The Mermaid's Curse (California Mermaids Book 1) (2 page)

Chapter Four: Xavier

I know exactly where our first stop will be—namely my sister’s closet. My family is probably asleep, but I don’t want to take the chance of them seeing me with a near-naked girl. My father disapproves of me enough without adding that to the list.

It will be a shame to cover Oceania up, though. She’s so wild and free that I can’t imagine her in a corset and long gown any more than I could visualize myself with a merman’s tail. Thinking of our differences brings me a sudden sense of sadness; I’ve never felt such an instant attraction to any girl before, and I must admit that, even though I scarcely know her, she makes me feel breathless and wonderful.

But I shake the melancholy feeling away, taking Oceania’s dainty hand in mine and deciding that, right now, all that matters is living in the moment.

We stroll north from Point Joe in companionable silence, passing the lean-tos of the Chinese fishermen. A few minutes later, we’re traipsing up the stone walkway of my parents’ majestic summer house that overlooks the Spanish Bay. The contrast between the primitive living conditions of the fishermen and the opulence of my family’s seasonal home brings on an unwelcome surge of shame. I feel almost guilty for having so much when other people have so little.  I take a deep breath of salty air, trying my best to lose the unpleasant, sour taste that has suddenly pervaded my mouth.

The lights have been switched off, and I heave a sigh of relief, glad that my family is asleep and I won’t have to explain Oceania. There is no explaining her, especially to someone like my father, who only sees in black and white.

Holding my finger to my lips, I lead Oceania into the marble foyer of the darkened house, past the paintings and Tiffany lamps, and up the curving staircase. She makes no sound the entire time, but her eyes have widened to about twice their normal size, and her mouth gapes open like a fish out of water. I suppose that, in a way, that’s exactly what she is.

I motion her into my bedroom. “Wait here. I’ll find you something to wear.”

Oceania nods, sliding into the chair at my desk and sitting there in the dark.

I tiptoe down the corridor to my sister Amelie’s room, noticing the thin strip of light shining out from under her bedroom door. I groan under my breath, but then realize that it’s actually better that she’s awake. I can only imagine what kind of havoc I would create, bumbling through her closets in the dark.

I knock lightly, and hear a whispered, “Come in.” I push open the heavy wooden door, and smile at the sight of Amelie, sprawled out on her bed above the covers, wearing her white nightgown and reading a book by the light of her bedside lamp. She flips over from her stomach onto her side, treating me to an impish grin.

“What are you doing up so late?” she asks, giggling under her breath. “And you’re damp. What were you doing, swimming in the ocean?”

“No. But close.” I sit down on the corner of her bed, but she waves me off.

“Ewww. You smell like seaweed,” she says, wrinkling her nose.

“Sorry,” I say, sliding into her mahogany desk chair. I glance at the book she’s been reading, and notice with surprise that it is a collection of mermaid lore. Amelie is a voracious reader, devouring books about any and all subjects, but it’s strange that she would be reading this book tonight of all nights.

“So you’re reading about mermaids,” I continue. “And, incidentally, mermaids are exactly what I came here to discuss. Tell me, do you believe in them?”

Amelie rolls her eyes, slamming the book shut. “Of course not, Xav. I might be six years younger than you are, but that doesn’t mean I believe everything I hear or read. I’m merely interested in mermaid mythology. I guess it’s something in the air here—it makes me want to read everything I can about the sea, and all the creatures who inhabit it, mythical and otherwise.”

“Believing in mermaids doesn’t make you childish. In fact, I believe in them myself, because I just met one tonight—”

“Pardon me?” Amelie interrupts, holding up a hand. “I thought I just heard you say that you believe in mermaids.”

I feel my face heat up under Amelie’s scrutiny. What I’m saying does sound crazy. “I do,” I say quickly. “That’s why I’m bothering you. May I borrow one of your dresses? I want to give the mermaid something to wear besides her seaweed and seashells, since I’m planning to show her around tonight.”

