Siren's Secret

by Debbie Herbert

  He placed a hand over his heart. “Who are you?”

  “When I’m wrong, I admit it.” She went to him and held out a hand. “Why don’t we start over?”

  Tillman looked at Shelly in astonishment. She beamed her approval.

  He shrugged and shook Jet’s hand. “Done.”

  Jet rewarded him with a grin that stunned. He glimpsed the warm, vital person behind Jet’s dark, sullen eyes.

  Lily gave a loud yawn. “Y’all have fun. I’m sleepy and going to bed.”

  He watched her hips sway as she took her leave, unruffled and casual. That one, Tillman decided, he would never understand. He hadn’t asked any of them—yet—how that dock had broken and why Pellerin was missing an eye. But he would bet Lily had zero compunction in meting out her own brand of mermaid justice.

  Jet tapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll help Shelly with the dog. Stop checking out my sister’s ass and go home.”

  “I wasn’t—”

  He stopped protesting at their laughter.

  Shelly tugged his arm, leading him to the door. “Go make sure Eddie and your mom are okay and get some rest. I imagine you’ll have a ton of things to do later.”

  At the door he cupped her face in his hands. “If you’re sure you’re okay—”

  She leaned her forehead against his chin for a second and pulled away. “It’s really over, isn’t it?”

  “He can’t hurt you anymore.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He abruptly crushed her body to his. “You saved yourself.” He’d come so close to losing her, he was reluctant to leave.

  “Good God, you two,” Jet snorted. “Say goodbye already.”

  Shelly laughed and gave him a push. “Call me later.”

  * * *

  “This is it.”

  Shelly pointed to the Happy Hollows sign and Jet turned her truck onto the pothole-riddled street leading into a neighborhood of decrepit old houses jammed close together.

  It was a quiet Saturday morning compared to most neighborhoods, where home owners had the gall to run lawnmowers and weed eaters early in the day.

  Jet slowed the truck to a crawl as they searched. “Have you ever seen this dog?”

  “No. But Tillman said we’ll know it when we see it.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Apparently, it’s most outstanding feature is that it’s hideous and has practically no hair.”

  Jet cocked her head to the left. “There’s a dog.”

  A black boxer stretched out on a sagging porch, head resting on his paws. He opened one eye at this potential threat to his territory and promptly closed it again.

  “He won’t win any doggie beauty contest, but I wouldn’t call him hideous,” Shelly said.

  Jet stopped the truck in front of the Pellerin house, sealed with yellow crime scene tape.

  Shelly shivered, remembering what was hidden under the floorboard. “All the commotion last night probably scared the dog off for a little while. Let’s get out and call his name, could be he’s hiding close by.”

  But after a good ten minutes of whistling and calling, “Here, boy,” they conceded defeat.

  “There’s something.” Jet hurried a few houses down, Shelly in tow. A small brown furry creature skirted into some shrubs.

  Shelly crinkled her nose. “Ew, I’m pretty sure that was a rat.”

  “You said it was ugly,” Jet grumbled. “Let’s go. We’ll try again in a few hours.”

  A loud, high-pitched squeal sounded in the distance, followed by laughter and shouts. They exchanged a worried look and ran down the street. Five bicycles lay abandoned by a path in back of a house. They hurried over, the whimpering of an animal in pain goading them on.

  The dirt path led them through a cluster of pines. In a small clearing, a half-dozen young boys hollered and laughed, picking up pebbles and hurling them at a small dog tied to a tree with an old boat rope. The dog let out a howl as one of the pebbles struck him on the side of the ribs and he ran in circles, desperately tugging at the rope around his neck.

  “Hey!” Jet grabbed the arm of a kid who had his elbow raised shoulder height, a rock palmed in one fist, ready to strike. “Leave that dog alone.”

  The kid, who looked to be about eight or nine years old, swung around in surprise. All of the boys stopped hollering and stood motionless, assessing the strangers.

  Jet was red-faced with anger. “Get out of here, all of you.”

