“This exact species of seal lives in Scotland and Ireland, and it’s said that they followed our village’s ancestors over to the New World to care for us.”
“Care for you how?”
“There are stories of them pulling children to safety from the sea. The most prevalent stories are of Selkies shedding their pelts and appealing to humans as lovers.”
She stopped moving her fingers over my arm and stared at the slumbering pair of seals. “Those? They’re all hairy and pudgy.”
I smiled. “Yes, but according to legend, under those pelts are creatures who in human form are so painfully beautiful, they’re irresistible.”
“Like you,” she said with a shy smile.
“Me?” I was so astounded, my question came out as a choked gasp.
“Yes, you.” She shifted to where she faced me on her knees. “You’re totally clueless, aren’t you? Don’t you have a mirror in that shed of yours? You’re hot, Liam. Hot in a wow kind of way.” She grabbed my good hand. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw you. You’re one of the best-looking guys I’ve ever seen and you’ve been totally wasted here.”
Surely, I was hallucinating. I shook my head and refocused on her perfect face. “God forbid I be wasted,” I uttered in amazement.
“That’s exactly what I’m thinking,” she said as she wrapped her arms around my neck.
* * *
Muireann kept her eyes closed, feigning sleep until she was certain the couple was no longer aware of her presence. Her older sister, Keela, lay beside her on the rock enjoying the last bit of sunshine before the storm hit. Selkies were masters at predicting the weather, masters unless the Na Fir Ghorm were involved. Storms caused by the Na Fir Ghorm’s power were as nasty as their tempers. This was a naturally occurring storm, though, so she knew she still had a bit of time before she had to return to the sea.
She rolled over and wa {d o hatched the couple as they embraced, and her heart sank. She would never experience anything like that—never feel human passion.
She was familiar with most males on this island because she had watched them pull traps for years. This one, though, never came out in the boats, and she’d only seen him once before when she was just a pup. He had been a child at the time, ineffectively pulling lines with one tiny arm, trying to yank the traps that were as big as he was into the boat. The man he called “Pa” became so frustrated, he beat the child. She had considered turning the boat over and would have had she not feared drowning the boy. Instead, she’d bumped the boat and interrupted the beating before the man killed the boy. She’d never forgotten the human child and wondered about him often. And here he was, the most beautiful human she’d ever seen, tangled up in the arms of a human girl. A girl that should be her.
Keela stretched and rolled over. “Mmm. Look at them go!”
“Who is the girl?” Muireann asked.
“The youngest of those in Brigid Ronan’s care,” her companion answered with a yawn.
“Care!” Muireann snorted. “In Brigid’s care, she’d better watch her back.”
“Well, the male seems to be watching her back—and all the rest of her—just fine, so no worries.”
Both Selkies laughed, then froze as the humans paused to look at them.
“I swear they’re watching us,” the human girl said.
“Let’s give them something to watch, then,” the boy answered, pulling her back down with him.
A crack of thunder sounded over the horizon. The storm was close.
“Have you ever considered shedding your skin?” Muireann asked, unable to pull her eyes away from the couple.
Keela scooted to the edge of the rock in preparation to wiggle to the water. “You bet. For him I would. He’d totally be worth the trouble and risk. You?”
“No,” Muireann lied, following her sister into the sea. “Never.”
10
It is not impossible that Man, the individual, under certain unusual and highly fortuitous conditions, may be happy.
—Edgar Allan Poe,
from “The Landscape Garden”
(The Domain of Arnheim), 1842
The thunder rumbling in the distance was barely discernible over my pounding heart. It wasn’t until a sprinkle of rain hit my face that I was able to force myself away from bliss back to reality. “Anna, we need to seek shelter,” I whispered against her lips.
She sat up and stared at the ominous inky clouds poised to overtake the island. “Crap! When did that happen?”
“Somewhere between here . . .” I kissed her lips. “And here . . .” I lifted the edge of her shirt and ran my mouth along her ribs.
She giggled and stood, crossing her arms against the chill in the air blowing off the water. “We’d better get a move on before we get drenched.”
“I’m afraid a drenching is inevitable.”
~d o henched.”My shed was easier to access because the trail leading to it was downhill as opposed to the route to Taibhreamh, which involved a significant climb. I would have preferred to take her to the mansion, but the storm had traveled rapidly and appeared fierce.
The rain didn’t begin in earnest until we we’d almost reached the shed. The drops fell in frigid, stinging sheets, making it difficult to see. Anna grabbed the back of my shirt, which made me feel better as I could be certain she was close without having to look back.
Pa had indeed cracked one of the boards in the door earlier, but it could be easily patched. I unlocked the door and Anna ran inside with me close behind. The shed wasn’t warm, but at least it protected us from the wind and rain. I threw some branches and kindling into the stove and lit them. “The place will warm up right away,” I said.
Anna stood shivering near the bookshelf, arms crossed over her chest, a puddle forming at her feet. I grabbed a towel from behind the curtain surrounding the tub and handed it to her, then used another to towel off my own clothes.
“Thanks. Would you mind if I . . .” She looked down at herself, then back at me, blushing.
