The City on the Sea (City on the Sea Series Book 1)

by Heather Carson

  “Can we go back to how it was?” His voice is earnest.

  “Can we?” My heart feels lighter when I ask this. “I’d really like that.”

  “We can.” He nods. “As long as you promise not to kiss me again.”

  Despite his size, it only takes one shove and I’ve knocked him back into the water.

  *

  “Did you bring lunch?” Tordon asks.

  “I was going to get something on the wharf.” I shrug off the embarrassing question. I haven’t brought my own food anywhere in ages.

  “Here, share with me. My father always makes too much.” He smiles as he opens his pail and just like that, we are friends again.

  “I actually was thinking about your father the other day,” I say as I bite into the dried tuna. “Does he ever plan to retire?”

  “That old man?” Tordon laughs. “Never. He loves this life too much. Plus, he is married to the sea.”

  We are still talking and eating one of Aegir’s mini feasts when the sirens sound.

  *

  The thick gray clouds move in fast. They are almost in sync with the blasting sirens which are meant to warn us to take shelter.

  Tordon calls after me to “be careful” as I race up the docks. The wharf is a flurry of commotion. Shop owners and fishermen rush to make their last-minute preparations for the storm. By the time I get to the beach, the gates of the wall are open, and parents are hurrying their children to safety.

  The stern woman practically shoves Zander toward me, and the gates are locked once again. My nephew nervously clings to my hand. The storm hasn’t even begun but the wharf is empty by the time we climb the rickety metal steps.

  “Is the sea angry again?” Zander claps his free hand over his ear. His face is pale. I pull him up and hug his small, but heavy, body against me.

  “We don’t know that yet.” I bounce him up and down so that he giggles. “Let’s wait and see before we worry, but I promise you’ll be alright at home.”

  By the time we reach Meghan’s house, the wind is whipping my hair around my face and I can’t tell if I’m wet from the rain or the angry sea spraying foam onto the docks.

  My sister stands in the open doorway with one hand on her enormous stomach and her eyes wildly searching the sea. She looks so steady against the storm that it eases the rising panic in my chest. Zander cries as he clings to his mother’s neck.

  “Have you seen Rowan?” she screams louder than the wind. My eyes open wide despite the stinging spray from the rain.

  “He isn’t back yet?” I yell in return.

  She swallows whatever fear she feels into a concentrated resolution. “Not yet, but I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.”

  “Let’s get you two inside.” I force them both into the safety of the house. It takes an aberrant amount of effort to get the door shut and latched. Meghan strips off Zander’s wet clothes and carries him to the sleeping area to get warm. I stand dripping in the front room as the storm beats at the tin walls around us.

  “Are you going home?” Meghan calls from the back room.

  “As soon as Rowan gets here I will.” I gratefully grab the blanket she tosses at me and wrap it around my shivering body. The temperature has dropped at least twenty degrees in the last few minutes. Once Meghan tucks Zander into the bed, we sit together at the table.

  “He said he was pulling in the crab traps,” I explain. “I met him this morning on my way to work at Aegir’s. It shouldn’t have taken that long. Maybe he is securing the boat.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” Meghan nods. If there is any trace of doubt in her eyes, I can’t see it. “You can go if you want. I know you’ll want to check on her.”

  “She’ll be okay.” I reach for my sister’s hand. “I closed the shutters. Plus, the storm will be more afraid of her than she is of it.” We both chuckle at my awful joke and sit silently waiting until the minutes turn into an hour.

  Meghan begins to pace, and I fail to control the rapid beating of my heart. This is taking too long. The storm rages around the shack, sending whistles of wind through the crevices and beats at the walls with the ferocity of the sea herself.

  “It might not last long,” I try to reassure my sister. Or maybe I’m trying to reassure myself. “When they come in this fast, they tend to end quickly.”

  Nothing I say stops the silent, rapid pacing. Suddenly she pauses and rocks on her feet while grasping at her belly.

  “Is the baby coming?” I scream in horror as I jump up from the chair.