“What?” Amelie sits upright, regarding me with narrowed eyes. “Have you gone insane? I have news for you that might come as a shock. Mermaids. Don’t. Exist.”

“Yes. They. Do,” I say, mimicking her irritated staccato voice. “If you don’t believe me, come into my bedroom.”

Amelie pushes herself up from her bed, still looking at me as though I’ve just sprouted two heads. “All right. But this had better be good.”

She follows me to my bedroom, and I draw in a deep breath as I open the door. Amelie’s doubts have made me briefly question my own sanity. My story does sound ridiculous. What if Oceania really was a figment of my overactive imagination, a daydream gone awry?

But a moment later, I sigh in relief. Oceania sits at my desk, just as I’d left her.

“Oceania,” I say, turning on the light. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Amelie takes one look at Oceania, and all color drains from her face. A second later, she faints, and before I can reach out to catch her, she crashes to the floor like a fallen redwood.

Chapter Five: Oceania

Xavier brings a girl into his bedroom, and I know instantly that she must be his sister; she looks like a younger, feminine version of him. Of course, her skin is not nearly as suntanned as his, and she’s far from muscular. She’s actually quite petite, but she has the same dark, wavy hair and strong, attractive facial features as he does.

I’ve risen from my seat on the desk chair and am just about to reach my hand out to her in that peculiar custom that Xavier and his people seem to have when the girl collapses to the floor.

I stare at her, not sure what to do, but Xavier springs into action. He grabs a small jar from the desktop, holding it under the girl’s nose. A moment later, her long-lashed dark eyes flutter open.

“So you really are a mermaid?” she asks, as Xavier pulls her up into seated position. “I thought there was no such thing.”

I’m not surprised that this girl doesn’t believe in mermaids; Ula has told me that humans are very skeptical creatures, and frequently don’t believe that we exist.

“I assure you, I’m really a mermaid, and there are many of us in the sea far below. My name is Oceania, and I am here to celebrate my eighteenth birthday.”

“See,” Xavier says to the girl with a triumphant smile. “I told you.” He turns to me. “This rather dazed girl is my sister, Amelie.”

Amelie stands up, finally seeming to recover herself, and shakes my hand. “Forgive me my rudeness, Miss Oceania. I was just reading a book about mermaid folklore, and I thought you mermaids were just that—folktales, created by bored and desperate people.” She takes my hand, leading me into the hallway. “So Xavier tells me you need to borrow a dress for your excursion tonight. Let me help you with that.”

Xavier smiles at me. “I’ll wait outside. I’m excited to see how beautiful you’ll look.”

I nod a thank you, and gasp as I step into Amelie’s room.

The room is grander than the palace of Triteus the Sea King. I’ve never been inside, of course, but I’ve seen pictures in the books we studied in mer-school. Amelie seems oblivious to the grandeur of her surroundings as well as my awe of them, and flings open the closet doors to reveal an incredible collection of dresses in all colors. She pulls out a blue one, the same deep turquoise as the ocean.

“This one is quite informal,” she says as my eyes widen. It doesn’t look informal at all, with its rows of tiny buttons and sumptuous bows. She reaches into the back of the closet and produces a white garment shaped like a woman’s torso. “But we’ll start by lacing you into the corset. Oh, don’t look so alarmed. I know mermaids don’t wear corsets, but we human women wear them all the time, and we’re just fine.”

Ignoring my protests, Amelie helps me out of my seashell top, and lowers the strange undergarment over my head. “I won’t lace you too tight,” she promises. “You don’t need it, since you have a small waist.”

Just the same, I feel out of breath after she has yanked the strings around my midsection, tying them tightly in the back.

“And now, for your dress,” Amelie continues. She lowers a soft white underdress over my head first, and then adds the beautiful confection of turquoise blue. After she has fastened the row of tiny buttons and jammed my feet into a pair of high-heeled shoes, she pronounces me ready.

“Let’s not bother with your hair,” she says. “It’s the middle of the night, and no one will see you anyway. Besides,” she adds, smiling shyly and taking a few long strands of my hair in her hand, turning them back and forth to catch the light, “it’s really too pretty to put up.”