Her demeanor was a complete surprise. My understanding of her doubled in that one moment. “Would I mind if you what?”
“If I get out of these wet jeans.”
I fought a smile. “Not at all.” I turned back to the stove to give her some privacy. The “shooshing” sound of the denim as she peeled it off her legs nearly drove me mad, but I resisted the urge to watch. I focused instead on the fire that had emerged in the stove. I placed the water kettle on the burner.
“Okay,” she said. “All clear.”
I purposefully only met her eyes, not allowing myself to drop my gaze, but peripherally, I could see that she had left her wet shirt on and had wrapped the towel modestly around her waist. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have much here.” A mental inventory revealed only a couple of options. Biscuits were out of the question because my only flour was the bag Francine had rejected days before because of a weevil infestation. They didn’t bother me because I could pick them out and the flour was fine. Food was food, but picking out bugs would undoubtedly be bad form in front of Anna.
I listed off our viable options. “I have jerky, a sleeve of crackers, two eggs, a can of beans, canned corn, and some Chips Ahoy! cookies.”
“How about some crackers and cookies?”
My non-canned items, except the flour, were all kept in a metal bucket with a lid that lard had been shipped in. It kept the bugs out, which was why the flour wasn’t in there at the moment. I put the crackers, cookies, and jerky on the table along with my metal mug. “Fine china,” I said.
Once the tea had brewed, I joined her at the table and filled the mug. “Do you want sugar?”
“No,” she said. “This is great.”
I unrolled the sleeve of crackers and opened the cookie bag, turning them to face her, then pulled two pieces of jerky out of the bag, offering her one.
“No, thanks,” she said, taking a bite of cooki
e. “I’m a vegetarian.”
She had used the same word at the pond. “I take it that means you only eat vegetables? So coeta-1">I unrookies are a vegetable in New York?” I couldn’t keep a straight face and eventually burst out laughing.
She joined me in laughter. “No. It just means I don’t eat meat.”
“Why not?”
She finished her bite of cookie. “I’m an ethical vegetarian. I don’t eat meat because I’m opposed to killing things. It’s wrong. If we can live without doing harm to other creatures, we should.”
Her stand was admirable but utterly impractical. “I’m opposed to killing as well, but there is nothing unethical about staying alive. I don’t have the luxury to turn down food of any kind. I’ll starve to death during the winter if I do. Your choice is honorable and practical where you come from. Here, it would never work.”
“Wow. I hadn’t thought of that,” she said.
“The concept of not eating meat for ethical reasons had never crossed my mind, so we’ve both been enlightened.” I placed the jerky back in the bag.
“No, it’s cool if you want to eat it in front of me. Most of my friends eat meat. It doesn’t bug me; I just choose not to.”
“Out of deference to your sensibilities, I’ll save this for later. Cookies taste better anyway.”
“You are so strange,” she said.
“As are you.”
She leaned back. “Me?”
“Absolutely.”
“How am I strange?” She crossed her arms over her chest, which didn’t bode well.
“You act as two people. There’s the person you pretend to be, and there’s the person you really are.”
“I don’t pretend to be anything.”
I knew I was treading on thin ice. “I’m not being critical—quite the opposite. I’m simply trying to solve a puzzle.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m the same all the time. I’m not fake, Liam. There’s no puzzle to solve.” A crash of thunder caused her to flinch.
I decided I’d pushed her too far and should drop the subject entirely. “Fair enough. Would you like some more tea?” I stood to retrieve the kettle.
“No. I want you to explain what you’re getting at.” She left the table and paced a circle, clutching the towel at her waist.
I sat and waited for her to calm.
She stopped pacing. “What?”
“Why the towel?”
She made the snort-through-her-nose sound. “Because I don’t have any pants on. Duh.”
“I understand, but still, why the towel?”
“You’d love it if I lost the towel, wouldn’t you, Liam?”
She was completely missing my point. “Of course I would, but that’s not my assertion. Please sit down. It’s warmer over here by the stove.”
After glaring at me for a moment, she acquiesced. “Okay. Let’s hear it, then.” She pulled out a cracker and nibbled the edge.
“Very well, I’ll start with what I’ve read, then I’ll move on to what I’ve observed firsthand.” I grabbed the box of magazines and newspapers by my bed and dragged it across the floor to the table. I selected the tabloid on top, placed it on the tablet oI g with the cover facing her, and recited the headline, ‘NYC Socialite Bares All—Humiliates Family.’”
“That was almost two years ago,” she muttered, stuffing what remained of the cracker in her mouth.
I rotated the magazine on the table to face me, flipped to the article, and read from it. “‘So what?’ said sixteen-year-old Annabel Leighton when we caught up to her the following day at the horse track. ‘It’s not like I’ve got anything different than everyone else has.’”
“True,” Anna said with a shrug.
I pitched the magazine into the box and pulled out another. “You didn’t make the front page this time,” I said with a wink, turning to the article. “The headline is ‘Leighton Heir Out of Control.’ Shall I read from it for you?”
She reached for the cookie bag. “Is that from last Christmas?”
I nodded.
“Nah. It’s boring. I got a little crazy at a fund-raiser. Too much eggnog.”
