Chapter Thirty-Six

The Story Fire

As we neared the house, Nellie grabbed my arm.

“Look! Smoke! He’s made a fire!”

I didn’t understand her excitement, but it didn’t matter. I was going back inside.

The walrus sat before an open hearth. The embers flickered in a constantly shifting pattern, like light dancing through water.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” he said.

Nellie pulled our findings from her pack and spread them out on the low table.

He picked up the pebble with blue flecks and held it to the light. He was staring at the stone, and Nellie was staring at him. . . . I slipped the whole mussel shell out of the pack and into my pocket.

He examined the blue-gray shard, the pale flowers, and the feathers. His brows lowered. “Is that all?”

Nellie pulled out the broken mussel shells and set them down so they caught the light from the fire.

The walrus leaned closer. He picked them up one by one, turning them this way and that.

“Is it enough, Grandpa?” asked Nellie.

The set of his mouth said it wasn’t.

“There was one more,” she said, turning to the pack.

“Here it is.” I placed the whole mussel shell on the table. Closed, so the walrus could open it himself.

He set it on his palm. Firelight flickered across the dark surface. Then he lifted the top.

His eyebrows shot up. Nellie gasped.

There, on the pool of silver-blue nacre, sat the perfect round moon of the pearl.

The walrus stared, trying to figure it out.

“They really grow in oysters,” I explained. “Not mussels. But the colors of the shell . . .”

“It’s like they’re trading light,” whispered Nellie.

The walrus was looking at me thoughtfully, his head tilted to one side.

“Now is it enough?” said Nellie.

A smile played at the corner of his mouth. “It will do.”

I glanced toward the staircase with a sigh. With Nellie and her grandfather right here, I couldn’t sneak up to the aerie.

“I guess I should go,” I said, taking a step toward the door.

Nellie’s head flew up. “But Aran, there’s a fire! It mean’s Grandpa’s in a storytelling mood. You have to stay!”

I eyed the walrus warily, but the more he accepted me, the closer I’d get to his books. So I sat at the edge of the rug, far from the fire and close to the door. Just in case.

The walrus took his tusk from a pocket and cradled it, unlit, in his palm. “Now,” he said, “what do you want to hear a story about?”

“Selkies,” I said before I could stop myself. Then I bit my lip. I couldn’t believe I’d said the word out loud.

But he didn’t seem suspicious, or even surprised. “Ah! A tale from my homeland. Let’s see, there’s ‘Westwood Pier,’ about the man who followed the selkie. But no, that wouldn’t do for children.” He stared into the fire. “I know, we’ll start with the classic tale of the selkie wife. Go get the cookies, Nellie.”

She ran into the kitchen and came back a moment later carrying a plate piled with flat, brown circles. She offered me one, but I shook my head. She and the walrus each took two.

Nellie sat on the rug halfway between the walrus and me. She glanced at him, and I could tell she usually sat right beside him for stories, like I did with Grandmam. I took it as a sign of friendship, so I wouldn’t be too far outside the story’s circle.

She didn’t have to worry. The moment the story started, the walrus’s gravelly voice drew me in, deeper and deeper, until I was under the story’s spell.

“Once upon a time,” said the walrus, “when the world was newer than it is now and the magic fresher, there was a man named Sean O’Casey. One night he stumbled back to his boat, a bit the worse for drink. ‘I’ll sit for a moment and catch my breath,’ said he, leaning back against the rocks above the beach. Soon he was sound asleep.

“The moon rose as round and bright as a silver platter. Sean woke to the sounds of lively music and laughter rising from below. Now, who could be having a party this time of night? He peered over the rocks. The shore was full of dancers, their steps graceful, their skin pale, their hair as dark as night. To his great surprise, not one of them wore a thread of clothing.

“That’s when Sean noticed the sealskins piled on the rocks. Black, silver, speckled; each one sleeker than the last. Ah, so the dancers were selkies! In the water, selkies look like seals. But when they come ashore, they slip off their sealskins and step out in the same form as you and me, to dance by the light of the moon.

“Now Sean O’Casey was a lonely man in want of a wife, and these black-haired beauties made his heart beat faster. He waited until a spirited reel carried the crowd away. Then he crept down and searched through the furs until he found the prettiest one of all. A soft, speckled brown it was, and as sleek as can be. He tucked it inside his satchel and crept back to his hiding place.

