A - Immortal Sea

Camp had been dismissed for the day, but children still lingered, running, shrieking, playing, as if everything were normal.

As if the rules of the playground still held true even when the laws of the universe shifted and Liz‟s world turned upside down.

“Mommy.”

“I‟m watching,” she called, standing near the other mothers.

Here, at least, she could be like other mothers. Watchful. As if her simple presence could protect her child in this strange

new world, a world where the old tales were true and lovers walked out of the sea and changeling children were stolen by the

fairies.

She wrapped her arms across her stomach, holding herself together.

Emily hit the ground running, chasing after a skinny dark-haired boy a year or two older.

Liz caught her breath. Emily. What on earth was she going to tell Em about her brother?

Nothing, she decided. Not yet. There was no need if Zack stayed. And if he left, telling Em was several notches down on

her list of things to obsess about.

“Never gets any easier, does it?” a woman next to her remarked.

Liz blinked, trying to place her. Chopped black hair, thin, attractive face, big, Italian eyes. “Sorry, what?”

“Parenthood.” The woman nodded toward the playground. “You think when they‟re babies that‟s the scariest time, and

then they‟re toddlers and getting into everything, and next thing you know they‟re trying to kill themselves on the monkey

bars. Must be even worse having a teenager.”

“I . . . It has its challenges.”

Like finding out your son‟s avoiding bath time because he turns into a . . . dolphin? Whale? She hadn‟t asked, didn‟t want

to imagine.

“God, I‟m sorry. You don‟t have a clue who I am.” The woman smiled, quick and wide. “Regina Hunter. That‟s my son

Nick on the playground. And you saw my daughter Grace when my husband brought her in for her well-baby checkup last

week.”

“Oh. Yes.” Liz struggled to pull herself together, straining her facial muscles to smile back. “Nice to meet you. How is

Grace?”

Liz flipped through her mental file of patients. Grace Hunter, three months old, father Dylan.

She felt an almost audible click in her skull as another piece slid into place. “You‟re married to Dylan Hunter.”

“That‟s right.”

Liz resisted the urge to grip her arm. “Your husband works with Morgan. Morgan Bressay.”

Regina eyed her cautiously. “Sometimes.”

“Environmental protection.” Her heart pounded. “Underwater exploration.”

Caution morphed into suspicion. “So?”

She was scaring her, Liz realized. She scared herself. She was taking a risk she wasn‟t prepared for with a woman she

didn‟t know. The children‟s voices faded in and out like the sound from a television a room away.

“I just wondered . . .” Her nerve and her voice failed her. “Have you known Morgan long?”

“Never saw him before this trip. You?”

She licked dry lips. “He‟s Zack‟s father. Zack is my son.”

“The teenager.”

Liz nodded. She couldn‟t do it. No matter how desperate she was for information about Morgan and insight about their son,

she couldn‟t unload her deepest fears and secrets on this friendly, normal, uncomprehending stranger.

“Puberty‟s rough. All those changes,” Regina said.

Liz caught her breath.

“I can just imagine,” the other woman continued deliberately, “what you must be going through.”

Her heart beat in her throat. “Can you? It‟s harder for Zack, I think, because he . . .”

“Takes after his father.”

Liz swallowed hard. “Exactly.”

Their eyes met. Held.

Regina smiled crookedly. “Dylan takes after his mother in almost exactly the same way.”

“His mother,” Liz repeated, afraid to guess. To hope.

“His mother was the sea witch Atargatis.”

Liz stared blankly.

“Selkie, merfolk, whatever you call them. The children of the sea.”

A wave of gratitude and disbelief swept over Liz, making her dizzy. There were others. She wasn‟t alone.

Regina‟s arm slipped under hers, warm and supportive. “Here, you look like you need to sit down.”

She led her to a bench beside some play equipment, fortunately deserted.

“I‟m fine.” Liz raised her head, a bubble of panic rising in her blood. “Em.”

“Right over there with Nick,” Regina reassured her. “That‟s my son, Nick.”

A dark-haired boy launched himself from the top of the fort, arms and legs wrapped around a pole. He looked so normal, so

much like Zack at his age, Liz‟s chest ached.

“Is he . . .” She stopped. She was a doctor, trained to ask the right questions, to find the right answers, to respond quickly

and decisively in a crisis. But Morgan‟s revelation had left her floundering.

“Dylan is Nick‟s stepdad,” Regina said.

Liz nodded, feeling like a bobble head doll.

Regina sat beside her on the bench. “How long have you known?”

“I didn‟t. I guessed. Honestly, I‟m not trying to pry into your personal life, I just—”

“About Morgan,” Regina interrupted. “When did you find out?”

“This afternoon. He took me out on a boat.”

Regina nodded, her eyes sympathetic.

“I thought he was crazy.” Liz drew a deep breath. “Or I was.”

“Not crazy. In shock maybe.”

“Not seeing things?” She‟d meant to sound ironic, but there was a wobble in her voice that shamed her.

“If you are, then half the island is hallucinating along with you.”

“Half the island?” Her voice rose.

One of the other mothers glanced over curiously.

“Okay, slight exaggeration. Listen, we can‟t talk here.” Regina stood. “Come to my house. The kids can play video games

while we talk.”

“Talk,” Liz said.

She hadn‟t had a close girlfriend since Allyson ditched her for Gunthar sixteen years and a lifetime ago. She‟d been too

busy, too immersed in her studies, her work, her children. Her grief.

Connections, she reminded herself. She‟d moved to the island in search of a community where she and her children would

belong.

She‟d never needed a friend more than now. Never imagined she‟d bond with another woman over their lovers from the

sea.

Regina shrugged. “Talk, open a bottle of wine. Frankly, you look like you could use a drink.”

“So, the sea witch Atargatis had three children with her human husband.” Regina counted them off on her fingers.

“Caleb—he‟s our police chief. He‟s human. Dylan, my husband, who‟s selkie. And Lucy.”

They sat at her kitchen table, sturdy oak with a blue bowl of ripening peaches and tomatoes in the center. Liz was

comforted by the child‟s artwork on the refrigerator, the framed handprints on the wall. Bits of sea glass wrapped in fishing

line and silver wire caught the light in the wide apartment windows. She looked around the eclectic, comfortable, normal home

and felt like Alice after she‟d tumbled down the rabbit hole.

She set down her half-full glass of wine, a good red Italian Montepulciano. “I‟m sorry. Did you say selkie?”

“Seal in the water, sheds his pelt on land to take human form,” Regina explained.

Dear God, was all Liz could think. She made it sound so ordinary.

“They‟re all children of the sea,” Regina continued. “Selkie and finfolk both. But the selkie only take one form in the

ocean. The finfolk can change into anything. Have some more wine.”