Seven Tears into the Sea (20 page)

When they'd all made sounds indicating they saw where I was pointing, I asked, “What is it?”

“A rock.”

“—sea lion—”

“It could be either, but it's moving,” Arnold said. “I give up. Is that a sea lion or a rock?”

“Exactly!” I crowed. “The only way to tell is by watching.”

They started to argue about what they saw, and while they did, I decided I must be a better storyteller than I thought. I'd been positive it was a rock, but it was moving.

“It's either a dark-haired girl watching us or a rock with kelp floating around it,” one of the guys said.

I didn't notice which one because I was shading my eyes. “You see what you want to see with the reflections and movements,” Arnold speculated.

I didn't see a girl. I saw a man walking through the waves, headed for the beach at the Sea Horse Inn.

“But the magic is in the skin, am I right?” asked Myra.

Blinking, I looked away from the glare on the ocean to focus on her. “I think by their very nature selkies are magical.”

“If you steal their skins, they're helpless. They just pine away.”

“Bebe,” Myra said to the girl with the short, blond hair, “that's what I read, too. They come ashore to dance naked in the moonlight and get captured.”

Arnold laughed. “Then they should grab their skins and run for it!”

“Personally,” said Bebe, “I think the legend has a lot to say about the society that created it.”

Fighting down my unreasonable irritation with them all, I pretended to whisper to Myra and Bebe. “The
males are pathologically handsome. And seductive.”

The guys howled, and then Arnold started pointing, stabbing his index finger toward the beach. “Here comes one! Look!”

It was Jesse.

“Yep,” I said. “My own private selkie.”

It was only a joke, but I felt brittle, like I'd shatter into fragments if I laughed.

As I hurried off the patio and down to the beach, I heard conversation. Looking over my shoulder, up to the widow's walk, I saw Mr. and Mrs. Wharton sipping iced tea with Nana.

I gave a hesitant wave. Nana raised her hand. And eyebrows.

When I turned back, he was right in front of me.

“Jesse!” My voice jumped a few octaves from his hug, as he closed me against his wet chest and dripping cutoffs.

Embarrassed, I pulled away even though I didn't want to.

He didn't seem to notice.

“I've been thinking about something,” he said, jumping right into it. “That night on Little Beach, why were you crying?”

He meant that night seven years ago.

“I need to know,” he said, and his need erased my embarrassment.

I didn't care that we had an audience. They were too far away to hear, and I was remembering the little girl I'd been, weeping into the ocean in the middle of the night.

“I was alone on the beach. I woke up there and—”

“You were scared and that's what made you cry!”

“No,” I said. “I was afraid for
you
. Think about it. There was this guy walking out into the ocean, deeper and deeper, and of course I didn't know how well you could swim. I was thinking …”

As clearly as if he were standing beside me, I could see my father shaking his head at the radio, saying, “We'd better batten down the hatches and tie down the livestock tonight, Gwennie, a big storm's blowing in.”

I hadn't understood anything, except for the part about the storm.

Jesse stood safe in front of me, and I took his hand.

“I was afraid you'd drown.”

For a minute he didn't seem to process my words.

His head tilted to the left and he blinked slowly. “You cried because you thought harm would come to me.” A few seconds passed as he sized up everyone watching us. “I'll just go meet your Nana, since she's beckoning us.”

He pointed, and it turned out he was right.

“Come on,” I said. He wouldn't say anything about being a selkie would he? About being hooked up with me through destiny?

Each step made me surer this was a bad idea.

Just the same, I introduced them, and I swear, some kind of lightning leaped from Jesse to Nana. They looked each other over, and smiles lit their faces at exactly the same time.

“And how was your swim yesterday?” Nana asked.

“Perfect,” he said.

Oh my gosh, if she only knew.

“Oh,” fussed Mrs. Wharton. “This is a rough and rocky coastline. I'm quite sure I wouldn't care to swim here.”

“My Gwendolyn grew up here,” Nana said proudly. “She's a strong swimmer and an exquisite diver. I've watched her compete, many times.”