“The music stopped and the dancers ran laughing back to the rocks. Each one found a fur, slipped it on, and swam away, until only one selkie remained on shore. ‘Where can it be?’ she cried in anguish, searching around the rocks. ‘Oh, where can it be?’

“‘You won’t find your sealskin there,’ said Sean, stepping out from his hiding place. ‘It’s gone. You’re coming home with me.’

“How she wept, then, and pleaded with him to let her return to the sea. But he only draped his coat over her shoulders and rowed her back to his cottage. A big silver seal followed the boat, staring at them as if his heart were breaking.

“The selkie became Sean’s wife, and a good wife she was, bearing him four fine children, keeping his house, and cooking his meals. Things might have stayed that way forever. But one day her young son ran up, calling, ‘Mother, look what I found in the loft!’ In his hands he held a sealskin, a soft, speckled brown, and as sleek as can be.

“Now, they say when a selkie has her sealskin, she can’t resist the ocean’s call. Without a word she thrust her babe into the oldest child’s arms, slipped on the sealskin, and swam away.

“Sean O’Casey came home that night to find his children standing at the shoreline. He followed their gaze. A speckled brown seal stared back at him from the waves. A big silver seal swam by her side.

“‘Come back!’ Sean cried. ‘Come back to your children and your home! After all these years, don’t you love me?’

“Without a word, she dove and disappeared into the great, gray sea.”

The room grew silent, except for the gentle crackle and spark of the fire.

“And the children?” I asked, still deep in the story.

The walrus leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

“What happened when they got their pelts? Now that their mam is back in the sea, and the Moon . . .”

“Well, now,” said the walrus. “The story doesn’t say.”

He set his pipe down with a loud thunk. All at once I was aware of his eyes on me.

It took all my willpower to stand up slowly. “What do you need us to find tomorrow?” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

The walrus had picked up the pearl and was rolling it around in his palm. “I’ll tell you in the morning.” His voice came from far away.

Nellie jumped up and started walking with me to the door, but I needed to be alone.

“I’ll find my own way back,” I said. Before she could protest, I was gone.

I was walking through the forest, but all I saw was that selkie’s face when she couldn’t find her pelt on the beach. That man said he loved her, but he kept her trapped in his house.

Like my father trapped Mam.

I felt dizzy. It was Mam’s story, but twisted and told from the other side. Everything was reversed, like looking in Maggie’s mirror and seeing myself the wrong way around.

How strange to see a selkie through human eyes! And those children, staring after their mam as she swam away . . .

Like my mam swam away.

A shiver ran down my spine. I stopped and took a deep breath, pushing the feeling away. There wasn’t any need for me to be uneasy! My mam had borne me at sea. She raised me with salt and moonlight on my skin, taught me the songs for the rites. And I didn’t get cold, did I? Or need fresh water?

I pulled the stone selkie from my pocket and walked on with her clasped in my hand.

No, I wasn’t worried. I was interested. Stories were places where the two worlds met, swirling around each other like ribbons of foam. The more I heard, the more I wanted to know. Now I was even more determined to get into the aerie. Before Mam came back for me, I’d find out as much from human tales as I could. Then I’d share my discoveries with the clan.

I got back to find Maggie sunken in the big chair, gray and exhausted. She hadn’t even taken off her coat.

“Where have you been, Ocean Boy?” That was all it took to start her coughing.

“Exploring. I’ll make you some coffee.”

I went to the kitchen and turned on the heat under the kettle, trying to figure out what to say when she asked me more. But when I returned with the coffee, her eyes were closed. I set the steaming mug gently on the table at her side and started to tiptoe away.

“They want me to go in for tests,” she rasped.

I turned. “Go in?”

“To the hospital on the mainland. They want me to stay there awhile. I had to tell them I’d think about it before they’d let me out the door.” She reached for the mug. “Bring me the calendar.”

I brought it over and her finger traced the rows.

“Not long now until your mom’s back. I’ll wait until then to decide.”

Her sunken cheeks, her tired eyes . . .

“Are you . . . I mean . . .” I looked out the window at the trees in the distance. “Can they heal you there?”

She blew on the steam and took a slow sip. “I don’t know. And I don’t think they know, either, for all their talk. I don’t have much truck with hospitals, after Tommy.”

I almost asked what happened to him, but part of me didn’t want to know. “Maybe you should go,” I said. “I’ll be fine on my own.”

She shook her head with a half smile. “We made a deal, you and me. I keep my promises. We’ll stay here together until your mom comes back.”