I pointed to the one on the end.
She handed it to me.
She wore a very strange, almost serene, expression on her face. What in the world was going on with her?
“Kate?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
She motioned to the bottle.
I took two pills, swallowed, and washed it down with the soda. There was a small bottle of mouthwash sitting beside the sink. I picked it up and cleaned my mouth. How humiliating. I turned and smiled abashedly at her.
Kate nodded affirmatively then reached out for me.
I slipped on my boots and followed her outside.
It was still dark outside, but you could feel dawn on the horizon. Taking my hand in hers, she led me through the woods toward the shore.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“To the lake.”
“Why?”
“For the sunrise.”
“Kate?”
“No questions, Cooper,” she said, squeezing my hand.
She led us through the dark and soon we emerged on the rocky shoreline. With my stomach empty, the medicine worked fast, dispelling my nausea. But still, my body felt weak and pain lingered in my stomach. My organs were beginning to fail. My end was nearly here. I could feel it.
When we reached the lakeshore, we stood hand-in-hand looking out at the water. Kate eyed the horizon, her blue eyes wide, then she turned and smiled at me. Standing with her back facing the lake, she then did something very unexpected. Kate pulled off her white T-shirt, revealing her full, naked breasts. She then slid off her shorts to reveal she was naked underneath. I looked away.
“Don’t,” she said. “Look at me. All of me,” she whispered.
Turning back, I let my eyes slide down her beautiful body. She was perfect, large breasts above a trim waist, her legs and arms athletic. I let my eyes slide down her waist, down below her bellybutton, to her secret feminine parts. She was so beautiful.
“Now you,” she said.
“Me?” For a brief moment, a flicker of embarrassment flashed through my mind. I was already aroused. What would she think about that? But then I realized, if she was that brave, then I had to be brave too.
I pulled off my clothes, feeling the cold air surrounding me. It nipped horribly at my ears and toes. When I pulled down my jeans, then my boxers, I felt shy for a moment. But then I saw Kate’s large eyes on me, smiling, that strange wistful expression on her face as if she were holding back tears.
“Let’s go,” she said then, grabbing my hand, pulling me toward the water.
“But…but its freezing,” I protested.
“What’s the worst that can happen?” she asked.
The sharp poignancy of her reply wasn’t lost on me.
“Come on,” she said then led me into the water, splashing me as I followed after her.
I couldn’t help but laugh in spite of myself. I chased her into the waves, feeling nothing but joy. She kicked water at me, laughing and squealing as I grabbed her, tumbling us both into the water.
Without thinking, I pressed my mouth against hers. I swooned as I felt a dizzying sensation. Her warm lips pressed against mine. I held her wet, naked skin, feeling her warmth as she leaned against me. I felt her heart beating quickly and the grit of sand on her fingers as she ran her hand across my back. A moment later, however, she pulled away.
“Come on,” she said, then dove under the waves. I watched the water where she disappeared then saw a strange golden light.
“Kate?” I said, stepping forward into the chest-high water. She didn’t come back to the surface. Light glimmered under the waves. It seemed to move like it was alive. “Kate?” I called again. The light moved toward me, and a moment later, Kate broke the surface of the water, her head and neck just above the waves.
“The sun is about to come up,” she said as she looked over my shoulder toward land. “Will you carry me to shore?”
“Carry you?” Was she hurt? Surely she knew I was in no condition to carry anyone.
She nodded then swam toward me, that golden light trailing behind her. She put her arms around my neck then pressed her body against me. When she did, something felt odd, but warm and soft like silk.
“Carry me,” she whispered again.
I reached under the water and slid my hand down her back but something felt strange.
Kate giggled.
“What? What is this?” I asked as I slowly made my way back toward shore. As I did so, the golden light around Kate began to glow brighter and brighter and soon I could see what felt so different. “Kate,” I whispered aghast as I stared down at the bundle in my arms. I had gone into the lake with the loveliest woman I’d ever met in my life, but was returning to shore with…a mermaid.
