by Mary Lindsey
“Stop!” Anna shouted. “Stop right now.”
The villagers fell silent. I looked up to the trail and noticed Anna’s friends watching from the cliff above, not near enough to hear us. Miss Ronan stood slightly apart from them. It was too far to see her face, but I was certain Miss Ronan’s expression was one of triumph. The evil seed she had planted in the villagers’ brains eighteen years ago had tsther face, baken firm root and was driving their actions and thoughts. She controlled them like a master puppeteer.
Anna took several steps toward Mrs. McAlister. “You caught him red-handed doing what?”
Mrs. McAlister’s mouth opened and closed several times like a mackerel dropped into the bottom of a boat. Anna crouched down to Megan’s eye level. “What did you see?”
“You will not speak to my child!” Mrs. McAlister shouted.
“You will not speak to me in that tone. Are we clear?” I marveled at Anna’s forcefulness. “You are accusing someone of murder. This is not a game and you are not in charge.” She acted as I would imagine appropriate for a great lady of a mansion such as Taibhreamh. In awe, I held my breath and waited for Mrs. McAlister to react. To my amazement, her shoulders slumped and her mouth clamped shut in a tight line.
For a moment, no one spoke, but the bells continued their monotonous drone, underpinning the scene with a rhythmic dirge.
Clang, clang, clang.
“Justice!” someone yelled from the back of the crowd. An angry unintelligible rumble resulted. These people wanted something—someone to blame. I was that someone. My greatest hope was that Anna would not be implicated as well.
“No!” The cry was followed by harrowing sobs only the truly bereaved can deliver. Johnny’s wife pushed through the crowd. “No, Johnny!” She fell on her knees at his side, cries accompanied by the mournful tolling of the harbor bells.
Out of respect, I supposed, the angry villagers quieted.
Clang, clang, clang.
Once again, I scanned the crowd, including those on the cliff-side trail. I spotted my pa’s unmistakable broad form at the top, arms crossed over his chest. He would be as willing to believe I had given in to my murderous demon as anyone else. My spirit shrank with regret at the relationship we never had and never could have.
“What happened?” Johnny’s wife asked.
“I have no idea,” I whispered.
“I know exactly what happened!” Mrs. McAlister shouted, surely with the purpose of inciting the crowd again. “We all know what happened, don’t we?”
Several villagers shouted agreement, then were joined by others. I was most certainly doomed. Crowd mentality is powerful. Coupled with fear and grief, it’s unstoppable.
“I have one question.” I hadn’t realized I could raise my voice that loud. The crowd hushed. “Who is ringing the bells right now?”
“Edmond Byrne,” someone yelled.
“Why?” I shouted.
No one answered because everyone knew why. The bells only rang for fire, which was visible from anywhere on the small island; a birth, the last of which was Megan’s, six years ago; and death—the bells we heard most often on Dòchas.
Emboldened, I continued. “They started to ring before I removed the body from the water. You know this is true because that’s why Mrs. McAlister got here in time to see me pull the body out. She heard the bells and was told where the death had occurred. Who brought the news? That’s the person who knows what happened.”
A whispered murmur spread through the villagers.
“Who reported it?” I pressed.
“I did,” Pa shouted from the top of the trail. “I reported Johnny’s death.”
My heart stopped. This was the worst-possible outcome, well, other than if the witness had been Miss Ronan or Mrs. McAlister.
Clang, clang, clang. It was my death knell too.
The villagers waited expectantly for him to offer me up. This was his chance. He’d told me my whole life he wished he could get rid of me—that the only thing keeping him from it was my ma. Now, without her, there was nothing to hold him back. He’d be free of his burden at last.
I closed my eyes and found myself breathing in time to the strike of the bells, waiting for the inevitable.
“Leave the boy alone,” Pa yelled. “He had nothing to do with this.” I opened my eyes. Based on their absolute silence, the villagers were as stunned by his response as I was. “Johnny went to the sea on his own in the middle of the night.” Pa paused and wiped his face with his handkerchief. He was too far away to see clearly, but he appeared overcome with emotion as he pointed at the sea. “He said he heard his son calling from out there. I was too drunk to realize what he meant at the time.”
Johnny’s son had died three years ago when he fell off the boat while out pulling lobster traps with his dad. Neither could swim, so Johnny watched helplessly as his only child drowned just out of reach.
“Johnny answered the call of the sea,” Pa said. “We’ve all heard it.” He shook his head. “Let the boy be.” With that, he turned and disappeared over the hill.
I remained motionless, frantically trying to form a cohesive stream of thought, but none came. I could only repeat one word in my head: Why?
Like children denied a bright plaything, the villagers filed off the jetty with the exception of several men and Mrs. McAlister, Megan in tow.
Mrs. McAlister’s eyes narrowed as she studied me.
Anna slipped her arm around my waist. “Nice try, McAlister,” she said through gritted teeth. “This jetty is part of the Taibhreamh estate. You’re trespassing. Get off.”
