By the Salt, Salt Sea

by R. L. Stuemke

  The first step, Colin said, was to hire a detective and find out what Charles was doing. "We can try to put together some evidence of cruelty, enough to threaten him with abuse charges if he causes any trouble. Your home state has mandatory jail time for spousal abuse convictions, and if his lawyers are worth anything at all, any serious mention of charges supported by real evidence should be enough to guarantee cooperation."

  Torn between the need to be free of the man she had once loved to the point of worship, and the fear of retaliation from the monster that man had turned out to be, Shari still hesitated. Gareth chided her in his quietest, most earnest voice. "If you don't put all of that behind you once and for all, it will haunt you for the rest of your life. You can't hide forever. Finish it now, Shari. It's time to taste some real freedom. You've been stuck behind his prison walls long enough."

  It was almost dark when Shari and Gareth got home from the city. After all the disturbing memories she'd been describing, for most of the ride home, Shari had sat in the car half-dreaming of a quiet evening in Gareth's arms, only to hear him excuse himself as soon as they walked through the cottage. "I'm going out for my walk."

  "Now? It's late and I was hoping ... aren't you hungry?"

  "I just need to clear my head. I'll be an hour or so. Why don't you fix yourself supper, and I'll just have something light when I get back."

  With that, he was gone, and the dog with him. She was alone again. Shari sat at the table frozen with disappointment, and then the tears started. He'd just been feeling sorry for her; he'd didn't really care for her that way, and he wasn't attracted to her. He was only playing with her. After the beauty of their night together, this rejection was more painful than any other.

  The minutes crept by, and her tears finally stopped. Shari pulled off her sweater and walked wearily into her room. Not even bothering to turn on any lights, she curled up in the window seat, fighting the impulse to retreat to the selfprotective numbness she'd used as a shield from Charles'

  emotional and psychological torment. What should she do now? Should she stay here anyway, now that she had a lawyer and had made some real moves toward starting over, or should she run again, since Charles could soon find out where she was and what she was doing? She had some money now, and there were other towns along the coast... but most of them were tourist-oriented communities and the tourist season was pretty much over. Cities were so expensive and she was tired of cold, crowded, sad shelters. She only had her high school diploma, and few real job qualifications. She'd dropped out of college after one year to get married. She had no training, no experience, and no references. She was just plain useless without a husband.

  Very briefly, she considered whether Gareth was seeing another woman during those daily walks, but discarded the thought easily. It was only likely if he was seeing a mermaid; no one lived down on that beach. So, he just enjoyed his walks more than being with her. Charles was right after all. No other man could want her. She was too tall, too flat, and too stupid.

  Wrapped up in depression, she didn't hear Gareth return. Suddenly, Aneurin was there, shoving his nose into her hands, whining. Gareth came in slowly, placing his hands lightly on her shoulders. "Did you find something to eat?"

  "I wasn't hungry after all," she replied, her voice tired and resigned.

  He moved one hand to her chin and turned her face toward him. "Shari, I'm sorry, but you know I always need my walk. Look, obviously Charles hasn't found you yet, and it's too soon for him to have heard from the solicitors. We have time to arrange some kind of security for the house."

  "It's not that. I just thought ... last night was special and I really thought ..." she choked, expecting him to start laughing. She should have fixed some food to have ready for him, she should have ...

  He pulled her up and folded his arms around her, letting her forehead rest against his chest. He gently rubbed her back and shoulders, and finally she began to relax again, putting her own arms around his waist.

  He kissed her hair and began murmuring one of his Celtic songs. She had no idea what the words really meant, but the tone was clear, and some of the pain in her breast slipped away. She lifted her face to meet his in a long, tender kiss. Finally, Gareth pulled away, kissing her once more, quickly, on the forehead. "Now, why don't we get something to eat?"

  They settled for fruit salad and scones, a very strange evening meal, but after the heaviness of the day, a light meal seemed right. While they ate, Gareth talked about some of his projects. "The staircase in the tower is actually in pretty good condition, considering the age of the building, and the outer wall is stable. I'm just working on redoing the inner walls right now. Soon, I'll have to take you up to the lens chamber itself, the view is spectacular."

  "I'd like that," she replied softly. "I've never gotten to see the view from inside a lighthouse; I've just looked at the buildings from the outside."

  "Well, now that I've sent in the completed manuscript of this book, I'll have a little more free time, until the editor lets me know what he thinks and I have to do the final rewrites. Of course, I'm still working on translating my great grandmother's journals. Did I tell you about her? Journals were very popular in her day, and hers are quite lovely, but she wrote them in Gaelic. I've been working on the translations for a long time now."

  Later, when they settled in the living room, he began to read some of the passages he'd already translated from the journals. It sounded something like poetry to Shari; in fact, some of the phrases were so strange, it almost had to be poetry.

