Secrets of Selkie Bay (7 page)

“Sure, Da. I'll see to it in the morning.”

True, I didn't like lying, but I was a practical person—a person who does what needs to be done (like making up stories for Ione that she needs to hear, even though I worried about making a big mess of it all) and what needed to be done now was Da going off to Glenbay and making lots of money, and Ione and me looking after ourselves.

And Neevy, too.

“… and Neevy looks better,” Da was saying. I nodded, trying to pay attention. Neevy was on a blanket on the floor nearby, playing with a large rubber spoon from the kitchen. “How's the fever?”

“Gone, I think,” I said. This time I was telling the truth. Neevy was better this evening than she had been this morning. But maybe it helped that the night was bringing a cool, salty breeze to the house from the nearby sea. Neevy always seemed more active when the air had a chill. And a thick, moist fog was rolling in.

“Good,” Da said. “I'm catching a ride with Old Jim to Glenbay in the morning. Can't imagine him on those winding roads in a fog like this.” Da rose, went to the sink, washed his bowl, then proceeded to sort through his toolbox, making sure he had the things he needed for the job.

“I'll clean up,” I told Ione. “Why don't you play with Neevy for a bit?”

Ione hated chores, so she rose and swept Neevy away to the sitting room before I could change my mind. I gathered the bowls and plates from the table and began to wash them, debating with myself whether I had the courage to tell Da about the lies I'd told to Ione. The big, fat, selkie lies. It had been wrong and I knew it. I just didn't know how to get out of it. I didn't know how to tell her the truth and make her believe me, without making everything worse.

Except that if I told Da, then he'd know I was a person who told lies, and he might figure out that I was lying about having Maura watch over us. I was staring out the window over the sink, trying to organize my jumbled brain when Da said, “Cordie, you all right? The water's been running an awful long time.”

I quickly shut off the tap and turned to face him. He was squatting on the floor of the small kitchen, right in front of the toolbox. That's when I saw it.

“What's that?” I asked, even though I knew exactly what it was.
Mum's sugar jar.
Sitting right there, in Da's box.

“Um, it's just an old jar. It holds … things … screws, nails…”

“It's not just a jar. That's the sugar jar. And I know what's inside of it.”

My voice was shaking and my finger was out in front of me, pointing like crazy. It was shaking, too.

“Cordie, what are you talking about?” His voice was quiet, like he didn't want Ione to hear, because he probably didn't.

“That jar is full of money. I know because Mum's note told me.”

“You have a note from your mother?”

I nodded and pulled it from my pocket. It was wrinkled and soft and my trembling hand held it like an old branch holds a dry leaf.

He was trembling, too. But he read it, folded it, then handed it back.

“How could you, Da? How could you let us work for Mr. Doyle if you had the money?”

“Cordie, I…”

But he didn't say anything else. He just sat there on the floor of the kitchen, looking down at the jar in the toolbox. Then he reached in, picked it up, and handed it to me.

It was heavy.

I opened it. It was filled with money. Lots of money. The bottom was heavy with coins, but the top overflowed with all kinds of paper money.

“Why, Da? Why don't you use it to pay the bills? Wouldn't Mum have wanted you to pay the bills?”

“Sometimes there are more important things than money,” was all he said.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged and I could tell he was climbing into that place inside of himself where he didn't talk to anyone. But I was too mad to let him retreat into his little chamber of silence.

“Why does every grownup in this house have to lie to me? Why does one disappear far away and the other disappears right here, right in front of my eyes?”

Da stood then and put his hands on my shoulders. “Hold on to the money, Cordie, I hope you won't need it while I am gone, but just in case.”

I wanted to let the jar drop to the floor and shatter into a million pieces.

But I held it.

“I was keeping it for a reason, Cordie. I can't tell you because I made a promise, although I am beginning to wonder if it was a very smart one to make. There are things I can't tell you, and even if I could, I am not sure how.”

