Short Story "The Selkie's Wife" bluebethley
Author's note: Part One of this short story takes you back to 1850, northern Scotland, and explores what happens when a fisherman's daughter falls in love with a selkie. I'd love some comments on the overall effectivenss of the story, point of view, impact of characters. Do you want to read Park Two? Thank YOU very much!
"The Selkie's Wife" (copyright 2007 Beth Camp)
Whenever the moon is large in the sky, I like to walk along the beach, though my three brothers yell at me about the dangers of the summer night. Someone could kidnap me or worse, have his way with me against my will and throw me to the side, ruined.
I suppose that’s true, but I never met anyone while walking late at night, even in the warmest summer nights. I love my brothers - Mac, the oldest, and some say wisest, at 27, and the head of our little clan since Da died; Dougal, a equally large bear of a man at 25, and James, the baby at 13, forever running after his much bigger brothers but with dreams of going to university. None of them have any qualms about going down to the pub in the center of town and staying out late. But I, Moira MacDonnell, the virgin maiden, must stay safe at home. God forbid I should meet a stranger.
So when they’re gone, Jamie’s to bed, our cottage is quiet, and I’ve tidied up after them all, I go out walking, first through the moors, the heather undulating in the wind like the sea, then along the rim trail above rocky cliffs that leads to the path that takes me down to the cove and the beach. The wild scope of the sea always amazes and refreshes me, for I feel connected to it in a way that my brothers will never understand, even though they’ve spent their lives fishing.
"THE SELKIE'S WIFE" continued . . .
The sea is my companion as I walk along the beach, watching the waves in their insistent rhythm, the dark colors of the night, the stars wheeling above, all together bringing a sense of peace to my heart. And then, just as the stars are at their brightest, I turn towards home. Later, I lie in bed, seeing stars everywhere.
The last time I went walking by the sea at night, I was overcome with sadness; my tears fell into the ocean. I didn’t know why I was crying. The warm midsummer’s night wind pulled at my dress, making it sail out behind me, and the moon shone brightly, yet I felt utterly alone.
So I wasn’t surprised when I did meet someone, and not someone from the village. The first time I saw him, he was swimming in the sea at night. He came ashore naked to sit on the rocks, and he was beautiful in a dark way that my rough and tumble brawny blonde brothers could never be. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, though that night I didn’t approach him, content to simply look until he returned to the sea.
The next night, I waited, hoping for him to return. And when he emerged from the sea, again naked, his long hair around his shoulders, the waves washing his feet, our eyes met. I didn’t faint or run away. I knew who he was, a selkie, a man of myth who lived in the sea. My tears had called him from the sea. At least that’s what I remembered from the stories Granny Conner told.
That night, we simply sat facing the sea, not talking, just together there on the rocks. He held my hand, and we watched the stars rise and fall. I knew when it was time to go back to my cottage. I placed his hand on my heart to say goodbye and as a promise that I would return. He looked long at my face and whispered his name in my ear. Dyhlan. Would he come back? I didn’t know. I only knew that I had found my mate, selkie or no, and that my brothers would be furious.
The next morning, as they came clamoring down for morning tea, hot porridge, and marmalade scones, Dougal was the first to notice a change in me. “Head’s in the stars this morning, love?” he said as he bussed me on the cheek.
Mac’s eyes narrowed. “Ye’ve not done anything foolish, have you, lass?”
“Little enough you would know, off gallivanting every night.” I whirled on Mac, leveling my wooden spoon at him. “And when are you going to find a wife so I’m not the only one here cleaning and cooking and washing and all.”
“Don’t try to change the subject. You’re the woman of the house and queen of our hearts, as you well know.” Mac stood up from the breakfast table, his head barely clearing the beams of the ceiling. “Now you should know that Diedre is close to saying yes,” he said formally.
“And close to saying yes she’s been these last fourteen months,” I replied, as Jamie and Dougal giggled into their teacups and pounded the table.
“Shut your laughing,” Mac growled at my brothers, but they all three dissolved into great whoops, including me. So it was a noisy house but a happy one. I was glad when they left for the day’s work down at the shore, cleaning up from last week’s fishing trip. Perhaps today they were mending nets to catch bait fish, or laying out lines and setting the great hooks for the next day’s fishing or cleaning out our family’s fishing boat, Maggie’s Treasure, named for our mother and Jaimie, some thirteen years past. She died when he was born, and no one in the village could save her.