“How does a young person get into that?” asked Mr. Wharton. He was just making conversation, but the Hobbits came tromping up the stairs in time to hear, and diving seemed a safer topic than, oh, how we'd met, so I explained.

“Usually because their parents want them to …”

“But that was not the case with you, Gwennie!” Nana looked amazed.

He'd said a young person, not me, so I kept going.

“Then you train by doing trampoline and v-ups and jump rope, and you start with a bunch of different kinds of dives, then learn to specialize …” I babbled until their eyes glazed over then ended my lecture. “But I'm taking a break from competition right now.”

“And you miss it,” Jesse said.

The older couple gave indulgent smiles. Weren't we lucky to be so in tune?

“I miss it a little,” I admitted.

“She could have been the best in the state, you know,” Nana said, and Jesse actually nodded in agreement, though he knew nothing of the sort.

“And there you have it,” I said to the older couple. “The totally unbiased opinion of my grandmother and m-my—” I actually stuttered.

“Friend,” said Nana.

“Mate,” said Jesse.

What?

Before horror closed my throat completely, I managed to give a sickly smile and explain, “He's British—and I'm embarrassed.So I think I'll go back inside the Inn and set out the tea things, all right?”

They all laughed and gave understanding nods, knowing the word “mate” was British slang for friend, I guess. At least that's what I hoped they were laughing over.

I left Jesse right there and ran down the steps to the patio. I was heading through the blessedly empty parlor and rushing toward the kitchen, flooded with panic.

When Thelma said, “For you,” I had no idea what she was talking about.

“The phone,” she explained, and I realized she was extending the receiver.

“Gwen! My poor stranded sister,” Mandi gushed. “I know we said we'd be up there tonight for the village thing—”

The festival in Siena Bay. That's what she meant, and it sounded like they weren't coming, which was really lucky, since I had forgotten all about it and promised Nana I'd stay here at Mirage Beach.

But it was like reaching an oasis to talk with Mandi. This time last week, I couldn't have guessed I'd welcome conversation with her as normal. Mandi, who longed to live in a fairy tale, would have been much better suited to the last six days than I was, but I didn't tell her.

“Hey, what's up?” I asked.

“Temperatures,” Mandi said. “Can you believe the twins have chicken pox, and I'm still supposed to take care of them? It's gross. I'm not cut out to be a nanny. I've been tackling them so they don't scratch and scar, and smearing on all this goopy lotion. I am ready for some adult company,
if
you know what I mean.”

I knew exactly what she meant, and it was a good thing they weren't coming to the Siena Bay festival. It wasn't Mardi Gras, but it could get crazy, and Mandi's taste in guys could be awful.

“Anyway, we were coming,” Mandi said, “and I even have a little surprise for you, but Jill has to close at the Torch tonight. Have you ever heard of anything so brutal? I mean, five nights a week she serves greasy
snacks to these people, and she has to stay until 2 A.M., even though she'd asked for the night off.”

“Mandi, it's okay,” I said. “I'm going to be busy. It's sort of a work night for me, too—”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Mandi said, as if she'd brought up something tragic.

I pictured myself dancing and singing and jumping over bonfires with Jesse. I didn't deserve her sympathy. Luckily, Mandi couldn't see my grin.

“But we are coming up tomorrow morning,” she said. “Really.”

“I think tomorrow will be more your kind of thing, anyway,” I told her. “Midsummer Madness in Siena Bay has a street fair and game booths. We can go out in one of the boats and—”

“That'll be great, yeah—Timothy, don't you dare pick at that scab!”

The receiver clattered down and I waited.

When she came back, Mandi whispered, “They were so cute at the wedding, in their little tuxes and bow ties, but now they're only sweet when they're sleeping. Anyway, we just didn't want you to be waiting and wondering where we were and all.”

“Well, you deserve tomorrow at the beach,” I told her. “And I think it's really cool that you're coming, even though Jill doesn't get off until two. Don't let her fall asleep at the wheel,” I added.

I knew Jill would drive if she could keep her eyelids propped open. She was terrified of Mandi's easily-distracted driving style.