Other than her eyes opening so wide white was visible all around the iris, Mrs. McAlister made no response. She pivoted and retreated to the trail. Megan looked back at me several times, lip trembling.
The four men lifted Johnny wordlessly onto their shoulders without making eye contact. Was it shame or disappointment that caused them to look away? I wondered. Fear perhaps.
The bells still moaned as the macabre procession cleared the jetty and disappeared over the hill.
“Are you okay?” Anna whispered, rubbing small circles on my back.
I was stunned, but alive and free. Pa had exonerated me—something I would never have dreamed possible. “Yes. I’m fine.”
Now that my shock was receding, my misery welled for Anna. She should never have been subjected to what she’d just witnessed. A battered corpse is traumatic even to one accustomed to death. For someone like her, it had surely been a living nightmare. And then the villagers.
I pulled her against me, breathing in the amazing scent of lilies and Anna. “I’m so sorry. I . . .” I shook my head. Words failed me again. My world was wrong for her and she needed to get out as quickly as possible. That’s what I wanted to say, but somehow could so neven’t. “My world is complicated.”
“Your world is screwed up,” she said. “Majorly screwed up.”
Pushing selfishness and desire aside, I vowed to myself that I would do anything in my power to ensure she returned to New York, where she belonged. She needed to shake free from this cursed island and evil it held, including me, before it was too late and her gentle spirit fell victim to the darkness here. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered into her hair.
She ran her fingers up my stomach and slid them between the buttons on my shirt, her fingertips skimming my chest, leaving tingles in their wake. Her simple touch had more effect on my tortured soul than a thousand words. I sighed and relaxed, the terror of prior moments receding like the tide, my breathing once again taking the slow rhythm of the bells sounding in the distance.
“What the hell was all that about?” Nicholas shouted from far down the jetty. I lifted my head to find Anna’s three friends awkwardly making their way over the rocks toward us. Miss Ronan was nowhere in sight.
Mallory jumped to the next rock. “Yeah, that was intense. Was that guy dead?”
Suzette was several feet behind, stopping on each rock and analyzing the bes
t path to take to cross safely to the next.
Anna didn’t respond to them, but slipped her hand from my shirt and placed it on the side of my face. “Are you okay, really?” she asked, looking straight into my eyes.
“I will be.”
“I can send them back to the house,” she whispered.
“No. You’ve given too much already.”
She dropped her hands. “You don’t get it, do you?”
My mind raced to grasp her meaning, but found none. Almost imperceptibly, I shook my head.
She placed her lips against my ear. “Nothing is too much. I’m in love with you, Liam MacGregor.”
The world around me melted into silence: the waves hitting the rocks, my breathing, the pounding of my heart . . . and the bells. No sound, no pain, no fear. Only Anna.
* * *
Muireann was shocked by the treatment of her human by his own kind. She thought only the Na Fir Ghorm capable of such callousness.
It was humans’ unlimited capacity for love that appealed to Selkies. It was the reason they cared for humans and championed them with Otherworlders.
She rose to the surface and snuck another peek. The villagers had cleared, and he was with the girl she had seen him with before. He held her tightly as if his life depended on it. Maybe it did. No others of his other kind seemed to want him.
But Muireann wanted him. She’d been told about the lure of humans but had never experienced it until recently. She longed to shed her pelt and talk to him and get to know him.
Three humans she’d never seen before interrupted the couple’s embrace. After sharing words, the tall girl and the boy touched hands with her human and the smallest one embraced him, and then the three of them along with the girl he favored took the trail that led to the big dwelling. Her human went the other direction toward his home.
The Na Fir Ghorm were still celebrating last night’s victory. She could hear the revelry every time she put her e sion tohead underwater. That poor man had honestly believed he was joining his dead son when he entered the water. Muireann recalled the horror on his face when the Na
Fir Ghorm released him from the trance too early—but too late to save himself. He fought death until his last heartbeat.
It was her sincere hope that Manannán mac Lir had granted him passage and that he truly was with his son now.
Muireann swam toward Seal Island with her head above water. The hateful creatures. Their raucous singing and boasts made her feel sick to her stomach. If only there were a way to stop them from killing her human. From killing any human again.
Impossible. They were unstoppable.
16
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand—
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep—while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
—Edgar Allan Poe,
“A Dream Within a Dream,” 1827
Elation and exhaustion swirled through me in equal parts. I hadn’t slept a minute last night at the store, wanting to savor every moment with Anna. Being with her gave me the freedom to be what I wanted to be: whole, valuable, loved.
And she had told me that she loved me. Annabel Leighton loved me. Me. Unfathomable. I shook my head in wonder and checked the large pot of water on the burner. Tiny bubbles were just forming on the bottom.
The splash of the bucket echoed off the walls of the well. One more after this and the tub would be full enough. Johnny had only been in the sea a short while—six hours at the most—but I still felt tainted by the brush of death. I wanted to wash the entire event out of my mind and off my body.