“Take me to shore, please,” she whispered.
I looked at the horizon. The sky was illuminated gray with the first edges of pink lining the skyline. What I was seeing was a miracle. I was being shown a miracle.
I carried the lovely creature in my arms and set her down on the shoreline beside me. Her long emerald-colored tail stretched out on the shore. I stared at her in amazement.
Kate reached out, took me by the chin, and then kissed me lightly. Then she gently lay me down beside her.
“I’ve walked the Earth for nearly three hundred years,” she whispered then, pausing to kiss me on my forehead. “But I never felt love for any human until I set eyes on you. There is a spirit inside you that deserves to live, a goodness in you that is coming to an end too soon. I can’t let that happen,” she said, then looked off at the horizon. Sunlight shimmered from land out onto the lake. When Kate turned and looked back at me, an enormous tear was streaming down her cheek. The tear glistened with golden light.
“Live,” she whispered, then gently wiped the tear from her cheek with the tip of her finger. She danced her wet fingertip across my lips. “Live,” she whispered again, pressing her lips against mine, then she went still, slumping onto my chest.
To my amazed eyes, I watched as the golden light transformed her tail back into legs. But the glow didn’t stop there. It moved onto me, covering my whole body. It was like I’d been submerged in a bath of love and light. My whole body glimmered as I was filled with the sensations of warmth and healing. I heard my heart beating. I felt my blood pumping through my veins. I breathed deeply, feeling my lungs take in the shimmering glow. When I exhaled, I could feel the darkness and illness and death leaving me. My body felt clean, renewed.
As the sun rose, filling the world with light, I knew my cancer was gone.
And the mermaid who’d given me the precious gift of life lay unmoving against my chest.
Epilogue
The sound of swing music filled the little house on Juniper Lane.
“Daddy,” my daughter, Kayla, called from the yard. “Turn the sprinkler on.”
“I’m coming,” I called. I pushed open the door only to get smacked square in the chest with a water balloon. Al, who had just lost his two front teeth, stood grinning like a jack-o-lantern at the bottom of the stairs. “I’m gonna get you,” I yelled then raced down the stairs after him.
Al ran around the back of the house giving me enough time to open the faucet on the sprinklers. I heard Kayla squeal with delight as water splashed around the yard.
“Don’t tell me you started without me?” a voice called from the porch.
I turned to see Kate coming down the stairs, looking adorable in her red polka-dot bikini. It highlighted the red, heart-shaped beach glass pendant lying on her chest.
“Sorry,” I called, turning to join her, pretending I didn’t see Al sneaking up on me from the other side of the porch. “Everything okay?” I asked her, studying the worried expression on her face.
She shrugged. “More gray hairs,” she said then, fluffing her long, blonde locks.
“That happens,” I said, leaning in to kiss her cheek, “when you’re human.”
Before she could answer, however, Al launc
hed his attack, drenching us both. This time, however, Kate ran after him. I watched her go, my wife, my savior, my…mermaid, who had given up her last spark of magic for me, not knowing the gift it would give her in return. I smiled as I watched her laugh, tickling our little boy until he crumpled to the ground, our daughter joining in the fun. My wife, whom I would grow old with and would love until the day I died…many years from now.
About the Author
Romance author. Cupcake connoisseur. Certified herbalist. Beach bum. Fan of all things Starbucks. Holistic healing advocate. Surfer girl wanna-be. Lost guru. Maker of dandelion wine. Counselor. Paranormal buff. Etsy addict. Secretly Jedi. So not a geek girl. Gifted in sarcasm. Hot wife. Ninja mom. And now, I’m ready to share a whole head full of witty, mouthy, smart, lovely, heart-warming, and hot characters with the world. Are you ready?
Poppy Lawless is the author of the The Glass Mermaid and the forthcoming novella, The Cupcake Witch. Poppy holds degrees in English and Psychology. She is a counselor in the field of mental health and is a trained herbalist. Poppy’s new series blends the best of romance with a Practical Magic or contemporary Bewitched appeal.
