Fathom (21 page)

“Sean,” I whispered as loud as I dared. “Stop it!”

Gram lifted her head and her eyes opened.

I couldn’t look, couldn’t bear to see the sadness and disappointment I knew would be there. She was probably already wondering how to tell me the bad news—the operation hadn’t been successful, my dad’s heart had been too weak, I wasn’t going to hear him laugh again.

He wasn’t going to tuck me in at night anymore.

Tears slid down my cheeks and I tried to shift out of Sean’s grip, tried to break away one last time, but his hands held my shoulders like iron clamps and I couldn’t get away—

Gram stood up, her knitting slid off her lap onto the floor. She reached out to me and, finally, Sean let me go. I instinctively wrapped my arms around Gram, still refusing to look in her eyes, trying to numb myself against the bone-crushing tsunami that was headed my way.

Everything was going to get swept away in a heartbeat.

She rested one hand on my back.

“Kira,” she said in my ear, though I tried not to hear it. “The surgery is over.”

I knew that. Nobody had to tell me. My body stiffened as if a strong blow was coming with her next words. I ducked my head, ready to roll and tumble, ready to get knocked across the room by the force that was on its way.

“You’re father is fine. He’s resting now. We should be able to see him in a few minutes. As soon as he wakes up from the anesthesia—”

Gram was speaking and I heard every word, but none of it made sense. Good things don’t happen, they just can’t. Not when you’re in that midst of a tsunami. Nothing is stronger than one of those sudden storms.

Then I saw Father Sullivan, his dark eyes watching us. He smiled, deep creases forming at the sides of his mouth, his countenance gentle, compassionate, the skin on his hands long ago leathered by the sun.

And in the palm of his right hand rested an old carved wooden cross.

Almost exactly like the one I wore around my neck.

•

The door opened. Inside, the air hung thick and still and silent. Heavy drapes covered the windows, blocking out the view of the ocean and what I assumed was probably a sunset, although, really, I had lost track of time since I’d arrived. The first bed I passed was empty, starched linens and a thin blue blanket pulled tight across the single mattress. A long curtain hung from the ceiling to the floor.

Right now, it kept me from seeing who was laying in the second bed.

My dad.

Gram let me go in first, alone, so here I was, rounding that partition, fingers clutched unconsciously in fists at my side.

I heard Dad sigh, heard him shift ever so slightly. Maybe a hand had just moved or a leg. I took a deep breath as he came into view.

He looked tired and sallow, the shadow of a beard darkening the hollows of his face, as if he’d aged ten years since this morning. It looked like he had been in a long, grisly fight. And the other guy had won.

“Dad,” I said, trying to keep my voice level and failing. I couldn’t even get a single word out without a tremor in my voice. I swallowed nervously as I inched closer, not sure how close I should get. I didn’t know if he was awake or not, and I wanted to throw my arms around his neck, but he looked so fragile.

Like all of his bones might break if I touched him.

Another deep sigh, then he opened his eyes. He looked around a bit, as if trying to locate me by the sound of my voice.

“Dad, how are you feeling?” I walked closer, until my legs pressed against the edge of his bed.

He saw me then. A weak grin transformed his face, turned him back into my real dad, not some sick guy that I could barely recognize.

“Hey, baby girl,” he said, his voice dry and crackly, like a transmission from an old radio, bristling with static.

“You want some water?” I asked, reaching for the plastic glass and pitcher that stood on a nearby table.

“Sure.” He watched me the whole time I poured, as if this was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. Me holding a pitcher, getting him a glass of water. Then I lifted it to his lips, helped him drink it. Just like he used to help me when I was a kid. Funny how memories spring back when you least expect them.

Him and me and Katie and mom, in the yard having a picnic. Him pouring Kool Aid into a glass and then holding it for me to take a sip.

I shook the memory away.
This
was the memory that mattered the most—my dad surviving a tsunami heart attack, my dad alive.

