“You bring me free coffee almost every day anyway. And no, you can’t have it. I wasn’t the one who found it.”
“Bummer. Commission?” she asked then, looking through the other pieces of glass on my workbench.
“Not quite. The painter gave it to me.”
“No. Freaking. Way. You talked to him?”
“Just a little. His name is Cooper. He’s from here, I guess.”
Alice had moved to Chancellor relatively recently. She’d studied culinary arts at Chancellor College, the small liberal arts college in town, then stayed after she graduated to open her deli and bakery. She wasn’t a local. “So, how is he? He looks gorgeous from afar. Is he weird?”
I laughed. “No, he was polite. And he is gorgeous. And he turned me down for coffee, but he did give me this,” I said, picking up the red glass.
“Turned you down?”
I nodded.
Alice looked perplexed. “He’s gay.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”
“Kate, what man in their right mind would turn you down? You have turned down every man in this town.”
“I don’t know,” I said, opening the deli box. I was treated to the scent of a freshly toasted bagel and the ripeness of cream cheese. “There was a vibe there, but he didn’t…I don’t think he’s interested. Probably a good thing. The last thing I need is to get involved with someone.” I picked up the bagel and took a bite.
“Well,” Alice said with a grin, “you better wipe that cream cheese off your lip just in case.”
“In case?”
“In case you’re wrong, because your painter is headed this way, and he’s carrying something big,” she said, gazing out the front window.
Chapter 5: Cooper
Stupid, stupid, stupid. I chided myself with every step I made as I walked from Juniper Lane toward the shop on Main Street. I’d been doing a good job of lying low since I got back. In spite of my gran’s friends’ best efforts to get me out socializing, I’d managed to avoid it. Those sweet old gals didn’t know, and I had no intention of telling them, why I was keeping to myself. I didn’t need a bunch of mother hens checking in on me. As it was, I slept most of the day anyway. The meds always made me nauseous. I hardly needed anyone seeing me throwing up or lying in a sweaty ball of clammy nausea. No one else needed to be dragged into my personal hell. But if that was the case, if that was how I really felt, why was I walking down Main Street toward The Glass Mermaid?
The wind whipped harshly, pressing against the canvas. I braced myself, holding on tight to the painting. Dammit, why was it so cold? I remembered riding my bike to Frog Creek at this time of year, spending the day swimming, fishing, and catching crawfish. It was May. Why was it so cold in May?
I paused when I came upon the shop. The teal-colored wooden sign hanging over the front door depicted a mermaid holding a heart in her hand. It rocked in the breeze. In the front window was a life-sized mermaid statue. Showing her sense of humor, Kate had put a t-shirt with the saying “I’d rather be a mermaid” on the statue, covering what was probably a clam-shell bra. My thoughts betrayed me for a moment as I remembered the way Kate’s white T-shirt had hugged her body, stretching across her large breasts.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, I cursed myself again as gripped the canvas tightly.
Then I remembered something my gran used to say. “It’s not nice to call someone stupid.”
Well, okay then, maybe I wasn’t stupid, but I surely had no business getting tangled up with this girl. Not now. It’s just she looked so taken aback, disappointed even, when I’d turned her down for coffee. It wasn’t like I hadn’t wanted to go. I did. With every poisoned ounce of me, I did. I just couldn’t. But I hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings.
The bell over the door rang when I pushed it open. I was greeted with warm, soft light, and the sound of swing music. No way. I loved this kind of music.
“Hi,” a dark-haired woman called as she crossed the shop toward me.
I smiled at her. While I didn’t know her name, I’d seen her around town. Then I noticed the apron she was wearing. It was dark green with a bagel above the heart. That’s where I’d seen her, at the deli across the street.
“Hi,” I replied. “Is Kate—”
“She’s in the back,” the girl said, pushing open the door. “Later, Kater,” she called toward the back of the shop.
“See ya,” I heard the melodious voice reply. Then, I saw her. Kate smiled as she rose from a small workbench at the back of the store, clicked off a desk lamp, and then came toward me.
