Fear the Drowning Deep(31)
I pressed my lips together. What I really wanted was a few minutes alone to collect myself and finish putting up my hair.
“Please?” Grayse added.
“Please, Bridey,” Fynn echoed, and his low tone sent a pleasant shiver up my back. His lips turned up with a teasing smile. “Play Happy Families with me.”
I tried to answer, but my mouth had gone dry. “Give me a moment. I’ll meet you in the other room.”
Grayse hurried off, shaking the box, but Fynn lingered near the door. In the moment I’d looked away from him, his expression had turned cooler, distant. Like he’d just had an unwelcome flash of memory, or the interruption had bothered him more than he cared to let on in front of Grayse.
“Off you go,” I said, smiling shyly before shutting the door, and granting myself a moment’s privacy to splash water on my blotchy face.
In the main room, my sisters, Fynn, and Da formed a circle by the hearth. Grayse shuffled a stack of cards while Da sipped tea and pored over one of his older maps. Liss moved over to create a space and patted the floor beside her. My leg brushed Fynn’s as I sat, which did nothing to soothe the lingering redness in my cheeks.
“Fynn,” Da said, setting down his map. “Where might I find giant crabs like the ones Boyd and Nelson caught?”
Fynn stared at Da. “I’m sorry, sir?”
“I understand you don’t remember anything before your accident, but I know what you are. I’ve figured it out just by watching you these last few weeks.”
Fynn went utterly still beside me. “You do, sir?”
“’Course!” Da slurred. “You’re a fisherman! With your build, and your excellent eye for fish—I saw the herrin’ you selected for my wife at the market—there’s no doubt. The sea’s in your blood, my lad.”
Fynn’s rigid posture relaxed. “You’re right, sir. There’s salt in my veins.” Softer, he added, “So much I can almost taste it.”
Da attempted to clap Fynn on the shoulder, but cuffed him on the ear by mistake. “Why don’t you join me at sea, son? I could use the extra help finding anything out there.”
Fynn grinned. “I’d like that, sir.”
“Then it’s settled!” Da leaned back and took another swig from his bottle.
The distant sounds of Mam and Mally making supper drifted into the room. Maybe I could persuade Mally to tell Fynn he wasn’t well enough to leave yet. After all, it was more than likely his attacker was still out there.
After supper, Grayse begged everyone to play another round of Happy Families. Da had more maps to mull over, but once the table had been cleared, Liss, Mally, and Mam followed Grayse to the main room.
“Coming, Bry?” Liss called.
“Maybe later.” I stacked our plates in the sink and cast a sideways glance at the table, but Fynn had wandered off. Listening to the chatter in the other room, I started scrubbing dishes.
As I worked, I gazed out the window over the sink, my thoughts drifting like the waves. White foam sprayed up from the rocks as usual, but—what was that shape hovering over the dark water? It was tall and broad-chested like a man, yet filmy—incandescent. I blinked, trying to get the image to sharpen into focus, but when I searched for the figure again, it had disappeared. Had I just seen a ghost? Grandad’s ghost? Or worse, the apparition that had called him out of this life and into the next? If this was what had lured Eveleen and Nessa from their homes, it was a wonder they hadn’t died of fright on the spot.
Blood rushing in my ears, I pressed my nose to the chill glass pane and held my breath. Nothing remotely human reappeared. Perhaps my tired eyes were conjuring images in the sea spray, though I thought not. But if I shouted for Mam and Da now, they’d stick me in bed and have Mr. Gill phone a doctor. Even if they tried looking out into the nighttime sea, with my luck, whatever I’d seen wouldn’t show itself again.
Covered in gooseflesh, I abandoned my dish washing and went in search of Fynn. He stood on the far side of the main room, studying one of Mam’s older paintings—a likeness of me as a toddler. Mam had captured me playing in the ocean on a calm day, my hair like a small white-capped wave as I bobbed among the blue.
“I’d love to see such a beautiful image now,” Fynn murmured. “Whatever happened to make you hate the sea so, it must have been dreadful. You don’t seem to be afraid of many things.”
“I wasn’t always afraid. And nothing happened to me.” I spoke around a lump in my throat. I longed to tell Fynn what I’d just seen, but the thought of him questioning my sanity overwhelmed all desire to mention it. “I just know there are some things best left alone, and the sea is one of them. I’m surprised you don’t agree, after washing up half-dead.”
Without thinking, I rested my hand on the top of Mam’s horrific new painting. Someone had turned it to face the wall.
“Is that your mother’s latest masterpiece?”
It was odd, the way he said mother instead of mam, but his neat, careful pronunciation intrigued me. “It’s rubbish, really. Nothing interesting.” I hoped the disdain in my voice would be enough to keep Fynn from wanting a peek.
He gripped the edge of the canvas. “I’ll just have a quick look.”
As he turned the painting toward us, the color drained from his face. Silently, he studied every inch of the serpent and its blood-stained teeth, which were longer and sharper than I remembered. Fynn slowly exhaled.