Brine (12 page)

Ishmael looked at her grandmother as though she had just arrived from another planet.

“Telepathy.”

“I’ve mentioned it before,” Maggie said. “Don’t be so shocked.”

“Oh, I’m beyond the shock phase.” Ishmael thought back to the day when Allen and Diane dropped her off in the boat. “The female in the water—in the Pacific—she was trying to communicate with me that way. She kept grabbing my arm. It freaked me out.”

Ishmael smacked another mosquito on her arm. “Am I the only one getting bitten here?”

Maggie retrieved a small box and matches from her pocket. “Citronella incense,” she said. “This’ll keep the bugs at bay.” Pungent smoke wafted through the air around them.

“So do you know which one I’m talking about?” Ishmael asked. “The female who brought my ring back?”

“Heavens no. The ocean is huge. But word travels fast. I caught wind of the news that your ring had been returned to you. And I had a feeling you’d know what to do with it.”

“So the plan all along was for me to pawn my wedding ring?”

“I wouldn’t say
plan
, but I did know you’d need some money after what you’d been through. And I was hoping you wouldn’t go back to Nicholas for it.”

“So you know about Nicholas too?”

Maggie shifted the stick of incense until the smoke wafted more in their direction.

“Mainly, I was just happy to hear you were back in the water so quickly after your swim home from Baja . . . To know you were craving the water and that you weren’t afraid of your aquatic form.”

“So what, they have a mermaid broadcast or something? How do you know all this?”

“In a sense. Aquatic humans, though global, are a small community. We stay connected. Remember, while humans on land are separated by water, aquatic humans are connected by it. News travels fast when it’s uninterrupted.”

“Then how come you don’t know where my mom is?”

“Because your mother doesn’t like to be found. As I’ve mentioned, she’s skillful. Pretty much travels alone. Keeps herself off the radar, so to speak. She likes it that way.”

Ishmael thought for a moment. “Well, she can’t possibly avoid all of them?”

“Oh, she makes contact. That’s how I know she’s alive. There are now enough of us ex-aquatics on the land that she can spread word when she wants to.”

“Enough. How many is enough?”

“Couple of hundred.”

Ishmael pondered this for a moment. “So she contacts ex-aquatics? What? She just swims up to them?”

“Perhaps. If the time is right and safe. But more than likely, she leaves a token for them somehow. A unique shell left on the steering column of a boat. An elaborate knot tied in an anchor line. A bottle of deep-sea port left mysteriously on a dock. Pretty much every ex-aquatic still has some contact with the ocean. We’re around the water enough, and we know what to look for.”

Maggie put her hand on Ishmael’s. “Look, I know you want to find her. And I’ll do everything I can to help. I’ve sent word out that you’re here. I have a hunch she’ll turn up.”

Ishmael’s heart thundered in her chest.
Her mother might turn up?
She felt her grandmother’s soft hand slide off her own.

Maggie took a deep breath.

“I want you to know that the numbers of aquatic humans are dwindling in the ocean. There were several thousand at one time. Now there are probably just under a thousand. At least air travel is more prevalent these days—no more small boats slowly crossing the oceans with watchmen, so it’s a bit easier for them to stay hidden. Nowadays, the boats are so computerized, they miss catching a glimpse of an aquatic human fluke on the horizon.”

“Where do they live?”

“Areas where humans on land mainly keep to themselves and respect the ocean. Coastal Oregon. Baja. Bermuda. Finland. There’s a small pod off the coast of Scotland. Nova Scotia. Nicaragua. They find sea caves. Or sleep wrapped in kelp beds for protection. There are all sorts of ways to survive out there when you are adapted to live in the water.”

Ishmael winced, remembering her day in the Pacific: the massive beast she’d seen in the water that day. “What about sharks?”

“I was waiting for that question. Humans are so fascinated by sharks.” She looked at Ishmael. “The fact is aquatic humans are simply smarter than them. Sharks aren’t stupid, don’t get me wrong, but they’re less of a threat than you’d think. Maybe they just don’t like the way we taste.”

Maggie laughed.

“Co-existence is a wondrous thing. Thankfully, aquatic humans have incredible adaptations and instincts to protect them. As I’ve mentioned, they are really more animal than human, connected to nature in a way land-dwelling humans have mostly lost.”

“The female was so awkward that day in the Pacific. I was expecting her to be more human,” Ishmael said. “She just—she looked human from the waist up.”

