Adrift (8 page)

I turned my head and found him standing beside me—the perfect being—the one Devin had named a Sidhe.

“Are you going to hurt me?” I asked, hating the way my voice trembled. 

“Why would I harm you, little one?” he said warmly.  He stood too close.  His breath tickled against my cheek and goose bumps rose along my spine.  I trembled.

“What’s your name?” I asked.  “Who are you?”

He chuckled softly, drawing his fingers through the loose ringlets of my hair.  “You would not ask, if you knew better,” he murmured.  “You may call me Omyn.  It is as good as any name.”

I swallowed.  “Omyn.”  The word tasted strange and wild in my mouth.

He drew his fingers across my eyelashes, slowly, as if he were counting each one.  His silver-streaked eyes stared into mine, drawing me closer to him.  My hands reached out of their own accord.

I sat up in bed, my heart hammering in my chest. 

Chapter Six

I didn’t talk to Devin again that week.  He was rarely around, and when he was, he seemed determined to avoid me. 

I was busy enough, doing pretty much anything Maura asked me to do.  I carded the bundle of horse hair for Maura and, in return, she attempted to show me how to use a drop spindle.  I was awkward and clumsy with it—as they say, I was all thumbs.  I seemed to spin the spindle too fast or too slow.  My resulting yarn was knobby and broke off at random thin patches, where the fibers didn’t twist together.

“No one is perfect the first time,” Maura said, gently, as I glowered at my wad of what looked more like a tangled mess than yarn.  “You just have to keep trying.”  Her own much larger ball of horse-hair yarn was smooth and even.  She didn’t even seem to have to make an effort.  I sighed in frustration and sent my spindle spinning again.

I had to fight the urge to sing the “Dreidel Dreidel” song we used to sing in elementary school.

Maura hummed or whistled as she worked.  Her hands moved so smoothly and quietly. It was like watching a prima ballerina dance. 

Yarn finished, she taught me how to weave.

Weaving on Maura’s loom was addictive.  First, we had to string the loom, which seemed to take forever.  It was definitely a two, or more, person job.  As it was, it took us hours over two days to get all the warp threads in place.  For the warp we used Maura’s finest wool, then, for the waft, we would use some wool yarn and some of the new horsehair yarn. 

Unlike my experience with spinning, it was all too easy to get into a pattern with weaving.  Quickly I had the right rhythm, throwing the harnesses, tossing the shuttle, thumping against the whole thing.  Click Clack Boom Boom Boom.  In no time at all I had a good few inches of cloth that was uniquely mine.  Maura was a patient teacher, correcting me when I went astray, and showing me how and when to change colors to create the design I desired.

She paused to watch me work, nodding with quiet approval.  “I would send this to the shop with my things for sale,” She told me.  “You are doing a wonderful job, particularly for a beginner.”

I glowed, warmed by her praise.  It felt so good to be making something with my own hands that had substance, something that felt real and concrete.  I wondered if there was any way I could grow up to be like Maura, and support myself with my new trade.

“Weave a blanket, warm a child,” I murmured, to myself.  “Teach a child to weave, warm the world.”

Maura was working on a different loom, next to me.  Under her skilled fingers, a picture was slowly emerging, beautiful and complex.  I marveled at how she could paint with yarn the way others did with oils.

We were both so engrossed in our work that we didn’t realize we had an audience, until Devin cleared his throat.

“You two look like aspects of Fate, weaving there,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

I smiled at him.  He crossed the room to study Maura’s masterpiece.

“Maura, you’re a wonder,” he told her, kissing her cheek, “But you knew that, didn’t you?”

“Oh, go on,” Maura blushed like a girl.  “I am proud of this piece, though.  I was thinking of making it for my girl, here.”

Tear pricked my eyes.  “Oh, Maura!  You can’t.  It’s way too valuable—it’s too grand for someone like me.”

