Tides Page 20

  She tapped a stack of paper against the desk to straighten it, then slid it into a file in the cabinet’s top drawer.

  She hardly thought of the selkies as separate from her own family anymore. There was Maebh, who spent almost every night on White Island now. She was turning into the perfect grandmother, even if she did look so much younger than Gemm.

  And then, of course, there was Mara. The way Noah looked at her was . . . Well, it was gross for Lo to think about it. But there was tenderness there too, a deepness between them when they spoke to each other, that filled Lo with a certain contentment. If her brother had to be in love, she was glad it was with someone who obviously loved him back just as much.

  She had no idea what they were going to do at the end of the summer, but she wasn’t looking forward to dealing with a post-Mara Noah. At least he’d be busy packing for college when they got back to their parents’ house, and soon . . . soon, he would leave.

  Lo blinked. For a moment, the papers in her hands went blurry. She was looking forward to Noah’s leaving for college. When had that happened? Only a few months ago she had wished desperately that they were closer in age so that he could stay home a little longer to help her deal with their parents. And a few months before that, she would have given anything for him just to get out of the house and leave her alone.

  This was different. She didn’t want Noah gone for those reasons anymore. She just knew he would be in pain, once they left the Shoals and the selkies behind, and she couldn’t bear to see that. She didn’t want that for him.

  Lo shook her head and turned toward Professor Foster’s disheveled desk. Between Gemm and Maebh, and Mara and Noah, she was beginning to wonder whether love was worth the heartache.

  thirty-seven

  HARBOR

  MARA and Ronan were the only ones who had managed to change, and they each had two younglings in hand, trying to help pull off their sealskins. The first season was always difficult for younglings, Mara knew, but she couldn’t remember ever having such a hard time turning human herself.

  “Lir, stay still.” She grasped his right foot—the only part of him that wasn’t seal—and tugged. A human leg appeared, up to the knee. “Good.”

  Lir growled, frustrated, but his other leg slipped out of his sealskin next to the first. Mara watched as all at once his skin split to the crown of his head and he emerged, pale in the darkness, a slightly damp but otherwise passably human young boy.

  “See my dreads, Mara? Ronan did them for me, last time I was human.” Lir shook his head, and his narrow, shoulder-length dreadlocks twirled.

  “Very nice. Will you be okay walking up to the cottage by yourself, or do you want to wait for the others?”

  He replied by pulling the old T-shirt Mara held away from her and over his head. He grabbed his sealskin from the ground and sprinted up to the cottage door. “Noah!” he yelled. “We’re here!”

  Mara glanced at Ronan just in time to see him shake his head. Despite what had happened to him, Lir had taken to the humans a bit more than the other younglings had. Ronan, though usually civil, could still hardly bring himself to think well of them.

  “Remember, they brought Aine back to us,” Mara said, holding her hands out to help him pull Branna out of her sealskin.

  “Yes,” he agreed, his voice even gruffer than usual. “Of course, they took her away in the first place.”

  Mara bit back the growl that suddenly rose in her throat. She tried to make herself see things his way. After all, she had once thought the same thing.

  “These people had nothing to do with that. You know that, Ronan. And look at Maebh, at how much she loves Gemm. You wouldn’t take that happiness from her, would you?”

  Ronan looked in her eyes, and a flicker of kindness showed itself in their link. “No, Mara. I wouldn’t deny her that.”

  Something in his voice made her blush and look away. “Well, good, then. Let’s get them inside.”

  When all the younglings had managed their changes and wriggled into hand-me-down Gallagher clothes, Mara waved them toward the cottage. Ronan herded them from behind.

  Aine was already inside, seated next to Lo at the table. The two of them had grown close in the last weeks, and Mara was trying to keep from being jealous. It made sense, she reminded herself, that they would want to spend time together. Though Aine still had the body of a child, she and Lo were actually close to the same age.

