“If it was Morose, an acquaintance of mine, then I am nothing like him.”
The mermaid’s eyes widened when he mentioned the name Morose. “How are you looking for us?”
“I am not looking for an ‘us.’ I am looking for you. The fair creature that saved Morose from drowning. Please, tell me what happened after that.”
“No. I don’t think I will,” the Mermaid said as she rose a little higher from the water and offered John her hand.
John thought twice about accepting it, thinking that perhaps she would pull him under or perform some other nefarious act. However, she did save him, so he took the chance. He looked down at her pale green wet hand. Her fingers were webbed except for her thumbs, and she was translucent like a little frog. John reached out and took her hand. Her skin began to glow slightly and turn pink and human-like. Her black eyes shrunk until John could see white in them, and they became brown and more human-like. Her hair lifted from her head as it miraculously dried, and the shape of a dress began protruding through her skin as she rose. With John’s help, she climbed out of the water. She was holding something in her other hand, and as she stood up on the side of the pool, she revealed a pearl, exactly like the one Morose had given Lavender. She placed it between her collarbones, and a strand of gold appeared around her neck, holding the pearl in place as a necklace. She looked at John and smiled.
“You seem better.”
“Better?” John asked. Could she be referencing his health after drowning?
“Better than him.”
“Ah, Morose.”
“Yes,” she frowned slightly. “I wanted to keep him.”
“Oh.” John sighed. This creature did prefer to collect men and keep them as pets. “Do you intend to keep me as well?”
“I don’t.”
John felt it important to proceed carefully at this point. “I am grateful that you rescued me.”
“Why didn’t you want me to send you above?” she said angrily, her eyes flashing back to black momentarily.
“Because I need to talk to you about Morose. He died. Then on my wedding day he came and stopped my wedding. He gave my bride a pearl like the one you have there. The next day she left with him.”
“What is a wedding day?”
“It’s a day of union. We were in love, and we were going to seal that love.”
“Oh . . . I wish to be wedding day.”
“I cannot wed you. I am here to save my love from Morose.”
“Morose has stolen your love from you? Morose loves your love?” Her eyes grew black again, and her skin began to turn green and translucent. Her hair started to drip and look wet.
“Do you love Morose?”
“I wanted to wedding day Morose. He is coming back.” She quickly started to look more like a human again.
“I see. Yes, it’s hard up there. It can take time to come back,” John lied.
She smiled and her pearl glowed gold slightly. “Yes. You are hungry. I will bring you food and you will rest. Then I will make you strong and you will leave.” She began to change back to a mermaid and head toward the pool when John grabbed her hand. She glowed again and resembled more of a human. She looked down at his hand over hers and then up at John’s eyes. She smiled weakly. “You are warm. You are not hungry?”
“No, I am, but I still have more questions.” John didn’t let go of her hand. She seemed to like it, and he needed her to stay. “Please sit with me a while and tell me about you.”
Volume 4
Sashimi
As Liz awoke to the sound of the downstairs clock chiming seven times, a playback of her early morning dreams began. Every day her dreams became increasingly disturbing. She had killed her husband by pushing him into a chair that ate him, caught Mary and Michael trying to burn down her house by sending them a flaming dinner, and became John Buxton, who chose to become a pirate and burn down his castle. Tonight, she dreamed that she could fly, and as she got high over Pleasant View, she could no longer control her ability. She tried to flap her arms like wings but to no avail, and she began to fall. Instead of hitting the ground she skidded along the beach, trying to fly high again but frustratingly was unable to.
Liz rolled over to see that Peter was still asleep. He looked peaceful with his mouth slightly parted and eyes closed. She kissed his forehead and rolled out of bed.
“Good morning,” Peter said dreamily as Liz pulled on her dress.
She tried to fasten her dress, but it didn’t fit. She scowled back at Peter.
“No good morning to me?”
“Good morning,” Liz said angrily.
“Oh dear, what have I done now?” Peter said, sighing.
“What? Nothing.” Liz was surprised he didn’t see her struggle with her dress and realize this had nothing to do with him. “It’s not you. It’s this dress. It won’t close.”
“Oh.” He was up now and pulling on his trousers.
“I’m going to have to borrow a shirt.” Liz sighed.
“All right, just don’t make a mess of it.” Peter laughed and threw Liz one of his clean shirts hanging in the wardrobe.
She paired it with a skirt that still fit if she pulled it above her belly and tucked the shirt into the skirt. The shirt was far too big, so she had to roll the sleeves up several times.
“Oh dear, I look ridiculous! But what choice do I have?”
“I think you look adorable,” Peter chimed from down the hall without even seeing Liz in the ensemble.
“Stop,” she guffawed. “I think I need to get a hat.”
Peter came back into the room and kissed Liz on the cheek. “Might I suggest a new dress instead?”
“Might I buy both?” Liz laughed.
“How am I to afford a wife who requires a hat every time she is distressed?”
“She affords herself, that is how,” Liz said, kissing him back on his cheek.
“Yes, of course,” Peter said dejectedly and sat on the bed, putting on his shoes.
