by Mary Lindsey
“No. But imagine the reaction when scholars, with no satellite images to prove it, told people the truth they’d been taught all along was wrong. They were asked to accept that mankind was residing on a spinning ball in space when in fact the earth appeared flat.” I gestured to the horizon all around us. “The proposed reality was based on something that was invisible.”
She made a frustrated huff. “This is different.”
“Yes, but the analogy works.”
“No, not really. This isn’t science.”
“It is, nonetheless, reality, whether it be scientific or otherwise.”
She ran her hands through her hair. “You could be wrong.”
“So could you.”
In the brilliant morning sunshine, her eyes flashed the dazzling azure of a tide pool, nearly taking my breath away.
She stomped her foot. “You’re frustrating, Liam!”
“You’re beautiful, Anna.” Time stopped—as did my breathing. Oh, God. I’d done it again. Without waiting for a reaction, I retreated to the other side of the light housing. Stupid, stupid, impulsive idiot.
She approached from the opposite side of the deck. “I think I know why you do that,” she said with a smile, running her fingers along the rail.
I did too. “Enlighten me.”
“Well, I thought about it a lot last night.” She clasped her hands behind her back. “You’ve never been around a girl, have you? I mean a girl your own age.”
Unwilling to make eye contact, I stared out at the harbor. “No.”
“So, you’re just kind of freaking out because you’r scauwhy e outside your comfort zone. You’ve never been up against the real deal before.”
The real deal. I smiled in spite of my mortification. “That sums it up well. My interaction with people has been limited, to put it mildly.” No one would dare get near me except my ma and Francine. “I’m way outside of my comfort zone. I apologize.”
“It’s all good. You’ll get better at it.”
“One can always hold out hope for improvement.”
I glanced over and she winked, causing my heart to stutter in my chest.
She spread her palms wide on the railing. “So, why the screaming things? What do they want?”
I was relieved she’d moved the topic away from my faux pas. “The Bean Sidhes wail in mourning for the wrongfully dead.”
She continued to stare out at the horizon. “Like murdered people or something?”
I took a deep breath. “Yes, they mourn the murdered.”
“So does everybody here hear them?”
I glanced over. She was leaning forward, eyes locked in the distance, which made it easier to talk to her. “No. Only some people hear them.” If I were lucky, she’d leave it at that.
“Who?”
So much for luck. “Those with ties to the dead.”
She stood up straight. “So, I’m tied to somebody who was murdered?”
“It would appear so.”
“Who?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea.”
She paced in small, agitated circles. “But you hear them too.”
There was no need for acknowledgment. It was a statement, not a question. Please leave it at that, I begged inwardly.
She stopped pacing. “Why do you hear them? Who was murdered?”
I closed my eyes and held my breath, willing her to let it go.
“Who?”
I met her eyes directly. “My birth mother.”
“Oh, my God. Your mother was murdered? I’m so sorry, Liam.” She placed her hand on my arm. “You said she died at your birth. Who killed her?”
I stared down at the patch of trees where she had died. Even from this distance, I could spot the simple cedar marker I’d made as a boy to honor her.
I did, I confessed in my head. It was an answer I prayed Anna never discovered.
An uncomfortable silence stretched between us and I was desperate for a change in topic. “I should get down to the shop,” I said.
“But what about your foster father? Won’t he be at the harbor?” Anna tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“He’ll most likely be pulling traps by now. I’m surprised he wasn’t out there before daylight.”
“It’s probably because he was hammered.”
My face must have shown my confusion at her words.
“He sounded drunk,” she clarified.
“Ah. Yes. He usually is . . . ‘hammered.’” I moved to the hatch and stepped down onto the first rung.
The strand of hair blew across her face again, and she placed it back behind her ear. “So, can I come with you? I’ve gotta make a phone call.”
She had asked my permission to join me. This had to be the best and most unusual day ever.
“Of course.” I took another step down on the ladder.
She crouched down and touched my hand. “These screaming things and the guys in the water—are they trying to hurt me?”
“The Bean Sidhes are only making noise. The Na Fir Ghorm are dangerous. They derive strength and enjoyment from luring humans to their deaths. As long as you’re aware they’re trying to trick you, you’ll be fine. They prey on emotions. Use your mind . . . and stay away from the water at night.”
She nodded and squeezed my hand. “Thanks . . . really.”
“For what?”
“For what you did out on the jetty . . . for stopping me from, well . . . from whatever. And for not treating me like a nutcase.”
I took another step down. “You are simply ‘outside your comfort zone.’”
Her musical laugh filled my ears as I proceeded down the ladder. Before I got to the bottom, the interior of the lighthouse fell into blackness. She had shut the hatch on her way down.
The sudden plunge into darkness startled me. Adrenaline surged to my extremities in a rush, causing an overall tingling sensation. I backed away from the ladder and felt my way around the wall to the door. When my fingers brushed the cool metal door casing, I reached into my pocket for the key, keenly aware of Anna’s breathing nearby. I fumbled with the key, trying to orient it in my hand so that I could engage the lock—easier said than done with one hand—and dropped it. The clatter of the metal bouncing across the stone floor sounded almost deafeningly loud in the tiny, light-deprived space.
