midlife mermaid - complete trilogy, page 21
“Maybe the two don’t have anything to do with each other?” he continues with a shrug. “Maybe Vivienne’s kids are sick and she forgot to call?”
“Her kids weren’t the only ones who missed.”
“Hmm, well don’t jump to conclusions. Gossip is just a side-effect of living in a small town. I’m sure the storm will blow over soon, if it hasn’t already.”
I nod, thinking he makes a good point. Perhaps Heather misunderstood what she heard, and there’s a perfectly good reason half the class didn’t show today. I can’t ignore the doubt churning in my stomach, telling me this isn’t a simple mistake on the part of a child.
“I just… I have this feeling that something’s not right. If it was just a case of Heather misunderstanding, the other kids would be in class today.”
“If the two are related.” Sawyer sighs. “Which I don’t think they are.”
I try to smile, but it falls flat on my face. I still don’t know what these rumors are, or how they started. People can make up anything they want and others would believe them, because I’m making up most of my story as I go along. Sticking close to the truth and only embellishing certain parts was supposed to make this easier, but now I’m not sure what it’s done.
“I’m just worried that if words continues to spread and that means more students drop out and new students stop coming… I’ll be out of business.”
“You’re jumping to conclusions, Eva,” Sawyer says. “I’ll call Vivienne and set her straight and then all this ridiculousness won’t be on anyone’s thoughts anymore.” He gives me a big smile and briefly, it’s like things are normal again. Sawyer beside me, smiling that bright smile that I love so much. Me, a grin tugging at my lips. Just for this one moment, I indulge in the idea that soon, everything between us could be normal again.
I’m about to respond, but at that moment Taylor and Heather come charging up the steps. They laugh as they skid to a stop beside me, telling Sawyer they’re ready to go home. Sawyer nods and lets it be known he’s also taking Helena home since she’s their neighbor.
Sawyer clears his throat, and looks at me. “We should get home,” he says with an awkward nod. He gestures for the kids to go on ahead, and then follows behind.
I go with them, walking across the path in the front yard to a latched wooden gate that separates the yard from the driveway. Then I look toward Sawyer’s pickup truck.
Heather and Taylor climb into the back seat and Helena crawls between them. The truck smells of crushed pine and woodsmoke and ocean mist. As Sawyer opens the driver’s side door, the metal hinges creak. He turns to me at the last moment before getting in. He’s just so handsome and… so different. I miss the easy casualness that used to exist between us. Now it feels like we’re walking on eggshells and I dislike it immensely.
“Don’t worry,” he says. He manages a smile, the kind that makes my heart flood with a soft warmth.
“Thanks,” I say. “By the way, has there been anything else on the surveillance that I should know about?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve been keeping an eye on it every day and there’s nothing I noticed.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “That’s good.”
He nods. “Goodbye, Eva. See you next week.”
He climbs into the truck without another word, pulling the door shut. The engine roars to life and soon enough he’s trundling down the driveway.
I watch them drive away, still feeling empty inside.
Then I manage to haul myself upright and drag my tired body through the French doors and into the kitchen. There’s a jug of water and glasses out, in case the kids got thirsty after class. I pour a glass before chugging it down all in one gulp. I still don’t feel any better.
I wander back inside. My chest feels heavy, and before I even realize what I’m doing, I’ve dialed Marshall’s number.
Chapter Eight
“Hello?” Marshall’s thick rumbling voice greets me from the other end of the line.
“Hi, Marshall… it’s Eva,” I start and I can’t help the nervous sound of my voice.
“Eva! What a nice surprise.”
I manage to smile, although he can’t see it and then I feel silly. But, there’s something in his excited tone that makes me feel… good—relieved, happy. And before I realize what I’m going to say next, the words just sort of spill out of my mouth. “I know it’s last minute, but are you free for coffee?” The offer sounds too abrupt, but I don’t have the energy to feel embarrassed. I’m just overwhelmed with the need to see him, though that need doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. I’m not sure why I seem to think Marshall will make my situation any better.