“And if I'm already at work when you get here, the cottage will be open. Just be careful not to let Gumbo out.”

“Sure, but there was something else,” Mandi said, and I heard her fingernails tapping.

Waiting, I watched Thelma give the King's Cakes a last layer of frosting.

“That message you left for Jill!” she shrieked.

“There's this guy,” I said.

“All right!” Mandi crowed.

“An extremely cute guy,” I said. “But that's all I can tell you right now. You'll meet him tomorrow.”

“For sure?” Mandi insisted. “And he's really cute?”

“Absolutely,” I said.

By nightfall bonfires dotted the shoreline. All along the coast neighbors shared cookies, roasted hot dogs, and passed around bottles of wine. Little kids ran up and down the beach with illegal sparklers while siblings kept watch for the sheriff.

Zack, Roscoe, Perch, and their gang would be out “helling around in boats,” so we wouldn't have to worry about them. At least that's what Thelma told me, and since she and Nana were the experts on all things solstice, I hoped they were right.

Jesse had slipped away while I was talking with Mandi, but Nana had extracted a promise from him before he left. He would be my partner for the Midsummer's Eve competitions, just as he'd told me this morning.

It had been hours since we'd cleared away the last tea of the old year, and though we'd mentioned it was tradition to stay up all night, the Whartons had retired to rest up for the Siena Bay festivities. The Hobbits were chugging coffee in the village, planning to come back up to the Point in time for the games, which wouldn't begin until full dark.

Leaving Nana and Jesse on the widow's walk without me had been a mistake. They'd convinced each other we'd be crowned Queen and King of Summer.

I still wasn't too clear on how that happened. The competitions were games. From what I could tell, most of them involved wandering around in the dark, sometimes blindfolded, often in the waves. One of them was a swim though, and that revved up my competitive spirit. Finally, there'd be fire leaping. I still didn't have that part straight, but Nana swore it would be instinctive.

In Valencia running
away
from fire was instinctive, but I kept quiet and watched for Jesse.

By nine o'clock I was dressed in tight green leggings with an overblouse of what I guess was homespun cotton. Sort of gauzy and ivory-colored and it fell just to my
hips. I felt more like Robin Hood than Maid Marian, but it's what Nana wanted me to wear, and I wanted to make her happy.

“What time do you expect Jesse?” Nana asked.

I sighed. I'd been doing that ever since he left this afternoon.

Nana had stood beside me as I inspected my outfit. Now our eyes met in the parlor mirror.

If I explained Jesse's problem with time, it would sound like an excuse, so I shrugged. “We didn't really set a time, but I thought he'd be here by now.”

“Honey, just have fun! It's not the end of the world if you don't win—although you will of course. You have only four jobs tonight. Except for staying awake …”

“What are my four jobs?”

Nana held up her index finger. Her eyes narrowed as she recalled a rhyme and recited it. “Dance round nine bonfires by dawn, find fairy rings in the lawn, kiss a lad 'fore he is gone, and never this year be woebegone.”

“I'll do my best,” I said, then spent another hour pacing between the patio and the house, hoping to see Jesse.

At ten o'clock bagpipes played on the shoreline. Trifle was mounded in silver bowls on the patio tables. The Welsh Rarebit brewed by Sadie Linnet smelled delicious, but I couldn't eat a thing and I knew why.

I didn't want to share Jesse. I didn't want people looking at us as a couple, because they'd start expecting
things. I accepted his random comings and goings just fine. Mandi and Jill might not be charmed by his odd speech and uncanny intuition for what I was thinking. They might just think he was weird.

“So little Gwennie's grown up, and she's got her eyes on my crown, is that the way of it?” A buxom red-haired woman caught me in a hug.

I had no clue who she was, but I didn't have to admit it.

“You don't remember me? Gwennie! I'm Shannon O'Malley—,” she shouted over a chorus of slide whistles played by a bunch of kids. “Well actually, I'm Shannon Rice now. He's mine—,” she said, tugging the sleeve of an equally red-haired man. “—and so are they—” She pointed to the slide whistlers. “I used to be your babysitter!”