Page 4 of Little Saint Nautilus

Wheeling my kayak down to the shore, I looked out over the calm, dark water. Small swells rolled; not great for surfing, but that was fine. I needed to be on the water and feel that rush, even if it wasn’t to chase the waves.

I replaced my jacket with my zip-up life vest, unhooked the kayak from the cart, and dragged it into the water. The first flick of water against my toes had me jumping and tensing, but I pushed forward. A little cold water never stopped me. Not when I had my board, and especiallynot now with my kayak. I sat on the open surface of the kayak and paddled. Past the swells until I reached the back. The sun was just starting to break, and the scuba crew was making their way to the beach. For a moment, it felt like it was just me and the sea, sitting still and enveloped by the enormity of the ocean.

It was a fearful thing for most folks to be alone in the water, but I found serenity in it. Nothing calmed me more. Needing to feel more grounded, I hung one leg over the side of the kayak, letting it dangle in the water. My gaze was focused on the sky as I watched the black give way to purples and oranges. It was magical, a renewal. Whatever darkness came before washed away with the dawn.

Enraptured by the beauty nature offered, I scarcely noticed a ripple in the near distance. I looked around and saw a few other surfers now taking to the water, though there was a comfortable cushion of space between us. Out of the corner of my eye, another ripple appeared, a little closer than before. I scanned the surface, but didn’t see anything nearby.

Waves and nods were exchanged between myself and the other early morning surfers. I was no longer alone in the vastness of the ocean. Still, I remained in place, enjoying the calm. A bubble broke through the water only feet away from me. I stared at the spot, waiting to see if something or someone would surface, but nothing did. I wasn’t worried, necessarily, but it held my attention. I didn’t fear the sea,even after my accident, but I respected it and the creatures who lived in it. This was their world, and I was merely a guest in it.

A rush of water rolled beneath my dangling foot as if something had pushed past me. I flinched and moved my leg back into the kayak.

“What the hell?” I peered over the side, looking into the dark water, trying to see if something was down there. A bubble popped right next to the edge of my kayak. My heart raced as I scanned the area around me. Respect for the ocean also meant listening to it and being smart. For once I was glad I was in my kayak and not on my old board since it provided a layer between me and the water, no limbs overhanging. I held my paddle on my lap, prepared to use it, but not wanting to hurt or disturb whatever was below me.

The water vibrated with another propelling movement.Somethingwas down there. For some reason, the racing of my heart was mixed with a flutter in my belly. I wasn’t scared, cautious perhaps, but I found myself intrigued more than anything. The dream that had woken me early in the night was still so close to the surface that a weird feeling of hope bubbled up in me.

A quick glance around told me no one else had noticed anything. None of the other surfers or the scuba team felt any sense of danger. I leaned over the side again. It was too dark, nothing was visible, but something about it tuggedat me. Not sure what I hoped to accomplish, I stretched my hand down, wiggling my fingers in the water. It was foolish; it could have beenanything. For some inexplicable reason, I didn’t feel afraid of whatever it was.

A pulse surged beneath the water, and a flash of something light moved beneath me. Tendrils of some sort flicked around my fingers, making me yank my arm back in surprise. I stared at my hand. There were no marks or any indication that whatever touched me had any sort of barbs, teeth, or stingers, but a strange sensation remained. Somethinghadtouched me. There was a tactile memory that fought for a place in my mind, something I had felt before. Orsomeone.

Looking over the edge, I watched, waiting for any sign, any indication of what it was.

“Dude! You okay? Did you lose your paddle?” A surfer I recognized yelled from about a hundred yards away.

Just like that, the enchantment I was under was gone. Shaking my head to clear it, I held up my paddle. “No. I’m good, thanks, man.”

I took another glance around me, but I knew whatever—orwhoever—had touched me was gone.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I carefully placed one of the blades of my paddle into the water and pushed, then tilted it so the blade on the other side dipped into the water, and so on until the small waves pushed me into the sand. I sat, beached, long enough to invite concerned inquiriesas my mind was still trying to wrap itself around what had happened.

“Are you hurt? Do you need any help?”