I poured the bucket of water into the tub.
His poor wife. My heart ached for her. I couldn’t imagine the pain of losing a lover or spouse. That was why it was imperative Anna return to New York City before this progressed any further. Surely the reach of the Washerwoman was restricted to this island and Anna would be safe once in her world and free of mine.
The well bucket splashed for the last time and I cranked the handle, winding the retrieval rope until I could balance the bucket on the ledge and unclip it. Francine had helped me devise this because manually pulling up the rope w H handle, was not possible with only one arm. The crank had a brake that held it in place once I got the bucket to the top. Because it was difficult for me to transfer water from one vessel to another, she ordered a special clip that fastened through an eye bolted to the handle. It snapped open with a pinch of two fingers.
After dumping the water into the tub, I added the boiling pot of water from the stove.
Anna had asked me to come back to Taibhreamh when the helicopter arrived so that I could say good-bye to her friends. I hadn’t heard it fly over yet, but I scrubbed quickly just in case it happened soon. After toweling off, I grabbed my dirty clothes from the floor and threw them in the tub. I then slid on my only other pair of pants.
I would tell Anna that she needed to go home. That we were too different and there could never be a meaningful relationship between us. I realized I wasn’t scrubbing the clothes but rather pounding them against the side of the tub.
“No!” I shouted.
Why, when happiness was finally within reach, was it denied me? My chest felt as though it would crack in two. I took a deep breath and resumed scrubbing.
She told me she loved me. That would have to be enough to sustain me once she was gone.
After swirling the clothes in the water to remove the last bit of soap, I pulled the plug that allowed the water to drain out of a pipe through the floorboards to the slope behind the shed.
I stepped into the tub, rolled the pants into a tube shape, and put my foot on one end. Then I twisted the other end with my good hand to wring the water out.
I wondered if Anna would follow my advice and leave. What if the tables were turned? What would I do in her shoes?
The shirt received similar treatment to the pants, and I hung it next to them on the line strung above the tub.
I knew exactly what I’d do if the situation were reversed. Nothing and no one could induce me to leave her, not even the Cailleach. I’d stay with her every possible minute, even if it meant my minutes were limited.
I balled a sock up in my fist and squeezed the water out.
But she didn’t really know the truth. I needed to tell her what seeing the Washerwoman meant.
I shook the sock and hung it over the line. After repeating the process with the other sock, I stepped out of the tub.
Maybe if she knew the truth, she’d do the rational thing and get as far away from this island as possible.
The conflicting desires of wanting her to leave but needing her to stay were ripping me apart. It was imperative I handled this today.
As I fastened my last shirt button, the distinctive sound of the helicopter’s arrival ripped through the air. I swallowed the lump of dread in my throat. I’d have to face her friends again. I’d ruined her birthday party—first by my presence at her home and then by the nightmare on the jetty with Johnny. I hadn’t even wished her a happy birthday or given her a gift.
Regardless, I promised her I’d come, and I always kept my word.
I paused with my key in the lock as Francine’s words played through my head. You have no control over death, only life. Make it count. Somehow, knowing part of me could go with her when she left made the inevitable more palatable. I pulled my portfolio out from under the bed, then headed to Ten omeaibhreamh, my heart lighter.
“You made it!” Suzette called from the porch as I squeezed through the partially open gate. “I’m so glad.”
The glare Nicholas delivered c
aused my demon to stir. Coming here was a mistake. Mallory looked up from the magazine in her lap and studied me with indifference. Anna was nowhere in sight.
“I was afraid we weren’t going to get to see you again,” Suzette said, trotting down the steps to meet me.
So was I. In fact, there were some moments this morning when I’d been certain I’d be hanging from a rope by now. Suzette stopped a foot or so from me and grinned. “I hope you’ll come see us in New York soon. You’d love it there.”
I would hate it there, but I smiled and nodded, pushing down the urge to look back up at Nicholas.
“What’s that?” Suzette asked, pointing at the portfolio.
“Oh, it’s um . . .” I shrugged. “It’s nothing important.”
“Looks like an art portfolio.”
I nodded.
“May I see?”
“No, I’d rather—”
“Yeah, let’s see it.” Nicholas descended the steps two at a time.
Instinctively, I took a step back. I’d brought my art for Anna, no one else.
Mallory joined us. She circled behind me, which made me uneasy, but I was loath to take my eyes off Nicholas.
“You brought it for some reason, right?” Nicholas said.
I said nothing.
Suzette stepped between us. “Leave him alone, Nicky.”
He smirked. “I’m not doing anything. I’m just talking to the guy. No harm in that, is there?”
“Don’t be a jerk.”
His face was all innocence. “Me?”
Mallory ripped the portfolio out of my hand. I spun to grab it back, but she had skipped out of reach. She ran up the porch steps and pitched the portfolio on the bench.
