The Siren

by Kiera Cass

  Sign language. It was one of the mysterious leftovers of her unknown life. Kahlen had patience that would outlast a saint’s and an amazing sense of taste. When Bex cried and I’d go to change her, Kahlen would say, “No, that cry means she’s hungry,” like the sounds were all different. She had lost her knowledge of certain favorites— like now she preferred spring to fall (something about rain, she said), and she couldn’t recall how to play poker at first—but her ability to sign stayed with her. We attributed it to muscle memory.

  “Sweetheart, I don’t have any hearing-impaired family members.”

  “But you do; they just gave me all these gifts. See.” She motioned towards her full hands. She held three things. First, a bottle of dark blue liquid with sea shells floating in the middle, refusing to settle. The next was a black velvet box that looked like it must contain jewelry. And the last gift was rectangular, about the size of the boxes my checks came in, only much sturdier looking.

  “What are those?” Julie asked.

  “I don’t know. I mean, the one is just water, I think.”

  “Wait, wait.” We couldn’t get off track just yet. “Kahlen, who gave you these?”

  “Three women. They were all deaf and said they were your family. Well, they signed they were. I mean, isn’t everyone here your family?”

  “Yes, except for the tourists you keep feeding,” Ben said.

  “What were their names?” I asked. There were a few distant cousins whose names were a blur, but they’d probably ring a bell.

  “Oh,” Kahlen said. “Actually, they didn’t tell me their names.”

  She looked up at me apologetically, afraid I was upset. I shouldn’t push her so hard. Here she was, getting married in front of a bunch of strangers, and she was obviously in over her head.

  “Hey, I’m sorry, honey. It’s okay.” I stroked her hair and wiped off the last of her tears. “What did they say to make you cry?”

  “Oh, no, nothing. They were very kind. They just looked sad as they walked away. And I felt very close to them. It hurt me to see them go.” She looked confused again. Poor kid. I wondered if she’d ever feel completely settled. I’d do my best to make sure she did.

  “So they left?” I asked.

  “Yes. They held each other and walked away.”

  Well, whoever these girls were, at least they were nice to Kahlen. I’d figure out who they were later and thank them for their gifts.

  “I wonder why they didn’t just leave these on the gift table,” Ben wondered.

  “Yeah, it’s awfully generous of them to give them to you directly.” Julie’s comment was a little bitter. Some of the family members hadn’t accepted their shotgun wedding so easily. But I don’t see what the big deal was. Ben and Julie were always going to get married. And really, every one of them should be thanking their lucky stars any woman was willing keep up with how spastic Ben could be. And could anyone possibly deny the beauty that was Bex?

  “Why don’t you celebrate a little early? Open them up!” Ben commanded. Kahlen smiled a little slyly at the thought. How was I supposed to fight that face?

  “Yeah, let’s,” I agreed.

  “Don’t open the bottle, okay?” she asked. “I really like it; I want to put it by my bed. Oh! I mean our bed.” She smiled.

  I was momentarily sidetracked by the thought of Kahlen and beds. She did look positively distracting today. Gorgeous. Her shoulders and neck looked so inviting, begging to be kissed. And the way her dress fell over her curves— curves I would finally get to see— was remarkably tempting. She was blushing, obviously thinking in the same direction. We were brought back to the present by Julie’s voice.

  “Open the velvet one then. That has to be jewelry.”

  Oh, well. Soon enough.

  Kahlen passed the bottle of water over to me so she could open the box. There, set in the black cushions, was an emerald surrounded by tiny diamonds on a delicate gold band. It was just her taste— beautiful, yet modest.

  “Oh my! It’s lovely,” she sighed, admiring the gift. This seemed a little unfair. If the women were in my family, why was she the one getting all the gifts? What was I supposed to do with a bottle of water and a ring?

  “It must be an antique! Kahlen, you have to try it on.” If Julie was jealous she was covering it very well. I appreciated that.

  “No, no. I’ve got enough new jewelry today, thank you.” Kahlen looked over at me significantly. I thumbed at my own ring. It felt comfortable.

  “You don’t have to keep it on, just see if it fits,” Julie insisted.

  “Fine, fine.” Kahlen rested the last box in the crook of her elbow as she pulled the little emerald ring onto her right hand. It fit perfectly.

  “Wow!” Julie exclaimed. “Kahlen, it looks beautiful on you.”

  She slid it off carefully. “Then do me a favor and wear it for me while we’re on out honeymoon. I’d probably lose it.”

  So generous. Kahlen and Julie were practically the same size. The ring would fit her, too.