No time for thinking of that, I mused, as I set the house in order and rebuilt the peat fire so the stew would simmer all day, and a good Irish stew it was, with carrots, onions, a bit of parsley fresh pulled from the garden, and an added chunk of beef Mac had brought from the village. I set the bread to rise, made all the beds in the house, gathered the eggs, and let the goats out to graze on the bit of grass in front of our cottage. Finally I settled down to my knitting, a new cream-colored sweater for Jamie, with the cables and diamonds that identified our village should he drown. I shook my head of such thoughts and wondered whether I’d see my selkie that night.
The more I thought about him, the more restless I became. Me, Moira, going on about a man, and a selkie at that. Perhaps I could blame the summer afternoon that made it impossible to think about anything. What dreams I had about going on to school, just like Jamie, and becoming a teacher, seemed lost in caring for my brothers. I wasn’t kidding about Diedre. I would welcome another woman in the house for companionship and to help with the chores. It was time my brothers were getting married and setting up their own households.
Even Dougal had a girl, Mary Margaret, up island, a crofter’s daughter who didn’t want to become a fisherman’s wife, though she loved Dougal and danced with him whenever our little village held parties in the Assembly Hall.
Would I always live with my brothers or even one of my brothers and his new wife? Would my future depend on a man from the village? Who? Peter MacTavish from the farm that bordered our bit of land came by now and again. But he was certainly too old, late in his 30s, and I didn’t like his rough ways with Ivanhoe, our border collie. Wouldn’t he treat me much the same? Sit, he would say. And we’d sit by the fire. Stay, he would say, and I would stay at home while he went down to the tavern at the far end of town down by the waterfront with the rest of the boys. A bit of a night out, he would say, while I sat by the fire knitting. Knitting and waiting, not so different from what I did now.
Hist, I said to myself. Enough of this. I set my knitting aside and called Ivanhoe out for a walk just before supper. This time I stayed on the hills overlooking the sea, just walking and looking at the sea far below, the heavy clouds moving in, thinking this was no day for fishing and hoping my brothers hadn’t taken Maggie’s Treasure out today. I was glad of my shawl for it was that cold, though not as cold as it gets when the winds come in from the North Sea. Even for early summer, the afternoon winds had picked up. When Ivanhoe ran back from whatever rabbit hole he’d been digging into and nuzzled my hand, I jumped a foot. Yes, boyo, time to be heading back, and we ambled up the hill to the cottage where I built up a nice fire in the kitchen to welcome my brothers home.
But it was long dark before they returned, with me peeking out the window every bit or so. When they came in, they filled the house up with noise.
“Moira, you won’t believe what happened,” Jamie burst out. “We had the boat out. Yes, the weather was chancy, but we went out. You know, they said the fish were running out past Hunter’s Point.”
My heart stopped. The one place on the coast near our village where boats went down.
“Yes, and we got caught in one of those whirlpools out there, just like they say, only worse,” Dougal added.
“Don’t be looking at us like that,” Mac said. “Aren’t we all here and fine and all?”
“So, like I was saying,” said Dougal, “We got caught out there in a terrible fog and then the whirlpool got us.”
“No, I want to tell it. After all, I was the one that went overboard,“ said Jamie, “and that was before we got the biggest fish we’ve ever seen. “
“One of you! Just one of you speak,” I commanded, my heart thudding. “I can’t tell what happened from this mish mash.”
So Mac gave Dougal and Jamie a quelling look and began at the beginning. “Right you are, Moira. After we heard the fish were running, we planned to take the boat to Hunter’s Point. Sean told us, and he’s a good man, so we wanted to go. The rent and the taxes are coming due, Moira, and as they say, death and taxes wait for no man.”
The three laughed nervously.
“Go on, go on. Don’t make me wait. Just get to what happened. And don’t tell me that Jamie really went overboard.”
“Well,” Mac continued, “We were following the fish. The closer we got to Hunter’s Point, the better the fishing got, with the gulls crying out and squawking behind us. But then a big fog came rolling in. You couldn’t see where the gray sky ended and the gray water began. When it lifted a little, there we were, right in the nastiest part of Hunter’s Point. And there our little boat was, twirling around in a great whirlpool, her lines fanning out behind her like a veil. We could see great fishes in the deep there, Moira, like you’ve never seen in your life.”
I couldn’t speak, just looked at each of my dear brothers, for losing even one of them would break my heart. Suddenly, I felt weak at the knees.
“Here, catch her before she goes down,” said Dougal, quickly grabbing me.
“That’s no way to tell what happened,” said Jamie. “You’re scaring the starch right out of her.”
