How old would Lucy be, if she were still alive? Lena felt a moment of shame at how little she knew about the woman who had given birth to her. In some ways, she was lucky that Mom—Allie—had filled all her maternal needs so completely that she didn’t even miss Lucy.
When she was little—probably Cole’s age—Lena had asked her dad a few times what happened to Lucy, but he always said, “I can’t talk about it, sweetheart. I’m sorry. Someday when you’re older, I’ll tell you how we lost her.”
What if it’s hereditary? thought Lena. Maybe I have whatever disease she had.
She thought of the words I AM FINE being washed away by the waves.
Lena’s dad fixed spaghetti—his customary meal when Mom was working late. After dinner, Cole cleared the table and said, “Dad? Want to play catch?”
“Uh—”
Before Lena’s dad could answer, Lena said, “I need to talk to Dad for a few minutes, Coley, okay?”
“Okay! I’ll play basketball.” He headed outside to play with his mini-hoop.
Lena’s dad leaned against the kitchen counter. “What’s up?”
“Um, I was wondering,” said Lena, putting plates in the dishwasher. Then her throat closed as she prepared to utter the next words: if you could tell me how my mother died.
“Yes?”
Lena dried her hands with a towel.
Her father waited. Finally he said, “Honey, we’re not going to move. I should never have said that. I—”
“No,” said Lena. “It’s not that. I want to know—” She forced herself to meet his gaze, and he looked at her quizzically. An image of that old photo—with her young, happy parents holding their new baby—came into her mind, and she could not bring herself to say: how Lucy died.
“. . . if you ordered my cake yet.”
Her dad smiled. “Lena. Your mom plans stuff for a living. Of course she ordered your cake! Why? Did you change your mind about having chocolate?”
“No,” said Lena. “I was just wondering.”
The sound of the garage door clattering open interrupted them.
Lena’s dad looked toward the kitchen door. “Speaking of Mom,” he said. “She’s had a long day. Will you heat up some spaghetti for her?”
“Sure.” She heaped pasta on a plate and put it in the microwave.
Cole banged in through the front door as their mom came in from the garage.
“Hellooo!” she called.
“Mom!” Cole raced up to her and threw his arms around her waist.
“Hi, Coley!” She bent over and hugged him. She looked up. “Hi, guys. Mmm, I smell spaghetti. Is there any left over?”
“It will be ready in two minutes,” said Lena.
“Group hug!” yelled Cole. “Dad. Da-ad. Lena, come here.”
Dad and Lena joined the other two, and they all embraced.
“I’m beat,” said Mom. “I’m whipped. I’m exhausted. I’m . . . tired.” She opened the closet door and tossed her shoes and coat inside. Then she collapsed on the sofa. “Oh, sofa,” she groaned, “how do I love thee?”
Cole jumped onto the sofa next to their mom. “Mom, you know what? It’s Monday. Can I watch Monday Night Football? Dad said I had to ask you.” Cole was not allowed to watch TV during the week.
Mom groaned again. “Oh, honey,” she said. “Mommy is just catatonic from telling people what to do all day. Please don’t ask me right this second.”
“What’s cantatonic?” asked Cole.
Mom chuckled. “I guess it means I can’t tell another person what to do today. Dad will have to make the call this time.”
“Come on, bud,” said Dad. “Let’s read some books, then we’ll tune in to the game.” He and Cole left the room.
Lena took the plate out of the microwave and grated Parmesan cheese on top of the steaming pasta. Handing the plate to her mom, she joked, “I thought you never got tired of telling people what to do.”
“Oh, thank you, sweetie,” said her mom. “And yes, that’s true. Generally, I’m quite comfortable bossing everyone around. As you well know.” She took a bite of spaghetti and made appreciative sounds. She swallowed and said, “I guess negotiating TV on school nights is my weak spot. On the one hand, it’s a school night, so . . . no TV On the other hand, he’s the biggest six-year-old sports fan on the planet. It seems wrong to deny him his football.”