“And what’s wrong with you?” Maura demanded.  As I wiped my eyes I thought I saw her raise an eyebrow at her son.  “There’s nothing the matter with you that I can tell.”

I sniffed.  “You are already to kind to me, Maura, taking me in, teaching me.  I could never repay you, not even in a thousand years.”

“Nonsense,” Maura said, briskly, rising from her stool and stretching out her back.  “You repay me every day, just by being a good student and an extra pair of hands.  People like me love nothing more than to pass on our knowledge to the next generation.  You’ll see, when you have children of your own.”  She pinched my cheek fondly.  “I always wanted a girl, Meg.  You’ve been that to me.  You know that, don’t you?”

I nodded blearily, sniffing again.  I looked down, so she wouldn’t see how much her words moved and touched me.  She was so good!  She had taken me in as if I were her own flesh and blood.  I loved her already.

She stroked my hair for a moment, before moving on to the kitchen.  “If my guess is right,” she called to us, “my boy is here because he’s grown tired of his own cooking.”

Devin chuckled.  “Do I have to have an excuse to visit my dear old mother?”

Maura stuck her head into the room and waved a wooden spoon at him.  “I’ll forgive the ‘old’ in that statement for the ‘dear’ this one time, lad of mine.  You’re not too old for a swat on the behind.”

“I’m shaking.”  Devin shook his head. “As if you’ve ever laid a finger on me.”

Maura grinned.  “Ah, but there are plenty of times I wanted to, son, and there’s a first time for everything.”

I watched this exchange with a mixture of pleasure at their closeness, and jealousy at the easy intimacy they shared.  More than ever, I wished I could have that kind of relationship with my mother: something more than wisps of her in my dreams.

“Go, get some fresh air,” Maura told me.  “I’ve got things handled here and you’ve been inside all day working.  I bet your back needs a break as badly as mine.”

I stood up stretching.  My back was stiff and sore.  It was as good a time as any for a break.

I took a walk down by the water.  No matter where I was, I could feel it calling to me.  Every day the pull grew stronger, and I had to fight a little bit harder all the time not to just jump in and let the water do what it would with me, without caution or care.

I walked the very edge of the pebble shore, letting the tide lap at my toes.  Kip bounded past me, half of a young tree in his mouth.  He jumped straight into the water, drenching me with spray.

“You’re tempting fate,” Devin said.  I turned to face him, but he looked past me, watching his dog.  “With your selkie blood you are vulnerable to the ocean.  If you let your guard down for one minute, you’ll cave in.  You are not your mother, Meg.  You would drown.”

I shivered, whether at the coldness of his tone or his words, I couldn’t be sure.  I folded my arms across my chest and kicked at the pebbles under my feet.  Part of me knew that Devin was right. It screamed to me that I was in mortal danger, just looking out at the ocean.  The rest of me just didn’t care. The water was calling and I ached to answer.

“I’m OK,” I said, more to fill the long silence than anything.  Perhaps I was trying to reassure myself.

“No, you’re not.”  Devin’s eyes were suddenly on mine and I felt the impact like a fist in the gut.  “You’re in mortal danger every day you are here.  Haven’t you considered that your father kept you away from the water to keep you safe?”

I hunched my shoulders.  “Please, don’t talk about my father like you knew him,” I whispered, in a voice so tiny that even I could barely hear it.

Devin leaned closer.  “What?”

I shrugged.  “Nothing.”  I touched my chest where the gaping hole that my father had left in my soul was. 

Kip bounced out of the water and shook himself off, splattering us with water and muck.  He dropped his stick at my feet and fanned his tail, looking up at me as if he were trying to offer comfort to my wounded heart.

I knelt down to scratch his ears, not minding the pungent scent of wet dog.

Devin watched Kip with that guarded look I saw so often on his face.  He looked worried, even sad, but I knew better by now than to ask him what was bothering him.  He didn’t want anything from me.