“When I first came to land,” Maggie said, “I was basically as feral as a wild animal in comparison to now. I blended in by using gestures, pretending I was very shy. In the water, there are the subtlest meanings in gestures and sensations. Squeaks, squeals, grunts, chirps—they all have their significance. I kept the gestures when I first got to land, but I quickly learned to suppress the urge to squeak or grunt—I noticed right away how strange those noises were to humans. People generally like animals with human characteristics; they don’t like humans with animal characteristics.”

Ishmael thought of Joe Cruz. The pieces of the puzzle were coming together now.

“So my grandfather came to land with you. Since you were an alpha female. You were his ticket to conversion.”

“Transmutation, yes. There were quite a few of us back then, plenty to choose from. He could have found another alpha female to bring him to land. And he eventually did, the bastard.”

Maggie fanned herself with her hat.

“Oh, he would have
loved
you,” Maggie said. “He could just sniff out the most powerful of the alpha females, and those were the ones he wanted to tame.”

Ishmael waited for her to continue. She was riveted.

“It boggles the mind to think of it,” Maggie said. “How strong you are. Leads me to believe that this alpha gene is somehow growing more powerful with each generation.”

Ishmael poured more lemonade into the lid of the thermos. “I want to hear more about the bastard.”

“Grab a bucket. I’ll tell you while we pick.”

Ishmael chugged the cool liquid and followed her grandmother past the pine tree. Maggie went right to work, plucking a berry and sliding it in her mouth, chewing for a moment as she thought.

“I got pregnant that first night we slept together on the beach. We were both so elated that night, beneath the moon, in our new human forms. Having legs for the first time. Feeling dry sand between our toes. I guess the excitement spread to our loins.”

“I’m not sure I want to hear—”

“Oh, we were so young! Driftwood hutch. We had the beach all to ourselves. It was blissful. But then one night, your grandfather wanted to change back. I was pregnant, so I told him I wouldn’t. But your grandfather, he was nothing if not persuasive.”

Maggie dropped another handful of berries in her bucket.

“Watch for the thorns,” Maggie said, popping a few more berries in her mouth. Her lips were just starting to show stains from the juice. “They make these berry bushes now—somehow genetically they do—and they are
thornless
. Can you imagine that? These are wild. And that means plenty of thorns. They’re juicier to me, so they’re worth a few scratches.”

Ishmael watched her grandmother’s trained hands. Her own hands were already scratched with thin crimson lines.

“As you know,” Maggie said, “I discovered my predicament that night. Turned out that was only to be the first of many let-downs of the evening.” Maggie shook her head and sighed again.

“Why? What else happened?” Ishmael asked.

“Another female showed up. He’d been cheating on me all along. The look I saw pass between her and your grandfather . . .” She looked at Ishmael with a matter-of-fact smile. “But I’m not even sure he was in love with either of us. I think your grandfather just loved the accomplishment of wooing an alpha female.”

“What an asshole.”

“Yeah. He was. But he got what he deserved. He tried to come to land again, and the transmutation didn’t go through one hundred percent. Something went wrong. Poor bastard was stuck with only half a fluke—not that I really feel sorry for him. Anyways, they say he died in a storm. He wasn’t able to swim with his deformed tail.”

“So, wait a minute—there can be side effects from the transmutation process?”

“This is anatomical transmutation we’re discussing here, not brushing your teeth. Things can go wrong.”

“But—I’m fine, right? I don’t have anything wrong with me? Side effects or anything that I don’t know of yet?”

Ishmael looked intently at Maggie.

“Side effects and deformities are really more of a complication in males.”

The wind had picked up a bit, caressing the scraggly silver moss hanging from the live oaks. Ishmael quit her picking and let the gentle breeze soothe her troubling thoughts.

Maggie shifted to a new area in the thicket that was covered in plump berries. Her bucket was already half full.

“And speaking of males—there’s something else I think should be explained,” Maggie said. “Now, I’m not trying to justify Joe’s aggressive behavior, but you have to understand that on land Joe was like a caged beast.”

A thick cloud drifted overhead, obscuring the dappled sunlight that had only moments before been peeking through the trees. Maggie looked at her granddaughter to make sure she was listening.

“You should know, since Hector can’t change either, he’s tormented by the same mental demons as his father. I’ve been working with him. Mental training. Yoga. Breathing exercises. Meditation seems to be helping, so we’re making progress. But I want you to be aware of Hector’s shortcomings in advance because—well—you should be gentle with him. Careful, even. He’s extremely volatile.”

Ishmael thought of how she’d saved Hector’s life the night before.