Lena poured a glass of red wine and handed it to her mom.
“Ohhh, Lena, you’re the bearer of nectar and ambrosia tonight.” She took a sip. “Delicious.”
Mom must know, thought Lena. Dad would have told her how my mother died.
Scrolling through recorded shows on the DVR, her mom said, “Oh, Project Runway! Excellent! You know I love to watch that show while I eat. Those size-zero models make me feel hungry.” She pressed Play on the remote. “Want to watch with me, sweetie?”
Lena regarded her mom, exhausted after a long day of work . . . now relaxing with leftovers and reality TV. “Sure,” she said, and sat down next to her. The old sorrows could wait.
Chapter 9
Lena felt a flash of panic when she woke up. Am I on the beach again?
Then she felt her mattress beneath her . . . solid, not sandy. She saw the four walls of her room, covered with glossy waves . . . not the vast expanse of the Pacific. She relaxed, rolling over to see her clock radio. 5:40.
Earlier than usual, she thought, closing her eyes.
She tried to recapture the remnants of her dream. A woman’s voice had been singing: “By the light . . . of the silvery moon . . .” But wait, it wasn’t a silvery moon, in her dream. It was some other word—blueberry moon. Lena smiled in the darkness. The mind was a mysterious thing.
Oh! Lena’s eyes flew open. Today’s my birthday.
She climbed out of bed and went to her window. She pushed the curtains aside and gazed out at the darkness. A full moon hung in the sky, looking enormous. The harvest moon, thought Lena. Then she smiled. A silvery moon.
She climbed back in bed, snuggling down under the covers, but sleep would not come.
I guess I’m up, she thought. Might as well go for a walk.
She pulled on warm clothes and paused by her desk, looking down at the photo of Lucy she had removed from the photo album. She touched a finger to the image, and felt a surge of longing for her mother. “It’s my birthday, Mama,” she whispered. “I’m sixteen today.”
Padding quietly down the stairs, she wrote on the dry-erase board:
OCTOBER 10!—went for birthday walk—back for pancakes—chocolate chip!
She slipped outside and hurried down to the beach. She took a deep breath once she reached the sand, filling her lungs with cold salt air. My first present of the day, she mused. The beach.
She headed north, in the direction of Magic Crescent Cove. The beam of light from Pelican Point Lighthouse winked at her over and over, as if beckoning her. “I’m coming,” she whispered.
Why don’t you ask my sister to teach you to surf? she heard Kai’s voice in her head. Lena stomped her feet on the packed sand. I should have said yes.
She grabbed a long, pointed piece of driftwood and dragged it behind her as she walked. She stopped and wrote the words I WILL SURF in the wet sand.
The tide was still out when Lena came to the bend in the cove where Shipwreck Rocks loomed. She walked close to the water’s edge, then climbed across the wet rocks and jumped down on the other side.
The sky began to lighten, imperceptibly at first. Just blackness, then a dark gray color, then pearl gray. Lena found a dry log farther down the beach and sat down. She rested her eyes on the sea, listening to the endless roar of the ocean, feeling tiny on the earth.
The sun rose, casting a weak October light through the clouds. Seagulls appeared as scribbles in the sky, wheeling and flapping. It must be getting close to seven now, thought Lena. I should probably head back.
But she lingered, gazing out to sea, her soul peaceful and open.
&nb
sp; After another moment, her eyes focused on a distant rounded shape beyond the breakers. Two shapes. Dolphins.
She stood up, trying to see better. It was rare to see dolphins along this stretch of coast, and even more rare to see them this time of year. They circled and dove. Was that a third dolphin? Lena walked closer to the water, looking intently.
A wet head rose between the two dolphins. Was it a sea lion? How cool! It was like they were playing. She lifted her arm to wave at the sea lion.
No, the head was bigger and rounder than a sea lion’s, without the characteristic snout. Lena’s arm dropped as the head rose farther out of the water.
It was a woman.