“Sure!” he answers brightly, “Where should we meet?”
“There’s a coffee shop by the seafront,” I respond, “Spring Café. We could meet there?”
“Spring Café?” he repeats, “Yup, I know it. Across from the fountain in the square?”
“That’s the one. How about an hour?”
“I look forward to it.”
I can hear the smile in his voice.
He really does sound happy to see me. It’s a refreshing break from what’s been going on with Sawyer and the bizarre rumors that have begun flitting around town. Not wanting to think about the things people might be saying about me, I reach for my shoes, digging out a cardigan from the back of the closet by the stairs. I’m still amazed by how much stuff humans own, random junk shoved into empty drawers. Even as the wife of a king, I never owned so many pointless things. And yet, here I am, starting to collect such random, aimless things myself.
After I’ve slipped on sandals, a yellow sun dress and a white cardigan, I’m ready to go. I catch myself in the hall mirror and pause. Although my hair falls over my shoulders in thick platinum waves, it does nothing to hide the dark, tired circles under my eyes. I look tired. I never used to look like this; in my younger years, I was praised for my beauty. Such was one of the reasons why Evard chose me to be his wife. Thoughts of Evard suddenly strike me as belonging to another me, another life. They’re just the furthest thing from my life today. And I’m happy for that. I’m happy to no longer be part of the sea—even if I do miss the sea, itself.
Deciding to work a bit more on my appearance, I return to my bathroom and flick on some mascara, dab a bit of concealer to hide the worst of the sleepiness, and a quick bit of color on my lips and decide that’s good enough.
There’s still time to waste before I need to meet Marshall, so I lock up the house and begin my slow, meandering walk into town. I’ve come to enjoy taking the beach route into town, the stone pathways are so unique and beautiful. And there’s that section of the beach I recently discovered where no one frequents—that’s my favorite part because I have the beach all to myself.
Having never experienced the sea from the perspective of land before, I love how the ocean smells and how the incoming waves cause a sense of peace to take over me. Even when the sun shines at its hottest, the sea breeze brings a coolness that’s easy to get used to. I see why humans flock to the beach, and I’m grateful to experience it from this vantage point.
When I reach the ocean, I opt not to walk along the path, but actually to walk on the sand. The sand feels good as it works into my toes. I’m still wearing sandals, so bits of sand get between my toes and the bottoms of my feet. Eventually, I opt to take the sandals off.
“Looks like we’re haunting the same spots.”
I spin to face the source of the familiar voice, and my eyes come to rest on Sawyer. I didn’t expect to see him here, but the sight of him isn’t entirely unwelcome. I only wish the same went for him.
“Hi,” I say, and this time my smile is a little more natural before I suddenly feel like I need to explain myself. “I’m on my way into town and decided to go the beach way.”
“I don’t blame you,” he answers and his amber eyes wander down the beach. I see his kids playing by the rock pools. Heather is knee deep inside one, while Taylor sits in the sand by her feet. He watches them for a moment before looking back at me and saying, “How’s everything going?”
“Okay, I guess,” I answer on a shrug as I quickly check my phone to see the time. I still have plenty before I’m meant to meet Marshall.
Sawyer’s smile is sweet, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Then he looks out at the great expanse of blue sea. “Do you miss it? The ocean, I mean.”
Do I? It isn’t a simply yes or no answer. I miss the feel of the salt water on my body and I miss swimming with the various sea creatures. I miss the way the sun lights up the waves from below and I miss adventuring into caves. I miss Mara, and I miss the beautiful halls of the palace I used to call my home. Yet here, on land, there are so many new experiences and such freedom, freedom that I could never have dreamt of before. A bitter taste rises in my throat, thinking of the home I left behind. And, most notably, the one person I don’t miss.