  Shelly stepped though the crowd and went straight to the dog. Kneeling just outside the rope’s reach, she spoke softly and exposed open palms. “It’s okay, Rebel. You’re safe now.”

  “Fuck you, lady,” one of the kids yelled, the rest snickering at the insult. Shelly came to her feet and rushed to protect Jet.

  She needn’t have worried. Jet grabbed the T-shirt of the closest boy. “Shut your filthy mouth and get out of here.”

  His pals took off in a mad scramble for their bikes and pedaled as fast as they could to get away from the crazy lady.

  “Let him go,” Shelly said in a low voice.

  Jet snatched her hand away and the kid ran after his friends. At the edge of the clearing, he stopped and yelled, “I’m telling my mom.”

  “Go away, punk.” Jet turned her back and headed to the dog. “Freaking kids.”

  They both knelt by Rebel.

  “Tillman was right,” Jet said. “No doubt this is Pellerin’s dog.”

  “Was Melkie’s dog,” Shelly corrected.

  He bared crooked yellow teeth and growled.

  “We should have brought a biscuit or something,” Jet said. “Maybe we should get help and come back.”

  “And let those kids stone him to death? No way.” Shelly edged an inch closer to Rebel and held out her fingers for him to sniff. “C’mon, Rebel,” she coaxed. “We won’t hurt you.”

  He tentatively poked his nose forward and sniffed. Straining at the rope around his neck, he licked Shelly’s fingers.

  “See? I’m your friend.”

  Rebel rolled onto his back in submission.

  Shelly laughed. “I knew that growl was just for show.” She petted the hairless body and untied the rope. Rebel bounded in her lap and licked her face before doing the same to Jet.

  “Let’s skedaddle before those precious little ones return with mad mamas in tow,” Jet said.

  Shelly carried the willing dog to the truck. Rebel whined as they drove by Melkie’s house.

  “You’re going to be okay, boy,” Shelly said soothingly. “Do you think Lily’s singing will have a calming effect on Rebel like it does with people?”

  “We’ll find out.”

  Rebel jumped out of Shelly’s arms and plastered his nose against the back passenger window at the sight of an orange tabby. The cat arched its back, fur bushing out, ready for combat.

  Jet grinned. “Maybe this dog will keep all those damn cats from following us everywhere we go.”

  Shelly pulled away from the curb. “There’s something I need to warn you about,” she began. “I wanted to get you alone, away from the others.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  “It is.” Shelly bit her lip nervously. “Have you ever met Tillman’s deputy, Carl Dismukes?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. He was the go-between on the blackmail money with Tillman’s father.” Jet’s eyes narrowed. “What about him?”

  “He gave me a ride home last night.” Shelly took a deep breath—there was no easy way to say this. “He wants a share of your profits when you start back trading.”

  “What makes him think—” Jet’s words died on a sudden inhale of breath. “Perry,” she whispered.

  “He’s out of prison.” Shelly lightly touched Jet’s shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”

  She stiffened her shoulders. “Fine. Thanks for the warning, Shelly. What did you tell Dismukes?”

  “To take it up with you.”

  Chapter 17

  If you’re in some dark bayou
<
br />   And think someone is watching you—

  An eye does lie in the sea sand

  Gazing upwards through tideland

  Searching for mama in Alabama

  In a liquid panorama.

  Shelly absently fingered her black pearl necklace, watching Tillman through the kitchen window. The scent of sizzling steak and shrimp from the grill drifted in the open window and she smiled at his absorbed pleasure in the task. Shirtless and shoeless, he took occasional sips from a beer and drummed his fingers along the edge of a platter in time to an old Lynyrd Skynyrd classic. In the weeks since Pellerin’s capture, Tillman had gradually become less uptight and driven. Regular work hours combined with steady sleep at night did a lot for a man.

  And she liked to think their healthy sex life played a major role in this new, relaxed Tillman. She remembered the way he’d held her last night, the feel of his hands against...

