The Summer of Chasing Mermaids (16 page)

Blood had been spilled on the floor between them.

“What do you see?” Lemon asked, watching me write.

They made some kind of deal. But it didn't come easy. He has power over her.

I touched the skeleton on the card.

“I agree,” Lemon said. “The skeleton is another representation of Death. In this case, he's struck a deal with Midnight. There's some kind of bargain here, but it's not clear who's got the upper hand. Death looks more physically powerful, but Midnight is more in touch with her intuition. It seems she has more knowledge, more wisdom. In your case, I feel like the cards are telling us that you're holding on to some obligation, some deal that you think you've made.”

In the silence that followed, the candles flickered.

Death. A deal.

This card was about the sea. All the promises and warnings it had been whispering to me since the moment I was born. Since it stole my mother. Tried to steal me.

“Again,” Lemon said, “I'm sensing a message about trusting your intuition. You're stronger than you think, and you've got to start believing that.”

Next,
I told Lemon, eager to move on.

“This represents your future,” she said, “given the energy of the
other cards and what you decide to do with these messages. Essentially, what you're moving toward.” She flipped the card and set it upright, just to the right of the cross.

The Queen of Cups featured an ebony-black queen enshrouded in robes of aqua, midnight blue, and deep purple, all trimmed in gold. Her outstretched hands held a golden chalice, as if in offering to a friend. She reminded me a bit of Granna, the wise matriarch.

I wrote in my notebook, letting the words come to me.

A helping hand from someone in a position of strength. Wisdom. Compassion. Friendship.

Lemon laughed. “You're pretty good at this, Elyse.”

I smiled at the compliment.

“Cups correspond with the element of water, which symbolizes our relationships, our hearts, our inner beings. The Queen of Cups speaks to me of compassion, like you wrote,” Lemon said. “See, she's offering the hand of friendship, of love. She's on stable ground, holding a cup of water to someone in need. But notice her bare feet? She can't cross the terrain to you. You need to meet her halfway. Basically, she's saying, ‘Hey, girl! I'm here to help you through this journey, but only if you open yourself up to me.' Do you understand?”

I nodded. Friendship. Love. I was surrounded by both. Logically, I knew it. I saw it every day in the way Kirby looked out for me, and the way Vanessa made efforts to include me, and brought lunch
to the boat for me and Christian. I saw it in Christian, past the smirks and jokes, right there in the way he talked to me and let me respond in my own way, no matter how long it took. I saw it in Sebastian, his pure adoration and excitement. I saw it in Lemon, in the way she'd opened her home to me, given me the space and freedom to explore and breathe. But I was so scared to trust it. So afraid that opening myself up to all the Queen offered also left me vulnerable and exposed, naked on the shore. It was a loop I couldn't seem to break.

I knew I had to let go, to make way for new growth, as the Death card said.

I just didn't know how.

And as I'd learned from the readings back home, from my sisters asking the readers for more answers, more clarity, the cards wouldn't reveal it after all. The universe was great for dropping hints, but when it came time to do the heavy lifting, the hard work, that was all on us.

Meet her halfway,
I thought, picking up the Queen for another look.

Two of my cards had ships in the background: the Queen of Cups and Death. Death's was sinking. The Queen's was sailing steadily in a beam of light from a nearby lighthouse.

Lemon winked at me across the cards, then rose from the table with the others, the party shifting into the kitchen to dig into the potluck dishes the women had brought.

Absently I scooped up the deck of unturned cards, shuffled them
gently as I considered the reading. A card jumped loose, landing face up on my lap.

The World.

I studied it a long time, heart pounding in my chest. I'd never seen this card before, never even seen this deck before tonight. Yet I felt like I knew her, the woman at the center. She'd been haunting me. I'd seen her in my dreams, caught glimpses of her out on the horizon.

I knew, sure as she looked at me through a single, bright eye, it was her.

Atargatis.

Half-woman, half-fish, she perched atop the world with flaming candles in each hand, her body draped in blue silk. She was the queen who'd fallen to the sea from the sky in search of her lost love.