“I miss certain aspects of living in the ocean,” I reply honestly, shoving the feeling down. “There’s also a lot of my old life I’d like to forget.”
“Like Cullen?”
I nod. “Like Cullen.”
It’s the first time Sawyer has willingly brought Cullen up, or discussed my past at all without cringing away from the subject. A spark of hope flickers in my chest and it’s a spark that thinks maybe we might yet be okay. That, maybe someday, Sawyer will accept the truth of who, and what, I am. And maybe we can at least be friends again? I’ve given up on the idea that we could ever be anything more than that. It just… doesn’t seem like Sawyer can ever think of me that way again. And for me… I’m not sure how I feel. There’s certainly a part of me that’s angry with him for not accepting me right off the bat. But, there’s another part that understands his reluctance.
I gaze up at him and for a brief, infinite moment I feel my mouth tingle at the thought of brushing my lips against his. The action would be so simple, in the glow of the mid-afternoon sun. His lips would taste good, just as I remember them tasting, and I feel my body humming at the thought.
I shove down the urge somewhere deep inside me. Sawyer almost looks like he reads my mind, his face expressionless.
“I should… I should go,” I say after a beat.
“You’ve got somewhere to be?”
I swallow hard, though I’m not sure why. “I’m meeting a friend.”
“Wendy?”
I shake my head. “No, a… different friend.”
“Ah. Marshall?”
I feel guilty when I answer with a quick nod.
“So things are going well with him?” Sawyer continues.
“I’m not sure what you mean by that?” I answer. “I mean… sure they’re going well in as much as we’re just friends.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “Just keep telling yourself that, Eva.”
“I’m not sure… I don’t understand what,” I start but he interrupts me.
“Does he know the truth about you?”
I feel myself instantly frowning. “No, of course not. You’re… you’re the only one who does.”
He nods and there seems to be relief in his expression. But it’s there only momentarily. “I would keep that to myself.”
“I am.”
“That’s good.”
Sawyer doesn’t say anything more. I can’t tell if that’s because he wants me to go, or if he just doesn’t want to know anything more about my life and what my situation with Marshall is. Whenever that topic comes up, Sawyer’s jaw seems to harden and he always seems angry, which makes no sense to me because it’s not as though he’s still interested in me.
We part ways a moment later, and I wave to Heather and Taylor as I pass. Then I find myself on autopilot, walking up the steps and heading into town, while my mind replays the whole exchange. I force the thoughts down, instead focusing on the Spring Café in the distance, where Marshall waits.
***
I find Marshall sitting on one of the little deck tables outside, under the shade of a massive awning. At night, the awning is lit with purple fairy lights that shine out across the piazza, but in the mid-afternoon sunshine, the place has plenty of natural light. It’s beautiful, and so is Marshall, his hair pulled back into a small ponytail at the back of his head.
“Good to see you, Eva,” Marshall greets me and stands up, giving me a big hug. Then he pulls out my chair as I sit beside him. “I didn’t expect you to call me, but it was a nice surprise.”
“Well, thanks for meeting me on such short notice.”
“I’m happy to. Everything okay?” he looks at me as if he’s already realized I’ve called him because everything isn’t okay.
I nod, then shake my head. “I’ve had a rotten day and I could use a pick me up.” I learned the saying from Wendy and I hope I’ve used it correctly.
Marshall’s brows furrow in confusion, and I figure I must not have said it in the right context because he doesn’t seem to understand. Then he shakes his head and smiles. “Well, I hope I can make your day better. I was going to order a caramel latte, what would you like?”
I’ve found I enjoy the human habit of putting sugary syrups in hot drinks, though I’m not familiar with caramel lattes. “I’ll try that too,” I reply with a smile. Already the tension is easing from my body, and I feel myself relaxing into the chair. “Thank you.”
“I’ll order inside. Back in a second.” He disappears inside, and my eyes travel to his retreating frame. He’s wearing tight jeans that hug his hips. His body is strong and broad and he’s large. I like that in a man—it makes me feel safe, protected.
