CHAPTER 82
Naked, with a mermaid atop her was not ever how she wanted to be found, by anyone, least of all Mr. Wilson.
But here, she had no choice. “Mr. Wilson, please don’t shoot!” she cried over Kallias’s shoulder to his great displeasure.
“Daria? Dear God, is it really you? I…I know you said you could never shoot someone, but this is different. Daria, he’s…he’s….” He couldn’t even finish it, so perhaps it was not that Kallias was a mermaid but what he was so clearly doing.
“No, my asking has nothing to do with my distaste for killing.” She looked to Kallias. “Get off me and go in the water. Out of sight for now.”
“But—”
“No. I can handle this. You being here will just make it worse.”
He looked so heartbroken by the words, but after a second, he nodded.
“Mr. Wilson, avert your eyes, won’t you? I’m not decent.”
“Oh, oh, I mean, yes,” he managed awkwardly.
Kallias gave her one last displeased look. “Are you sure?”
“Very. Please trust me.”
The corner of his lip pursed downward in a frown, but with a nod, he was in the water, and in only seconds, he had seemed to disappear, though she assumed he was somewhere nearby.
She hurriedly got back into her clothes. Mr. Wilson was in her father’s old boat, some thirty feet offshore, his left hand holding the lowered gun, his right over his eyes.
“Okay, Mr. Wilson,” she said.
He removed his hand and looked around the little cove. His eyes seemed to settle behind her, no doubt to the trampled bed of flowers.
“I can explain,” she said.
His eyes seemed to ask, ‘Can you?’ but he was clearly too stunned to speak.
“If you just allow me a moment, I promise—I mean, well,” she stammered awkwardly. “I could make some tea? I could explain over tea.”
His nod was very, very slow. “Tea would be fine. Let me row closer.”
But when he rowed closer and she stepped on board, he came to her, his hands hovering over her as if he could assess any damage. “Daria, did he hurt you?” His hand lightly touched her cheek, but the concern was so tender she did not push him off.
The gentle touch lasted but a second as she answered, “He did not,” and the hand dropped.
His eyes were so pitifully sad, so horribly heartbroken that she felt bad for saying it.
But she might as well say it now, tea be damned.
“Mr. Wilson, I hope you do not think poorly of me. I promise you last night was our first—what I mean to say is….”
She paused, steadying her breath, realizing she had looked anywhere but him.
But when she met his eyes, she felt hers again dropping.
“I married him,” she said. She was sure it was a horrible place to start a story, but she didn’t want him to think of her as some whore. “Last night. We got married.”
“Married?” he repeated, again with that slow, drawn-out nod as if he could not even begin to understand.
“I mean, not in church, but still before God. I’m not just saying that. But it’s not like I could bring a mermaid to a church and I really didn’t want people finding out about him and—”
His two hands on her upper arms stopped her.
“I think we should get you to the priest. You can’t marry someone you just met, and perhaps more importantly, he’s not human.
I don’t say this to discredit you, but if mermaids are real, as they apparently are, then we must consider the stories, and sirens bewitch people to their deaths.
It makes sense that he bewitched you since you’re always out here alone.
In fact, perhaps Mr. Runington is not as crazy as I thought—though he is still an ass—but maybe the ‘ghost’ he said he saw is in fact that creature.
Either way, the priest will know what to do, and we’ll get someone to hunt that thing down.
He’ll regret touching you.” Again, he brushed his finger against her cheek.
She took his hand with vengeance, realizing too late that how frantic the move was would not help her credibility here, so she just as quickly let it go. “Mr. Wilson, I’m not under some spell, I assure you. I…” It was so hard to say for it meant she had been lying to him for quite some time now.
She sighed. “Kallias…Kallias is the one who saved me the night of the storm. He had been trying to save the captain, but the man was already drowned, so when I fell in, he took me to shore.”
The man looked shocked at her coherence, but at least he seemed to be listening.
“The next day I thought I saw something in the water. I thought it might be a body, so I went back out and there he was. I was so startled I fell out of the boat, but he put me back in. He couldn’t speak English at first, so I acted out stories and he’s been hanging around ever since.”
Shock had turned to some kind of dumbfounded horror, but he still said nothing, so she once again continued. “I…I really am sorry I lied to you when you shared about your mother and mermaids. I felt awful for doing it, but I was so worried about anyone finding out about him and hurting him.”
“Hurting him?” he asked immediately. “What of your own reputation?”
“Until last night, it would have taken no damage.” She frowned. “Well, perhaps that’s not true. I suppose alone with a man is bad enough, isn’t it?” she said with a rueful huff. “But then, just you and I did that.”
“Indeed we did,” he said, looking now only sad. “Is he why you rejected me from the start?”
“He is. I’m so sorry. But if you got to know him, you would see how kind and wonderful he is. He’s so sweet and so curious and so attentive and caring.”