“What’s the matter?”
Peter smiled for a moment, thinking, and then said, “Nothing, of course. I am sad to leave you each morning.”
“Not as sad as I to be left.”
Peter smiled again and kissed her before he rushed off. “I’m off to work, my love.”
“Have a wonderful day. Will I see you for dinner?”
“I will try, but probably not.”
“Very well. Then I shall see you to the door so I can spend every moment with you.”
Liz followed Peter down the stairs and kissed him one last time as he went out the door. As she stood in the doorway, she could see Mary and Michael standing by their fence having a heated discussion.
Liz stood back and waited for Michael to leave. They kissed goodbye, but it wasn’t the warmest kiss ever produced.
“Good morning!” Liz shouted to Mary as she headed back up the walkway to the house.
“Not really!” Mary stomped.
“I can see that. Come on over. I haven’t had breakfast yet, and I’ve never been so hungry in my life! You can tell me all about it as you help me cook something up.”
“I doubt you want me to cook something for you, but I’d be glad to join you.”
As Liz set the table, Mary began heating up the stove and pulling eggs and flour from the cupboards.
“So, what is the matter then? My brother is not being a perfect gentleman?”
“Of course, he is. It’s just the same story. He is never home, and he has poor excuses to explain himself.”
“Oh, that again. Peter and I came to an understanding. He is trying to make something more of himself at work, and so he must work the overtime.”
“Well, that may make sense for Peter, but Michael works with family, for heaven’s sake. He can’t work his way to the top. He was
already born to it.”
“That is a good point, but it does tend to get busy occasionally, and son of the owner or not, Michael does have to stay late.”
“Well, I don’t like it. Those docks are not the most wholesome place in the world. I just imagine him with some fresh-off-the-boat French girl, with dark brown hair and an irresistible accent. How could he resist her charms?”
“Firstly, he can’t hear her irresistible accent, and since when does Michael prefer brunette hair? He’s had his eye on you and you only for as long as I can remember. And they say I have an unruly imagination.”
Mary blinked away some tears that were attempting to make an appearance. “Goodness, I hate your stove as much as I hate mine.” The stove was leaking smoke from every crack.
“Oh, the dampener. It’s closed.”
“Why ever would you close your dampener?”
“It keeps cold air from coming in the house.”
“It does? Well that explains why our kitchen is so chilly in the mornings. But it’s warm now. Surely you don’t have to close it this time of year.”
“Well, no, but I like to keep the habit so I don’t forget in the winter and wake up to a cold kitchen.”
“That’s reasonable. I thought I would be better at all of this.”
“What? Homemaking?”
“Yes. I thought I would excel at it, but I’m a horrible cook. I can’t keep the kitchen warm. I can’t even keep my husband around.”
“Oh, Mary! You are doing fine. You are so busy with your hat business. You really should be proud of what you have done. Michael doesn’t care about the rest.”
“The hats are the problem. I have little time for making a home. I’m considering quitting. Perhaps then Michael will not wish to spend his evenings away.”
Liz gasped. “But Mary, I love your hats.”
“Liz, shame on you. This is about my marriage, not you stocking your closet.”
“Well, I don’t see the problem. The work at the docks will slow down, and Michael will be home more. There is no reason to quit your business.”
“I’m not so sure about that. When we have a baby, I will have the same struggles as you. How will I keep up with my work with a babe hanging off me, or with a tot around my legs?”
“I didn’t think about a tot.”
“I’m sorry to ruin your day, but it’s not going to be easy. The washing alone will cripple us of any free time.”
“I can hire a housekeeper or a nanny.”
“Oh, yes. I suppose you could. But can you afford it?”
“Well, perhaps not a full-time one. We could share!”
“Oh, that could work. I did bring this up to Michael before, you know. He did not like the idea of me paying for housework out of my own earnings. He said it’s his house and he should pay for it, but he can scarcely afford our rent on his earnings.”
“You know, this morning when I mentioned buying a hat, Peter said he couldn’t afford it. I’ve never used his money to buy hats before. It’s always come from my earnings. These men and their pride. What can we do?”
“I’m going to finish breakfast. Then I have an hour to spend with you before I must get back to work on an order of hats. The Jones/Gardner wedding is this weekend, and I have to make eight matching hats.”
“Well, I must go to the Gazette and deliver my latest manuscript. It is too late to mail it since I’ve been running behind.”
“What about your typewriter? Is that not helping?”
“I am trying. It’s very slow going. I have to stop and just write often.”
“I’m sorry. I was hoping you’d pick it up more quickly.”
“I’ll keep trying when I have time. Harriet assures me I just need practice with proper technique.”
“I’ll follow you to the Gazette if you don’t mind. I could use a good walk before I have to sit for hours, and it looks like you need help picking out a new dress afterward.”
Liz frowned. “Yes, I am surprised you didn’t notice before now.”
“I did.” Mary smiled.
On their way out the door, Sarah came running up the walk to Mary’s house.
“Oh, Penelope! I’m so glad I caught you!” She huffed and puffed as she had run all the way from her house.