As my thoughts drift, I catch a snippet of conversation from a table behind me. Two female voices talk in hushed tones, but not so hushed that I can’t make out what they’re saying.
“That’s her,” one woman says quietly. She makes a huffing sound in the back of her throat. “She’s on the run from the law, you know.”
“No!”
I can see the woman nodding from the corner of my eye and my heart starts to race as I realize they’re both talking about me!
“There are posters about it all over town,” she answers as my stomach drops down to my toes. Posters? I’m not exactly sure what posters are but whatever they are, this doesn’t sound good.
“I can’t believe she’s in Shell Harbor, our town!” the second woman hisses, “something should be done about it!”
“She owns a swimming school,” the first woman prattles on. “Imagine finding out your children’s swim instructor is wanted by police!”
“Then why hasn’t anyone arrested her yet? Why is she just strolling around like she’s a free person?”
“Because she isn’t wanted here, from what I read in the poster. She’s wanted from whatever country she came from.”
A part of me wants to turn around and tell them to shut up, but I can’t seem to move. What are they talking about, wanted posters from my hometown? My hometown is miles underwater and, as far as most people here know, it’s in Greece.
Before I can question the topic too much, Marshall appears, holding two cups of coffee. He sets one down in front of me with a smile, before taking a sip of his own. “Mmm, that’s pretty good. I’m still trying to figure out which are my favorite coffeehouses.”
This conversation hardly seems to matter with what I’ve just overheard. I turn in my seat to peek over my shoulder—the women are openly staring at us—but as soon as I turn to face them, they turn their gazes away with deep scowls.
“Those women,” I say to Marshall, my heart riding up into my throat, “they were talking about me.”
“Talking about you how? Good or bad?”
“Bad,” I answer as I feel myself slouching down, as if shrinking into myself. Then I face Marshall when he sits down and then reaches out and pats my hand. There’s a moment of silence between us and in it, I try to take a calming breath to slow my racing heart, but it doesn’t seem to do any good.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.
I swallow hard. “Have you heard… anything about me around town?”
Smile faltering, Marshall’s handsome features twist into a grimace. “No, nothing, Eva,” he says as he shakes his head. “I haven’t been out much, though. I’m still settling in.”
Something tells me not to believe him, but then his face melts into a look of concern and I brush those thoughts away. Clearly, if he has heard or seen anything, he’s keeping it to himself which is sweet of him. Although I don’t know him well, Marshall seems like a decent man—knowing who to trust in Shell Harbor is becoming exhausting.
“What have people been saying about you?” he finally asks, his eyes drifting past me to watch the two women cautiously. They’re deep in conversation now, no longer looking our way.
I sigh. “Not good things.”
“I get the impression that small towns like their gossip, but usually that’s all it is.”
I thought that too, at first. Now I’m not convinced. Letting out another sigh, I stare down into my coffee. Steam billows up from the cup and warms my already heated face. Maybe I should have opted for iced coffee instead.
“It’s nothing,” I reply quietly, not exactly thrilled over the idea of telling him what the women were talking about because I’m suddenly afraid he might believe the nasty rumors. If Marshall doesn’t know about what seems to be spreading, then it’s better it stays that way.
He takes a long sip of coffee, then sits the cup down in the saucer. The cups themselves are decorated with a pattern in pastel blue, made to look like seafoam rising from the ocean.
“Anyway,” I announce, eager to change the topic, “how are you settling in? Any luck on finding a job?”
Marshall winces. “No, I’m afraid not.” Then, quietly, he adds, “I didn’t realize it was so difficult to find work here.”
The way he says here makes me think he means Shell Harbor, but I get the impression that finding decent jobs is difficult no matter where you live. “Do you have qualifications for anything?”
“Not really.”
“You didn’t finish school?” I ask, knowing that most humans go through some form of education to prepare them for their roles in later life.