I put the magazine back in the box. “Were your parents there?”
“Yep. That’s not the best one, though. One tabloid’s headline was ‘Leighton Heir Out of Her Noggin.’ Get it? Eggnog?” She broke the cookie she was holding in half.
“I missed that one,” I said.
She leaned over to look at the box. “Doesn’t look like you miss many, though, huh? Looks a little obsessive or stalkerish.”
Her tone was mild, but the words had negative connotations. I knew I had to be very careful or she’d leave and never look back. “You were the only person I’d ever met from the outside world. You were my only connection off this island. My interest in you was . . . and is acute.”
She arched an eyebrow and then smiled. “Fair enough. I’ll give you a free pass on the box-of-all-things-Anna. Now, what’s the point of your show-and-tell?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yes.” She took a bite from the piece of cookie.
“My theory is not intended to offend in any way.”
She pointed at me with the remaining cookie half. “Stop with the disclaimers. I’ll let you know right away if I’m offended.”
Of that, I had no doubt. “Why did you conceal yourself with a towel today?”
She leaned back and didn’t answer.
“Two years ago, you got completely undressed in front of strangers, just as you tell me you did recently, resulting in your current . . . captivity on this island.”
Still no response, just a smirk.
“You undress, pull pranks, indulge in all manner of chemical substances, and say outrageous things.” I ran my hand through my hair, hoping she’d respond instead of stoically stare at me. Perhaps I’d gone too far.
She leaned forward and put her elbows on the table. “Yep. I sure do.”
“And yet, you wrap your body in a towel today.”
Shrugging, she popped a piece of cookie in her mouth.
“And you don’t act like you reportedly do in the tabloids. You are deep, sincere, and caring—caring enough to not want to harm another living creature.”
“Get to the point, Liam.”
“There’s an element missing on this island that causes you to behave differently. Do you know what I think it is?”
“Logic?”
“No. Your parents.”
She pushed to her feet and moved to the other side of the room. “That’s bullshit.”
“You and I are very much alike. You want more than anything in the world to be noticed by your parents—to garner their love. Just like me.”
She turned away, closing me off the only way she could in my tiny shed, so I spoke to her back. “Here’s where we differ, though. Since you can’t get their attention by being excellent, you do it by acting out. You demand to be noticed. I, on the other hand, become invisible. Different tactics to achieve the same desired end result. Only neither of us is effective, are we?”
Her shoulders rose and fell several times, but she didn’t respond. I held my breath, hoping she wouldn’t leave. I knew my conjecture was right.
“You have no idea who I am,” she whispered, still facing away.
I turned her to face me. “I want to know who you are. Everything about you.”
She searched my face for a long time, as if an answer were written on my features. “I believe you, Liam. You’re the first person who’s ever really wanted to know me. Everyone else wants something. Even my friends.”
“Even the friends coming tomorrow?”
She walked to my desk. “Oh, you heard that.”
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t intentionally eavesdropping.”
“Yeah, especially them.” She pulled a fleck of paint off the surface of my desk.
“Why did you invite them, then?”
“Because tomorrow’s my birthday. I was
supposed to have a party in the city, but obviously, that plan changed. If I couldn’t go to my party, I’d bring it to me.”
“I wasn’t aware tomorrow was your birthday.”
“Ah, so there’s something about me you didn’t learn in the tabloids.”
“There are many things about you left to learn.”
“Wanna learn some now?” She let the towel fall around her ankles, and I couldn’t keep my eyes from taking in the perfect alabaster skin of her long, slender legs.
“My God, Anna. You’re so beautiful.”
She wrapped her arms around my neck and I was certain my heart had stopped. Her grin was gorgeous. “Well, like I told that reporter two years ago, ‘It’s not like I’ve got anything different than everyone else has.’”
“I’m certain that’s not an accurate statement.” I planted my feet when she gently pulled me in the direction of the bed. “Wait. No, Anna. Not now.”
Her eyes opened wide. “Are you crazy?”
“My body certainly thinks so and may never forgive me. But, no, I’m completely sane.”
She dropped her hands to her sides. “You’re going to reject me, really?”
“No. No, Anna. Just the opposite. I’m in no way rejecting you. I’m accepting you—all of you. The intimate moments you’ve already given me have surpassedhavNo, anything I could conjure in my wildest imaginings. Let me learn who you are inside your head and your heart first, then everything else will be even more amazing.”
“You’re scared, aren’t you?”
“Terrified.”
She picked the towel up from the floor and wrapped it back around her waist. “Offer rescinded, then,” she said with a wink.
“Not forever, I hope.”
“No. Just for the next ten minutes or so.”
I groaned. She had absolutely no idea how difficult this was or how badly I wanted her, but I wanted no regrets from her. She was operating on habit and past expectations. The desire was uneven. I wanted her to want me as much as I did her—to need me as much as she needed to breathe.
For the first time in my life, I felt like there was hope for happiness. Not hope just for me, hope for both of us. She’d been living a desolation of her own, equally miserable to that of mine. And I knew that when she ultimately returned to her life, leaving me alone in mine, we would both be stronger and better for having shared our souls with each other.