Keep in touch with Poppy online.
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An Office and a Mermaid by Blaire Edens
When a slave uprising threatens the life of Syreena, the daughter of an eighteenth century plantation owner, a servant uses voodoo to transform her into a mermaid. The spell will be only broken when she returns to the beach where it was cast. After three hundred years of swimming, she’s ready to trade fins for legs. The only problem is she can’t find her way home.
Dylan, a twenty-first century Coast Guard Officer, has sworn off love for the sea. When a wave throws him overboard, Syreena uses her amulet to ward off the sharks and save his life.
With Syreena and Dylan stranded on a remote cay in the Caribbean, Dylan has the know-how to build a raft and navigate but his near-drowning has made him terrified of the water. Syrenna will use every charm she has to convince Dylan to take her home.
Even if it means falling in love…
PROLOGUE
1791, Saint-Domingue (present day Haiti)
Syreena felt the unrest in the air. The smell of sugar cane burning, sweet and smoky like the caramel candies she’d tried as a little girl in Paris, filled the humid air. Behind it was the smell of coffee, bitter and burnt where it had been torched in the fields. It wouldn’t be long until the slaves, intent upon overthrowing the landowners, came to Belle Emilie, the plantation her father had named after her late mother.
Only a matter of time.
Syreena and her Papa had seen the drawings in the French newspapers. There was no doubt about what would happen when the revolting slaves slashed and burned their way to Belle Emilie. They were determined to take over the plantations and craft a new government separate from France.
Her beloved home would be burned to the ground and she and her father, along with Collette, her former nanny who’d stayed on even after Syreena had grown into womanhood, would be killed. Brutally. With machetes. It was a dim picture from which there was no escape. They had run out of time to flee to Port-au-Prince and pay for passage on a ship back to France.
It was too late.
Steam swirled off the hot water in the tub. It was always hot in Saint-Domingue but in August the heat was so oppressive it was hard to summon up the energy to breathe much less move. Syreena asked for a cool bath but her father insisted it had to be hot. As hot as she could stand it. He’d gotten his wish.
“Mademoiselle, it’s time to get dressed,” Colette’s high-pitched voice trilled from the next room. “Your Papa’ll be angry if we’re not downstairs on time.”
When Syreena rose from the copper tub, the heat went to her head and made her dizzy. She held onto the rim until her legs felt steady. Her legs were the pink of sea coral. Just as she stepped from the tub onto the tiled floor, felt the cool seeping into the soles of her feet, Colette hurried into the room. She wrapped a cotton towel around Syreena and said, “You get everything clean? Behind your ears? Every place?”
Syreena tolerated Colette’s bossiness only because she loved her dearly. Colette had been the one steady female presence in her life. While the hole her mother’s death left in Syreena’s heart would never be filled, Colette had always been there for Syreena, more like a doting aunt, than a woman who’d left her life in France to care for Syreena.
“Mademoiselle, your dress is ready for you,” Colette said, taking the towel from Syreena. “You must look your best.”
Syreena looked into the other woman’s eyes. They were deep brown and wise. “I’m afraid, Colette,” she said, not trying to hide the tears sliding down her cheek. “I don’t want to leave Papa. I don’t want to leave you, either.”
Colette took both of Syreena’s wrists in her hands and looked deeply into her eyes. For the first time Syreena noticed the webs of lines around Colette’s eyes. “You are the only child your Papa has. You must let him save you.”
“But we could try to get to Port-au-Prince. We have money. Surely we could—”
“There’s no time. Listen to me.” Colette tightened her grip. “You’ve been the greatest joy in my life, Syreena. I can face whatever fate awaits me if I know you’re okay.” The love in her eyes made Syreena’s heart clench as if it were in a vise. “Please, let us try to save you. In you there is the best of all of us.”