“I’m pretty sure I can handle myself—”

“I don’t think you understand,” Maggie said, leaning in. “As charming as he may seem, Hector’s mainly interested in one thing.” She paused. “He’s desperate to know whether you’re alpha enough to change him.”

Ishmael’s mind flashed back to the afternoon before on the dock. She recalled all the things he’d said. He’d challenged her to swim with him. And the night before—his legs were heavy when she’d pulled him out of the water. Was it possible that his lower half had started forming the thick skin of a tail?

Ishmael looked up to find her grandmother’s fierce gray eyes staring into her own.

“If you’re as powerful as you seem to be, there’s a chance you might be the one to change the course of Hector’s life. He wants nothing more than to go live in the ocean, take his aquatic form, and be released from this human form, which he perceives as a prison.”

“And there’s a chance I might be able to transform him?” Ishmael asked. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Yes, but that’s why I’m warning you. As gentle as he can be, I’ve seen him be equally as aggressive. I want to discourage you from being lured by his ambitions. There’s a time and a place for everything, but I think, for now, we shouldn’t get his hopes up. The presence of two alphas hasn’t worked in the past. And I’ve made so much progress with Hector. If he gets let down again, I’m not sure I can help him back up.”

Ishmael had certainly glimpsed a side of Hector the night before that confirmed Maggie’s warnings. She was happy to avoid him—but could he really be that dangerous?

Maggie looked her granddaughter intently in the eye. “To answer your question—yes.”

“Wait, you just read my . . .”

Maggie reached over and put her hand on top of Ishmael’s.

“Consider yourself warned,” Maggie said. “Hector is like a Siren. He’s gorgeous, charming, a smooth-talker, yet he has one potentially perilous goal in mind. He can certainly call your ship into the rocks if you’re not paying attention.”

ISHMAEL PULLED HER HAND FROM HER GRANDMOTHER’S and stood, rubbing her temples. She was stunned, scared, and strangely honored, all in the same breath.

She was powerful enough to change Hector?

The deep song of a dove reverberated from a nearby tree; the sound seemed to pound in Ishmael’s skull. She felt dizzy with the heat, the lack of sleep, last night’s wine, and her racing thoughts.

“Take your shoes off,” Maggie said. “In times like this, you need bare feet.”

Ishmael felt the cool sponginess of the ground. Leaves adjusted with soft crackles between her toes.

“You’ll feel more grounded this way,” Maggie said. “Brings the energy back down.”

Ishmael nodded. The tactic was working. With her toes in the dirt, she felt herself take a deeper breath, and the world stopped spinning.

“But—if I’m so powerful,” she said, “couldn’t I change you?”

“You probably can,” Maggie said, searching the picnic basket. “But I don’t want you to think that’s the only reason I’m glad to see you.”

Maggie arranged items from the basket on a nearby stump. “Have a seat,” Maggie said. “Let’s get some nourishment in you.” Ishmael unwrapped a cinnamon roll and took a bite.

“But aren’t you even curious?”

“Curious, yes,” Maggie said, handing Ishmael a napkin, “but that’s not my main focus. I’m old. And I couldn’t leave Lena behind.”

“I like Lena,” Ishmael said, wiping the icing from her lips. “She’s sturdy. Protective. Like the mother ship.”

“I agree,” Maggie said with a pleasant smile.

Ishmael thought for a moment. “So is Lena a mermaid?”

“No. But I’ve told her everything. Lena’s just one of those remarkable people who is unshakable. She wasn’t shocked at all the first time she saw an aquatic human swimming around our dock. She just takes everything in stride.”

Maggie sipped lemonade from the thermos.

“I want you to understand that I’m not concerned about going back to my aquatic form now because I’ve found my place. My place is here. On land. Your mom acts as a matriarch in the water and I act as a matriarch here on land. It all just works out.”

“So how did you end up here? In South Carolina?”

“I came to Butler Island because it was as far out to sea as you could possibly get around these parts. I’ll admit, it wasn’t much of a plan, but it worked out in the long run. I do love it here.”

“So did my mother ever live here with you?”

“Sadly, no. And that’s probably why we’ve never been close. We live such different lives; we’re bound to have divergent perspectives. It was one of my toughest life decisions, but I knew your mother wanted to grow up in the ocean. I found a nice female who lived off the coast of Bermuda who agreed to adopt Anna.”

“So what—you just shipped my mom off to Bermuda?”

“At first, to give Anna a chance to get her bearings in the ocean, I sent her to live with a very small pod of aquatic humans up near Hatteras. Because she was a strong alpha, she changed forms within a few minutes of coexisting with them. And they raised her until she was able to make the crossing over to the larger pod in Bermuda.”