“Good morning, Sarah.” Liz greeted her biggest fanatic with a twitchy smile. She always felt twitchy whenever Sarah showed up.
“Sarah, no one calls her Penelope. I beg of you to call her Liz. That is her name!”
“Penelope,” Sarah started as she glared at Mary, “I have another favor to ask. Please give me a moment of your time.”
Liz shared an exhausted look with Mary. She knew what this meant. Sarah had more stories for her to read. “Very well, it is given.”
Sarah shoved a manuscript at Liz, who took it and looked it over briefly. The language was so flowery and obtuse that Liz could not bring herself to read it in its entirety.
“This is—” she began.
Sarah sighed. “Oh, you hate it, don’t you!”
“It’s not that I hate it, it’s just . . .” Liz could not find kind words to let her down with. “I hate to discourage anyone from writing, but—I can’t make sense of it. There’s not much of a story here, just words that are big and flowery.”
“No, that can’t be. I have been reading you since the beginning. I have been studying how you write, and it simply can’t be.”
“Perhaps you just have a different style that is not preferred by most,” Mary said with optimism, but it sounded harsh to Sarah, who frowned.
“Let me take this to Mr. Dixon. Perhaps Mary is right. Maybe it’s just not my style. Maybe he could find an audience for it.”
“Really? You would do this for me?”
“Well, yes, of course, but I make no promises. You are family now, in a way, and I will do my best to help you.”
“Thank you from the depths of my bonny soul, Penelope!” Sarah burst with emotion and threw her arms around Liz.
“Don’t call me that,” Liz said as she awkwardly returned the hug. Mary smiled and rolled her eyes.
Liz carried her manuscript, tucked carefully away in a large envelope, and Sarah’s manuscript left loose and flapping in the breeze as she and Mary trotted down the sidewalk and into the Gazette as though they owned the place.
“Here you are,” Liz said as she handed Harriet her manuscript.
“What is this one?” Harriet asked as she looked over Sarah’s papers.
“Just have one of the Mr. Dixons have a look over it and send the rejection letter to Sarah Clarence.”
Harriet raised her eyebrows. “Are you making determinations on publishing now?”
“No,” Liz snapped. “Trust me. After you read very little of it you will not disagree with me.”
“Liz, I wanted to ask you about something,” Harriet began in a much less menacing tone.
“I’ve noticed your quality of work has been going down lately.”
Liz frowned at her big sister. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, for example, you kept writing Lavy where it should have said Morose. A strange mistake to make. Luckily, I was able to iron it all out for you. Mr. Dixon asked me to check on you and make sure all was well.”
“Harriet Black, you know very well that all is not well. I have been very ill most days, and you know all about my problems with Peter never being around.” Liz’s eyes burned angrily, though she was able to keep her voice from inflecting too much emotion.
“Shh, I know. I’m sorry. My boss asked me to ask. What can I do to help you? I will talk to Mr. Dixon and explain to him that you are not feeling well. He will understand. He has several children and grandchildren.”
“You know what she needs, Harriet—less work,” Mary said. “She is falling behind eve
ry day. Her readers will understand that she must step back how often Enduring Promises comes out.”
Mortimer walked up behind her. “Less Enduring Promises of the Heart? Never!” He laughed.
Mary stepped aside and back as Mortimer joined their circle.
“I know you know how much your story makes us, Elizabeth. You have benefited from it. And Harriet, what am I going to do with you? Taking upon yourself such suggestions. It’s not your place to decide how often our features come out!”
“I—” Harriet began but Mary interrupted.
“You know full well she did no such thing, Mortimer,” she sneered.
“Hmph.”
“Mortimer, it’s fine, I’m not going to stop writing so often. I have no intention of it.”
“Good. Can you imagine the outrage?”
“Can you imagine my outrage upon hearing about my sister almost losing her job?” Liz shot a most disdainful glare at Mortimer.
“She was hardly in danger of losing her job.” Mortimer sneered as he adjusted his tight waistcoat.
“Oh good. I’d hate to have to find another Gazette to take my stories. Here.” Liz took Sarah’s manuscript from Harriet’s desk and handed it to Mortimer. “Give this a read. Be kind with your rejection letter. Send it to Sarah Clarence.”
Mortimer looked cowed at first, then straightened up. “It would be an honor to read a friend of Penelope Pottifer’s work.” Mortimer nodded his head slightly and slunk away from the ladies.
“I hope you didn’t just make things worse for me,” Harriet snapped.
“Hardly,” Liz retorted haughtily. “Come on, I’m going to buy a new dress, and I could use your help. Mary was supposed to come with me, but I’m afraid she’s run out of time.”
“Liz, you sound like a tyrant this morning,” Harriet chortled.
“No, she’s not shooing me away. I really must go,” Mary said.
“Oh, I apologize.”
“I forgive you, sister.”
And with that Harriet grabbed her bag and her hat, and they were quickly off, Liz and Harriet to the Willis’s general store and Mary off toward home.
Unbroken Promises of the Heart: (Promises of the Heart Book 2) Page 9