Mac quickly pulled a chair out from the kitchen table. Once seated, I fluttered my hands and said, “Tell it all now. Don’t leave a word out.”
“To tell you the whole truth, Moira,” Mac continued, “I thought we were lost, the boat and all.” He looked around the room, at me and at Dougal and Jamie. “There we were at Hunter’s Point in the middle of a beast of a whirlpool. I thought we’d never see land again.” He paused again. “This next is passing strange, but believe me, it all happened, just as I’m telling you now.”
“Go on, tell her the rest,” said Dougal.
I’d never seen my brothers so hesitant. Usually they were straightforward, and not given to long pauses in telling any tale. I grabbed Jamie’s hand and held my breath, fearful of what was coming.
Mac took a breath and continued. “Right in the deepest part of the hole in the water that was pulling us down was a man. And he looked to be smiling at us.” He waved his arm. “Don’t interrupt me now. That man had a good hold of one of our lines, and he pulled himself close to our boat. He could see us, and we could see him. And he looked at each one of us, studying our faces. The winds were howling; the boat was turning like the devil himself had it in his hand. That’s when Jamie fell overboard, the deck was that slanted. The man in the water saw it all. He looked again at us; we were shouting and crying, and the boat was twirling around.”
Mac paused and then continued. “He went after Jamie and brought him back to us. Then, he pointed at our towline, and we threw it to him, for we were lost men and we knew it. He swam with that towline wrapped around his body, down into the center of the whirlpool and then up through the waves, and by God, he pulled us out of that sinkhole.” Mac sat down, his forehead perspiring. “It was too close, Moira. We’ll not be fishing off Hunter’s Point again, taxman be damned.”
The room was silent. For the first time I noticed that Jamie’s clothes were wet under a borrowed slicker. “Off with your wet things, now, Jamie,” I said. “Dougal, Mac, go get cleaned up. I’ll dish up supper. You’re all in need of a hot meal.”
“No talking of this in the village, Moira.” Mac said. “There’s no accounting for what happened. No one will believe us, and no one should. Not even the Queen of Heaven could make sense of this.”
My hands shook as I took Jamie’s wet things out to dry on the porch, for I knew who the man in the water had been. My selkie. I knew it was my selkie or one of his kind. My brothers had come too close to death, all three of them. I hurried back into the kitchen, fresh towels in hand, and found Jamie already wrapped up in a blanket, sitting in the warmth of the kitchen.
“You know something,” Jamie said.
“What could I know? I know you need to get warm just now,” I said, evading his eyes. “Come sit closer by the stove.”
“I saw your face just now when Mac was telling what happened. Don’t be changing the subject, Moira. What is it you know about all this,” Jamie, usually just a kid, insisted. “I’ll tell Mac.”
“Jamie, I don’t know if I know what I think I know.”
“It was horrible out there. I’ll never forget the whirlpool,” he said. “I’ll never get the cold out.” He leaned closer to the stove and rubbed his hands. “Talk to me, Moira.”
I was silent. I wanted to tell my brothers about Dyhlan, but what if it was my selkie who almost drowned my brothers and then saved them? I had to find out. “Later,” I promised.
“It’s about the man in the water, isn’t it?”
“Don’t be pushing me, Jamie. Not now.” I shivered and laid my hand on his shoulder. “It’s glad I am that you’re home safe. You should be in school and not out on that boat.”
“I’ve decided, Moira. I’ll be talking to Mac later.” Jamie looked younger than his 13 years. “I want to go to the mainland to school.”
I looked at Jamie, shivering by the stove. “We’ve been over all that. How are you going to be getting to school, then? You’ve finished the grammar school here. That’s the best we have.”
Mac and Dougal came in a rush down the stairs. “Where’s me dinner,” Dougal cried. “I’m colder than a witch’s teat.” Jamie turned away, closer to the stove.
I served up the hot beef stew and corn muffins, my mind racing while Mac and Dougal chattered on. I’d have to try to go down to the ocean later this very night. Was it my selkie? Or another? But my brothers for once stayed home, as if their own beds would finally warm their bones. I tossed and turned long after everyone had settled in for the night.
When I slept, Dyhlan appeared in my dreams, smiling, laughing, as he held me close, and then crying as he swam back into the sea. I awoke with a jerk, my own tears on my face. The moon had risen, its light falling on my bed. I had to know, but who in the village could help me? Who knew anything about selkies? Maybe Granny Conner, I thought. I could visit her tomorrow, after we worked on the boat. Mac had said we’d be needed to clean up Maggie’s Treasure in the morning, all of us. Then, tomorrow night, the fates be willing, I would find my selkie and the truth.