  “Eat.”

  Eddie’s sudden command pulled her abruptly out of the steamy reverie.

  “Almost done.” She handed him a large salad bowl. “Put this on the table for me, please.”

  Shelly observed him surreptitiously as they worked together setting the table. The first week after Portia left for rehab had been rough. Eddie couldn’t understand why his mother was gone and they’d called Lily more than once to come over and sing to calm him down. Beat the hell out of Xanax every time.

  “Who’s hungry?” Tillman came in and put the platter of grilled food on the table. “I’ll be right back, let me pull on a T-shirt before we eat.”

  Shelly threw him a mischievous grin. “Not necessary. I’m enjoying the view.”

  “Shirt at table,” Eddie pronounced.

  In his world, a rule was a rule, no exceptions—and it always paid to accommodate Eddie’s world. But Shelly didn’t mind. Rules and routine helped him make sense out of the chaos in his reality.

  They all dug in. Shelly stuck to shrimp dunked in butter while Tillman and Eddie ate steaks with all the fixings.

  “What’s the latest on Melkie?” she couldn’t help from asking.

  “Still in psychiatric lockdown. You don’t need to ask about him every day. If something changes with his situation, I’ll let you know.”

  “Nice to have my own personal pipeline.” She tried to keep her voice light, a smile on her face. But she remembered those angry, glittering eyes, kept expecting to turn a corner and see him, or wake up from a nightmare and hear him whisper in the darkness. She thought of him at the oddest moments, too, like when a butterfly hovered nearby, or in underwater shadows during ocean swims.

  Shelly straightened her spine, determined to switch the conversation. “In town today I came across a strange woman,” she said. “I heard people whispering ‘witch’ so I turned to see who they were talking about. There was this old woman in a loud purple dress and I caught her staring at me with the strangest look on her face. When she caught my eye, she winked and then left without a word.”

  Tillman nodded. “Had to be Tia Henrietta, our local crackpot. She lives way out near Coden and tells fortunes.”

  “She ever read yours?”

  Tillman snorted. “As if I would pay good money for something like that.”

  He could snort all he liked, but Shelly resolved to have Tia read her fortune one day.

  “Normal humans see only half the world,” she said. “You might be surprised by all that’s out there.”

  A smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “I’ve seen all I care to see.” He took a long swallow of iced tea. “Has Lily left yet?”

  Shelly pushed back the plate of discarded shrimp tails and sighed. “She’s leaving tonight. Nothing Jet and I say will sway her. Once Lily gets a notion to do something, that’s it.” She couldn’t imagine Lily wanting to leave the bayou for uncertain, deep waters hundreds of miles away from her and Jet. Sure, they had some distant relatives in mermaid colonies. And living undersea could be beautiful and exciting. But, for Shelly, it was also a mysterious, dangerous world—one to be tasted in small doses close to shore.

  Tillman slipped his hand over hers. “She’ll come back.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Shelly said slowly. “I think the encounter with Melkie upset her more than she lets on.”

  “How can you tell with Lily? Your cousin has the biggest poker face I’ve ever seen.” Tillman withdrew his hand to finish up the last bit of his steak. “As far as I’m concerned, Lily’s missed her calling. She’s wasting time running a beauty salon when she could be winning a fortune playing the Vegas casinos.”

  “Lily already has a fortune,” Shelly reminded him. “We all do, thanks to generations of—” she hesitated, glancing at Eddie “—um, maritime reclamations.”

  Tillman grinned and slapped his brother on the back. “You hear that, Eddie? You could say Shelly comes from a long line of supernatural pirates.”

  “Cap’n Crunch?” Eddie asked hopefully.

  Shelly laughed. “I promised him a bowl of cereal for dessert if he ate his vegetables first.”

  Later, as she and Tillman finished washing the last of the dishes, Shelly grew quiet and pensive. Tillman studied her as he put up the dish rag.

  “Still upset about Lily leaving?”

  “A little.”