“I’m fine. Honest. Thanks, though.” I waved off the runner in a full tracksuit and climbed out of my kayak, pulling it back to where I’d left the cart with my belongings.

Weird. Weird and…exciting. I might not have felt the same if it had been a jellyfish that caressed me with stinging tentacles. I looked at my hand again. It wasn’t a jelly. Sightings here weren't uncommon along the coast, depending on the season, but it wasn’t that, I knew it. And a caress? Why was that the word that came to mind as I thought of the strange touch I’d felt?

Shit, maybe I just needed sleep. Or coffee. I’d have to open my shop soon, so I would have to suffice with the latter. Coffee. Lots of it.

Everything inside of me zinged, my senses humming with excitement. A pull, stronger than I’d felt in a long time, drew me toward the shallow waters. I watched from below as the small boat sat on the surface. I’d seen them before, not usually so close, but something about it drew my attention. When the man’s foot touched the water, it was as if I’d been shocked by an electric eel.

I was compelled closer. I pulled out of my shell and shifted into my half-human form, letting my eyes and ears gather information along with my cirri—my tentacles—which used vibrations and touch to collect information. Needing to get closer, I propelled beneath him, zipping by, so tempted to touch him as I did, but not wanting to frighten him. His foot disappeared from the water and took with it the sensation that made me feel onfire within. The loss of it was almost as shocking as the first zap I’d felt.

Staying several feet beneath the surface, knowing the dawn’s light wasn’t bright enough to reach me, I circled, waiting to see what would happen. He didn’t flee or cry out. Instincts told me I was too close to the shore, too close to humans, that it wasn’t safe. But just as much was this deep need to see the one human I’d thought about for many, many seasons.

As I began to wonder if I would feel that sensation, or be this near to him again, I felt another pulse. I looked up to see his hand in the water. He wiggled his fingers, almost like he was calling me, inviting me, and I couldn’t resist.

I wanted to reach up with my own human hands, to entwine my fingers around his, but I pulled back with uncertainty at the last moment. Instead, I let my cirri explore him. It was a light brush across his skin, but it ignited something in me. A confirmation. Even having seen no more than fingers and toes, there was no doubt whatsoever that he was the very same human I’d rescued. The same one who stared at me through pain-filled wonder for a brief moment before he lost consciousness.

His hand disappeared from the water, and I knew the moment was over. I propelled myself deeper to retrieve the shell that had been cast off and glanced upward with a look of longing and regret as I saw his smallboat glide away. I clasped my shell to my chest, holding it tight, as I surrendered to the rocking motion of the sea.

With a pain in my chest, I shifted my form, shrinking to fit within my shell once more, folding in half as I filled the empty cavern within. Perhaps the ache would ease if I let my mind sink, and let my base form take over. Except… I didn’twantto ease it. Now that I’d found him, I didn’t want to lose him.

In my nautilus form, I shot through the water, cutting diagonally toward the shore, drawing closer and further from the man with each propulsion. I needed to see him, but I couldn’t abandon my shell to the sea, whose changing tides and activity might risk me losing it. I never ventured too far from it. Without my shell, I would be left vulnerable and couldn’t shift into my full nautilus form. Not only that, but it was my home, my refuge.

I followed the shore until I reached the small cove I’d explored the night before. Shifting into my full human form, I floundered for a moment as my two legs fought to keep me upright, pushing me to the surface. In this form, I needed to breathe air, and I always forgot how urgently it happened.

Gasping and coughing, I looked around in a panic to see if anyone had seen me, but fortunately, the cove was empty. I needed somewhere safe to keep my shell until I could return for it. Several caves were carved out of the bottom of the cliff that overlooked the cove. One was fenced offwith a lock, prohibiting access. The next one was open, with no fence. It had a low overhang, but if I crouched, I could enter it. It wasn’t a big space, but at least it felt a little more secure than leaving my shell beneath the water or somewhere out in the open.

I crawled to the back of the cave, about twenty steps, and tucked my shell against the rocky wall and packed sand around it, creating a small barrier in the hope it would protect it from the rising tide. I sat on my knees and stared at it with a mixture of emotions. Whenever I’d gone ashore in my human form before, it was always in areas that felt safe. I knew my shell would be right where I left it. But here?

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