--0-0-0--
"The Selkie's Wife" (copyright 2007 Beth Camp)
Whenever the moon is large in the sky, I like to walk along the beach, though my three brothers yell at me about the dangers of the summer night. Someone could kidnap me or worse, have his way with me against my will and throw me to the side, ruined.
I suppose that’s true, but I never met anyone while walking late at night, even in the warmest summer nights. I love my brothers - Mac, the oldest, and some say wisest, at 27, and the head of our little clan since Da died; Dougal, a equally large bear of a man at 25, and James, the baby at 13, forever running after his much bigger brothers but with dreams of going to university. None of them have any qualms about going down to the pub in the center of town and staying out late. But I, Moira MacDonnell, the virgin maiden, must stay safe at home. God forbid I should meet a stranger.
So when they’re gone, Jamie’s to bed, our cottage is quiet, and I’ve tidied up after them all, I go out walking, first through the moors, the heather undulating in the wind like the sea, then along the rim trail above rocky cliffs that leads to the path that takes me down to the cove and the beach. The wild scope of the sea always amazes and refreshes me, for I feel connected to it in a way that my brothers will never understand, even though they’ve spent their lives fishing.
"THE SELKIE'S WIFE" continued . . .
The sea is my companion as I walk along the beach, watching the waves in their insistent rhythm, the dark colors of the night, the stars wheeling above, all together bringing a sense of peace to my heart. And then, just as the stars are at their brightest, I turn towards home. Later, I lie in bed, seeing stars everywhere.
The last time I went walking by the sea at night, I was overcome with sadness; my tears fell into the ocean. I didn’t know why I was crying. The warm midsummer’s night wind pulled at my dress, making it sail out behind me, and the moon shone brightly, yet I felt utterly alone.
So I wasn’t surprised when I did meet someone, and not someone from the village. The first time I saw him, he was swimming in the sea at night. He came ashore naked to sit on the rocks, and he was beautiful in a dark way that my rough and tumble brawny blonde brothers could never be. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, though that night I didn’t approach him, content to simply look until he returned to the sea.
The next night, I waited, hoping for him to return. And when he emerged from the sea, again naked, his long hair around his shoulders, the waves washing his feet, our eyes met. I didn’t faint or run away. I knew who he was, a selkie, a man of myth who lived in the sea. My tears had called him from the sea. At least that’s what I remembered from the stories Granny Conner told.
That night, we simply sat facing the sea, not talking, just together there on the rocks. He held my hand, and we watched the stars rise and fall. I knew when it was time to go back to my cottage. I placed his hand on my heart to say goodbye and as a promise that I would return. He looked long at my face and whispered his name in my ear. Dyhlan. Would he come back? I didn’t know. I only knew that I had found my mate, selkie or no, and that my brothers would be furious.
The next morning, as they came clamoring down for morning tea, hot porridge, and marmalade scones, Dougal was the first to notice a change in me. “Head’s in the stars this morning, love?” he said as he bussed me on the cheek.
Mac’s eyes narrowed. “Ye’ve not done anything foolish, have you, lass?”
“Little enough you would know, off gallivanting every night.” I whirled on Mac, leveling my wooden spoon at him. “And when are you going to find a wife so I’m not the only one here cleaning and cooking and washing and all.”
“Don’t try to change the subject. You’re the woman of the house and queen of our hearts, as you well know.” Mac stood up from the breakfast table, his head barely clearing the beams of the ceiling. “Now you should know that Diedre is close to saying yes,” he said formally.
“And close to saying yes she’s been these last fourteen months,” I replied, as Jamie and Dougal giggled into their teacups and pounded the table.
“Shut your laughing,” Mac growled at my brothers, but they all three dissolved into great whoops, including me. So it was a noisy house but a happy one. I was glad when they left for the day’s work down at the shore, cleaning up from last week’s fishing trip. Perhaps today they were mending nets to catch bait fish, or laying out lines and setting the great hooks for the next day’s fishing or cleaning out our family’s fishing boat, Maggie’s Treasure, named for our mother and Jaimie, some thirteen years past. She died when he was born, and no one in the village could save her.