I took the glass away after he’d had enough to drink. I set it on the table, then I faced him, told myself I wasn’t going to cry, no matter what, but I did anyway. Then I said the thing that I had been hoping I could tell him, ever since he had collapsed at my school, the thing that had been burning in my chest like a fever, like an ache that wouldn’t go away.

The thing that I should have said this morning and every morning.

“I love you, Dad,” I said.

“I love you too, baby girl,” he answered in his rough, paper-thin voice.

He lifted his hand and he placed it on top of mine.

And I felt it. The tsunami rushed away from us. It retreated, as far as east is from the west, until it didn’t even exist anymore. Dad was safe now and that was all that mattered.

I shall go the way of the open sea,

to the lands I knew before you came,

and the cool ocean breezes shall blow

from me the memory of your name.

—Adela Florence Nicolson

Caleb:

Brianna helped us navigate through the hospital, from the front lobby to the elevator, then down a series of winding corridors where every room looked exactly the same. Riley and I would have gotten lost on our own. The human world—with its unnatural textures and smells—felt alien. Even when it was marked and labeled with their numbers and letters, it still seemed chaotic. Disorganized.

Empty.

I longed for the movement of the sea, the dark colors and currents, the ever constant presence of life around me, the schools of tiny fish, the kingdoms of coral. This world left me cold.

Except when I looked in Kira’s eyes.

That was when I heard waves crashing, felt water lapping against my skin.

I felt at home.

Brianna started to jog and Riley took my hand, as we tried to keep pace. She was struggling to keep her human skin. Pale green scales glistened across her cheekbones and, in these dimly lit hallways, her eyes began to glow, pale blue and opaque.

“We will find him,” I told her.

She nodded, gills forming at the sides of her neck, speech tangling in the process.

“Don’t change,” I warned her, “not now, not with humans all around us.”

Her head lowered into the shadows and when she lifted it again, her flesh was once again pale. Just in time too, for up ahead a cluster of humans waited outside an open door. Sean stood among them and he turned toward us, a suspicious gaze in his eyes.

Then an old woman turned too, her long gray hair braided and coiled about her head. She stared at us, squinting as if the shadows were deceiving her and she needed to see more clearly. She took a hesitant step forward, shoulders hunched with age, then she dropped a bag that she held in one hand. Long thin needles spilled out, a ball of yarn rolled across the floor. But she didn’t seem to care.

Her arms opened, outstretched, and her eyes glistened with fresh tears.

Riley picked up her pace until she sprinted away from me.

“Gram,” Riley said, her voice cracking.

Then the two of them embraced, arms wrapped about one another. Meanwhile everyone else stared at them, mouths open.

All except for an elderly man who dressed in black, a white collar around his neck. He merely nodded and smiled, as if he had been expecting this all along.

Kira:

Suddenly the ground swayed and tipped. And even though all the windows in Dad’s room were closed, I caught a whiff of ocean spray. I had to grab onto one of the railings on the side of Dad’s bed to keep from falling.

“What’s wrong, Kira?” he asked.

I glanced at him, realizing all the things I hadn’t told him. That I had turned into a sea monster at school today and Gram had helped me turn back, that a group of wild Selkies had invaded Crescent Moon Bay and one of them had tried to drown me the other day.

That all of his fears about me turning out to be like my mother were coming true.

I glanced toward the hallway, but couldn’t see anything. Still, I knew that Riley had to be somewhere nearby.

“Nothing’s wrong, Dad,” I lied. “I just spilled some water on the floor and I must have, um, slipped in it. Hey, Uncle Bill and Uncle Charlie and Gram are out in hall. I should go, let them come in and see you.”

He nodded, his eyes closing.

I kissed him on the cheek. Then I headed toward the door, planning to find Riley and thank her for wrecking my life.

•

A large huddle of people crowded outside Dad’s hospital room. I headed toward them, evening shadows changing their features, making them unrecognizable. The floor pitched beneath me again when I crossed the threshold and my knees buckled, but I rode it out this time, like I was on a surfboard, like I was finally on top of the wave for once.

Brianna was the first one that came into view. I paused, surprised to see her. Sean must have called her without telling me. She pushed her way toward me and I could tell that she’d been crying. She wrapped me in a big hug and she didn’t let go for a really long time.