“I love you, Colette. I could have never—”
The older woman smiled, softening the lines crisscrossing her face. “I know, ma cherie. Now, we must hurry.”
Syreena quickly donned the long white gown Colette had prepared for her. Made of the finest lawn fabric, linen threads so fine they felt like silk, it fit loosely like a nightgown. She felt naked without her stays but her father’s instructions had been very specific. Only her small clothes and the dress.
She took one last look around her room, enjoyed the feel of the smooth wood under her feet, the way the hazy sunlight filtered through the large windows that caught the breeze off the ocean. Her eye lingered on the small painting of her mother, Emilie that hung just above her secretary. Beautiful, delicate. Too delicate for Saint-Domingue.
Syreena closed the door behind her and walked down the stairs, as slowly as she could, savoring every creak, the omnipresent smell of beeswax polish, the faraway sounds of the slaves in the fields singing the songs of Africa.
Everything was the same as it had always been. But it wouldn’t be for very long.
Her father, a sun-weathered man of five and forty, stood in center of the parlor. Behind him stood his trusted manservant, Guillaume. He was short and wiry with skin the color of coffee.
“It is time, ma cherie,” her father said.
Syreena wasn’t ready. It was an impossible situation. She had two choices. She could stay and die alongside her father or she could trust in Guillaume’s magic, the voodoo he’d brought with him from West Africa.
She and her father were close. Her mother had died of malaria shortly after they came to Saint-Domingue and it had just been her and Papa for as long as she could remember. Her mother was only a name, a character in stories papa like to tell, the painting in her room. Syreena couldn’t imagine her life without Papa but, at only two and twenty, she wasn’t ready to die either.
Papa had wanted to send her to France, to meet a suitable husband, but she’d cried and sobbed until he could not bear to force her. That had been two years ago, before everything had changed. Now it was too late.
“Syreena, it is time,” he repeated. “We must go to the beach.”
Guillaume, with a face as expressionless as stone, nodded. “Yes, mademoiselle, we must go.”
She nodded and her father took her hand in his. “You, my dear, will live and love.”
“But, papa, I don’t want to be without you,” she said, tears beginning to fall. “I will be too afraid.
”
“Ma Cherie, you have given me more joy in this life than any man deserves. You will be fine without me. It will not be easy, but you will be safe until a man comes along who is worthy of you.”
He took her into his arms. Syreena breathed in the familiar, comfortable smell of him. She feared it would be the last time she would be this near to him and she wanted to savor it.
She felt Colette behind her, heard her muffle a sob.
“Monsieur, we must go. We haven’t much time,” Guillaume said.
Her father pushed her back, his arms on her shoulders. He smiled. “You are just as beautiful as your mother. She would be so proud of the woman you’ve become. I had the great love of my life with your mama, and now, with Guillaume’s help, you will be spared so that you may have yours.” He kissed her forehead.
“Where am I going?” she asked.
“A place between worlds where you will be safe until the time is right for you to live wholly in this world again.”
“Should I not pack a trunk?”
Her father shook her head. “No, darling. You will have everything you need. Now, let us go.”
Holding hands, she and her father followed Guillaume to the beach. The sun had set and already the shadows were dark. When they reached the beach, Syreena saw a circle drawn in the sand. Seven candles were placed on the perimeter. They cast an unworldly yellow glow in the gloaming where everything else was a muted shade of blue or gauzy shade of gray.
“Stand in the middle, mademoiselle,” Guillaume said. His voice was low and solemn.
Syreena looked at her father and he nodded. She bent to take off her shoes. She wanted to feel the gritty sand of the island beneath her feet once more. Saint-Domingue was her first love, and she couldn’t imagine leaving it.
Guillaume gestured to her and she stepped inside the circle. She felt the dry heat of the candles warming her feet as they flickered in the breeze blowing off the water. He stepped inside the circle with her. Even though he’d been her father’s manservant for as long as she could remember, she’d never been this close to him.
Falling in Deep Collection Box Set Page 68