The hair on the back of Lena’s neck stood up. Her eyes widened. Was she seeing things? How could a woman be swimming out there in the middle of the ocean? Between two dolphins? Lena didn’t blink.
The woman saw her, too, and seemed to be looking back just as intently. Lena could see the pale face, so definitely not a sea lion’s face, but the woman was too far away for Lena to make out her features. As they stared at each other, the woman seemed to rise higher on the water in an effort to see Lena. Her bare white shoulders were above the surface now.
It’s really a woman, thought Lena. Not a sea lion. She must be freezing . . . she doesn’t have a wetsuit on!
Just as Lena was beginning to think she should run for help, the woman disappeared below the surface, leaving a ruffled patch of empty water behind.
Oh, my God, is she drowning? thought Lena, her heart racing. I can’t just stand here and let someone drown!
Agonized, she waited to see if the woman would come up for air again. Just as she was about to turn and run, she thought she saw the head break the surface again, slightly closer now. She peered out to sea, wondering if she should call to her.
It was definitely a woman. Her face was still too far away to be clear to Lena, but it looked as if her mouth was open in astonishment.
They stared at each other, as if no one else on earth existed, a long silent moment of vision. Then, as Lena opened her mouth to call out, the woman disappeared below the surface again. As she dove, a glistening silver tail flashed out of the water and disappeared back into the sea.
Heart racing, the mermaid dove. She swam in a panic, her thoughts scattering like frightened fish. No, oh, no, her mind wailed. No.
Chapter 10
Lena stood perfectly still in the same spot, trembling, for the next five minutes.
If she could believe her eyes, she had just seen a mermaid. If she had only imagined that flashing tail, then there was a woman out there in the frigid ocean. And if there was a woman out there, she was either drowning or swimming under water to some location where Lena could not see her, because Lena’s eyes never left the water.
Finally, unwillingly, she turned to walk back down the beach, her legs shaky. The woman was gone, and so were the dolphins.
Lena felt the first tickle of belief in her belly: That was no human woman. That was a mermaid.
A tiny laugh escaped her throat. Mermaids were real.
She stopped and stared back at the sea. Was she really gone? Was it over, the moment of magic ended already? Come back, she thought. Please.
The mermaid had been playing with the two dolphins, Lena was sure of it. Out there in the vast deep lived a fairy-tale creature who was real, who was alive. Who played with dolphins. Who probably ate and slept, because didn’t all living things need to eat and sleep? Who lived alone . . . or maybe with other mermaids! Lena’s breath caught as she imagined a whole gathering of . . . what did you call a group of mermaids? A mist of mermaids? A marvel of mermaids?
She had to go, thought Lena. They don’t want to be seen.
Lena broke into a run. She needed to do something physical, something that would help her body catch up to the rapid beat of her heart.
When she got to the rocks, Lena stopped and put her hands on the rough stones, feeling the solid reality of them. Already, doubts were surfacing.
It was a woman.
Of course it was.
She was out for an early-morning swim.
With no wetsuit? argued Lena’s practical mind. And what about that tail?
There was no tail.
It was a trick of the light on the waves.
Lena nodded. She was always seeing things out in the water—that turned out to be nothing more than a random splash or a diving sea lion.
By the time Lena got home, she had convinced herself that she’d seen a woman swimming, not a mermaid.
She stepped into the dark house. Everyone must still be asleep, she thought.
“Surprise!” yelled Cole, running in from the living room.
Lena jumped.
“We were hiding,” he explained. His eyes blazed like tiny twin gaslights. He threw his arms around Lena. “Happy birthday.”
Her parents followed, embracing the two of them.
“Group hug,” sang Cole.
“Thanks, guys,” said Lena. “You’re up so early!”
“That’s the only way to surprise you,” said her dad. “Mom set the alarm for six, but you were already gone. So we hunkered down in the living room to wait.” He yawned.
“Dad fell back asleep,” said Cole. He started to sing: “Haaappy birthday to yooou . . .”
