Fear the Drowning Deep(30)

Somewhere in the wide world, he had another life better suited for him than what we could offer here. Surely he had adoring parents and siblings. And perhaps there was a lass, clever and beautiful, who was even now tearfully praying to every god she could name, begging for his safe return.

I shook my head to banish the thought. The coals hissed in an almost hypnotic way, and the sweet fragrance emanating from the hearth made my eyelids heavy.

I was about to climb in the washtub when the sight of the bathwater made me pause. My skin prickled with a reminder of the Bully lurking in the main room.

Peering around the edge of the screen, I searched for Mam’s latest painting: the giant mouth with teeth like a straight razor. All I saw was Grayse on the sofa with her dolls.

“Where’s the Bully, Grayse?”

“I wish you girls would stop calling it that!” Mam’s voice rang out from the kitchen, accompanied by the thunk of her rolling pin hitting the counter.

“We wouldn’t call it names if it wasn’t so horrible,” I muttered, soft enough for only Grayse to hear. “When will you let Mally take it to market, Mam?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I can’t imagine who would buy such a thing.”

Was Mam afraid of the image, too? And if she didn’t think anyone would pay for it, there was little hope of us being rid of it. Who enjoyed the things others deemed grotesque or unworthy?

The answer came to me in the form of sea-foam eyes and strong tea.

“May I give the painting to Morag? She might enjoy it.” Having the horrible picture watching over me as I worked seemed a better fate than attempting to sleep with it skulking in the next room.

After a lengthy pause, Mam said, “I’ll consider it.”

It wasn’t as good as a promise, but for now, it would have to do.


Da stumbled in later than expected, reeking of brine and sea foam, and Mam ushered me off to slip on my nicest dress. Standing before my cloudy mirror, I was attempting to pin my hair at the nape of my neck when a rush of cool air slithered over my arms. No doubt Grayse had left the window open again. I hurried to close it, and was adjusting my grip on the sticky wooden frame when a sweet melody reached my ears. I leaned closer to the window, peering out into the syrupy blackness where clouds scudded over the moon.

There was no one in sight. The hulking outlines of the cliffs were barely discernible, and the sea beyond them crouched under the cloak of evening, invisible to human eyes. But the soft song continued, and with it, my desire to find the musician swelled. I pushed the window open farther and sat on the narrow ledge.

“Bridey, what are you doing?” A tall shadow darkened the floor, startling me from my makeshift seat.

“Does Mam need help with supper?” Shaking my foggy head to clear it, I closed the window with a firm shove and latched it for good measure.

“I just thought you might like to know what we’ll be having tonight.” Fynn leaned against the doorframe, a wicker basket dangling from his right hand.

“Probably a heap of fresh Queenies, still in their shells. As you know, I don’t eat anything from the sea.” I’d drifted toward the doorway without realizing it, the bewildering music still echoing through my thoughts.

“Actually, we bought lamb and potatoes.” Fynn angled his head down, bringing his mouth much closer to mine. His breath warmed my cheek each time he exhaled, drawing me firmly into the present moment.

“That sounds marvelous,” I managed, trying to control my racing heart. “Thank you—for accompanying Liss.”

If I tilted my chin up, our lips would meet. I reached for his arm, and heat rose from his skin through the thin fabric of Da’s shirt. I tightened my grip, my fingers pressing against hard muscle.

He made a slight motion toward me, dropping the basket, but hesitated. I nodded, and his arms wrapped around my waist, drawing me into his warmth. I raised my face to his, ready for the crush of his lips against mine, wanting to share more than these nervous breaths.

“Who wants to play Happy Families?” Grayse asked brightly.

For a moment, Fynn’s lower lip grazed mine, sending a jolt from my head to my toes. Then Grayse’s presence shocked us both, and our chins banged together.

I resisted the urge to peek at Fynn, or to rub the stinging spot on my chin where his stubbly skin had scratched mine.

“Now’s not a good time, Grayse.” My face and neck were on fire. But as I looked at my littlest sister smiling and clutching an orange box to her chest, my anger faded.

“Look, Grayse,” Fynn began. “We were just—”

“Having a secret. I know.” Grayse put a finger to her lips.

Relief washed over me. “Thanks, little fish.” I kissed the top of her head before finally glancing at Fynn and was pleased to note that the back of his neck was flushed.

“What’s that?” Fynn pointed to Grayse’s box.

“Happy Families,” Grayse said, with the air of a parent explaining something to a small child. “It’s a game. Every card in the box has a funny person on it, and you have to ask the other players if they have the cards you need.” Grayse gave Fynn a sympathetic look. “There must not be anything fun where you’re from.”

“Maybe not.” Fynn smiled. “But I’ll still play with you.”

Grayse squealed with delight, then focused her pleading gaze on me. “Will you play too, Bry?”