“How old was she when she made the crossing?”

“Five.”

“What! My mother crossed the Atlantic at age five?”

“Not the entire Atlantic. And she was with an adult, of course. They took their time.”

Ishmael couldn’t help but smile.

“And she was okay to just leave you?”

“Honestly, I don’t think Anna even thought of me once she came to understand the potential of her aquatic form. Your mother
thrives
in the water.” Maggie looked off. “I was torn up about it for years. But when I knew I could trust Lena, I poured my heart out to her and I was able to work out my grief and come to understand that I had made the best decision I could.”

“That makes me . . . sad.”

“Yes.” Maggie sighed, and then forced a smile. “But, perhaps you can see why your mother was not distraught in leaving you when you were only six. She figured you were plenty old enough.”

“But I don’t understand why my parents came to land in the first place. If my mother loved the water so much, why risk—”

“Because of you. She risked it all because of you. Anna wanted her daughter to grow up on land. Get an education, make a life for herself. Aquatic humans are a dying race. She wanted you to be somewhere
you
could thrive.”

“You make her sound so heroic.”

“Ishmael, I don’t think your mother went for a swim that afternoon with the intention of staying in the ocean.”

Ishmael swallowed. “What are you saying?”

“She’s never outright told me, and our communication is sparse, but I’m betting all my chips on the fact that your mother is not capable of changing back to a human,” Maggie said. “I say this because if she could have returned to you, I know she would have. As much as Anna loves the ocean, I’ve always believed she loves you more.”

Ishmael choked on her tears. She bit her lip to stifle the urge to weep.

“I don’t think she’s ever been able to forgive herself for that,” Maggie said. “I think that’s why she avoids me. Because she knows that I know the truth and it pains her to see me and face it.”

“But I could’ve forgiven her. We could’ve visited her.”

“You must know that a visit with your
mermaid mother
could’ve been tricky for your father to arrange.” Maggie touched Ishmael’s arm. “I know your mother feels terrible for what she did. But I will say I get the sense we are so-called
stuck
where we should be. Whether on land or the water, the process seems to choose where the true work needs to be done.”

Ishmael shot up, pulling her hand away.

“I don’t know, Maggie.” Ishmael paced. “She could’ve done
something
! Something to show me she wasn’t dead! Hell, I could have lived in the ocean with her! If she’d come back for me—just once—I could’ve swam away with her. She could have at least given me
the choice
.”

“There’s still time for that,” Maggie said.

“What? No. No way. It’s too late. I mean—I can’t go with her
now
. I’m too old.”

Maggie laughed.

“Please spare an old lady like me the excuse that you’re
too old
.”

“I don’t know anything about living in the ocean,” Ishmael said. “Or being an aquatic human.”

“Hector would argue that you certainly know more than him. He’d do just about anything to know what you know. To feel what you’ve felt in the water.”

Maggie caught her granddaughter’s eye.

“Because it does feel exhilarating, doesn’t it?” Maggie asked. “Powerful. Liberating.”

Ishmael supposed she was going to have to get used to having her thoughts read. Being in her aquatic form was the most liberated feeling she’d had in her entire life.

“I just want you to be proud of your mother,” Maggie said. “As I am. Your mother and I aren’t always simpatico, but I admire Anna.”

A breeze swirled over the dirt road and picked up the end of Maggie’s braid. A rumble of thunder resonated in the distance. Maggie stood, looked up at the sky, and put on her hat.

“My goodness. Lena won’t like us coming back with only half a bucket of berries. But judging from those clouds, it’s time to head on back.”

The women gathered their belongings just as a light drizzle started. The wind tossed the trees erratically and kicked up swirls of dust.

“Uh-oh, here we go,” Maggie said, holding her hat down in a gust of wind.

The sky opened all at once, and the rain pounded down in sheets.

Ishmael felt the droplets sliding down her cheeks like tears. Within minutes, her entire body was soaked to the bone. The two women leaned forward into the rain and pressed on without speaking, their hair plastered to their faces, their shirts clinging to their skin like tissue paper.

Ishmael welcomed the deluge. She needed to get her thoughts straight. But then she had a terrible thought—the rain, all the wetness—she stopped, still as a statue. She pictured herself writhing on the dirt road with a tail.

Maggie looked back at her granddaughter, water streaming from her straw hat like translucent ribbons.

“You’ve still got a lot to understand, Ishmael Morgan!” she yelled over the downpour. “Only works in salt water!”