“Uh-oh,” Anna said. She sounded amused rather than alarmed.
I bent down and ran my hand across the stone floor, feeling for it. “I dropped the key. Would you please open the hatch so that we have some light to find it?”
She made no sound. No move to climb the ladder. Nothing.
I turned my head in the direction from which her voice had come. “Anna?” There was a rustle, then light footfalls behind me. “The ladder is the other way,” I said.
“Really?” Her voice sounded on the verge of laughter.
I sat back on my heels and listened in the blackness.
When her fingers touched my arm, I startled and gasped involuntarily.
“Shhh,” she whispered, running her warm hand over my shoulder and down my good arm to my fingers. She must have been on her knees too because she pressed her body against my back as she entwined her slender fingers through mine.
I froze.
Her breath on my neck was hot. This can’t be happening, I thought, trembling. Then her warm lips caressed the skin just under my ear, and I was certain my heart would stop.
“Oh, God, Anna.”
She released my fingers and crawled to where she faced me. I couldn’t see her, but I was keenly aware of her location, as if I were a compass needle and she true north. My sense of smell was heightened as w sigh waell as my hearing in the darkness. Her fast breaths and floral scent were intoxicating. I became dizzy as she ran her hands up my chest and around my neck, weaving her fingers into my hair. Her body met mine and her breath caressed my lips, rendering me too stunned to do an
ything but remain perfectly still, praying the world would
stop spinning and suspend me in this unexpected, glorious moment forever.
“Yes?” she whispered almost inaudibly against my lips.
“Yes.”
9
Yet what business had I with hope?
—Edgar Allan Poe,
from “The Pit and the Pendulum,” 1842
I was certain I’d walked of my own volition from the lighthouse to the harbor, but I didn’t have any recollection of it. My bliss obliterated all memory and reason. My mind held no thoughts but of Anna, my childhood dream—now my living fantasy. But I knew deep down that was all it was: a fantasy.
Halfheartedly, I restocked canned goods while Anna talked to someone on Francine’s phone. Occasionally, she would grin at me over her shoulder and I’d forget how to breathe.
“Are you going to tell me about it, lad?” Francine asked with a wink, putting another box of canned corn on the counter.
“Not a chance.”
She cut the top of the box with a knife. “Your pa was here.”
I shoved the cans further back on the shelf and grabbed another. “I know.”
“Are you okay?” She held a can out to me.
“Yes. He didn’t find me.”
“But Anna did.” Her grin was enormous.
I took the can and placed it on the shelf. “Yes, she did. Subject closed.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say it looks like you . . . um, bit your lower lip.” Francine chuckled and wandered back into the storeroom.
I ran my thumb over my lip where Anna had playfully nipped me—just barely. Her kisses had tasted of apples and sunshine and . . . hope, something I’d never tasted before.
At the phone console, Anna twirled a finger in her hair. “So, since I can’t have my party in the city, I figured you guys could come here,” she said to whomever was on the other end of the line. “The helicopter holds three plus the pilot, Suz.” She shot me a look. “It’ll be great. . . . Um, Nicky?” She turned her back to me and lowered her voice. “Yeah. Invite him too, I guess. Otherwise he’ll be pissy for a month.” She shifted her weight from foot to foot. “See you guys tomorrow, then. Bye.”
She turned and we stared at each other and I wondered if the scene in the lighthouse played through her mind as well.
She shifted uneasily and brushed her hair behind her shoulder. “So, I guess I should leave you to your work?”
I had no idea what to say. I wanted to beg her to stay for fear the memory of what we had shared would disappear along with her. I placed the can I was holding on the counter.
“Well, I had fun.” She gave a half smile. “Tha vigh ws ht sounded pretty stupid, huh?”
Not as stupid as anything I would utter at that moment, so I remained silent.
She took a step toward me, and my heart raced. “Are you okay, Liam?”
I picked up the can and moved it to the shelf. “Beyond okay.”
“Oh, good. You got all quiet on me.”
I remained with my back to her, reticent to meet her eyes. I wanted to thank her. Tell her she’d forever changed my life, and even if we never spoke again, I was better for her attention, but the thought didn’t transfer to speech. “I’m not sure what words are appropriate . . . or adequate for that matter.”
“How about saying you’ll walk me home or something like that.” When I didn’t immediately respond, she took a step closer. “Come on, Liam. I know you want to.”
Of course I wanted to, but I was also scheduled to work in the store. I hated to ask Francine for favors, as she’d already been so kind to me.
“Francine doesn’t mind, Liam, if that’s what’s hanging you up. She’d like nothing better. We had a nice long talk this morning before I came to your place.”
My startled expression caused her to smile.
“Oh, don’t worry. It was all good. She’s a big fan of yours.” She winked, then shouted, “Hey, Francine! Is it cool if Liam walks with me up to the mansion?”
“Of course, lass,” Francine called from the storeroom. “I’ll just see you tomorrow then, Liam.”
“Pardon me for a moment.” I strode into the storeroom to find Francine entering stock on her clipboard. “Take the whole day off? Are you sure, Francine? I missed this morning already. I don’t want to let you down.”