His hands were firm, like he was trying to send the secrets he could not speak down through his arms and into me.

But if he was too much a coward to say them, then I was too angry to try to understand them. Instead, I stuffed the jar under my shirt so Ione wouldn't see it and went into my room.

“Cordie…” I heard him say, but I didn't turn around.

 

The Empty Hanger

W
ITH THE DAWN LIGHT
just peeking through the window, I felt Da's kiss on my forehead and his whispered, “Goodbye, Cordie. See you in a couple days.” I pretended to still be asleep as Old Jim and his rattley car arrived to pick up Da.

As the sound of the car faded, I got out of bed and began to search for a place to hide the sugar jar. I couldn't leave it where Ione might stumble upon it, and there were no hiding places in our room that she didn't know about. The coat closet in the hall, however, didn't get much use, with it being summer and all. The door barely creaked when I opened it. The barren high shelf seemed too obvious, so I knelt down, searching for … what? I wasn't sure.

“That's where it used to hang, isn't it? Her coat. The one that changed her back into a seal,” Ione said, sneaking up on me as I sat on the floor moving Neevy's foldable pram and some old boxes. She flicked the empty hanger with her fingers and it made tiny squeaks while it swung back and forth.

Well, now I couldn't hide anything in there. “Why are you up already? And why do you always follow me?” I snapped.

“Why do you have to be so mean?” Ione said, sinking to the floor beside me. She gave a big sigh. It was going to be a moody day.

I was mad, but still I reached out and patted her hair like Mum would have done. “Don't start. Let's not fight today.”

She sniffled and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her pajamas. “You are right. We shouldn't fight, not with Mum on her way back.”

I wished that Neevy would wake up and start crying and that we'd forget we were ever sitting in this stupid closet. But Neevy was silent.

“What were you doing in here, Cordie?” Ione asked, as if it had finally occurred to her that it was strange to see me on my hands and knees rummaging around on the closet floor. “And why do you have the sugar jar?” Faster than I could stuff it behind me, Ione swiped it and jerked the lid off.

“Oh my gosh.” Ione's eyes were as large as cereal bowls as she took the thick wad of bills from the jar. “Cordie, how did you—?”

Neevy started crying up a storm, too late to save me, of course. Ione couldn't stop looking at the money in her hand, so I grabbed it and rewadded up the bills. “Go and get her,” I said.

“But, Cordie—” Ione whispered, even though there was no one in the house who could hear us but Neevy, who couldn't understand, anyway. “What—how—?”

“I'll tell you later,” I said. “Now go and get her before she tries to climb over the rail of the crib again.”

Ione nodded and got up. She must have been in shock, because she actually listened to me, then looked back twice before she turned the corner of the short hallway and made her way to Neevy's room.

How to explain …

Was this how Da felt last night when
I
discovered the money?

*   *   *

“She's all fresh now,” said Ione, who had changed our sister impossibly fast and was now smiling like a cat who has just discovered a gallon of cream. “And hungry.”

I popped two pieces of bread in the toaster for Ione and me. Neevy was quiet while I made her a bowl of oatmeal, occupied and excited by the blandness that was to come. But I could feel Ione's eyes on me, waiting for me to say something.

“I've got to go to Mr. Doyle's today,” I said, even though I didn't want to.

“Why? It's not like we need the money.” Ione put Neevy in her little chair and began feeding her, first the oatmeal, then a bit of leftover applesauce. Neevy's spoon skills were horrible when she was left on her own. “We could even eat in a restaurant! You've got that jar—”

“That's not my money to use. Not for ordinary stuff, anyway.”

“Did you steal it, Cordie? Did you steal it from somewhere and hide it in the closet?” Ione's voice was more curious than upset, as if it wouldn't have bothered her one bit if I'd stolen the money.

“I don't steal. But the money isn't ours to spend. Not really.” I had no idea how far behind we were on the rent and the rest of the bills. This might not even catch us up. Besides, I couldn't stop wondering about what Da might have been saving it for. I took the spoon and Neevy's almost-empty bowl and began washing them in the sink. “You need to eat your breakfast now, Ione. And I am going to Mr. Doyle's.”

