Folk Haven Tales (Folk Haven)

Chapter 1

ISLA

As a responsible thirty-year-old woman, I have accepted that I finally need to collect my fated mate.

Hopefully, he will make the task easy.

I approach the front door of the MacNamara homestead. The collection of houses this selkie clan has on this expanse of lakefront property might be enough to earn the label of compound. But that word is too clinical for this family. And estate is too grand.

The moment I push through the door, a familiar face greets me.

“Isla! You came.” Sorcha MacNamara, matriarch of the family and host of today’s backyard barbecue, bustles down the front hall to stop in front of me, a sunburn flush on her normally pale white cheeks.

She reaches out to give my shoulder a squeeze, and I appreciate her remembering my preference.

The woman is a hugger. She pulls people in tight to her breast, wrapping them in strong, loving arms, and even goes so far as to wiggle them around while the embrace happens, as if needing to shake her love into them.

The first time I watched the spectacle, all I could do was stare in horror.

Then, she turned to me.

But even at the age of four, I knew what I wanted—as well as what I did not.

When she leaned in, I held up staying hands and expressed a firm, “No, thank you.”

Unlike many adults, Mrs. MacNamara listened. When she asked how she could greet me, I provided the shoulder option, and she has kept to it ever since. Even when it’s been years since I last saw her.

“I thought it was time I came,” I offer.

The woman’s smile stays soft on her pretty, round face. “Well, come on in, girl. Everyone is in the kitchen or out back. The kids are about to take pictures in their fancy clothes.”

Tonight is Folk Haven High School’s prom, and since the MacNamara parents love to host a gathering, they’ve decided to throw the town’s biggest pre-prom party. Which will no doubt bleed into a during-prom celebration. As well as a post-prom shindig.

All the MacNamara children graduated high school a decade or more ago, but that has never stopped their parents from celebrating. Everyone knows the school event is an excuse to invite half the lake over.

The thought of so many people crammed into this place has my skin tightening.

“Is Owen here?”

Sorcha throws me a curious look over her shoulder as we traverse her large yet comfortable house, dodging chatting partygoers along the way. “He is. Seems like most of the town is. And some guests”—she lowers her voice—“are humans. So, keep that in mind when conversing.”

“Of course.” Keeping the fact that I’m a mythical creature a secret is normal for me.

I spent years living in Portland, Oregon and no one in that city had reason to believe a selkie was walking among them. Even in Folk Haven, a town with a larger mythic population percentage than anywhere else in the world, a good portion of people I interact with on a daily basis are humans.

I know how to be circumspect.

Unfortunately, this means I’ll have a harder time managing a candid conversation about matehood. Surely, I can convince Owen to join me in a quiet room somewhere.

We arrive in a kitchen filled with warmth and laughter and people. Lots of people. I clutch my bag closer to my side to avoid inadvertent touching.

“Look who I found at the front door,” Mrs. MacNamara announces to the group, like I’m an exciting addition to the party.

I’m not.

My appeal is in my unlikeliness to spill or break something in another person’s home. Not to provide entertainment in any way—unless this group would like to start a debate team–like discussion centering around electrical engineering, I’m not on the top of anyone’s social list.

Still, I do my best to smile at the assembly and acknowledge the waves in my direction. I know many of these people from my early years spent in Folk Haven. They know exactly how much to expect from me.

“Hi, Isla,” a husky voice calls my attention, and I find Moira MacNamara—the eldest of the MacNamara siblings—approaching. “Are you here for fun or to warn us that the dam is about to break and flood our party?”

I cross my arms over my chest, clasping my elbows to make myself more compact as teenagers in formalwear scoot past me in the crowded area.

“You would receive notice of that through emergency alerts. And if the dam were to fail, Lake Galen’s water level would slowly lower.

Only those downstream would need to worry about flooding hazards. ”

Moira stares at me, her smile staying in place. Waiting.

“You were joking.” I should have realized.

“And I always enjoy your practical response more than halfhearted laughter.” She leans in to mime an air kiss an inch away from my skin.

Another agreed-upon greeting. “Glad to see you out of your office.” She turns toward the other side of the room.

“Calder,” Moira yells her brother’s name.

“Get Isla a ginger beer, one shot of vodka, and three lime wedges.”