She placed the clipboard on a box. “Liam. You have always struck me as a smart boy. Don’t get stupid on me now. That girl likes you. She came looking for you this morning.”
“Why?” I hadn’t intended to actually say it out loud.
“Why doesn’t matter. Don’t you see, lad?” She reached up and took my face in her palms. “There’s a beautiful girl out there who wants to be with you. Go with it. Run with it, for God’s sake. We’re only here on earth a very brief time and should grab every opportunity to be happy. Even if it’s fleeting.” Tears filled her eyes but didn’t spill. “Now go.”
She turned her back and picked up the clipboard. Subject closed.
I placed my hand on her shoulder. “I love you, you know, Francine.”
“Yes, lad, I know.” She shrugged my hand off. “Shoo! Off with you.”
Anna was leaning on the counter when I returned. Just the sight of her made my chest tighten.
“See?” she said. “What did I tell you?” She smiled and strolled to the door and I rushed to open it for her.
The sun was shining, but the wind had picked up to the point I had to place my foot against the door to keep it from slamming shut. “A storm is coming,” I remarked as she passed.
I followed as she led to the path to Taibhreamh. She was uncharacteristically silent, so I occupied myself with memorizing her as she picked her way up the obstacle-laden path. When she reached the fork for the woods, she turned left toward the jetty instead. I didn’t que { di pickestion her or point out the woods path was shorter.
“I’m not ready to deal with Ronan yet,” she said, nimbly navigating rocks blocking the path. “Can we hang out down there awhile?”
“Of course.” I climbed down the trail to the ocean behind her. She paused briefly to look out at the jetty before sitting on a large boulder near the water’s edge. I sat on the opposite side from her. The sun had warmed the stone to where it felt heated from within. The brisk wind coming off the Atlantic Ocean was chilly, so I pressed my palm flat against the stone, letting the heat transfer into my fingers.
“So Miss Ronan says I should avoid you no matter what, but she won’t tell me why.”
I was too stunned to even reply. Why would she be alone with me after Miss Ronan’s warning? Why had she kissed me? I knew I should tell her the truth, but my selfishness prevented me from doing so. Too ashamed to meet her eyes, I stared out over the ocean in silence.
“Francine says Ronan is full of crap. Well, she didn’t say it in exactly those words, but that was the essence of it.”
Still, I stared out over the water, unable to provide an adequate response.
She scooted closer. “Francine says you are simply a victim of superstition and rumor.”
I took my first breath since she had mentioned Miss Ronan. “Francine is a kind person.”
A pod of half a dozen harbor seals that had been playing in the cove jettisoned from the water one and two at a time onto the rocks of the jetty to sun themselves. Two emerged from the water and pulled themselves onto a flat, low boulder only a few yards from us.
“Wow! Look at that!” Anna gasped. “They’re amazing.” One made a grunting sound similar to a belch and Anna giggled. I noticed she was shivering.
“Come,” I said, sliding off the boulder. I sat with my back against it facing away from the water, effectively shielded from the wind. Anna lowered herself next to me, eyes still on the pair of seals.
“It’s like they’re checking us out or something,” she said. Both of the small females were watching us warily. “It’s like they’re listening to us.”
“Some believe they are capable of that—understanding human speech.”
>
She rolled her eyes. “More villager superstition.”
“Celtic lore, actually, not just local village superstition.”
“Unlike the rumors about you, right?”
I gained the courage to meet her gaze. “Those are definitely homegrown.”
She searched my eyes and her brow furrowed. “You’re different—not like them. Is that why the villagers are scared of you?”
“The fear of something unfamiliar is the source of most types of discrimination, and in my case, it certainly contributes.”
She took my lifeless, non-functioning hand in hers and turned it over, palm up. “So the fact you have a paralyzed arm probably freaks them out, huh?”
“I suppose that doesn’t add to my appeal.”
She pressed a kiss to the inside of my palm, and I imagined I could feel her warm, soft lips there. I stifled a groan. “You don’t feel anything at all?” she asked.
“No, but by all means, feel free {s, doto continue your experiment.”
She laughed. I loved her laugh.
She pulled my arm into her lap. “You also look different than they do. Most of the villagers are pale-skinned and fair or red-haired. You have dark hair and very dark eyes. It’s like your parents were Italian or something instead of Scottish or Irish. What did your mom look like?”
I stared at my hand in her lap. What would I not give to be able to feel the warmth of her gentle touch as she ran her fingers over my forearm? “I have no idea what my mother looked like. She had dark eyes, I’m told.”
“And your dad?”
“No one knows who he was. She would never reveal his identity. She worked for your family as a maid and then was fired when it was discovered she was with child.”
Anna gritted her teeth. “See, they’ll fire a poor pregnant girl, but they won’t tell that crazy old hag Ronan to hit the road.” Her eyes flitted past me to the two seals sunning on the rock. “I swear they’re listening to us. It’s kinda creepy.”
“It’s said many seals are Selkies: Otherworld creatures who can change form to that of a human. That they can live in our world.”
She stared at the pair of seals, who rolled over and closed their eyes as if ignoring us.
