The Mermaid's Secret (29 page)

She nods in time with her needles and the rocking of the hickory chair. “Of course I did.” She looks up. “A mother always knows where her daughter is.”

*   *   *

Sheriff and I both gasp out loud.

“Barbara is your daughter?” Sheriff asks, his voice gruff.

“You're my grandmother?” Part of me feels like hugging the old woman, but another part of me feels betrayed. “Why didn't you tell me that before? Why didn't you reach out years ago?”

“You didn't need to know then. Now you do.”

I can sense that Sheriff is skeptical. “Why didn't Barbara ever tell me about you? Why would she keep that from all of us?”

“Aren't there things about Barbara that have always eluded you?”

Sheriff looks down. “She was always a very private person. Kept a part of herself hidden away. Always has. All those times she disappeared. Her spirit journeys. I never knew what that was all about. But this … You. I'd like to think she would have shared this with me. Maybe she didn't know you were here.”

“She knew,” I say, feeling suddenly protective of Sheriff. “When I was little, Mom told me to stay away from here. She said that no one can tell you your destiny. I asked if the woman in the shop was Passamaquoddy and Mom said, ‘Not our kind.'” I turn to the seer. “If you're my grandmother, why would she forbid me to see you?”

The old woman smiles. I study her eyes, her skin, her cheekbones, and I can see my mother.

“Barbara has made mistakes in her life.”

“Now hold on. That's my wife you're talking about.”

“Sit. I will tell you the things that you don't know about your wife.” She peers at me. “And your mother.”

Reluctantly, Sheriff sits on the edge of the other hickory chair.

“When Barbara was young, she was very brave, like you. She loved the water. She would spend hours swimming in the ocean, diving for shells, playing in waves. She could hold her breath for many minutes and swim a mile without stopping. She was born to be in the water. It was a wonder to watch her.”

“No,” I say. “My mother was terrified of the ocean.”

“That wasn't until much later, when the ocean was a dark temptation to her. When Barbara was about thirteen years old, we took a trip up the coast of New Brunswick. There are sea caves up there, full of precious minerals and exotic rock formations. But at high tide the caves flood.

“There was a big group of us walking the beach that day, clamming in the mud, picking up crabs and fish caught in a weir. One of the families with us had a young boy who went to explore the sea caves. As the tide came in, we all moved to the safety of the cliff. But the boy could not be found. His little brother told the group that he had never left the cave.”

She puts down her knitting. “All we could do was stand on the edge of that cliff and watch as the dark mouth of the cave disappeared under the water, knowing the boy was inside.

I think about the Bay of Fundy tidal range and how it's the highest in the world, how we all have our stories of when the tide almost took us.

“I hadn't even realized Barbara was gone, when I saw her swimming toward the cave. I screamed for her to come back. I was so worried for her. But she dove under the water, right into that cave. She didn't come out for many minutes. When she finally emerged, she had the boy with her. She swam him over to the cliffs and set him on a rock. I stood on the edge of that cliff, feeling as proud as any mother has ever felt. By then, the water had turned brown from the rushing tide, and I could not see below her neck. But I saw into her eyes, and I knew that she had changed.”

I look out the window. High tide. All the boats in White's Wharf afloat. In six hours they'll be resting in the mud, along with the crabs and bottom-feeders. “You mean she was a mermaid?”

“Yes. She had found a way into the Ne'Hwas legend.”

“Did she know what was happening?”

“Of course! She knew the legend well.”

The old woman takes my hands in hers. “You see, we were there because we were searching for the place where Ne'Hwas jumped into the pool. We were always searching for it. I've searched for it my whole life.”

“You
wanted
her to be a mermaid?” I ask.

“Oh yes! She had brought great honor to our family. She would spend her life as a goddess. That day, I learned that where there are great acts of courage, there are doors into the other realm. When Barbara came out of that cave, I knew she had fulfilled the legacy of Ne'Hwas. Her destiny had found her.”

Sheriff clears his throat. “Are you saying she's been a mermaid all these years? That she can be human one day and mermaid the next? And she kept it secret from me all this time?”

