1. Chapter 1 #2
Daren glanced down at where he had set his credit card. It was there, but on top of it was his mauve-mouth drill shell. “Oops!” He reached to reclaim it, not having realized he had pulled it out of his pocket with his wallet. But how had it ended up on top of the card?
Curtis halted Daren’s retreating hand with a clamp of his own. “Hold on a minute. This beauty would be good enough to sell. Shelling on the rocky cliffsides?”
“Obviously not,” Daren said, allowing Curtis to take the shell to inspect it.
“Then where did it come from? Unless this is as close to companionship as you’re open to these days, and if that’s true, dude, get a dog.”
Daren huffed, which transitioned into a longer, drawn-out sigh. “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”
Additional intrigue entered Curtis’s expression, and he passed the shell back to Daren with a promised, “Cross my heart and hope to die, I will not give your secrets up to the tourists.”
“Actually, it’s more the other townies I’d worry about.” Daren leaned in closer to whisper, even though they were currently alone. “I fished at the estuary. You know, the one no one fishes at.”
“And you found the shell… where?” Curtis asked with a scrunch of his nose. “Not diving into the water this time of year, and the shore’s all rocks.”
“I can’t explain it. One minute there was nothing, the next… it was resting on the edge of my boat. I actually wondered if Kisulkw was giving me his blessing to be there.”
“Or Glooscap.” Curtis chuckled.
Glooscap was sort of the Mi'kmaq and other indigenous Wabanaki tribes’ version of the Polynesian demigod Maui.
While not quite Moana’s Disney version, Maui and Glooscap shared striking similarities in their respective mythologies, primarily as cultural heroes and tricksters who would use magic to help reshape the world.
“Glooscap did the King Arthur thing, right? I shall return someday!” Curtis boomed theatrically. “Maybe that estuary is where he’s been hiding.”
“Or maybe an ambitious fish spit it at me.”
Curtis laughed and finally took Daren’s card to start ringing up his items. “You should give something back.”
“What do you mean?”
“You were allowed to fish there, caught a ton, and were even given a token like a return wristband at a club.”
Daren snorted.
“I’m serious! Next time, bring something for Glooscap or Kisulkw or whoever it might be and see what happens. Where’s the harm, right?”
“I’d say none if I didn’t really distrust that grin of yours.”
Curtis always had a bit of a tease and mischievousness to his expression, which was why it surprised Daren how quickly his widening grin fell when the door chimed with the entrance of another customer.
A handsome, young tourist of a customer. Daren had seen him around before and, given the nature of their small town, knew this kid wasn’t a townie.
“Hi, Mr. Selvik!” the young man greeted.
“Hey, um, Bradley,” Curtis greeted, tripping over his words a bit.
Tripping over his words was something Curtis never did with tourists. He never did that with anyone. He was a perpetual ray of coquettish sunshine. Daren had never seen him look… flustered?
Bradley, who Daren took for maybe twenty-two, was bundled up even more than he was, like the usual overprepared tourist with Nova Scotian weather in January. Better than the underprepared ones.
“Hi there!” Bradley greeted Daren just as warmly.
He had gorgeous dark skin, long dreadlocks spilling out of his hat, and eyes even bluer than Curtis’s.
Daren definitely understood the attraction, but seeing nervousness on Curtis’s face was new.
“You local too? I’m Bradley Cooper—no, not that one.
” He chuckled as he offered Daren his hand.
“I'm here studying how different coastal protection methods compare in effectiveness against erosion.
You know, doing field surveys, drone mapping, that sort of thing.
Most of the research team is a town or two up the coast, but a few of us were assigned here.
I'm hoping to become a climate adaptation specialist, making sure towns like this one are prepared for the worst and don't get washed away or anything.” He laughed again, lyrical and genuine sounding.
His handshake was firm and friendly too.
“Important work,” Daren said.
“You don't mind having extra tourists around?”
“We don't consider researchers tourists. We've seen our fair share over the years.” What Daren hadn't seen was Curtis becoming twitterpated over one of them. “And yes, I’m local. If you’ve eaten any fish while you’ve been here, I’m probably the one who caught it.”
“Oh, awesome! Well, it’s all been delicious. Hey, Mr. Selvik, do you have any more of those, um, the scone things that sound like loose skin?”
I held back a laugh as Curtis answered with a stuttered, “L-l-lusknikn.” He cleared his throat as if that was the reason for his words catching. “There, um, might still be some in the bakery section if you look.”
“Cool! I shared mine with the team, and they ate them all! I’m gonna keep this batch to myself.” Bradley ended on a wink, then turned back to me. “Nice meeting you, uh… oh, shoot, I didn’t get your name. Sorry, I am a scatterbrain with anything outside research.”
“It’s fine. I’m Daren Montgomery. Nice meeting you too, Bradley.”
After Bradley headed for the bakery section, Daren turned his own teasing smile onto Curtis. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d gotten to do that.
“Given the way you just lost your tongue for the first time possibly in your life, you’d think you were the one who’d just seen Glooscap.”
“Oh, shut it,” Curtis hissed, practically throwing Daren’s receipt at him.
Daren knew that if it had been any other out-of-towner, Curtis would have waxed poetic about his lusknikn recipe, and how he slaved over every batch himself.
Curtis wasn't Mi'kmaq, but he had a knack for baking traditional fare. Daren heard once that the scone-like lusknikn might have been a cultural exchange between the Scots and indigenous tribes, and even if not provable, he’d always liked that idea, given his own mixed heritage.
After all, sometimes opposites attract and their differences make them a better pair than if they had been the same.
Like a confirmed bachelor nearing middle age and a twenty-something researcher.
“You get off at eight, right?” Daren whispered, much to Curtis’s panic given his frantic glances toward the bakery. He was safe though, as Bradley hadn’t returned yet, so Daren winked in encouragement before gathering his groceries to take his leave. “Have a good night, Curtis.”
He doubted that’d be enough to get Curtis to act if he was really so smitten, but hopefully he’d bolster himself eventually—preferably before the researchers’ surveys were finished.
Daren knew he was being a bit of a hypocrite, given he never took chances on love, but that was because he didn’t want to. He didn’t need love.
He’d never found anyone he wanted to take that risk on anyway.
So he went home, showered, cooked his dinner for one, and ate in front of the TV, sipping whiskey to compliment the steak, and eventually made a hot toddy to warm himself before bed.
A touch beneath the covers warmed him a bit too. Better than Curtis’s offer, honestly, especially if Curtis had the chance for something more with someone else. But not with Daren. Daren doubted there was any man out there who could change his mind. What he had was enough. What he had was easier.
Safer.
Even in its monotony.
Daren didn’t waste time on other spots the next morning but motored straight for the secluded estuary.
Like the day before, he caught his quota in no time.
Also like the day before, when he was ready to leave, one moment there was nothing on the edge of his boat, and the next, after a telling splash, something glittered at him in the cold winter sun.
This time, the gift, as he’d had to admit to himself it was, proved to be even less likely a fluke of random waves or a passing seagull. It was a small teal-colored glass bottle, something that might have once housed medicine or ink, lost to the depths of the sea.
Then found again on Daren's bow.
It couldn’t actually be from the gods, could it? Even so, Daren decided that, tomorrow, he would bring a reciprocating gift like Curtis had suggested. Just in case.
LILO
The human accepted the offering like he had the day before, smiling beautifully beneath his many strange layers that were not actual parts of his being. Clothing, was it? He looked very nice in them. But what did he look like under them, Lilo wondered?
That answer might never be learned, but if he returned again tomorrow, another gift would be offered in the hopes that he might respond and keep coming back.