  “Ok, let’s get to the last one,” Ben said with a yawn. “Maybe it will be some chips. I’m hungry.”

  “Shut up, Ben,” I said, knocking him in the arm. He just laughed.

  But we were silenced quickly, because inside the box were a bunch of neatly stacked bills. I didn’t want to take it out and count it, but it had to be tens of thousands of dollars.

  “Kahlen… are you sure they didn’t give you a name?” I asked.

  “Positive.” She was stunned as well. “They were just signing how happy they were for us.”

  “What did they look like at least?”

  “There was a tall blonde with blue eyes, and a brunette girl who looked kind of Italian, and then a tiny Asian girl.”

  “Asian?!” Ben, Julie, and I said all at once.

  “Yes, Asian.”

  “Ben, we got any Asian branches in the family?”

  “I don’t think so…”

  We spoke in circles trying to figure it out, asking an occasional aunt or uncle if they’d seen any such trio at the party. No one had. It was all we could talk about until Kahlen would move to stretch a certain way, and I’d be distracted again by the thought of holding my wife. I’d sneak up behind her and kiss her neck and she’d make the sweetest little sighs. It was very encouraging considering how modest she usually was.

  I was aching to get away with her, but before she would leave there was one last thing she had to do.

  “Are you sure about this?” I asked for the tenth time.

  “Definitely,” she said, taking off her shoes.

  Kahlen had seen something somewhere and wanted a picture of the two of us jumping off the dock into the ocean. Considering how much time we spent on the water, it really would be a great picture. But even in the summertime, that water was going to be cool. This wasn’t Florida; this was Maine.

  Still, she wanted it, and I couldn’t deny her. So we ended up on the lower dock, ready to sprint off the edge with a photographer poised behind us and the remaining guests watching with giddy faces.

  “You’re going to ruin your dress,” I argued.

  “We’re about to leave anyway. Besides, don’t all of my nice dresses turn to dust? Might as well make the most of this one.”

  That was a good point. I had a suspicion that Kahlen’s little evening gowns were all dry clean only; they disintegrated.

  “Besides,” she whispered, “if the dress is all wet, we’ll have to go take it off…” She winked.

  Now there was some motivation!

  I took off my shoes and socks and reached out for her hand. Her cool fingers laced through mine and it felt like the whole world was right. Kahlen was here, she was my wife, and I got to keep her for the rest of my life. I couldn’t ask for more.

  “You ready, Mrs. Schaefer?”

>   “Absolutely, Mr. Schaefer.”

  “Take a deep breath, Kahlen. Hold on tight.”

  And with that, we jumped.

  EPILOGUE

  Akinli’s last words to me struck something deep in my mind. A memory?

  Take a deep breath, Kahlen. Hold on tight.

  The words sounded familiar somehow, but not in any way I could name. Things like that happened every once in a while, but what could I say? There was nothing to tie the random thoughts to, no image or name or place. It was confusing, like having the pieces to the puzzle, but no clue what the picture was supposed to be.

  Still, broken as I was, Akinli loved me like I was perfect. He provided for me and protected me before it was ever his job. And I loved him desperately. Sometimes it seemed unfair that I should get to be this happy.

  But I couldn’t really process any of it— Akinli’s words, my confusion, or the joy I felt at being his wife— because as soon as we hit the water, my mind was pulled in an entirely new direction.

  There, in the purple-blue waters of Port Clyde, I swore I heard some mysterious, joyful voice call out my name.

  And though there was no face to tie to the word, the only thought that came to mind was: Mother?

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  First, I have to thank God for words.

  Thanks to Callaway for being so patient with me when I wanted to run off and write and for supporting me so fully in this endeavor. You’re the best hubby ever!

  Thank you to Bethany Stevenson for taking a picture that was so beautiful it came to mind the moment I knew where this story was going. And thanks to Kelsey McNally, her model, for capturing such a lovely and mysterious emotion. You can see more of Bethany’s beautiful work at http://www.coroflot.com/BethanyLStevenson.

  A world of thanks goes to Liz McClendon and Michelle Thuis whose creative minds shaped the world this story encompasses. Kahlen and Akinli owe you their lives.

  Thank you to Emily Russo, Sarah Holloway, and Emily Stanton for your mastery of the English language. These pages would have been a wreck without you all! Thank you so much for all of your hard work.

  Thanks to Shel Silverstein for writing a book that made me decide to become best friends with a tree in the first grade.

  And, of course, buckets of thanks to all my crazy supportive fans. You’re all at least six different kinds of awesome. I adore you!