“She didn't choose one over the other.” My grandmother swallows hard. Her lips turn into a frown. “She did not appreciate what a rare and beautiful thing it is to be possessed by the sea. She wasn't the brave girl I thought she was. She chose land over sea.”

“But Mom went back.”

The seer tilts her head. “I suspect she went back a few times.”

I think about the time I was five and Kay was eight and I got caught in the rip current, and instead of drowning, it felt like the ocean lifted me up. How it felt like the ocean had hands that cradled me from below. And it hits me: it was my mother who saved me that day. She didn't disappear to get help. She wasn't back at the car, looking for a shovel to build my moat. She dove in and rescued me, without anyone knowing.

“What about this time?” Sheriff asks. “When is she coming home?”

“Grief will drive a person deep inside of themselves. It drove her back to the sea. The ocean will drown all sorrow. And once the sea takes hold of you, there is no turning back.”

Sheriff looks deflated. “There must be a way to bring her back.”

“I'm afraid not.”

“If I can just talk to her,” Sheriff says. “Reason with her.”

“I am sorry. But Barbara has chosen her destiny.”

“I can't just give up.”

The seer looks out the window. “I only worry that it is too late for her. Ne'Hwas was a girl, with a girl's heart and a girl's passion. I don't know if the sea will be kind to a broken old woman.”

“So you think she's in danger?” Sheriff asks.

I think of my mother swimming toward me, looking more beautiful and radiant than I've ever seen her. And I think of the shark swimming right past her, coming after me.

“I don't think she's in danger,” I say. “When I was down there, a white shark tried to attack me. But it completely ignored my mother. Why?”

My grandmother turns her piercing eyes on me. “Sharks keep the balance in the oceans. They thin the herd, kill the sick and weak. You are neither fish nor human at the moment. You don't belong there yet. You are upsetting the natural order. Not until you decide what you are can you be safe. The shark was only doing its job.”

“So, once I choose the sea, the sharks won't hunt me?”

Sheriff leaps to his feet. “What do you mean, ‘once you choose the sea'?”

I stand, too, and look him in the eyes. I can feel the tears rising. “I'm a mermaid. It's my destiny.”

“You aren't serious, are you?” Sheriff asks.

“I'm so sorry, Dad, but I am.”

He hugs me so hard I can't breathe. “Oh, Jess.”

“Can you forgive me?”

He lets me out of the hug but keeps his hands on my arms. “Of course I forgive you. You have to do what's right for you. That's all I've ever wanted for you. At least you'll have your mother. You'll have to take care of each other.”

I wipe my running nose. “I'll come visit you all the time. We'll find a spot, and you can meet me there. I'll bring Mom. You won't be alone, Sheriff.”

He hugs me again, and when I look down at the seer, a curious smile crosses her lips. Her expression is so familiar, so much like my mother's the day at the ferry station when she hugged me good-bye. Telling me she would see me soon, when really she knew otherwise.

 

T
WENTY-SIX

It's a little like planning your own death, with the added bonus of knowing when and how you'll go. You can be picky about how you spend your final hours. And you get to plan your good-byes.

Sammy opens the door to her room, rubbing the sleep out of eyes. Her ability to nap at any time of day has always astounded me.

“What?” she snaps. I can see by the set of her jaw that she's still mad at me over beating up Spencer.

“I'm leaving, Sammy.”

“Okay.” She tugs on her slouchy Victoria's Secret pajama pants with the holes in the knees, which she's had since high school. “Good-bye.”

She doesn't get it. I hug her. She hugs me back, reluctantly, and then like my best friend.

“I'm really leaving,” I say. “In two days, it's a full moon.”

“What, like,
leaving
leaving? Like, for good? Are you saying you're going to be a mermaid? Forever? You're never going to live on land? You're not going to have legs anymore? You won't walk ever again? You're just going to swim around the ocean all day? Jess, you can't do that. What about your family? What about us? Our friendship?” She adds, “What about the apartment?”

“You've seen what's happening to me, what I'm becoming. I belong out there.” I nod seaward.