Her parents joined in.
They were all gazing at her with such love that Lena found herself wanting to laugh and cry both. “Thanks, guys,” she said when the song was finished.
“I’ll start the pancakes,” said her mom. She brushed back a strand of Lena’s hair. “Did you have a nice birthday walk?”
Lena’s smile faltered. If that was a woman swimming, where did she go?
“Yes,” she said. “Very nice.” She just swam away. It was a woman, and she swam out of view.
“Good,” said her mom, and squeezed her. “Now . . . brekkie!” She turned toward the refrigerator.
“Mom,” said Cole. “Can we have bacon, too?” He trailed after her.
“I can’t believe you’re sixteen,” said Lena’s dad. He blinked a couple of times and turned away. Lena knew he was blinking back tears when he did that. He went back into the living room, saying, “I’ve got a present for you in here.”
Lena followed. Her dad patted the sofa next to him, and Lena sat down. He handed her a small box. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
She smiled. “Thanks, Dad.” Opening the box, Lena found a thin silver bracelet inside. She picked it up—there was a dolphin charm dangling from the links.
She shivered.
“Dad?” asked Lena.
“Mmm-hmm.”
I saw something in the water, she thought.
He was looking at her now, so she had to say something. Without thinking, she asked, “Do the words ‘blueberry moon’ mean anything to you?”
Her dad paused. “As a matter of fact, they do.”
“Really? I was thinking about them when I woke up this morning.”
“You were?”
“Yes. This song kept going through my head: ‘By the light . . . of the silvery moon,’ but then it seemed like those weren’t the right words.”
He tried to smile. “It was a song Lucy made up for you when you were little.”
“Really?”
He nodded.
“How did the song go?”
He glanced at the kitchen door, then sang softly,
“By the light
of the blueberry moon
we sang this song
in Lena’s room.
By the light . . .”
Lena joined in:
“. . . of the blueberry moon
we sang this song
in Lena’s room.”
They smiled at each other.
“Why was it a blueberry moon?” asked Lena.
“I don’t know. I think it was just because you loved blueberries.”
“Oh.” Lena looked at her father. “Did she sing to me a lot?”
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He nodded, looking wistful. “All the time.” A crooked smile came over his lips. “Sometimes—if I was very good—she even sang to me.”
Lena glanced at him quickly. Did he know about her singing to Kai?
But her dad’s gaze was unfocused, and it was clear he had wandered off into old memories.
Lena felt a strange jealousy—she couldn’t remember her mother—she had only fragmented impressions of being at the beach with her.
Hazy memories of her mother were suddenly replaced by the sharp image of a silver tail.
She’s real, thought Lena. That mermaid was real. I did not imagine her. I need to see her again. “Dad,” she said.
“Yes, sweetie.”
“It’s my birthday,” said Lena. “Please teach me to surf. It might be good for you! If we’re in the water together, maybe you’ll—”
Her father stood up, leaving a cold spot next to her. “I’m sorry, Lena,” he said. “I can’t.”
Lena stood up, too. “Okay.” She headed for the stairs.
“Where are you going? Mom’s making breakfast.”
“I’ll be down in a minute,” she said.
In her room, she sat down on her bed, reaching for her phone.
Hundreds of waves beckoned from her walls. Lena reached up and trailed her fingers over the collage of oceans.
If I want to see the mermaid again, she thought, I have to go to Magic’s. And the only way to get in the water at Magic’s is on a surfboard.
She texted a message to Kai: Plz tell ani I’m ready for lessons.
Lena’s birthday party that night was three hours of dedicated fun with friends. As she lay in bed that night, she tried to decide what her favorite part had been.
Was it Martha—who’d had a crush on her dad since fourth grade—belting out U2’s “With or Without You” on karaoke, or was it Leslie and her boyfriend competing to see who could eat the most spicy tuna rolls? (Leslie, with fifteen.)
The Mermaid's Mirror Page 5