“Thanks,” I say. “For…everything, and for believing in me.”

Amelie laughs. “After seeing you in your seaweed skirt, how could I not? But it’s my pleasure. That dress certainly suits you.” She gestures to a gold-framed oval mirror on the wall. “Look at yourself.”

I gasp as I catch sight of my reflection; I almost don’t recognize myself. Suddenly, I have a surreal feeling that I don’t know myself anymore. The Oceania of a few hours ago was deathly afraid of venturing to land, and would never have allowed a human to strap her into such atrocious, confining fashions.

As I continue to stare into the mirror, however, I’m surprised to realize that I could grow accustomed to this. I like these clothes, and I like Amelie and Xavier. When Ula had told me that I must figure out my true place on earth, I’d never had any doubts that the ocean was my place. Now I have to admit that the land has a certain appeal, too, and the thought makes my head spin.

I decide that, for now, I’ll just focus on the bizarre, dreamlike quality of the night and not think too much about the future.

Amelie yawns, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. “It’s nearly 2 AM. I should really get some sleep. But enjoy yourself with my brother. If he’s giving you a tour of the area, I’m sure I know where he will take you next.”

“Where?”

Amelie smiles, her cheeks dimpling. “I won’t ruin his surprise. But let’s just say you’ll like it. Everyone does, except maybe our father.”

Before I can ask any more questions, Amelie climbs into bed. “Well, I must sleep now. I have an early piano lesson tomorrow morning. But it was very nice meeting you, Oceania. Good night.”

I slip out the door just as Amelie switches off her bedside lamp. “Good night.”

Chapter Six: Xavier

Oceania steps into the hallway, biting her full lower lip in concentration as she struggles for balance in Amelie's high-heeled shoes. Her breath comes in shallow, ragged gasps, and I can only imagine that it’s because she's not used to the corsets that women squeeze themselves into in the name of fashion. I pocket Amelie's jar of smelling salts, deciding that I might need them for the second time tonight.

Oceania is, without a doubt, the loveliest girl that I have ever laid eyes on, her beauty as radiant and timeless as a goddess. Amelie has helped her to choose just the right gown, a deep blue-green frock with clean, simple lines and only a few bows for decoration. Her hair has dried into a tangle of waves of such a pale blond that they're almost silver. She exudes the faint rose aroma that Amelie is so fond of, but nothing can mask the fresh, salty scent of the sea that clings to her.

She smiles at me shyly, and I clear my throat, finally finding my voice. “Oceania, my dear. You look—lovely. Actually, lovely doesn't even do you justice. You're fantastic, otherworldly, a vision. Need I go on?”

“Thank you.” Oceania’s giggle is as melodious as the pealing of wind chimes in a sea breeze. I thread my arm through hers as we creep down the dimly-lit hallway. “So, what are you going to show me? Amelie told me that whatever it is, I'm sure to like it.”

“It's a surprise. Come, follow me.”

I lead the way, down the winding staircase and through the parlor, then through the grand dining room to the kitchen. Quietly, I push open a tiny door in the kitchen wall, which leads to a narrow, darkened staircase. Hand-in-hand, Oceania and I descend the stairs to the cellar. I flick on the light, and Oceania's gasp echoes throughout the cavernous room.

The cellar is a kind of musician's playground. An old harpsichord stands in one corner, an upright piano in another. My family's other instruments are scattered throughout; there’s a baritone, a tuba, a trumpet, a flute, a harp, and a set of drums.

My mother, sister, and I have avidly collected instruments since...forever, really. My mother sang in a traveling opera company before she married my father, and the harpsichord, piano, and flute belonged to her. The harp and the drums were Amelie's addition, while the baritone, tuba, and trumpet were mine.

As a child, both of my parents encouraged me to explore the world of music,

but as I've grown older, my father has dissuaded me more and more from practicing. Yes, he appreciates it when Amelie and I show off for his friends, performing dazzling classical pieces on the imposing new baby grand he keeps in the parlor, but he certainly doesn't want me to make a career of music.

