Chapter Fifty-One

The Keys

I woke in the water with a sputter and gasp. A wave had washed me off the rocks. The sky was already light. I hauled out and shook myself dry.

When I reached the top of the cliff, the truck was gone.

Inside, Maggie was leaning over the sink and coughing, the sponge in her hand. “House is a mess,” she wheezed.

“Let me,” I said.

I led Maggie to her big chair. I made her some coffee. She had a few sips, then her head fell back and she was asleep, the mug still in her hands. I set it on the table. I’d never seen her look so gray. And her legs looked funny—puffy and swollen.

She’d been doing too much. I hadn’t been helping enough.

So I got to work. I washed the dishes and dried them and put them away, quietly, so I wouldn’t wake her up. I swept the floor in every single room. I emptied the trash into the big bin at the back of the house.

Maggie stirred, and I made her a can of soup. She’d stopped asking me if I wanted some a long time ago. She took a spoonful, and another, then set the bowl back down.

And Jack was still gone. The air in the room felt lighter. We could pretend life was normal again, the way it had been.

I should talk with her about what to do, about where she could go and where I could go. I should make sure she wasn’t sending me inland. But I couldn’t figure out how to start.

I went gathering, and brought her mussels wrapped in seaweed, and put them in a bowl in the refrigerator. I heated up her soup and brought it back again, and she took another sip. “I’ll be up in a minute,” she said.

It was already past high sun. Maybe I should tell Maggie about Nellie. We could talk to the walrus. He’d help us figure out what to do.

“Maggie—” I said.

But she heard the tone in my voice and stopped me with a shake of her head. “I just want to enjoy this quiet with you, Ocean Boy. There’ll be plenty of time to talk later.”

And then there wasn’t.

Because the truck came growling up from the road. It lurched to a stop and Jack stumbled out.

Maggie gripped the arms of her chair.

Jack swept in like a storm. The air crackled in his wake. He reeked of smoke and the stuff he drank. He reached in his pocket and threw something down on the round table beside Maggie. Pieces of metal on a metal cord. He looked at Maggie like he was daring her. His chest rose and fell.

“What’s that?” said Maggie, too quiet. It wasn’t a question. She already knew.

“That’s the keys to my new boat.”

“Your boat.” Her mouth was a thin, hard line.

“I had to act fast, or she might have been gone.”

Her hands tightened. “I told you, that money belongs to Aran.”

I wanted to tell her it was fine, that Jack should keep the boat, but my mouth wouldn’t open.

Jack shoved his hands in his pockets. He looked out the window. “I figured you didn’t really think it through, Maggie.”

Slowly, with great effort, she pressed herself to standing. “You figured wrong,” she said. “You’re going to take that boat back.”

He tugged his hands from his pockets. The stone selkie flew out and skittered across the floor. Then his hands were fists. His shoulders lowered. He stepped closer.

“The hell I am,” he said.

Maggie stood tall. “If you keep that boat, it’s stealing,” she said. “The money is Aran’s.”

How could I make them stop? Jack’s tension filled the whole room, so tight it was about to snap—

They both grabbed for the keys at the same instant. Jack fumbled and Maggie snatched the keys in her fist, pulling them up and away from the table. Jack grabbed her wrist and jerked her close, and she stumbled, trying to catch her balance. The room was full of rage and fire, and I was dry tinder.

“Leave her alone!” I shouted, heat growing in my chest.

Jack didn’t hear me. He was beyond hearing. His grip tightened on Maggie’s wrist. “Give me the keys!” he said, and Maggie’s mouth dropped open in pain.

And then I was beyond hearing, too. I had to make him stop. But he was so much bigger than me. I reached for the first thing at hand—an empty bottle in the seat of Jack’s chair—and raised it over my head.

The motion caught Jack’s eye. He dropped Maggie’s wrist and whirled around, staring at me, panting. He lowered his head, and my grip tightened around the bottle’s hard, cold neck, and I held it high—

“Stop it!” screamed Maggie. “Both of you! Stop it right now! Stop—”

Her breath caught. A shudder ran through her like an earthquake. She struggled to draw in a breath—a terrible, endless gasping sound. Her eyes went wide. She froze, and the keys fell from her hand and clattered to the floor. Then she slumped like there was nothing holding her up anymore—no bones, no breath—and slid to the ground.

She wasn’t moving. Her arm was crumpled under her.

“Maggie!” Jack dropped to his knees beside her. “Maggie, come on, Maggie, wake up!” He reached an arm under her shoulders. Her head lolled to the side, the whites of her eyes showing.

The bottle dropped from my hand.

Jack stared up at me. “Look what you’ve done!” he cried.

Then he was gathering Maggie up in his arms. “We’ll take Harry’s speedboat,” he said, as if she could hear him. “Get you to the hospital. Hold on.” He staggered to his feet.

Was she breathing? I couldn’t see her breathing.

He carried her to the truck. The engine roared to life, and they were gone.