  "Sometimes, in the evening, I sit outside, singing to myself as I wait for them to return, father and son, from the sea they love so much. If I feel lonely, all I need to do is reach for them, finding the quiet warmth within myself and sending it spinning from me, flying out to the shore and beyond. Soon, I will taste the salt spray and feel the ageless rhythm of the waves, and together we will celebrate and sing the songs of the ocean."

  "That was beautiful," Shari said sleepily. "Can we go to bed now?"

  He laughed. "Yes, I suppose it is getting late, isn't it?" He picked her up and carried her into her room. She was too sleepy to protest, although she marveled at the ease of his movement. He sat her down on the edge of her bed and started taking her clothes off. She reached out to unbutton his shirt, and soon they were climbing into bed together. All he did, though, was pull her to his side and hold her. "We both need to sleep, luv," he whispered. Shari felt a flicker of disappointment, but even as her hand was moving across his chest, that flicker died. She felt warm, comfortable, and safe, after a day filled with painful recollections, and it was so reassuring to simply feel his chest rise and fall with each breath. Sleep soon buried disappointment. In the days ahead, their relationship continued to deepen, even as there was a slow steady progress in the business of legally freeing her from Charles. It took only a few days for Colin's detective to file a preliminary report, and the lawyer immediately faxed it to them. The report showed that her husband's attempts to find his missing wife had been sporadic and apparently ineffective. He was more occupied at present fighting serious economic problems both at work and at home.

  Even better, for their purposes, the detective had gotten some documentation of abuse, in the reports from the emergency room doctor and statements from other hospital employees. There was one strongly-worded statement from one of the ER nurses, an older woman who had seen far too many cases of domestic abuse, and saw more of the truth behind what Charles and Elena had sworn. She also made it clear that she would be willing to testify to that in court. So, the divorce papers were filed.

  Shari left all the technical business in Colin's hands, starting to trust him just as she was learning to trust Gareth, and to believe that he really was as different from her husband as he seemed. Still, every time there was a new legal problem to discuss or more paperwork to handle, the nightmares would come back, and she couldn't stop them. Supposedly, even Charles' lawyers didn't know precisely where she wa
s, but there were channels of communication open to him now, and he used them, having the lawyer's forward letters to her.

  At first, the letters were sentimental. "Do you remember going to the ballet? I introduced you to The Nutcracker and Swan Lake, and you would lean forward in your seat, and your face would shine so much I almost cried to watch it. I had tickets to Cinderella last month, but I just couldn't face going alone, so I threw them away." And that night, in her dreams it was the King of the Rats, staring at her with Charles' eyes, which dragged her from the bus station. And as Elena watched her son beat Shari yet again, she wore the Black Swan's costume and smiled sweetly at them both. Gradually, the sentiments faded, replaced by hurt feelings.

  "I tried to make it all up to you. I know I get angry sometimes, but you hurt me so much. I just want you to love me back, that's all." And the Charles in her dreams was crying all the while he assaulted her, raped her, and handcuffed her to the basement wall.

  Finally, the last letters were simply angry. In them, Charles kept swearing that he really loved her and wanted her back, and he swore that divorce wouldn't end anything, that she was his and always would be a part of his life. She was a fool if she thought she could get away with humiliating him like that. Didn't she realize that no one else would ever want her? "Without me helping you, you'll dress like some back alley whore! You don't know anything about the world; you're stupid and uneducated and wear makeup like a common streetwalker. That's probably what you'll end up doing, too, and don't think I'm going to give you any kind of settlement to keep you off the streets either, you greedy little witch. Except for your $50 customers, you'll be completely alone!" Still, Shari insisted on reading the letters, feeling it was better to know than to imagine. So, the nightmares continued, but the impact grew less, because she wasn't alone. She got used to the feel of Gareth's arms around her, soothing the nightmares away, and to the sound of his voice, as strong as it was gentle, swearing to keep her from harm. Soon, much sooner than she had ever believed it would happen, she was no longer sleeping in her little room, but was sharing Gareth's four-poster. The heat of his body and the security of his arms around her combined to ward off the bad dreams, and his breathing reassured her when she woke during the night.

  As inexorable as time always is, fall gave way to winter, and the sea air grew colder. Shari's solitary walks to town decreased, but Gareth reacquainted her with the skills of driving and she was welcome to use his car. There were also visits to Colin's office in the city to discuss legal developments, and on these excursions, all three of them would eat out. Sometimes, Gareth would take Shari shopping while the attorneys worked, although he always insisted that they leave the city in time to be home before it was completely dark. As pleasurable as these trips were, Shari was always relieved when they got back home, and not only would she be alone with her lover and the faithful spaniel, they could turn on the newly installed security system and lock the rest of the world out of their lives. Despite the harsher weather, Gareth continued his daily hikes down to the shore, even if he did have to adjust the time to fit around Colin's schedule. His only concession to the weather conditions was to wear a heavier coat. As the days grew shorter, he returned to the cottage closer to, and then after, nightfall. By this time, Shari was well used to his habits, and tried very hard not to let it bother her. Once or twice, she asked if she could go with him, only to be told again that this was his "quiet time" and he needed to be alone. It was the only thing he ever really denied her, but despite everything, she still worried.

