Chapter Thirty-Nine

The Second Full Moon

All morning Maggie was fussing, glancing at her calendar every few minutes and trying to hide her worry. Her problem was, she hoped Mam was coming. I didn’t hope; I knew.

I helped Maggie with things she’d need once I was gone. I brought in firewood, building a stack so high it toppled over and I had to take half of it outside again. I grabbed the broom and swept so hard, I broke a lamp. Maggie finally asked if I wanted to wait outside.

So here I sat with my feet in the waves, waiting.

After a while the door clicked open.

“Aran?” called Maggie.

I climbed to the top of the cliff and waved.

“Don’t you go swimming off,” she said. “You’ll want to be here the second she comes.”

As if I’d be going anywhere! But I nodded and climbed back down.

I kept hearing the door open. Maggie must be watching the road. She didn’t know Mam would come from the sea.

I tossed stones into the waves as the sun crept slowly across the sky. The heat of midday. The shift of my shadow. The long light of late afternoon. I called to a gull, hoping for news, but it was too high up to hear me. Maybe I’d go higher, too, so I could see farther. I climbed back up and sat at the top of the cliff.

The next time Maggie opened the door, she called, “Do you want some supper?”

I shook my head no.

The sun was sinking in a fiery orange ball. The sky faded to pink, then purple, then gray. Finally the Moon began to rise. I held my breath. Nothing was ever more beautiful than that Moon.

I reached in my pocket and pulled out the stone selkie. I longed to bring her with me, but I wouldn’t be able to carry anything in sealform. I stroked the curve of her back one last time. Then I put her in her cave, facing out, so she could watch me swim away.

The higher the Moon climbed, the harder it was to wait. Mam would be here any time now. I’d never be able to wait for her to reach land. The instant I saw her, I’d swim out and we’d roll in the waves—her shining eyes, the brush of her whiskers! We’d streak back here and she’d pull my pelt from a woven pouch. . . .

The door opened again, and then Maggie was walking out toward me. She spread a blanket on the ground and sat down. Side by side, we watched the moonlight spread across the waves like a great silver road.

After a few minutes she held out a closed hand. “Here,” she said with a crooked smile. “Don’t forget your pirate gold.”

She clinked the coins into my palm.

It was a joke, a reminder of the night I arrived. How wild I must have looked, wide-eyed and dripping from the storm! How little I’d known of the human world, seeing a couch, a rug, a bed for the very first time. Thinking the gold was real.

“Worth a fortune,” I said.

I smiled, and she started laughing, and then we were both laughing so hard we had to hold our sides. It was only Maggie’s light cough that stopped us.

I put the coins back in her hand.

“For you, to help with the costs,” I said. The same words as when I gave them to her two moons ago. And then, staring out across the waves, I added, “I wish it was real gold for you.”

Her smile turned wistful. “Oh, Ocean Boy, the real gold was you.”

The Moon kept rising. The stars came out. Maggie had draped the blanket over her shoulders long ago. Now she started to shiver.

“Aran,” she said. “It’s too late for a boat. Come back inside.”

“She’ll be here.”

Maggie sighed. “Well, then, you come say good-bye before you take off.” She stood and rested her hand on my shoulder, and then she walked back to the house. The door closed behind her.

The Moon was nearing the center of the sky. This was the perfect time for Mam to come. Excitement stretched me as taut as a kelp bubble. I stared out across the waves until my eyes hurt. The Moon was right overhead. . . .

And then she began her descent.

A gust of wind from the north swept over the waves, splintering the silver path into shards. A bat sailed overhead on shadow wings. The waves lapped, and lapped, and lapped against the rocks. I was still staring as the Moon began to sink into the sea.

I tried to hold on to my excitement, but it was turning brittle, the hope leaching away.

Where was Mam?

She said she’d be here by the second full Moon. Mam kept her promises. She’d be here, she had to be here. Unless . . .

The words of Nellie’s song came pounding through my head. “And she has wed a gunner good, and a proud, good gunner it was he. And he went out on a May morning—”

My stomach churned. Guns. Harry said he was keeping his loaded. I pictured a gun pointing at a silver head in the water. And then the pictures were whirling around faster and faster, an eddy pulling me down: metal cages—walls of ice—an orca’s gaping jaws—

I jumped to my feet, gasping for breath. Where was Mam?

I strained to see out over the waves. The Moon was disappearing—a half circle, a sliver—and then she was gone, cut off by the horizon’s sharp blade.

I shuddered. Mam would have come if she could. She must be lying somewhere, hurt or sick or trapped. She was in danger! And here I was, stuck on this stupid island in stupid longlimbs.

My hands clenched into fists. Mam needed me.

A crow’s caw raked the dawn. I looked back at the house. Behind the window, Maggie was asleep, slumped in her chair. She must have lugged it over to keep an eye on me. Her hands splayed across a white page in her lap. The calendar. With last night’s Moon, and four rows of empty boxes, and the blood-red slash that meant Jack was coming home.