  And if she were truly honest with herself, Mara knew that Aine still didn’t feel at home with the pod. She couldn’t hunt with them, because her human lungs lacked the capacity to keep her underwater for more than a minute or so. She was a strong swimmer, but she was still getting used to the contradictions of her half-seal, half-human body, and she was not yet as fast or as graceful in the water as her siblings, or as protected from cold water and weather as they were. Worst of all, she could not hide in her seal form the way the others could. Any human who saw her would immediately know her for what she was—or at least, would make a close-enough guess. Mermaid or selkie, Aine was not safe when she wore her sealskin. Of course it made sense that she would spend more time on land.

  Still, Mara worried about the life that lay ahead for Aine. Lo would leave soon—Noah, too, her mind whispered, but Mara shoved that thought away—and then Aine would be left alone, caught in limbo, neither seal nor human. Forever.

  She felt a tingle of sympathy enter her body, and she noticed Maebh looking at her. The Elder’s link told her that everything would turn out well, but Mara was having trouble believing it.

  The younglings crowded together on the floor, piling against one another just as they did when they were seals. Lir was by the couch, leaning against Noah’s shin. His eyes darted between his siblings and his new idol. Ever since their rescue, Lir had adored Noah, following him whenever he could and telling the other younglings exaggerated stories about him.

  Ronan glared at them, and Mara touched his arm. She thought Lir’s devotion to Noah was charming, but she could understand how Ronan might feel uneasy and possessive about it. That was exactly the way she felt about Lo and Aine.

  Ronan looked at her, and she tried to send him some measure of patience or empathy. He nodded grudgingly, and she slipped away from him and sat down with Noah.

  Noah shifted and laid his arm over the back of the couch, not quite touching her. Still, she could feel the comforting circle of him around her. She settled back, the muscles of her shoulders relaxing for the first time since . . . since the last time she’d seen him. That had been only yesterday, she knew, but it felt like much longer. Once more she pushed away the knowledge that he would leave her soon.

  “Is everyone here?” asked Gemm.

  “Everyone.” Mara reached down and stroked Lir’s dreadlocks.

  “Well, then.” Gemm took the lid off a large metal pot on the stove. Fragrant steam drifted into the room. “Dinner is served.”

  The younglings crowded up to her first. They’d eaten human food only a few times, but they found the concept of hot, cooked meals endlessly fascinating. Mara did too—the spices, the herbs, the simmering and roasting and baking—it was so complex. The only decision they had to make as seals was which kind of fish to hunt on a given night.

  Aine stayed to one side, watching her brothers and sisters wait for their dinner. After Gemm had ladled out chowder for each of them, she dug through the refrigerator and pulled out a small tuna steak. She unwrapped the plastic film around it and laid it neatly on a plate.

  “Here you go, sweetie,” she said.

  Aine took the fish and ate with her hands, her teeth tearing through the raw flesh. She couldn’t stand human food, and none of them felt the slightest need to force it on her.

  Mara told herself to stop worrying about Aine. There were hard things ahead for her, she was sure, but for now she was safe.

  Mara looked around the tiny cottage, filled almost to bursting with everyone she loved. Perhaps the pod would never be safe again, now
that humans knew about them. Perhaps Aine would never fully recover. But now, at this moment, she didn’t want to think of those things. She tucked herself closer to Noah, feeling utterly certain that she was home.

  thirty-eight

  LAND AND SEA

  NOAH had no idea how this had gotten so out of control. He stared at the piles of clothes and books that flooded his half of the bedroom, knowing his bags would have to be packed, and his room restored to its original neatness, by tomorrow. He just couldn’t make himself believe that he was really leaving.

  Beyond the folding screen, Lo’s coordinated purple luggage lay stacked by the door. Even her bed was neatly made, the sheets tucked so tight into the mattress that they were probably bulletproof.

  Lo herself had been on Appledore all day, taking yet another extra shift to help keep the Center running smoothly until the new director arrived. It was just like her to have everything organized and ready to go with a day to spare. Noah thought back to what Lo’s therapist had told their parents about eating disorders and about how she needed to be in control of something. She seemed to be starting to channel that need in better ways, but he knew it would take a long time to know for sure. He was just thankful that right now she seemed healthy, happy, free from the trap her body used to be for her.