  “No,” she scolds me. “Quit being so skittish and keep your voice down. It was only a spasm.”

  Her warning comes too late. My shrieking cry can be heard over the howls of the storm and it wakes Zander from his nap.

  “Auntie Brookie,” he cries from under the covers. “Mama! Where is daddy?” The two of us rush to his side and try to comfort him back to sleep.

  “Hush now,” Meghan soothes. “Dad had to tie up the boat. He’ll be home soon.”

  “It’s all my fault, isn’t it?” Zander’s shoulders slump with the weight of his burden. “If I didn’t take the stone then the sea wouldn’t be mad.”

  My sister pulls him to her chest and smooths his hair from his eyes. He shouldn’t have to carry this stress, but I can’t think of any words to say to make him feel better.

  “Why don’t you make an offering?” Meghan suggests. “Something to show you are truly sorry.”

  “What can I give?” he wipes the back of his hand across his snotty nose.

  “You’ll have to decide that on your own,” I say backing up my sister even though it’s been years since I believed in the sea gods. Zander thinks and it’s almost comical to see the seriousness of his expression as the gears turn in his brain. His little fist rests against his chin like our father, his grandfather, used to do while his little eyebrows pinch together.

  “I know!” he exclaims jumping up from the cozy bed and rushing to his toy box.

  “The goddess likes boats, right?” He pulls out a small tin ship toy. “Papa made this for me before he left. It’s very special. Maybe she’ll accept it as a gift?”

  “There’s only one way to find out.” Meghan reaches for Zander’s hand and together they walk to the front door.

  The latch fights against me as I struggle to remove it. When I do, we see the storm in all its intensity lashing out around us. Zander kneels and places his toy boat on the walkway while Meghan holds firmly to his arm.

  “I’m sorry,” he cries to the sky as the rain beats against his face and mixes with his tears. It takes both of us to close the door this time.

  “Will it work?” he asks.

  Meghan smiles as she tucks him under the warm blankets once more. “We’ll have to wait and see, but I believe it will.”

  Zander slips into a fitful sleep and Meghan resumes her pacing. The lantern casts shadows on the wall that sway with the rocking of the house.

  She grimaces more than once as she walks back and forth. It’s easier to count the minutes between contractions than to focus on how long we’ve been waiting. Twenty minutes since the last one.

  “If he was out on the boat when the storm came in, he may have headed for open water to ride it out,” she says calmly before another contraction causes her face to contort in pain. Fifteen minutes this time.

  “He’s a good sailor,” I agree. “It was probably safer out there than trying to bring her into the harbor. Why don’t you sit down?”

  “I can’t.” My sister’s eyes are large, begging me to leave her alone, as she moves into the kitchen and begins to prepare dinner.

  “The baby is really coming?” I ask.

  “I think so,” she moans. The blood drains from my head and I try my best not to panic.

  It was four years ago when Zander was born. Even though I was here for the birth, so was Rowan and so was the midwife.

  “Should I go find Margaret?” I jump up from my seat.

  “It’s t
oo dangerous,” Meghan whimpers. The strength of her voice never wavers and to hear it now sends knots into my stomach. “She’s too old to be outside in this. I’m sure the storm will be over before this thing comes out. It took three days for Zander to finally arrive.” She tries to smile.

  “At least let me cook for you,” I sigh at her stubbornness and reach for the pot in the bottom cupboard that she would have struggled to lift.

  “I’ll be fine.” She takes the pot from my hand. “I need to stay busy.”

  *

  Zander sits sandwiched between us as we eat dinner and ask him random questions. Despite the sudden jarring claps of thunder which threaten to crack open the sky, he’s in good spirits after his nap. His happy chatter lulls us into a peaceful conversation.

  “Yesterday they brought a cow over to see us,” he giggles. “It kissed me with its tongue.”

  “Was it smelly?” I pinch my nose sending him into a fit of laughter.