The youngest MacNamara grins over at me from his spot at the bar and gives a wave of acknowledgment.

I nod back, a content hum filling my body that this family knows me so well.

Growing up, I always felt more comfortable in their household than my own, where the rules were looser and love flowed without the undercurrent of anxiety.

Hopefully, this familiarity will help me meld into the MacNamara clan once I officially mate their brother Owen.

If only I could find him in the crowd.

Moira gets caught up in another conversation while I move to collect my drink from Calder.

“Hey, Isla. Done earning your PhD?” he asks while staring over my shoulder.

I nod. “Six months ago.” Which is why I returned to Lake Galen. My educational and professional goals have been reached—for now. Time to pursue personal matters.

“That’s impressive.” He lowers his voice. “I’m actually working on my master’s in business. Tougher than I thought, going back to school.”

“It’s a good choice. You’ll likely earn a high GPA and find the degree beneficial.”

Calder’s cheeks color—a habit I remember him having whenever people discuss him in a positive manner.

“That’s nice of you to say.”

I shrug. “It’s the truth.”

Most people who return to earn a degree later in life take their studies more seriously and earn higher grades. They also tend to choose degrees that more closely align with their careers, meaning the education will be more useful.

But I’m sure he knows that.

“Hey, uh, did you happen to see anyone else out front when you first got here?”

“Please be more specific.” I sip my drink and mentally list off the people I observed when walking from my car to the house.

“She … well … she’s this beautiful woman. Dark hair like yours but a lot longer.” He eyes my inch-long tresses before glancing back at the door. “Sometimes, she wears glasses. Her name is Delta. New to town.”

“I didn’t see anyone like that.”

The man stares at the cups he’s been stacking in an impractical pyramid formation. “Oh.”

“If I meet a dark-haired woman named Delta, I’ll inform her that you’re looking for her.”

Calder gives me a full-faced smile. “Thanks for looking out.”

After a nod, I ease away, noticing how a larger crowd has formed around the bar, which means around me.

A greater population of people does increase the likelihood of locating Owen, but the presence of so many bodies presses against my skin in an uncomfortable way.

I head for the back door, discovering another MacNamara sibling sitting by himself on the porch. But it’s the wrong one—again.

“Hello, Seamus.”

The man turns to me, brushing curly brown hair out of his eyes. Moira and Calder have the same unruly mass as their brother, but Owen shaved all his off at the start of our senior year in high school and never stopped, last I checked. A practical choice.

“Isla. Good to see you.” Seamus’s smile is reserved in the same way I imagine mine often is.

However, I’ve watched this man become boisterous and outspoken when among his family. I’m never boisterous and only occasionally outspoken. Normally, the anomaly occurs at work when a man attempts to tell me how to do a job I was hired for.

“You’re not enjoying the party,” I point out.

His smile widens, and I wonder why the fates did not pair the two of us together. Our personalities are a much closer match.

But maybe the gods prefer variety in their pairings.

“Are you?” Seamus watches me as I sip the drink his younger brother made me.

“This tastes good, and I have a task to complete. I enjoy striving for and reaching goals.”

“And drinking vodka while doing it?”

“That helps.” We share a smile. “Where is Owen?”

Seamus raises his eyebrows until they disappear behind the curls that still linger over his forehead. “Down at the dock. You need him?”

“Possibly.” I stroll away, heading for the stone path that leads down to the large dock, which juts proudly out into the greenish-blue waters of Lake Galen.

Do I need a mate?

Not particularly.

Do I want one?

I’m here, so it would seem that, on some level, I do.

In that case, yes, I do need Owen.

After skillfully maneuvering through another crowd by the water that must surpass triple digits, I finally spot him.

Owen MacNamara stands on the far edge of the dock.

As I watch, he tilts his head back, downing a beer in a few deep swallows, his strong neck muscles working with each pull.

Everything about Owen is strong. The man has a broad chest and defined arms, all on display, as he’s currently shirtless.

In the years I’ve spent away, he’s gained more mass to his figure.

Not that I’m complaining. There are many ways that ample muscle is useful, both inside and outside of intimate relations.

He is a view to be admired, and I appreciate his form as I approach.

“Hello, Owen.”

At the sound of his name, the man faces me, a smile lighting up his broad features.

Promising.

“Isla! It’s been forever.”