  He slumped back onto his bed. He didn’t feel as if he were leaving tomorrow—maybe that was his problem. If he could just convince himself that the summer was really over . . .

  His mind recoiled from that train of thought, and he was left staring blankly at the unzipped duffle bag on his bed. He couldn’t let himself believe that he was leaving the Shoals, because that meant he’d be leaving Mara, too.

  That spark—their link—opened up inside him, and he could feel her nearby, as if she’d been waiting for him to think of her. They’d both been so busy, he’d hardly felt the link at all over the past few days, and he’d almost forgotten the physical pull it had on him.

  Noah rose from the bed and walked downstairs, knowing he could hardly have resisted responding to the link, even if he’d wanted to. He thought he would never understand how Gemm had ignored it for so many years before returning to Maebh.

  His two grandmothers sat at the table downstairs, murmuring urgently to each other. They quieted as soon as Noah appeared on the steps.

  A sealskin lay folded near Maebh’s elbow, but it wasn’t hers. Noah squinted at it, and shuddered when he realized it was Aine’s. Seeing her scarred, too-small skin always brought back the memory of Professor Foster’s house, always woke up the pain in his still-healing wounds.

  Ever since their rescue, he hadn’t seen Aine without her skin—she wouldn’t even hide it the way the others did, but carried it with her. She changed several times a day, trying to speed up her growth so her body’s age would match her mind’s. He couldn’t imagine how Maebh had separated the girl from her sealskin—or why she would even want to.

  “Packed yet, honey?” asked Gemm, tearing her gaze away from Maebh’s.

  Noah cleared his throat. “Um, I’m getting there, I guess.”

  Gemm laughed. “All right, well, the ferry leaves Star at nine a.m. tomorrow, remember.”

  Noah nodded, walking faster to get out of the cottage and away from any talk about leaving.

  But outside, there were other reminders that summer was ending. The grass was brown and stiff, dried out by months of salt spray and heat. The waves broke hurriedly over themselves, foamy and pale. There was a warm, earthy scent over everything, like the smell of dry leaves on the mainland.

  And there was Mara, waiting for him on the rocks beyond the lighthouse. He could see her smiling, but she carried the same knowledge Noah did: this was their last day together.

  She took his hand. They walked to the very edge of the island, where the granite boulders turned steep, worn vertical with eons of waves. The lighthouse flashed above them, but in the daytime Noah could hardly distinguish its beam from the glare of the sun.

  “Let’s stay here.” Mara folded herself onto the ground and dangled her feet over the cliff’s edge.

  Noah joined her, looking down at the crashing waves beneath them and thinking of the other times he’d been on this part of the island with Mara. He’d learned she was a selkie here, leaning over the cliffs and watching her shed her sealskin. She’d attacked him on those rocks when she’d thought he’d hurt Lir.

  Mara cringed away from him. “I’m sorry about that,” she said.

  It took a moment for Noah to remember their link. She could read only his feelings, not his thoughts, he knew—but it was easy for him to forget how much the two overlapped.

  “It’s okay.” He slipped his arm around her waist. “I know why you did it.”

  He felt something rise inside her—excitement and pride. He waited for her to tell him what it was, but she only chewed her lip and was silent.

  “What is it, Mara?”

  She smiled. “Maebh told the pod last night. She’s made me Elder.”

  Noah’s chest tightened. He had to turn away for a moment, to rearrange the look on his face. “That’s great.”

  He didn’t know why it should matter to him. She would never leave the Shoals now—but, he reminded himself, he would never have asked that of her. Of course not.

  “Noah.” He felt Mara’s fingers on his hair, gently urging him to turn and look at her. “I’ve wanted this my whole life.”

  “I know.” Noah shook his head, ignoring the extra liquid at the corners of his eyes. “Really, Mara, it’s great. I’m just—” He sighed. “I just want too many different things.”

  “I know.” She leaned against him. “Me, too.”

