fall with the movement of the water. Sun glinted on each ripple as she gently stroked to orient herself with the lip of the rock. Droplets of water along her arms sparkled as jewels offered by the sea itself.

  She pulled herself onto the rock, using the power in her arms. She rested on a dry, warm ledge to catch her breath, sitting still in the sun. Her favorite place to play as a small child, she and her father had come here for holidays. It was still her top choice of locations to sit quietly and watch for dolphins and seals at the ocean's edge. After a few moments, she sat up straight and glanced around.

  On the short span of beach remaining as the tide rose stretched the body of a man. Curious, Dolly hitched her body over the rock verge. Very quietly, she shifted a little closer, hoping to see but not be seen. He looked asleep.

  His head was tilted just enough that she could see most of his facial features. She gasped. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Even though his eyes were closed, she was certain they would turn out to be blue, the greenish blue of the ocean on a sunny day such as this. His golden flesh and pale wavy hair only added to the whimsical sense of fantasy that overwhelmed her.

  Who was he? A Viking king cast from his ship during a great storm at sea? Poseidon, ruler of the waves, come to life in this somewhat desolate spot? Of course, she assured herself, he was neither. Somehow, the idea of a Viking king or a sea god clad in modern swimming trunks asleep on the sands beside Lookout Rock, was more than even she of the vivid imagination could accept. He was long and lean, the bare flesh of his back and legs golden in the sun. Even asleep, he impressed her as powerful as well as beautiful.

  For her entire lifetime, she considered this beach as almost exclusively hers, a section most often bathed in fog and difficult of access. It lay at the end of a long dirt track not well enough formed to be called a road, and few people ventured there. She rested on her stomach with her head on her propped-up hands and watched him sleep.

  Suddenly, the man put his hands on either side of him and shoved his body into a push-up then repeated the movement two or three times. Startled by the sudden movement and afraid he might turn and detect her presence, Dolly held very still and waited to see what he would do next.

  He lowered his body to the sand again and turned slowly onto his back. A deep sigh came from his lips. He leapt to his fe
et and looked up and down the beach to reorient himself after his nap in the sun. He squinted as he searched the horizon. Then, without even glancing her way, he walked into the ocean and began to swim with powerful strokes toward the semi-road where her mother waited for her in the family Jeep. She hoped he wouldn't spy her.

  He passed the opening without a glance and continued to swim hard and fast away from her. When she could no longer see the wonderful man, she slid off Lookout Rock and swam to rejoin her mother. As always, her mother had her wheelchair ready and maneuvered her daughter across the harder sand and into the front seat of the vehicle. Dolly didn't mention the man. He may have been a dream, after all, as she often dozed on the great rock.

  * * * *

  That evening, Dolly prepared to attend an opening in the old restored barn that served as the local art gallery. Artists and crafts people had recently discovered her little seaside town and added to the town's attractions in the summer. Tonight, a new artist recently arrived in town would display his sculptures.

  Dolly thought about the man she had seen earlier on the beach. Maybe, she thought in her fantastical way, he was one of the sculptures come to life. His handsome features seemed carved by a modern Michelangelo or a Bernini. Of course, she didn't really believe that but enjoyed the fun idea anyway. Because of the warm summer evening, Dolly dressed in a long gown of cotton and silk, deep blue in color and full enough in the skirt to cover her lower body with only a thin coverlet to help camouflage her legs. A string of matched pearls with ear studs of the same provided her only adornments.

  In the year since she and her mother had their summer cottage winterized and came to live permanently in the town, she had already attended a dozen or more of these hopeful celebrations, some of them quite lovely, others best described as adequate.

  The debut tonight promised special pleasure for her. She had just come back from a two week trip where she had gotten a complete physical from the doctor who had cared for her all her life. The long and arduous trip wearied her, but she considered it worthwhile to see the only person other than her mother she felt comfortable to let examine her.

  With a clean bill of health and a glowing comment from the doctor on how lovely she had become, Dolly returned to their latest home content and confident in her physical well-being.

  "Um,” she murmured to her mother, “how do I look? Does my hair seem right? What about this dress? Is it too formal for the occasion? Should I have worn something more casual?"

  "My goodness, Dolly—what's got into you? You never worry like this about your appearance.” Her mother's eyes sharpened with anxiety.

  "I'm sorry, Mom. Sometimes I wonder how others see me. It's bad enough to be in a wheelchair, to have to look up at everyone. I don't want to worry about my clothes and my hair."

  "Well,” her mother responded, “the last thing you need worry about is how you look. You could dress in seaweed, and you'd be gorgeous."

  Dolly laughed. Then she sobered. That last comment sounded like the kind of thing her father used to tell her before his sudden fatal heart attack. Now she only had her mother. Sometimes she panicked when she considered what would happen if she lost her, too.

  She shook herself to break the mood. She figured that Celtic curse simply showed up again, the same melancholy that drove so many of her kind to drink and despair. She wheeled from her room to the living room.

  She liked her old-fashioned chair because its smaller size made maneuvering around the house easier than the motorized one, and because having to wheel it all over the house and town kept her arms strong for swimming.

  At last content that her red hair looked some degree under control and her pale Celtic features brightened slightly by a touch of make-up, she had the confidence to go. She wheeled out to the Jeep and hoisted herself onto the seat. Her mother drove them to the old barn.