I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, and a moment later, a wave of nausea swept over me. Great. Just what I needed. Not now.
“Cooper?” she called.
“Hi, Kate.”
“Done already?”
“Done?”
“Your sunrise painting,” she answered, then I saw a guilty expression cross her face, like she’d been caught knowing something she shouldn’t have.
It made me happy to know she’d noticed me too. “I was out first thing, just did a quick watercolor. I wanted to bring you something,” I said then, motioning to the covered canvas. I realized then that this was twice in the last twenty-four hours that I’d brought this woman a gift. No wonder she looked confused when I turned her down for coffee. Maybe I was making a huge mistake. I didn’t want to lead her on, I just didn’t want her to look sad like that…ever again.
Kate smiled, her dark-blue eyes twinkling in the chandelier light.
I handed the canvas to her.
“For me? Really?”
I nodded.
Carefully, she unwrapped the crinkly brown paper.
“It was in my gran’s closet,” I said then. “It’s not a masterpiece or anything. I painted it during my senior year in high school. Gran always liked the mermaid folktales from this area, used to tell me them as a kid.”
Kate’s eyes went wide as she studied the painting.
I looked at the canvas. It wasn’t a bad painting. It depicted a mermaid sitting in the water, her body half-in and half-out of the water. Her back was to the viewer, letting them look out at the lake with her. I had loved painting the cutaway element, showing the small fish and plants under the water, and the mermaid’s tail. From above the surface, she looked like a woman sitting in the water looking out at the lake. What she really was lay beneath.
No, it wasn’t a bad painting. I used to paint more when I was younger, back before everyone talked me into pursuing a real job. Honestly, I’d just wanted to be a painter. But who can do that these days? This wasn’t the Renaissance, and money makes the world go ‘round. Maybe if I knew then what I knew now, I would have just followed my bliss. But my years of working with children and dolphins hadn’t been for nothing. We’d helped a lot of kids and learned a lot in the process.
“It’s stunning,” she finally said.
“It’s just gathering dust. I thought you might like it for the shop.”
“This should be displayed. Cooper, it’s so…touching,” she said, tears welling in her eyes.
Her joy filled me with so much happiness that for a moment, I forgot everything. I stepped a little closer to the painting…to her. Gently, I set my hand on the small of her back as we looked on. “There are lots of old stories from this area about mermaids. Have you ever heard them? The Native Americans from this area swore mermaids lived in Lake Erie. They called them something else though.”
“Lumpeguin,” Kate said in almost a whisper.
“That’s right, lumpeguin. You’ve heard the stories then?”
“Yes.”
“I painted this for our senior project. We had to paint something relevant to Chancellor. This is actually a cool place, lots of folktales about witches, mermaids, and faerie people. But I was the only one to paint a mermaid…well, a lumpeguin.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Kate said then, and I could see she was truly speechless.
I could
n’t help but feel a little pleased with myself. This was the reaction I’d hoped for, whether I wanted to admit it or not.
“So, you like swing music?” I asked.
Kate took a deep breath, shook her head slightly, like she was lost in her thoughts, then said “Sorry?”
“Big band music?”
She giggled a sweet sound like the chiming of a bell. “I love it.”
“There is a dance tomorrow night at the old Chancellor Dance Hall. It’s mainly for the senior citizens, but my gran’s friends have been trying to get me out of the house. I guess they have a swing band. Those old gals, I hate to keep disappointing them. Maybe if I came one time—”
“What time should I be ready?”
“Eight.”
“Sounds great.”
“It’s a date then.” The words came flying out of my mouth before I could stop them, and when Kate looked at me, I saw the same startled reflection on her face.
We grinned at one another.
“Thank you again for the painting,” Kate said. She carefully set the canvas on the floor, propping it against a display of blown-glass witch balls. She then turned and took my hand in hers. “Really, it’s remarkable.”