Once, she was made of starlight.

Now, she was water.

Surrounding her, a serpent devoured its tail.

Though she hadn't appeared in my official reading, she was speaking to me. Somehow I knew, before my time at the Cove came to an end, I'd have to face her.

Queen of the realm, above and below, within and without.

The in-between place where nothing and everything existed at once.

Chapter 20

“Me time, or just
starin'-at-the-wall-'cause-there's-nothin'-else-to-do time?” Vanessa asked.

She and Kirby stood in my doorway after dinner a few nights later, Kirby freshly showered and robed, Vanessa wearing black skinny jeans and a silver off-the-shoulder top, her long hair woven into a loose side braid.

Monday. Reggae night at the club.

I waved them in and plucked out the earbuds, offering what I hoped was a warm smile.

Vanessa flopped onto my bed, picked up the iPod. “Oboe ­concertos? Oh, honey bun. Looks like we got here just in time. Don't worry. We have a plan.”

“
She
has a plan,” Kirby said. “For the record, I told her you wouldn't be into it.”

“Let the woman speak for herself,” Vanessa said.

“But she—” Can't speak. That's what Kirby almost said. She let out a breath, met my eyes. “Sorry. I didn't mean it like that.”

“She knows that, Kirby.” Vanessa plowed on. “We haven't even given her a chance to make up her own mind.” She grabbed my foot, gave it a shake. “Here's the deal. We're going to Shipwreck and you're coming with. Get dressed.”

Kirby laughed. “That's letting her make up her own mind?”

“It's motivational,” Vanessa said. “Positive thinking.”

“It's a wonder you don't have a book deal.”

“I'm sayin'. Anyway, come on. Decisions to be made.” Vanessa rose from the bed and attacked the closet, whipping through the hangers like a woman on a mission. She found a cute red mini with a fringed hem, one I'd worn on nights out back home. I wasn't even sure why I'd brought it, but I hadn't been thinking clearly at the time. That night in Tobago, plane ticket in hand, packing was the very last thing that stood between me and my escape.

“I need a certain kind of top for this,” Vanessa said. “But I'm onto something here.” She disappeared into Kirby's room, and while she was gone, Kirby filled in the silence.

“Shipwreck,” she said. “The club? There's a deejay from Portland spinning tonight. Everyone's going. And it's under-over, so you don't need ID. After the club we can stop at the Black Pearl for pancakes or eggs. Late night breakfast is an after-dancing tradition. So. Um. I know you don't like going out and everything, but . . . please come?”

“No one's gonna force you to do anything,” Vanessa said, returning from Kirby's room with a handful of wardrobe options. “I mean, other than forcing you to come with us. Once we're there, you can mope on a velvet couch all night for all I care. But I'm gettin' you out of this house and off this rocky-ass beach if it's the last thing I do. You feelin' me?”

Kirby giggled. “Elyse doesn't swing that way. But Christian'll probably take you up on that offer.”

Vanessa closed her eyes, sighed through her nose. “For a girl who's never been naked with a boy, you sure have a lot to say on the matter. Here, put this on.” From the pile in her arms she tossed Kirby a slinky, forest-green number.

“That's a slip!” Kirby said.

Vanessa added a wide black belt. “Now it's a dress, and the color is perfect with your skin tone. And don't say you'll be cold, 'cause it's a hundred degrees in that club. Put it on, my little sex kitten.”

Kirby sighed, but she'd warmed up to the slip-dress idea, and changed quickly out of her robe. When it was all put together, she spun before us. “Yea or nay?”

Vanessa was right; Kirby looked sexy. Still sweet, though, in her usual Kirby way. I gave her the thumbs-up and pointed at the wooden jewelry box on my dresser, full of necklaces and earrings I never wore anymore.

“Does this mean you're in?” Kirby asked, clasping a rhinestone choker around her neck. It looked perfect with the dress, picking up the deep green silk, sparkling against her light brown skin.