  They watched the seals slide off Whale Rock, then dive and return to the surface with fat, silvery fish in their jaws.

  “Aine needed a full skin, you see,” she said.

  Noah nodded, even though he didn’t see at all how that would make Maebh give up the pod to Mara.

  “And Maebh and your grandmother, they lost so much time with each other. So Aine is taking Maebh’s skin, and Maebh will live here with Gemm, and I’ll lead the pod. They’ll be together, always.”

  So many different feelings glimmered through her link when she said that, Noah couldn’t read any of them.

  She straightened her back, still watching the pod. “I really think I can help them,” she went on. “We’ll have the moon ceremonies here, on White, where Maebh and Gemm can help guard them from . . .” She glanced at him. “You know—from people. And Ronan can leave, can try to find other pods and quieter waters, maybe in Ireland. He always said it wasn’t safe here.”

  “He’s right.” It wasn’t just Professor Foster. Every human was dangerous to Mara and her pod. Even Noah, with what he knew, could hurt them beyond saving. “If he finds a place for you, for the younglings, you should go.”

  Mara leaned harder against him. “That won’t be for years. Ronan won’t leave the younglings until they’re old enough to protect themselves.” She lowered her voice. “I’ll be here next summer, when you come back. I’ll wait for you.”

  All at once, he felt able to breathe again. “I’ll wait too,” he said.

  He watched the waves crash beneath them, leaving dark pools among the rocks. Before this summer, he’d seen the land and the ocean as so different. He’d loved the ocean for how other it was. Here, though, everything mingled—water and rock, land and sea.

  Mara tucked her foot under his, linking their dangling legs together. “It’s like Gemm’s stories,” she said. “This can be our inbetween.”

  “Gemm says nobody stays in the inbetween forever.”

  “No. Not forever. But for now . . . what else can we do?”

  They sat together in silence, listening to the steady drum of the waves on the cliffs.

  Noah wondered when he’d come to hate the sound of his own breathing so much.

  “I think we’ll be fine,” Mara said. “I’ve always wanted to be the Elder. I still want it. And I
know there are things you want too, that you couldn’t have if you stayed here.” She pulled away to look at him. She ran a hand along his jaw line and kissed him lightly in the trail of her fingers.

  Noah breathed in the scent of her hair, so much like the ocean. One day was so little time together.

  He thought of Gemm and Maebh, of all the years they’d been apart, and his resolve strengthened. A school year was nothing compared to Gemm’s forty years of absence—she’d married someone else, even, and they’d still found a way to be together in the end.

  Noah kissed Mara again, her soft and salt-sprayed lips against his, and he tried to tell himself the kiss wasn’t their last.

  “Hey, big brother.” Lo sidled up beside him at the railing.

  Noah nodded slightly, keeping his gaze on the white foam breaking fifteen feet beneath him. The ferry’s engine rumbled up through his bones, shaking his middle and vibrating in his neck and the top of his skull. He stared at the waves, at the almost-solid way they cracked against the sides of the boat. He refused to look back at the islands.

  “Hey,” Lo said again. “I get this—I mean, I do, but you’re gonna freak Mom out if you’re this angsty all week. You know the only way she’ll stay sane when you’re at college is if she thinks you’re happy to go.”

  Noah glanced up, and the motion twisted his stomach. “Yeah, I know,” he said, then swallowed the thickness in his throat. He’d never felt seasick before today.

  “I mean, you’re lucky she isn’t making you live at home. When she heard about the knife, I seriously thought she was going to switch her apron strings for handcuffs.”

  Noah managed another brief nod.

  “Okay.” Lo frowned. “Shutting up now.”

  The waves crashed, one two, and the hull cut through them, one two. The rhythm was good, heartbeat-constant, and Noah thought if he could just fill his mind with it, he might distract himself from the links unraveling within him. Whatever Gemm had told him, he was sure his tie to Mara would be broken by the mainland. Maybe if he could stop thinking about it, though, he could hold on a little longer. One two, one two.