Something desperate stirred in me, and I moved closer to her. I moved my hand from her back to her hip, holding her a bit more firmly. I could feel warmth emanating from her. I looked down at her sweet, petite face. She had wide dark-blue eyes and perfectly-drawn pink lips that looked so soft, so sweet.
Surprising me yet again, Kate put her hand on my shoulder. “Shall we practice? My jitterbug is rusty,” she said then turned me, spinning me to the music.
I laughed out loud. Kate giggled. Moving carefully around the displays, we danced. Her face glowed. She had this magic to her. Her sweet, melodious laughter entranced me.
A moment later, the bell over the front door rang, and three older women entered. At the head of the pack, I saw Tootie Row, chief instigator of my gran’s old sisterhood.
“Well, well,” she said, spotting us. “Now, that’s what I like to see!”
I gave Kate a good spin, then smiling, gently let her go. She giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.
“I see you’ve met Kate,” Tootie said.
I nodded.
“She’s almost as stubborn as you,” the white-haired woman replied.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” I told Tootie then turned back to Kate. “Tomorrow, then?” I asked her.
“Tomorrow.”
I then turned to Tootie who was smiling at me. “There, now you can leave me be,” I said, then kissed her on the cheek. I caught her sweet scent of rosewater perfume and cold cream. The smell took me back to my childhood and flooded me with memories of my grandmother.
“Now, that’s a good boy,” she said, patting my cheek. “Alberta is smiling at you, Cooper.”
I grinned. I’d just done the exact thing I’d sworn I wouldn’t do, but for some reason, I didn’t have the heart to be mad at myself.
Chapter 6: Kate
I spent the rest of the afternoon fighting a war inside myself. As I sat making jewelry and thinking about Cooper, and I couldn’t help but smile. It had been a long time since I’d met anyone who lit up a spark inside me. And Cooper, well, just seeing him from a distance had lit up a spark. Watching him walk down the beach every dawn and dusk had made me feel like lightning was shooting through my skin. Now that I’d actually met him, I felt like a bonfire was burning inside me. I hadn’t felt anything like it since my first love, Kadan, the merman I’d lost along with everything and everyone else I loved in the black days.
Our life had been simple, peaceful, a respectful accord drawn between the Native Americans and my kind. Then the Europeans arrived. We hid from them. They came and went across Lake Erie for a decade, never knowing what lay beneath the waves. While we kept the peace with the native people, the Europeans did not. It didn’t take long for them to start killing one another, and shortly thereafter, war began. It was 1812, and the Europeans had been all over the lake, confiscating our most sacred islands for their own use, sinking ships with their thunderous canons. When winter arrived that year, we found our regular wintering island inhabited by Europeans. We did not speak their language and feared their ways, so we did the only thing we could do. My father, the leader of my people, conferred with the Native Americans who permitted us to live on one of their islands. They knew what we were, but they also knew we meant them no harm. An accord was struck.
In the days leading up to the great lake freeze, however, several of the mers became ill. A strange sickness blackened their fingers and gave them a terrible cough. At the time, I was the strongest and fastest swimmer among my people. My father sent me back to our home below the waves for medicines we knew would ward off the disease. The frigid waters made the swim difficult. By the time I returned to the island, everyone was dead. They had wasted away, their fingers and noses turning black. I found the island riddled with corpses. I was too late. I burned the place, stopping the contamination, then fled to the mainland. In the days that followed, I too took ill. The medicines I carried saved me, and I survived the winter sheltering in a cave. The medicine cured my body, but the sorrow forever wounded my soul. My entire species, including my father, mother, sisters, and my betrothed, Kadan, had died. For many years, I lived with aching guilt. I had the medicine they needed. I just wasn’t fast enough to get it to them. Maybe if I’d tried harder, I could have saved them. But I had failed them all.
And now, my time was coming to an end. I could feel it. More and more my body felt…human. The first wrinkles at the corners of my eyes appeared two years before. The magic that lives inside mermaids endures until the end…or until we shed our dying tear. Mermaids’ tears carry the spark of life. I must have lost more than five-hundred years of life in the tears I shed for my people. It had taken all my power not to cry the life from me. But I had carried on. And now, my last spark was leaving me. When I was gone, mermaids would truly become what humans thought us to be, nothing more than legend.