Alas, I shook my head. I flipped to a new page in my notebook, scribbled out my excuse for Kirby. At least today's was a new one, utterly original and true.

No. Christian's mad at me. I broke starboard window, total mess. Not enough $ to fix.

My insides burned with embarrassment as I tried to pantomime what happened. After we'd caught Noah snooping around the boat twice this weekend and again this morning, Christian had set up camp above deck, inspecting the
Queen
's ratty sails and keeping an eye out for the would-be pirate. He'd left me in charge below, a position I'd assured him I could handle.

But I'd had my earbuds in, Bella Garcia inspiring me to move-it-groove-it, don't-have-to-prove-it, and in all my eagerness to be the dancing, cleaning queen, I'd smashed right through the window with a wooden mop handle.

It was a brilliant mess, glass raining down over the saloon, Christian rushing in, panicked. Then confused. Then annoyed.

“Jesus,” he'd said. “At this rate, we won't need Noah to sabotage us. We're doing fine on our own.”

I tried to apologize, and he tried to accept it, but the tension in his shoulders gave him away. I couldn't blame him. It was one more thing that would have to be repaired, one more cost added to the seemingly
endless list. And finding the right-size glass, along with replacement aluminum and rubber for the frame and seal—all of which I'd damaged? The Vega was almost fifty years old. It would take a lot of phone calls and drive time to find a marina shop that had what we needed. The electrical work had eaten through a good bit of our mystery fund, and from the looks of it, we'd be spending more cash on new ropes and patch-ups for the chafed sails.

We'd finished out the day in awkward silence. Christian had been distracted from the moment he'd arrived, and that made
me
distracted. Did he regret the kisses? The time we'd spent together on and off the boat? Or was he thinking about his family, his father? Was he worried about the regatta? Upset about Noah? Did something else happen with Sebastian?

As easily as I could read his body language, his thoughts were always veiled, and once again I'd been left wondering who he really was, this boy who loved his brother fiercely, this boy who Kirby had so warned me against, this boy who alternately made me laugh and made me doubt, this boy who wore the sea in his eyes.

When he'd finally called it quits for the day, I skipped the salute that had become our good-bye. I just made myself scarce.

Part of me had hoped he'd follow. Or call after me. Or grab my hand, give me a reassuring squeeze and that heart-melting smile.

But he didn't, and when I glanced back over my shoulder one last time, he was standing on the deck, his foot up on the coaming as he stared out across the sea.

“I'm sure he knows it was an accident,” Kirby said now.

“What was an accident?” Vanessa asked. After Kirby explained, Vanessa said, “Oh, I doubt he's mad. But even if he is, he'll take one look at you in this outfit, and all will be forgiven. Trust me.” She pressed the red skirt to her hips, holding up a sleeveless white fitted blouse with black buttons down the front. She was right; the outfit looked cute. Hot, even. Especially if I borrowed Kirby's strappy silver sandals . . .

“You're in,” Vanessa said. “I can see it all over your face. Yay!”

I wasn't sure what I was doing, only that the girls were right—maybe I needed to get off this rocky beach, get a change of scenery. I dressed quickly, let Vanessa do my eye makeup. On her advice I left my hair wild, my crazy curls stretching up toward the night sky.

“Wow,” she said when all was said and done. The three of us stood in front of the bathroom mirror, arms linked, lips glossed and glowing, a trio of beautiful mermaids. “Eat your hearts out, summer boys.”

It had been a long time since I'd set foot in a club—never in the States—and though they'd talked it up the entire thirty-minute drive here, I wasn't expecting it to be so legit. The space was dark but inviting, deep blue walls lit with turquoise sconces, strobe lights over the dance floor. It felt like an underwater lair, cool and otherworldly as bass pumped into the night.

We found a couch and table in the back and ordered a few sodas while we waited for Christian and Noah. When the boys finally
arrived twenty minutes later, it was as if the entire club had been awaiting their grand entrance, everyone parting to let them pass, girls smiling, the energy in the room rising.