  She now needed more than her housekeeping duties and the visits to town to occupy her mind. She started working her way through his music collection, sometimes pulling down one of the musical reference texts to look for specific information about composers or styles of composition. She also took up drawing. At first, she hid it from Gareth, afraid that he would laugh at her artistic ambitions, but he soon found out, and instead bought her books on the techniques of drawing, so she could study and improve. One day, when Gareth and Aneurin got back from their walk, he found Shari absorbed in a pencil portrait of the spaniel. Gareth gestured to the dog to remain at his side, and they both stood quietly, watching her, without her knowing they had come in. She would pick up a photograph and study it, gnawing on one corner of her lower lip, and then the photo would be put aside, and she'd draw in a few more details. Finally, after several minutes, she put down the pencil and stretched. Aneurin apparently decided this meant he didn't need to be still any more, and he padded over to Shari's side, nuzzling her hand.

  "That is really, really good, Shari," Gareth said. He walked up behind her, picking up the photo and comparing it to the drawing. It was obvious that she was using her memory as well as the picture, since the portrait was not an exact duplication. "You really need to pursue this. You know, I've heard that the community college offers some pretty good classes in art. Once a few more legal things are settled, we should get you enrolled there."

  Shari almost gasped. "You wouldn't mind? I mean, I'd be gone more, and seeing other people ..." Gareth grinned. "I'd be proud." He knelt beside her, taking her hand and looking up at her. "You have a real talent, and I want you to fulfill yourself."

  She smiled tentatively at him, and tears formed in her eyes. He stood up, pulling her to him, and she leaned against his chest, feeling his warm support and accepting it, swearing to herself that she could—and would—prove herself worthy of it.

  "I think I love you, Shari," Gareth said softly, and some of her tears began to fall. His hold tightened, still gentle but even more secure.

  "I think I love you, too," she whispered.

  "Stay with me. After the divorce, too. I want you with me forever as my wife."

  Shari could scarcely breathe, and in the sudden quiet, she was amazed that the pounding of her heartbeat wasn't making the artwork on the walls shake. "Time," she gasped.

  "I'll need some time, after ... after it's all over. I can't think about it now."

  "I can wait. I won't even mention this again until afterward, but I'm not going to forget either." He squeezed her for a second, and then released her, picking up her drawing again. "This really is very, very good." That night, for the first time, Shari had dreams that weren't nightmares, dreams of the seashore, and watching the sun come up over the ocean, drawing with it a blanket of brilliant color.

  Gareth had an extensive collection of books about Celtic folklore and history. Shari found herself very attracted to them, first because of the exquisite knot work that illuminated many of the bindings, and then because the stories themselves were so interesting. Soon, her drawings included interpretations of those stories; she was pulling things out of her imagination, and sketching them began to feel as natural as drawing something sitting directly in front of her eyes.

  She found that music not only made the time slip past more smoothly, it also helped her relax. After exhausting Gareth's classical collection, she began listening closely to Celtic music, both instrumental and vocal, even though she could not always understand the lyrics. When it was just the dialect, and sometimes even when the lyrics were in the original Welsh or Gaelic languages, she learned to look in

  "The Popular English and Scottish Ballads". Gareth owned a complete set of Child's classic reference work, and she would dive happily into the descriptions of a song's history and development, along with the translations of the lyrics. It was one gray afternoon in November, when Shari first listened to a recording of "The Great Selkie of Sule Skerry". The sadness of the ballad touched her deeply, even though this recording did not use the final verses. Not until she pulled down the appropriate volume of the Child texts and read avidly through the explanation of the song, did she realize that the woman in the ballad committed suicide. She bore a child for a father who was "a man upon the land" and "a Selkie in the sea", who would pay her a purse of gold for his child. Then, her husband, "a right fine gunner", killed both father and child, and the woman threw herself into the sea. The story
vibrated deep into Shari's soul, almost as deep as her love for Gareth. Searching through other texts, she read everything she could about Selkies, strange beings who could appear as normal human folk on land but who would pull on a sealskin and change into a seal, swimming away to their great underwater kingdom, Sule Skerry, but she could never find enough information to satisfy her strong curiosity. Part of her realized that she was not supposed to sympathize with the Selkies, frequently portrayed in the songs and stories as villains, but she couldn't help herself. For so many years, she had dreamed of being able to just go away to some beautiful world where people like Charles and his mother, or like her own cold, uncaring father, did not exist. It took little imagination to make Sule Skerry into that world. She kept on researching, going to the small public library, searching through their limited collection for more references to Selkies and extracting a promise from the librarian to request more books from other libraries. She had long discussions with Mrs. Sanworth about mythical creatures, mostly shapeshifters, but also elves and wizards, winged horses and the one and only Phoenix, but Selkies remained her favorite.

  Finally, she asked Gareth if he knew of any other sources of information, and was disappointed by his reluctance to discuss what he called a "depressing and morbid" topic.