 “I’m sorry, Kira, I’m really sorry,” she mumbled and I knew that she meant it.

But when I lifted my head I had a wider view of the hallway. The shadows had been defeated. Fluorescent lights ruled now, all foreheads and cheekbones painted in garish tones. At first glance I noticed that there were more people here than before.

Then I realized who else was here.

Caleb and Riley.

And for some strange reason, Riley had been crying.

Right now, my nemesis stood talking to Gram, both of them in a tiny huddle away from the others. My heart raged, wild and furious, and everything was shaded in red and purple.

 “What is Riley doing here?” My voice came out like a growl, low and threatening. My eyes narrowed and my blood ignited. Sean pushed through the crowd and he laid a cool hand on my arm, tightening his grip as if he knew what I wanted to do. Then he did exactly what he was supposed to.

“What’s going on, Brianna?” he asked.

“I
had
to bring her,” Brianna said, her eyes brimming with tears. I could see the struggle deep inside her and for a moment, I understood. She hadn’t been able to refuse Riley. But that didn’t mean I had to accept it.

“Let me go,” I told Sean.

“No.”

Apparently he didn’t understand. I was telling him, not asking. But he still wouldn’t let go, even when I faced him.

“Look at your grandmother, Kira,” he said, keeping his voice low.

Gram stood with her back to me, and as I stared, she put her arms around Riley. I couldn’t hear what they were saying to each other, but they acted like they were old chums. Riley melted into Gram’s embrace and, at that moment, a surge of jealousy chilled my heart.

“Let me go,” I said again and this time Sean released me. Still, he kept stride with me, almost as if he planned to stop me before I made any foolish mistakes.

But the only foolish mistake here had already been made. Some idiot had allowed my worst enemy, who wasn’t even human, inside the hospital. And that was fine with me because she was going to need a doctor by the time I was done with her.

A few quick strides and I stood in front of her, just waiting for Gram to let go so I could personally thank this sea witch for almost drowning me the other night. But Gram didn’t let go. When their embrace finally ended, she kept one arm around that dratted Selkie’s shoulder. Chin held high, as if silently saying, don’t even think about challenging me, girl, Gram met my gaze.

“Kira,” she said, her voice trembling. “This here—” She paused, wiping her eyes with the palm of her hand. “This here is your sister, Katie.”

I shook my head. The stress of Dad’s heart attack must have been messing with Gram’s head. Or maybe she’d been sipping from a flask tucked away inside one of her knitting bags—

“Did you hear me?” Gram asked.

“I heard you,” I answered, confused. “Are you feeling all right, Gram? Maybe you need to sit down. Or maybe one of the doctors could give you a sedative or whatever they do when people—”

Gram waved her hand. “I’m as right as I ever was, child. Nothing wrong with me.”

“But Katie’s dead, Gram. And this—” I pointed at Riley like she was a rabid beast that needed to be put down. “—this thing isn’t even human—”

“Don’t talk like that about your own flesh and blood!” Gram snapped, her voice raised, her eyes cold.

Sean took my hand and held it.

“Ms. Callahan, you’re not making any sense,” he said. “Everybody knows that Katie is dead. This day has been really rough on Kira. Maybe we should all sit down for a minute—”

“It’s been rough on the whole lot of us,” Gram said. “I’m sorry for yelling at you, child, but you need to know. What I’m telling you is true.”

“It doesn’t matter if she believes you or not, Gram,” Riley interrupted then, her eyes gleaming with dark light, reminding me of that night in the cave. “Daddy will recognize me when he sees me. Just like you did.”

“No, he won’t,” I said. “Because you’re not my sister. Katie’s nothing but a skeleton on the bottom of the ocean.” But even as I said that, the gears in my head started shifting. I suddenly remembered Caleb telling me that my mother had been a Selkie. If that was true, then my sister must have been half-Selkie, just like I was. She could have survived being underwater for a long time. I glanced at Brianna and Caleb. Both of them had been silent throughout all of this.