  The youthful days spent behind the wall are a magical time for all of us. Our gate entrance protects an island surrounded by bog land and swamp, but the land is high enough to still give the children a safe place to play. I remember the watchmen and caregivers raising a few animals there when I was young.

  It’s for the children. We know better than to be jealous of these simple pleasures. That’s why they had to build the wall in the first place. Our ancestors fought over the remaining land and needed to be pushed out to sea. I’m reminded again why the watchmen are so important. Without them, Zander would never get to kiss a cow.

  As soon as the children can walk, they’re allowed to enjoy this simple pleasure. When they turn six, they are too old to go past the gates, but these happy times are embedded in our memories. At sixty, if we decide to retire, the ship comes to take us to the northern most entrance of the wall. There the land is rich and fertile, not like the eroded and flooded land that surrounds the island at our gate.

  The larger ships, like the one that comes for the retirees and the ancient naval vessels that carry the watchmen, are able to move far out to sea. Navigating the coastal terrain is too difficult for our smaller boats. Somewhere in the deep expanse of the ocean is a fuel station with oil drillers. But we use fossil fuels sparingly because it’s expensive and hard to come by.

  The watchmen and traders always bring stories of other cities such as ours all but near these northern gates. Sometimes we get a traveler, but they are always just passing through. The watchman training center is somewhere down south far away from the rocky harbors that surround the east and west coasts of the wall. No one really wants that job, so it always surprises me that there are so many new faces on every rotation. I guess the other cities are much different than ours though.

  The early years are so precious, a sampling of the life that awaits us. It instills the dream of what’s to come. As long as we work hard and never cause any problems, we’ll all get the chance to retire one day.

  “I’m glad they are still giving them milk. I always wondered how they keep the animals alive on that tiny stretch of land.” Meghan absentmindedly rubs the top of Zander’s head.

  I laugh. “I don’t know the first thing about what those animals need to survive. They always seem like such clumsy beasts, but I’m glad the gate is still open for them. I overheard one of the traders at the wharf saying the Cortez Gate is closed now.”

  “Why did they close it? Is the land eroding? Those poor children won’t get the chance…” Meghan’s outrage fades to groans as another contraction rocks her body. She squeezes her eyes shut.

  “Mama, you’re pulling my hair,” Zander whines.

  “Sorry sweetheart,” she says breathlessly once the pain has ebbed away. “Why don’t you go play in the back room now?”

  “When is daddy coming home?” he asks. A cloud passes over Meghan’s face and I lift the boy from the bench.

  “Soon,” I promise as I place him on the bed.

  “Will the offering work?” Zander whispers his question as he tries to look at the front door behind me. “Papa said we have to pray to the gods, and everything will be alright.”

  “How can it not work?” I smile at him, willing his worries to disappear. “Papa was a smart man. Whatever he says must be true.”

  “Brooke!” Meghan screams my name.

  ‡ Chapter Four ‡

  I turn to see her standing still, frozen in fear and staring at the bloody mess of fluid that pools at her feet. My brain kicks into overdrive screaming words at me that I’ve only heard from drunken sailors at the tavern.

  “New plan.” I turn to Zander. “Run to the kitchen and fill up the clean pot with water. I’ll be there in a second.” He is scared but the intensity of my voice forces him into action.

  “Let’s get you into bed,” I try to coax my sister across the room.

  “No.” The word is primal and mixes with the howling winds of the storm. “I’m not lying down.” Zander starts crying as he cranks the hand pump to desalinate the water.

  “We’re going to need more toys.” I smile at my nephew even though I feel like crying on the floor with him. I set the full pot to boil.

  “Is mama hurt?” he sniffles. “Do we need another offering?”

  “No sweetheart,” I say. “Your brother or sister is coming tonight. Why don’t you find your very best toy to show the baby?”

  With Zander now happily occupied in his quest, I return to Meghan’s side.

  She’s delirious in the pain of birth and I’m helpless to stop it. When the contraction eases, I venture to ask where the birthing supplies are.