No time for thinking of that, I mused, as I set the house in order and rebuilt the peat fire so the stew would simmer all day, and a good Irish stew it was, with carrots, onions, a bit of parsley fresh pulled from the garden, and an added chunk of beef Mac had brought from the village. I set the bread to rise, made all the beds in the house, gathered the eggs, and let the goats out to graze on the bit of grass in front of our cottage. Finally I settled down to my knitting, a new cream-colored sweater for Jamie, with the cables and diamonds that identified our village should he drown. I shook my head of such thoughts and wondered whether I’d see my selkie that night.
The more I thought about him, the more restless I became. Me, Moira, going on about a man, and a selkie at that. Perhaps I could blame the summer afternoon that made it impossible to think about anything. What dreams I had about going on to school, just like Jamie, and becoming a teacher, seemed lost in caring for my brothers. I wasn’t kidding about Diedre. I would welcome another woman in the house for companionship and to help with the chores. It was time my brothers were getting married and setting up their own households.
Even Dougal had a girl, Mary Margaret, up island, a crofter’s daughter who didn’t want to become a fisherman’s wife, though she loved Dougal and danced with him whenever our little village held parties in the Assembly Hall.
Would I always live with my brothers or even one of my brothers and his new wife? Would my future depend on a man from the village? Who? Peter MacTavish from the farm that bordered our bit of land came by now and again. But he was certainly too old, late in his 30s, and I didn’t like his rough ways with Ivanhoe, our border collie. Wouldn’t he treat me much the same? Sit, he would say. And we’d sit by the fire. Stay, he would say, and I would stay at home while he went down to the tavern at the far end of town down by the waterfront with the rest of the boys. A bit of a night out, he would say, while I sat by the fire knitting. Knitting and waiting, not so different from what I did now.
Hist, I said to myself. Enough of this. I set my knitting aside and called Ivanhoe out for a walk just before supper. This time I stayed on the hills overlooking the sea, just walking and looking at the sea far below, the heavy clouds moving in, thinking this was no day for fishing and hoping my brothers hadn’t taken Maggie’s Treasure out today. I was glad of my shawl for it was that cold, though not as cold as it gets when the winds come in from the North Sea. Even for early summer, the afternoon winds had picked up. When Ivanhoe ran back from whatever rabbit hole he’d been digging into and nuzzled my hand, I jumped a foot. Yes, boyo, time to be heading back, and we ambled up the hill to the cottage where I built up a nice fire in the kitchen to welcome my brothers home.
But it was long dark before they returned, with me peeking out the window every bit or so. When they came in, they filled the house up with noise.
“Moira, you won’t believe what happened,” Jamie burst out. “We had the boat out. Yes, the weather was chancy, but we went out. You know, they said the fish were running out past Hunter’s Point.”
My heart stopped. The one place on the coast near our village where boats went down.
“Yes, and we got caught in one of those whirlpools out there, just like they say, only worse,” Dougal added.
“Don’t be looking at us like that,” Mac said. “Aren’t we all here and fine and all?”
“So, like I was saying,” said Dougal, “We got caught out there in a terrible fog and then the whirlpool got us.”
“No, I want to tell it. After all, I was the one that went overboard,“ said Jamie, “and that was before we got the biggest fish we’ve ever seen. “
“One of you! Just one of you speak,” I commanded, my heart thudding. “I can’t tell what happened from this mish mash.”
So Mac gave Dougal and Jamie a quelling look and began at the beginning. “Right you are, Moira. After we heard the fish were running, we planned to take the boat to Hunter’s Point. Sean told us, and he’s a good man, so we wanted to go. The rent and the taxes are coming due, Moira, and as they say, death and taxes wait for no man.”
The three laughed nervously.
“Go on, go on. Don’t make me wait. Just get to what happened. And don’t tell me that Jamie really went overboard.”
“Well,” Mac continued, “We were following the fish. The closer we got to Hunter’s Point, the better the fishing got, with the gulls crying out and squawking behind us. But then a big fog came rolling in. You couldn’t see where the gray sky ended and the gray water began. When it lifted a little, there we were, right in the nastiest part of Hunter’s Point. And there our little boat was, twirling around in a great whirlpool, her lines fanning out behind her like a veil. We could see great fishes in the deep there, Moira, like you’ve never seen in your life.”
I couldn’t speak, just looked at each of my dear brothers, for losing even one of them would break my heart. Suddenly, I felt weak at the knees.
“Here, catch her before she goes down,” said Dougal, quickly grabbing me.
“That’s no way to tell what happened,” said Jamie. “You’re scaring the starch right out of her.”
Mac quickly pulled a chair out from the kitchen table. Once seated, I fluttered my hands and said, “Tell it all now. Don’t leave a word out.”