“You have to carry on the family business,” my father has said practically every day since I turned sixteen and the subject of college was broached. “Your sister can practice her instruments for hours every day. But you've got other things to do. Those banks won't run themselves, you know.”

My father is a born businessman; he built a huge fortune in railroads in the 1890s, and then accumulated even more wealth when he began opening and running banks. Now, he’s literally richer than the bank, and, naturally, he wants me to work for him. This is why I attend college at the University of California at Berkeley, with a major in business and finance.

But little does he know that all of my time between classes is spent in the on-campus music conservatory, learning the art of composing, and analyzing the work of the masters. I haven't told anyone this, except for Amelie. I know my mother would be proud, but I also know that she would be obligated to tell my father, and I can't chance that.

“Oh my, Xavier,” Oceania says, clasping her hands as she admires the golden trumpet. “What is this? It’s beautiful, and so shiny.”

I laugh, picking it up. “Yes, it is. But there's more to it than that. Listen to the sound it makes.” I play a brief tune as Oceania claps and squeals in delight.

I slide onto the piano bench and begin to play a favorite Italian aria of my mother's, singing along with it.

Oceania leans against the piano, watching my fingers and listening to the first dramatic strains. Soon, she begins to sing with me; as her voice echoes through the cellar, it sounds even more enchanting than it had when she'd burst forth from the sea.

Still singing, she crosses the room to the harp and begins accompanying me. As she closes her eyes and strums the harp, she literally seems to glow. Her hair reflects the overhead light, and her skin sparkles like water. She undulates back and forth like a rolling wave, and her body becomes one with the music, absorbing the energy of the song, and then projecting it back out.

Oceania’s intensity is contagious. A strange warmth overtakes my body, and I feel myself lighting up from within. Suddenly, my fingers are more nimble, my voice is stronger, and the aria is more hauntingly beautiful than I’ve ever heard it. I close my eyes, spellbound by the harmonies that link me to Oceania—and to something larger and more spectacular than I’ve ever felt before. Music always lights me up, but this is on an entirely different level.

I never want the piece to end, but when it does, I keep my eyes closed for a long, luxurious moment, not wanting to break the spell. I only open them again when I feel cool fingertips on my cheeks.

Oceania has lowered herself onto the piano bench next to me. For a second, we simply stare at each other. From this close, I’m aware of the depth of her eyes, like the facets of a well-cut aquamarine.

“How do you know how to play the harp like that?” I ask, my voice coming out hoarse. I clear my throat and continue. “It’s not an easy instrument. Amelie is quite skilled, but she’s been playing since she was eight, and she practices for hours.”

Oceania shrugs. “I suppose I’ve practiced for hours, too, over the years. We have a similar instrument at home. My sister and I play the sea harp to accompany our singing. The chords are the same.”

“It was amazing—you and me, playing together like that. I mean, did you feel it? It was magical.”

Oceania nods. “I did, and I’ve never felt anything like it before. I play and sing under the sea for enjoyment, but here, something was different. It wasn’t just an expression of music, it felt—deeper, somehow.”

“You’re right.” What passed between us was visceral. Now that the song is over, I almost feel drained.

Oceania and I sit in silence, both of us as placid as a couple of sunbathers after a long, hot day at the beach. Our musical connection was so unexpected that I think neither of us knows how to discuss it further.

So, instead I focus on something tangible. No doubt about it, Oceania is a great talent, and she brings out the best in me as well. I want to convince her to stay on land as long as she possibly can.

I don’t know how long mermaids can live above water, but my heart aches for answers. I try to tell myself that it’s merely because I’m interested in her artistically, but I have to admit, there’s much more. I wonder what kind of music we would make together if I kissed those salty lips of hers.

I shake the thought aside. I already have a special friend of sorts—Victoria, whom I escort to parties and dances every once in a while. Courtship here is so formal that we’ve never even kissed.

Naturally, my father wants to marry us off, but I’ve always been reticent to move forward with her. Now I think that Oceania just might be the reason why.