  “Something else bothering you?”

  “Well...” She hesitated. There was no nice way to say it.

  He folded his arms and leaned one hip against the kitchen counter. “Go on. Spit it out. Remember our agreement? No more secrets or lies between us.”

  Carl’s mer-eyes flashed before her and Shelly crossed her fingers behind her back. One little secret. “It’s just...your mom is coming home in a few days.”

  He frowned. “I don’t see what that has to do with us.”

  “I know there’s always my house for us to spend the night together. But you have to stay close to your brother and look out for Portia.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “No more looking after her. She stays clean and sober or I’m done with it.”

  “But Eddie...”

  Tillman froze. “I thought you liked my brother.”

  Shelly made a face. “I don’t like Eddie, I love him. That’s not the problem.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “At the risk of sounding incredibly selfish, I won’t have you to myself anymore. I’ve been playing house the last few weeks in a place that belongs to Portia.”

  “I hadn’t planned on telling you until later tonight, but I’m moving out, getting my own place. It’s way past time. Mom should be able to handle things around here, especially since I convinced her she can afford a part-time caretaker with the trust fund Dad set up for Eddie.”

  Tillman laid his hands on her shoulders. “I promise,” he said, gray eyes intense with emotion, “you mean everything in the world to me.”

  She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

  He pulled away, a lopsided grin on his face. “Really? That’s enough? Then I guess you don’t need this, either.” He reached in the pockets of his cargo shorts and drew out a small velvet-lined box along with a small sliver of something.

  Shelly drew in her breath. “Is that—?”

  “It is.” He held the box out.

  “Not that.” Shelly took the other object in his hand. “This looks like a fish scale.”

  “Oh, that.” Tillman shrugged. “I picked it up off the boat the night you first showed yourself to me as a mermaid.” He tried to take the scale away from her.

  Shelly stepped back a step. “Why did you keep it?”

  “At first I kept it to convince myself the sight of you wasn’t some hallucination. Later, I held on to it because...well, it’s beautiful. Like you.”

  Shelly’s heart somersaulted as she watched Tillman’s cheeks redden slightly.

  “Just open the damn box,” he said gruffly.

  “Is it what I think it is?”

  “Yep. Time we mad
e everything official.”

  “Then there’s one more thing I need to hear.”

  Tillman knitted his brows in confusion. “What the hell?”

  She crossed her arms. “Just three little words. The first starts with ‘I’ and the third starts with ‘you.’”

  He relaxed his facial features. “Oh, for God’s sake, Shelly, you know I love you.”

  Finally, the words.

  “You’re quite the romantic.” She smiled.

  “I can do better.” He cleared his throat. “Shelly, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re beautiful, kind, smart—”

  “Don’t forget ‘rich,’” she teased.

  He gently laid a finger on her lips. “Let me finish. I knew from the first moment I saw you that you were special and gorgeous. And now that we’re together, I realize just how special and beautiful you are on the inside, as well.” He withdrew his finger and replaced it with his lips, giving her a tender kiss, before saying, “Now you can open the box.”

  She opened it and slipped the ring on her finger, holding it out admiringly. “That’s all I’ll ever need to know.”

  Eddie reentered the kitchen. He came over and touched the sparkly diamond. “Ring,” he said in his deadpan tone. He promptly dropped his hand and opened the refrigerator door, already losing interest. “Want juice.”

  Tillman raised a brow. “Is the answer ‘yes’? Remember, I’m nothing but a low-paid county sheriff with plenty of baggage.”

  “And you know what I am,” Shelly said. “You still game?”

  He grabbed her and kissed her lips until she couldn’t remember anything but how right this man felt. She pushed against his chest to admire her engagement ring.

  “I’m sure you have larger, better pieces,” he said regretfully.

  She hastened to reassure him. “None that can compare to this one.”

  The diamond ring sparkled on her left hand; the flickering prism of its colors matched the iridescent shimmer of her fish tail in the dark bayou waters.