  In the early evening, long before darkness would fall, the barn already twinkled, lit by strings of white lights that made it look like a malformed Christmas tree. Cars parked helter-skelter over the dirt yard. Her mother added their car to the general chaos of the parking lot and helped Dolly into her chair. She didn't require the assistance, but modesty in public demanded a more discreet transfer from car to chair.

  Inside, loud music played, and people's voices, loud in the old structure, attested to the fun everyone seemed to enjoy. Dolly had attended a number of such openings in large cities where people stood around making slightly drunken conversation in tones designed to prevent anyone from hearing clearly the words of any other. In this gallery, most of the guests knew nearly everyone else, so conversation covered a multitude of subjects beyond that of the work at hand.

  Absorbed in the confusion of the eclectic group, Dolly struggled to actually see any of the sculptural work on display. Finally, she wormed her way among the partygoers and into a clear space facing a life-size sculpture of a mermaid seated on a rock with her head thrown back to expose her long elegant neck. Carved from a marble with a slightly golden cast, the lights in the great room made her creamy flesh appear warm and almost alive.

  Dolly turned her chair so she could see the entirety of the sculptures. The whole room reproduced an undersea fantasy. Mermaids, mermen, and sea horses leapt and danced on top of and into wild waves. Here and there, a dolphin, a seal, or a large fabulous fish appeared about to take off from its pedestal and leap into a non-existent ocean. The presence of these magnificent sculptures totally transformed the old barn. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so she did a little of each.

  "Are you laughing with pleasure or weeping in despair at the quality of the work?” The voice, deep and resonant, made her swivel in surprise at the unexpected sound.

  "Oh, pleasure, of course.” The words escaped her before she had time to edit them in her mind.

  The man from the beach bent very close and grinned. His finger gently brushed a tear from her cheek. She wondered how a finger that calloused and hardened could so tenderly caress her skin.

  "Oh,” she cried, “I am sorry. I didn't mean to blurt out those words the way I did."

  "They were kind words, so I'm pleased to accept them."

  Stunned, she stammered, “But ... but, who are you?” Embarrassed by her outburst, Dolly turned her chair away from the man. He reached down and swiveled her back to face him.

  "Don't go.” The man addressed her face to face. “A little moisture just adds to the beauty of those wonderful green eyes. They make me think of life under the sea. Who are you?"

  "I'm Dolly McDonald. Who are you?” She felt like saying ‘I asked first’ the way children do.

  He stood up and gestured around the cavernous room with its many occupants of alabaster and granite and marble, with a little bronze thrown in. “I'm the guy who did this. Andy, short for Andrew, McPherson. Do you like it?"

  "Oh, yes, I do.” She paused then added, “Andy."

  She opened her mouth to speak again, but the arrival of a woman all in black interrupted her thought. From her matte black hair and blood-hued make-up to the low-cut black sequined top and tight spandex pants, the newcomer exuded bizarre. Even her black sandals lifted her so high that they made her look about six and a half feet tall.

  Ignoring Dolly, the woman said, “Andy, darling, Jerry wants to buy your gorgeous merman figure for our backyard. We plan to build a water wall with a mosaic pool, and he is certain we must have your merman as part of the décor.” She tugged at Andy's arm and, finally acknowledging Dolly's existence, said, “Your friend won't mind. Will you?"

  Dolly nodded and headed in the opposite direction from the one Andy and the woman took.

  Dolly was disappointed in the scene just acted out before her. Even while at Lookout Rock, she knew that this was a mortal man and no god or fabled king. Still, he bore so perfect a countenance it shouldn't have surprised her that she expected perfection in other ways as well. Then she reprimanded herself for judging him so harshly. After all, the show existed to sell sculptures, a
nd she didn't know him well enough to decide anything.

  "Fabulous show, isn't it? You seem very taken by it."

  Dolly turned to see her nearest neighbor, Ray Lockhart.

  "It's just grand. I've never seen anything quite like it. Usually things related to undersea life, mermaids, mermen or anything else, are shown in a kind of cartoon style. But these works are so real that it makes you believe such people really exist.” She realized she babbled, so she stopped and grinned at him.

  "I agree. This guy apparently has a direct line to the bottom of the ocean and its denizens."

  She thought about his remark. How did Andy get such insight? If the occasion arose, perhaps she would ask him.

  Ray offered to fetch a drink from the bar.

  "Something soda-ish, please. I'm not much of a drinker."

  He disappeared, and Dolly again contemplated the lovely sculptures. She was taken by a tiny selkie in transformation. The human was only half emerged from the aquatic body of its undersea seal-like persona. The young man, a boy really, with a slender body and a mass of curly hair, had features so unformed that the viewer could see the figure as either male or female. But something subtle about the figure made her think of it as male.

  "Do you like my little selkie, Dolly?” Andy had returned, astounding her with his ability to recall her name after so brief an encounter.

  "I like him very much. In fact, I think I might buy him.” She paused. “Speaking of which, did you sell your merman? That woman seemed quite certain that she and her husband wanted it."

  "Yes. He's officially gone now. He'll remain on the floor until after the opening then be delivered to their pool. It was a good sale. They really like him."

  "I'm very happy for you.” She began to move slowly, cautious to maneuver her chair carefully among the people crowding the room. She nodded and spoke to neighbors and acquaintances as she glided across the floor, always aware of Andy at her side. Suddenly, tired of the crowd, she longed for a break from the press of people.

  Andy must have noticed because he said, “There are some small tables set up on the back patio. Let's go out there and have a drink."