  “In the closet,” she screams as a new round of pain overtakes her. The raging storm taunts me as I clumsily set up the tools. I didn’t get a good look when Margaret did this last time, but I remember she laid them out.

  “Why is this happening?” Meghan cries in the strange voice she’s adopted over the past few minutes. “I swear to the gods I’m going to die.”

  I ignore her words and try to stay grounded in the moment. But when she drops to her knees and lets out a blood curdling wail, I’m convinced she’s right. She begins to claw at her clothes. Holding back my tears, I help her undress and sit shaking next to her on the floor.

  A loud crack of thunder rattles the house echoing in tune with her screams. It’s taking everything in me not to yell at the storm and for the birthing goddess whose name I can’t remember. The thunder strikes again as it hits the front door.

  “That’s not the storm!” I cry in excitement as I race across the room. Meghan is moaning incoherently as I throw open the latch.

  Standing there in the pouring rain holding Zander’s little toy ship is Rowan. The storm divides as it lashes at his back.

  “Thank all the gods!” I yank Rowan inside the house and fight to get the door closed behind him.

  “Where were you?” Meghan screams. Her voice is savage and hoarse.

  “It wasn’t safe to bring her into the harbor,” Rowan speaks calmly as he goes to the stove to wash his hands. “But I had a feeling I’d need to be here. I came as quickly as I could.” He kneels down by my sister’s head, cradling her face next to his, and whispers soft words that cause her body to sag into his chest.

  I press myself against the wall awkwardly, but there is nowhere else for me to go so I stand witness to this intimate moment. Meghan screams out as another contraction hits her.

  “Hold her hand,” Rowan directs me as he squats between her legs. As grateful as I am that he’s here, I can’t bear to see what he’s doing. I stare into my sister’s eyes instead.

  “I’m never doing this again,” she cries as her bloodshot eyes turn to glare at her husband.

  “I’m never doing this at all,” I cry in response, grasping her hand tightly in my own. The contraction comes again, and I squeeze my eyes shut to block out the horror on my sister’s face.

  It can’t be that long, but it feels like it’s been hours when the baby screams its first cry. Rowan wraps the
wailing thing up and hands it to me.

  “A girl,” he whispers to Meghan as he tends to her other needs.

  The demonic possession has left my sister and she smiles at me. “Is she beautiful?”

  “The prettiest you’ve ever seen.” I turn the babe so she can look at the red and wrinkled little girl.

  “She’s perfect,” Meghan says dreamily. “Will you hold her for a minute?”

  My knees are shooting stings down my legs from sitting in the same position for so long. Rocking back on my heels relieves the pressure. I cradle my niece against my chest as I rise from the floor and walk around the room.

  The world is quiet. The storm is over. The baby sucks on her fist as she stares up at me with sleepy eyes. I slowly sway back and forth.

  “What will you name her?” I ask after Meghan has finished the birthing process.

  “Thora sounds good.” Rowan nods.

  *

  The weak rays of the rising sun light up the doorway as I open it to inspect the damage from the storm outside. Suddenly I’m exhausted.

  Sometime in the midst of his sister’s dramatic birth, Zander put himself to sleep. Meghan and Thora are resting on the larger bed. I curl up next to my nephew’s back and listen to the steady breathing of his childlike slumber. As soon as my eyes close, I fall asleep.

  The baby’s soft cries wake me up in what seems like minutes later. Meghan drowsily puts Thora to her breast. The smell of cooking food fills the room.

  Rowan stands in the kitchen with his back to me as I tiptoe from the sleeping area.

  “Did you sleep alright?” He catches me trying to escape.

  I nod. “How long was I out?”

  “A few hours.” He rubs his palm over his sleep crusted eyes. “They’ve already started the festivities.”

  The storm shutters are open now. Sure enough, the neighbors are drunkenly laughing as they toss the broken remnants from the storm into the sea below us. The party will last all day.

  We celebrate the passing of each storm because it reminds us that we’re alive. Although we all know deep down that we are at the mercy of the earth, surviving her tortuous blows reminds us of our strength.