Page 14 of The Lighthouse Keeper and the Mermaid
She paused. Maybe he wasn’t supernatural. This wasn’t like those stories of men transforming to beasts or ghosts floating through walls. A mermaid felt very possible indeed—explainable even—no different than a shark, whale, or dolphin.
And if that was the case, then it was merely his beauty that so enthralled her. It was possible; he was certainly beautiful enough.
And by God, how she wanted to see him again.
The night passed too slowly and no ships passed during the storm, and when the rain stopped sometime near dawn, she fell asleep on the floor near the light.
CHAPTER 9
Daria jolted awake. She was on the floor and the light had burned itself out. She jumped to her feet, then to the window. The sun! It was halfway across the sky.
Knowing she had a million chores to attend to—but frankly not caring—she ignored the glass cleaner and rags beside her and descended down the stairs, taking two at a time. She had haphazardly tried to tell him to meet at dawn. Now it was almost noon. What if he had come and been insulted by her absence? What if he never came back?
Once clear of the steps, she bolted even faster out of the house and practically flew across the gravelly sand path that curved down to her dock.
She didn’t see him and her heart lurched. If he had come and she had missed him, she’d never know!
“Mermaid!” she screamed. “I’m here!” A ridiculous thing to call. Her voice likely wouldn’t travel a foot underwater, and he couldn’t understand her even if it did.
Now the dock was fully in view, her boat bobbing gently at its spot, but no mermaid. Her spirits dropped. Had he ever been here?
“Mermaid?” she called again, feeling desperate as she stared out at the horizon.
Well, he didn’t have a reason to come back, did he? And even if he had, he didn’t have a reason to stay and wait. Her spirits dropped further but she couldn’t blame him.
Feeling like she was literally deflating where she stood, she sighed heavily. No, he didn’t owe her anything at all, especially not waiting for hours. Even if he had shown up, it would have been soeasy for him to thinkshehad abandoned him, or even worse, that he had misunderstood altogether.
She—
She froze. There on the bench of the boat was a massive conch, easily as big as her face.
She hopped over to the boat, trying her best to ignore the sudden pounding of her heart. Picking it up and flipping it over, she saw it was empty, so with no critter inside, someone elsehadto have placed it here, and she doubted a bird could pick up something so meaty.
Her cheeks were already lighting up with heat; she could feel it. He had come back. At the very least, she could know that.
Would he come back again? What if she left him something too?That truly would be the start of a friendship, wouldn’t it?she thought, feeling almost gleeful. She had never had a friend before, not truly, for she never saw anyone more than the one or two days a year that she was allowed to leave the lighthouse. Lionel and her father had developed a friendship because Lionel would fish nearby the lighthouse and they could chat that way, for a lighthouse keeper was never to leave their post. But she had never had such a friend—the annual visits to Mr. Wilson were the closest she had ever had. But this sounded like the start of a friendship to her.
Taking the shell, she climbed back on land, and once at the lighthouse, she began scouring her things for something a mermaid might like. She didn’t have much. Never going to town meant never leisurely buying anything either, and the shipping company’s supplies only consisted of, well, supplies and she doubted a tin—full or otherwise—would really excite a mermaid.
And it wasn’t like he could read either—or at least not her language—so that ruled out books as well, which consisted of most of her possessions. Anything else had come from her grandfather’s travels and Father had loved them so that it seemed nearly sacrilegious to let them leave the lighthouse.
Oh! In the drawer, she found some stunning teal sea glass that matched his tail perfectly, and now as it rolled in her hand, it made her think of him.
Hmm, but what was a mermaid to do with glass? Did he have a home with possessions too? She supposed it was possible, but it was probably more likely he was like fish and dolphins, and she hadn’t heard of them ever having homes.
She pushed through the objects in her drawer,only to find more pieces of sea glass—greens and whites and deep blues. She had always thought they were beautiful but had never known what to do with them, but…maybe if she got some thread, she could weave it around them and make a necklace. She loved the idea, loved imagining it on him, but there was no way she could finish it in a few hours, and she didn’t want him to think she had taken his gift and given nothing in return.
So what then? What?
She groaned, feeling ridiculous for not being able to come up with something, but everything seemed pointless to give to a mermaid. Paper couldn’t get wet. Clothes weren’t needed. It wasn’t like he had pockets to carry miscellaneous trinkets with him, and most of the things her grandfather had brought back were too big anyway.
But finally, a thought jumped into her head. Biscuits! Rose had given her the recipe and assured her it was not hard and she had all the ingredients she needed. She’d bake him biscuits. What better token of friendship was there than food?
It did not occur to her until they were made and she was heading to the cove with them how many problems arose with biscuits. One, she had no way to leave them that the birds would not get them. Two, with his teeth, there was a very good chance he could not eat something like biscuits.
She felt like a fool. Of course he couldn’t. Where would he get biscuits—or wheat for that matter—in the ocean? Bread would fall apart in a second when wet. Idiot!
She almost turned around and she would have if there hadn’t been a pale-haired mermaid waiting by the dock.