Knowing what I did, what business did I have playing around with a man? If I grew to love him, eventually I would have to tell him what I was. That was impossible. And I had no idea how long I had left. A single teardrop could kill me or I might live on another hundred years, slowly aging. How could I explain that?
I had worn my mind out as I thought it over. At five o’clock, I locked up the shop and headed across the street. If there was anything or anyone that could take my mind off my worries, it was Alice.
* * *
“A date!” Alice said so loudly that her patrons turned and looked at her.
“Shush,” I scolded her.
“Finally. Okay, what are you going to wear?”
“I have no idea. I don’t know what I’m doing. Should I go? I don’t know.”
“Uh, yeah! I mean, he brought you a painting. Who does something like that? That’s like the classy version of a mixed tape. Snag him up, girl, or I’ll take a run at him.”
“Oh, no you won’t,” I replied. “Besides, what happened to Mr. Fix-it?” I asked, referring to the brawny repairman for whom she kept breaking things so she’d have a chance to win his heart.
“Not interested in me, that’s for sure. Nice guy, though. But,” Alice said as she sliced open an onion bagel, neatly arranging rolls of salmon-wrapped asparagus beside it in a basket, slathering the bagel with hummus, “the college brought in a new history professor. He’s doing some kind of archeology camp this summer. An Indiana Jones, but a ginger, type. Cute. I always had a thing for gingers. I can tell he’s a good guy…turkey and pepper jack, red onions, sprouts, and he likes his buns toasted!” she said, gesturing with a little spanking at the end. She stabbed a pickle from the jar with a long fork then gazed at it. “And from what I could see, that package was pretty…” she nodded to the pickle, raising her eyebrows up and down.
“Alice!”
“What?” s
he asked with mock confusion. She dropped the pickle into the basket beside the bagel and grabbed a cup of her freshly made avocado cream cheese. “Be right back,” she said, then headed across the café to serve her customer. She quickly scampered back, grinning, then said, “So, seriously, what are you going to wear?”
“I don’t know. The purple dress?”
Alice shook her head. “Too girly.”
“I have that gauzy blue one I wore to that wine-tasting you catered.”
She shook her head. “You need something with sparkle. You’re the glass mermaid. Let your inner mermaid out!” she said jokingly.
Alice had no idea what I really was. If she only knew she’d hit the nail on the head. “Okay, I’ll think of something.”
I stayed at the café for another couple of hours, getting an earful from Alice. A brief spring rain storm washed through while I was in the café, the rain pounding on the roof in earnest, but it had gone as quickly as it came. Once the rains let up, I headed home. I still wanted to get in my nightly walk, and after a rain storm, there was always more glass on the beach. As well, I hoped I’d see Cooper again. There was still an hour before dark. I had time.
Dropping my bag in the foyer, I rushed upstairs to slip on a pair of shorts and T-shirt before I headed out. The night was turning humid. Finally, summer weather had arrived. I changed quickly. By the time I came out of my room and onto the balcony that overlooked the living room and had a fabulous view of the lake, it had started raining again. Dark clouds rolled across the lake from Canada, obscuring the sunset. Lightning illuminated the black clouds.
Frowning, I scanned the beach. I couldn’t see Cooper. Usually I could catch sight of him from the farthest corner of my balcony. He wasn’t there. He must have packed it in early because of the rain. A couple of minutes later, large drops splattered against the large windows of the A-frame. Yep, definitely too late. Thunder rolled across the lake.
I headed back to my bedroom and looked it over with assessing eyes. It was painted a soft tan color, almost pink, like a conch shell. I had sepia-hued photos of sailboats on the walls and framed sea stars and shells. My white bed was covered with an unbleached cotton coverlet. All in all, the room looked good, but I should probably change the sheets and tidy up…just in case.
The Glass Mermaid (The Chancellor Fairy Tales Book 1) Page 2