Noah nodded when he saw us, making his way through the crowd, but Christian hung back, looking everywhere but at us. I watched him scan the room, but he was only pretending—his eyes landed on no one, nothing. When a girl snuck up behind him and put her hands over his eyes, he looked startled and distracted. He grabbed her arms playfully, pulled her in front to identify her.

Calla, the girl who'd texted him at the Black Pearl that day with the milkshakes, dragged him into a dance. I couldn't tell if he was into it or just playing along.

My stomach knotted again as I recalled our day of disaster on the boat. I couldn't watch him any longer, couldn't deal with the summer girls and his mysteriously raging sea-eyes and his there-and-gone smile. I set my drink on the table, headed for the ladies' room.

I spent a good ten minutes at the sink, washing my hands, redoing my lip gloss, watching the exchange of sparkly girls pass through the door. Finally, I caught Vanessa's reflection in the mirror. She sauntered over, put her arm around me.

“You're hidin' out,” she said to the glass. “And I couldn't help but notice that your whole duck-and-cover act started the moment Christian walked in. What's up?”

I shrugged, stared at the sink.

“Elyse, if you don't want to share, that's one thing. Tell me to mind
my business. But don't be in here actin' like it's fine. I got a sense for this stuff.”

Christian,
I finally mouthed at the mirror.

“Christian what?” she said. When I didn't respond, she grabbed my shoulders gently, turned me toward her. “Listen, hon. I know Christian really well. And the boy's got issues, yeah. But he likes you. Okay? You've got nothin' to worry about. Just be you.”

I shrugged again. I knew he had issues. But I wasn't so sure about the liking me part. Which would've been fine if I hadn't already liked him.

A lot.

“Are you worried about Calla?” Her eyes were full of concern. “Because I promise you he's not into her. She's already dancin' with someone else, anyway.”

My heart sped up. I had to tell someone my secret, and as much as I wished it could be Kirby, I couldn't handle her freaking out on me tonight. I took a deep breath, steadied myself for the confession.

Christian and I . . . we . . .

I let the words fade away, unformed.

No. I couldn't tell Vanessa, either. No matter what she said about Christian liking me, I couldn't admit to kissing him, to liking him as much as I did. I still didn't even know how she felt about him.

Or how he felt about her.

Maybe I didn't even want to know.

I met her eyes again, surprised to see her devilish grin.

“I know you guys have been kissin' and whatnot, honey bun.”

A spark shot through my insides, chasing away the denial my lips wanted to form. Christian told her? Was he happy about it? Or annoyed? Did he want to kiss me again?

Was Vanessa jealous? Upset?

I waited for her to say more, but I knew she wouldn't betray his confidence. Or her own.

“All the more reason you should be out there instead of in here.” Vanessa smirked. “By the way, our little Kirby's finally gettin' her groove on with Noah. I knew that outfit would unleash her inner goddess.”

I let out a raspy laugh, nodded to let her know I was okay.

Maybe she was okay too.

She looped her arm through mine and led me back out, the music and lights assaulting us anew as we stepped into the fray.

Vanessa was so comfortable in her own skin. Large and in charge, Granna would've called her.

Hands in the air and a sultry smile on her lips, Vanessa glided through the crowd. Past the couches, past the bar, she reached back for my hand, pulled me onto the dance floor where the sounds of the Caribbean called.

They were playing Bunji Garlin. A song from home.

The crowd roared.

The deejay tossed glow-in-the-dark necklaces into the mob, outstretched hands catching and twirling them in the air.

There were so many things about the past I'd been trying to outrun, an anchor I'd carried for months without ever really escaping.
There were things about the future that scared the hell out of me too—big impossible things I wasn't ready to think about.

But the energy around me surged and sizzled in a way it never could when I was dancing alone on the beach, and I felt it, way down to the bones. Right here, right now, for the first time since I'd lost my voice, I let it all go.

There was no lost singing career. No family drama. No Prop 27. No regatta. No heartache. No guilt about my sister. No fear.