“To tell you the whole truth, Moira,” Mac continued, “I thought we were lost, the boat and all.” He looked around the room, at me and at Dougal and Jamie. “There we were at Hunter’s Point in the middle of a beast of a whirlpool. I thought we’d never see land again.” He paused again. “This next is passing strange, but believe me, it all happened, just as I’m telling you now.”
“Go on, tell her the rest,” said Dougal.
I’d never seen my brothers so hesitant. Usually they were straightforward, and not given to long pauses in telling any tale. I grabbed Jamie’s hand and held my breath, fearful of what was coming.
Mac took a breath and continued. “Right in the deepest part of the hole in the water that was pulling us down was a man. And he looked to be smiling at us.” He waved his arm. “Don’t interrupt me now. That man had a good hold of one of our lines, and he pulled himself close to our boat. He could see us, and we could see him. And he looked at each one of us, studying our faces. The winds were howling; the boat was turning like the devil himself had it in his hand. That’s when Jamie fell overboard, the deck was that slanted. The man in the water saw it all. He looked again at us; we were shouting and crying, and the boat was twirling around.”
Mac paused and then continued. “He went after Jamie and brought him back to us. Then, he pointed at our towline, and we threw it to him, for we were lost men and we knew it. He swam with that towline wrapped around his body, down into the center of the whirlpool and then up through the waves, and by God, he pulled us out of that sinkhole.” Mac sat down, his forehead perspiring. “It was too close, Moira. We’ll not be fishing off Hunter’s Point again, taxman be damned.”
The room was silent. For the first time I noticed that Jamie’s clothes were wet under a borrowed slicker. “Off with your wet things, now, Jamie,” I said. “Dougal, Mac, go get cleaned up. I’ll dish up supper. You’re all in need of a hot meal.”
“No talking of this in the village, Moira.” Mac said. “There’s no accounting for what happened. No one will believe us, and no one should. Not even the Queen of Heaven could make sense of this.”
My hands shook as I took Jamie’s wet things out to dry on the porch, for I knew who the man in the water had been. My selkie. I knew it was my selkie or one of his kind. My brothers had come too close to death, all three of them. I hurried back into the kitchen, fresh towels in hand, and found Jamie already wrapped up in a blanket, sitting in the warmth of the kitchen.
“You know something,” Jamie said.
“What could I know? I know you need to get warm just now,” I said, evading his eyes. “Come sit closer by the stove.”
“I saw your face just now when Mac was telling what happened. Don’t be changing the subject, Moira. What is it you know about all this,” Jamie, usually just a kid, insisted. “I’ll tell Mac.”
“Jamie, I don’t know if I know what I think I know.”
“It was horrible out there. I’ll never forget the whirlpool,” he said. “I’ll never get the cold out.” He leaned closer to the stove and rubbed his hands. “Talk to me, Moira.”
I was silent. I wanted to tell my brothers about Dyhlan, but what if it was my selkie who almost drowned my brothers and then saved them? I had to find out. “Later,” I promised.
“It’s about the man in the water, isn’t it?”
“Don’t be pushing me, Jamie. Not now.” I shivered and laid my hand on his shoulder. “It’s glad I am that you’re home safe. You should be in school and not out on that boat.”
“I’ve decided, Moira. I’ll be talking to Mac later.” Jamie looked younger than his 13 years. “I want to go to the mainland to school.”
I looked at Jamie, shivering by the stove. “We’ve been over all that. How are you going to be getting to school, then? You’ve finished the grammar school here. That’s the best we have.”
Mac and Dougal came in a rush down the stairs. “Where’s me dinner,” Dougal cried. “I’m colder than a witch’s teat.” Jamie turned away, closer to the stove.
I served up the hot beef stew and corn muffins, my mind racing while Mac and Dougal chattered on. I’d have to try to go down to the ocean later this very night. Was it my selkie? Or another? But my brothers for once stayed home, as if their own beds would finally warm their bones. I tossed and turned long after everyone had settled in for the night.
When I slept, Dyhlan appeared in my dreams, smiling, laughing, as he held me close, and then crying as he swam back into the sea. I awoke with a jerk, my own tears on my face. The moon had risen, its light falling on my bed. I had to know, but who in the village could help me? Who knew anything about selkies? Maybe Granny Conner, I thought. I could visit her tomorrow, after we worked on the boat. Mac had said we’d be needed to clean up Maggie’s Treasure in the morning, all of us. Then, tomorrow night, the fates be willing, I would find my selkie and the truth.
--0-0-0--