“But … but…” She breaks into hiccupped cries.

“It's the right thing for me to do.”

She wipes her nose on the hem of her ragged T-shirt. “Promise me I'll still see you. I'll get in a boat if I have to, and you know how much I hate boats. I get seasick just standing on the dock.” She hugs me again. “You can't just disappear out of my life forever.”

“I promise.”

“Pinkie swear?”

We make our secret sign. “I only have two days left, Sammy. I want to spend time with you,” I say. “Our last hurrah.”

She nods through her cries. And then she says, “Does this mean I can keep that crocheted dress I borrowed without asking?”

I smile “It's all yours. All of it.”

*   *   *

It's one of those spontaneous summer days where we don't plan anything or worry about what's next. We hang out at the apartment all morning, drinking coffee and playing rummy, like we used to when we first moved in and didn't have enough money to go out because first, last, and security ate up every last dollar.

“Can you ever come back?” Sammy asks, laying down three aces. “I mean, for special occasions? Weddings, funerals, that sort of stuff? I would just die if you weren't at my wedding. Or the birth of my children. Don't get me wrong—I don't want you down below the curtain! You can be standing near my head. You know, cheering me on.”

I laugh. “I don't think I will have legs ever again. You'll have to bring the spawn of Spencer out to sea to visit.”

“I didn't say they would be Spencer's kids.”

“Okay. Then, the spawn of Leonardo DiCaprio.”

“That's more like it.” She laughs. “Does Matthew know?”

I stare at my cards. A pair of twos, a jack, a nine, and a three. Trash. “I've tried to tell him, but he's going to have to see to believe.”

“Dude, I have it so much simpler with Spencer.”

“It helps to be the same species.”

By lunchtime, we're ready to get out, so we head down to Spinnaker Street. Every restaurant has lines out the door, but the hostess at the Crab Shack owes Sammy a favor and manages to squeeze us in at a high-top table on the water.

“You're going to miss all this,” Sammy says.

I stretch out my legs, letting the sun bake my skin.

Our waiter, a white guy with dreadlocks, brings us beers on the house. Fringe benefits of being a townie.

“To friendship,” we toast.

“You ladies hitting any of the Regatta pre-parties this week?” the waiter asks.

“Are there any we should know about?” Sammy asks.

One local to another, he says in a whisper, “I hear there's one down at Galleon Marina. Big yacht. Can't miss it. Some bigwig has his entourage up for Regatta.”

“Who?” Sammy says, practically bouncing off her stool.

He squints, thinking about it. “Can't remember. One of those old industrialist names. Forbes. Rockefeller. Vanderbilt. Something like that. But the guy is some young hotshot entrepreneur. My roommate's girlfriend's cousin texted from the yacht and said it was off the hook. Two hotties like you could slip in there no problemo.”

Sammy's eyes sparkle with the thought of it.

“I thought you hated boats,” I say.

“Boats, yeah. Yachts, now that's a different story.”

“We're not crashing a yacht party,” I say, but the wheels are already turning in Sammy's brain.

“Bring us one more round,” she tells dreadlock dude. “We're going.”

“No,” I say.

“Come on. This is my last request.”

“We'll never get in,” I say.

“Nonsense. It's all in the attitude. Fake it 'til you make it,” Sammy says, slugging her Corona.

“I'm going to miss your nuggets of wisdom.”

*   *   *

We make our way down to the Galleon Marina, where mega yachts fill the dock slips like a strand of pearls. The party of the hotshot entrepreneur (with the old industrialist's name) is impossible to miss. Hip-hop music rings out from the upper deck of the yacht, and beautiful people adorn it like Christmas ornaments.

“Follow me,” Sammy says. Chin lifted, she swaggers to the gangplank. Two bouncers stand guard, one pierced and tattooed, the other with muscles like a bodybuilder.

I stand back and let Sammy do the talking. Any second the bouncer is going to tell us to buzz off, it's a private party. That would be fine with me, because Sammy and I will be able to continue our last hurrah alone. Instead, he nods us through.