“I’ll go,” I said, suddenly.  “I know you want me to.  Just give me a little more time, and I’ll go and you won’t have to worry about me ever again.”  My heart pinched at the thought of leaving Maura and the new life I was discovering every day.

He looked at me, sharply.  “Go where, exactly?”

I shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Anywhere, I guess.”

His shoulder eased and he looked away, out at the horizon.  “You don’t have to do that.”

I looked up in surprise.

“Stay,” he said, awkwardly.  “That is, if you want to.  Stay as long as you want.”

He turned on his heel and marched away before I could do more than gape at him.  Kip heaved to his feet and grabbed up his stick, following loyally after his master.  He looked back at me once, wagging his tail, then the pair disappeared around the corner of the house.

Dinner was an awkward affair.  As if to repent of his kindness to me, Devin was extra cross while we ate.  He scowled at all of us, even Maura.  He snapped at Kip when the golden dog begged for scraps, and stalked away after eating, with barely a word and a kiss on the cheek for his mother.  He disappeared out the door, as stiffly as if he were heading out for the firing squad.

Maura watched his departure with raised brows.  “Well, someone is having himself a little tantrum, it seems.”  She shrugged to herself, bemused. 

I was troubled.  Should I tell Maura that it was my fault?  That Devin couldn’t seem to decide if it was worse to have me around or to have me beyond his control?  If my dad had been around we would have poked fun and made the situation amusing.  How could I tell my beloved land-lady, who was more and more like a mother to me, that her son was… was what, exactly?  Moody?  Cranky? 

Fascinating?  Despite myself, and his manner, I felt very drawn to him.  I liked him and was beginning to think that, under that brusque exterior of his, we would really get along well.  I looked forward to seeing his homely yet appealing face and missed him on the days he didn’t come around.  On the rare occasion he let his guard down and actually smiled at me, I could feel the blood roaring in my ears.

So I held my tongue when Maura speculated about an early mid-life crisis or male menstrual cycle to the fabled quick tempers of redheads.  I had a suspicion that Devin was just as conflicted and torn as I was—perhaps more so, as he had all the responsibility of the world, literally the world, on his shoulders.

I really didn’t want to be the straw that broke the camel’s back.

That night my dreams were particularly vivid.

 
Silver mist crept up the shore, thick and heavy.  It felt portentous, like it was telling me something I should understand but I didn’t know the words.

My mother sat on the docks, her dark hair thrown loosely over her back.  Her fingers flashed in the moonlight.  She was winding yarn into a ball, her face a mask of concentration.

I sat next to her, but she didn’t even pause in rolling up her yarn.  I wanted to snatch it from her, to throw it into the water and scream at her to pay attention to me, but something held me back.  Perhaps it was that there was so much urgency in her hands as she worked.  As if she were racing against a clock.  Why was she in such a hurry when the Fae need not worry about time?

I sat and watched her, dangling my feet in the water.  I watched my toes make ripples and found myself tipping forward. I reached out my arms to embrace the water.

A small, warm, hand touched my arm.  I stared into the wide eyes of my mother.  She looked down at the water, then back into my eyes, then she, with all her might, pushed me away from the water.

I hit the floor in my bedroom.

 
I somehow managed to strike my elbow on the side table and whimpered.  That hurt!  My elbow throbbed as I padded out to the kitchen, knowing sleep was far away for me, now.

Maura sat at the table, staring into a bowl of water and humming to herself.  She looked up when I came into the room and gestured to me.  “The gateway is very thin tonight,” she whispered.  “Can you feel it?”

I nodded.

She sighed and picked up the bowl, pouring the water into a few of her potted plants.  “On nights like this, I try to scry,” she confessed, in her normal voice.  “I don’t see anything, but sometimes I hope that I will.”  She blushed like a girl.  “Do you ever wonder what it’s like on the other side?”

I nodded mutely.  I had never considered that Maura, part-blood as I was, could feel the pull of Faerie too.