“Maybe I should go instead. He said he needed a selkie girl—”

“I remember what he said. And no, you're not going. It's my turn.” And Mr. Doyle was going to get a big, fat piece of my mind. “I'll hurry back for lunch and check on the both of you. Everything is going to be fine,” I said.

“Of course it will. Mum will be here soon, remember? We cried the seven tears and all.” Ione plopped herself at her usual spot at our small kitchen table and eyed her toast and jam distastefully, but took a few nibbles. In that moment, she didn't even look eight. She looked so little. So little and young and
filled with hope
.

“Ione,” I said. “Mum is not … um … it will probably take a while for seven tears to travel all the way from the dock to the isle,” I said before I could change my mind.

Sometimes it was just easier to go with it.

“But she came so quickly before, when she saved Da.”

“Well, she was close by, swimming around like a selkie does. She was probably already in her sealskin.”

“She's in her sealskin now, don't you think? Her coat is gone, after all. I used to love that coat. It was so soft.”

“Yes, sealskins are very soft. I am sure Mum is in hers right now, swimming someplace far away, probably. Otherwise, don't you think she'd be looking in on us? Watching out for us from the bay?”

Ione looked up at the ceiling as she considered the logic of my argument. “No. She's probably on an island, or even farther north. Maybe she is hungry for crab.”

I could still taste in my mouth the flavor of the lies I'd told yesterday. They tasted worse today. Bitter and sour. But I told myself it was all going to be fine. One thing at a time. I could deal with Ione and her “selkie” Mum after I'd found a hiding place for the money. Because if I knew Ione, she'd spend all morning searching for that jarful of cash. If she couldn't find it, maybe she'd forget about the whole thing.

*   *   *

“Oh, it's you again,” Mr. Doyle said, as he opened the door to his shop just as I came up the steps.

“It is me that's here today, Mr. Doyle, and we need to have a talk.” I shifted my weight from my left foot to my right, then uncomfortably back again. I'd stuffed all the money in my shoes, except for the coins, which I'd put in my pockets. That's all there was room for in the old jeans I was wearing. Not a penny left at home for Ione to find.

“I don't pay you to talk, Cordelia. I pay you to work,” he grumbled, folding his arms across his chest and rolling his eyes. “Come inside and let's hear it so we can get on with what needs doing.”

I followed him in and took a deep breath. I wanted to be diplomatic. At least I thought I did. But the moment I opened my mouth again to speak, the angry box flew open.

“How could you lie to my sister like that?”

His snort rattled around in his nostrils before it finally huffed out. “You're one to talk.”

He had me there.

I scrambled for more ammunition. “So you admit that you made up a lie about Ione being a selkie girl?”

“I did nothing of the sort. You need to get your story straight, Miss Sullivan, before you go accusing people of things you don't seem to know much about. It's time maybe you heard the truth about Selkie Bay.”

 

Mr. Doyle's Tale

Liars come in all shapes and sizes, young lady.

Sometimes folks think they are telling a lie to make things better. But then they are telling two lies. One to another person and one to themselves.

Most people think that selkies are some kind of magical, beautiful, half-human, half-seal creature who is both mystical and misunderstood … like a unicorn or that imaginary horse with wings.

But selkies are not beautiful or magical and they're not imaginary, either. Well, perhaps the shape-shifting part is magical, but only a small bit.

First and foremost, selkies are liars and thieves. I know this because they stole from me. And you should know about this, too, because your mum was one of them.

I've met three real and true selkies in my lifetime—at least three that I know of. Could have been more, for I might not have been paying attention all the time. The first was when I was a boy. I was with my da on an island nearby, taking care of the seal problem. And this isle, well, it wasn't like any I'd seen before. There were caves made for hiding treasure, and the whole thing was covered with seals.