“He is not human.” His voice was soft but desperate. “Surely he must be one of those cursed creatures, cursed to move on their bellies all their lives.” He was referring to the curse on the snake in the Garden of Eden, wasn’t he? How dare he compare her darling to the devil?
“Is it your own hurt fueling those words, Mr. Wilson?” she asked. “For I do not see you cursing dolphins and they are not much different.”
“You have not married a dolphin.”
“No,” she agreed. “And that would be quite strange.”
“It’s hardly any different! He isn’t human! He merely looks like a man!”
“And speaks like a man and cries like a man and smiles like a man and cares and hurts like a man. Why should I treat him any differently for missing legs when his heart is the same?”
“My God, Daria,” he said, rubbing his face. “How can I tell if you are possessed or in love?”
“It would be a hard task indeed. If not for the fact that I’ve loved him all along. That’s why I told you not to come. But you came anyway. You said we would be friends. Do friends not congratulate each other on their weddings?”
“Friends would likely be invited.” It was a low blow and he immediately apologized. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he said, now rubbing the back of his neck. “Will you at least see the priest with me?”
“I’ll see him, but you mustn’t say a word about Kallias. You must swear to that.”
He looked so torn.
“Mr. Wilson, a real priest would be able to tell I’m not under a spell without hearing about Kallias.
But assume Kallias is just a mermaid I’ve fallen in love with.
Can you imagine what the Mr. Runington’s of the world would do to him?
They treat people like possessions for nothing but a difference in skin or gender.
They ruin whole lives for nothing but an appearance.
Can you imagine what they’d do to him? Please, Mr. Wilson, I beg you to swear to silence and to never speak of this in all your days.
Please, please. I will bathe in holy water if it makes you feel better, but you mustn’t tell a soul why. ”
His smile grew even sadder. “I doubt you would be willing or coherent if you were possessed,” he said. “And forgive me for being so reluctant to say it.” He pulled out a small cross necklace from behind his shirt and pressing it to his lips, asked, “May I?”
She nodded and he took if off and put it against her forehead. “Do you love him?” he asked.
“I do. Very much.”
“And you’re not possessed?”
His heart sounded like it was breaking, and she felt awful for the truth. “I am not.”
He dropped the necklace from her head and took as many steps back as the boat would allow him. “Then Miss Wains, do forgive me for interrupting such a private moment this morning.”
She didn’t know if it was the shame of the event or the misery of losing her, but he could not look her in the eye.
No, instead he looked to some random spot on the floor of the boat.
“I came to bring you this gun.” Now he looked to it.
“I know you said you didn’t want it, but”—he finally looked up—“well, with the way Mr. Runington was acting, I was worried he might come before your scheduled day when I was not around.”
He looked at her so pleadingly. “Please, Daria—Miss Wains.” He grimaced as he corrected himself, but then he realized, “Oh, does this mermaid have a last name?”
“He does not.” Or really, he had never mentioned one.
She felt silly to say that she had married him without ever asking something so simple, but did such trivial things matter in comparison to matters of the heart?
And really, she wanted to know everything—and it was that fact that made her feel not quite so awful for not knowing if he had any other names, for if she wished to know all of him, in time that meant she would.
“Then Miss Wains—”
“Please call me Daria. You always have, even when it was against what was proper.”
“And you have always called me Mr. Wilson. I suppose I should have taken the hint.”
Not that it was ever meant to be a hint, but she wouldn’t say that now.
“Mr. Wilson, I’m sure it’s for the best. Would you really want to live at this lighthouse?
Probably not. And I have no wish to start a family, while you have always seemed like you would make a wonderful father.
I’m sure I could not have made you happy. ”
His eyes said, ‘But I was happy with only having you beside me,’ but gentleman that he was, he stiffly swallowed it back and nodded. “Then, Daria, please, I beg you. Take the gun. I will still come Tuesday, but just in case.”
She took it from his hand.
“Do you know how to shoot it?”
She shook her head.
He started showing her, explaining this and that, how to reload and how to aim. Upon further questions, he was showing her the inside and explaining how to clean it and how it worked—for as a carpenter his mind often went to such questions too.
It was a marvel, one she could appreciate even if she didn’t appreciate what it did.
He hadn’t brought any extra bullets; it was loaded with six still. She doubted she would even use one.
“If nothing else, it should startle them off,” he said. “Kallias won’t be able to defend you, so you must protect you both.”
It was so sweet that he was already thinking of such things. “You’re such a good man,” she said.
“I said you would have a friend in me, didn’t I? I was the fool for never acting for all these years. I must not allow myself to grow bitter to you for it.”
Yes, a good man indeed.
“Still,” he continued, starting to actually row the boat. “I want to meet him.” He headed them toward the dock. “I know you speak highly of him, but it would greatly ease my mind.”
She nodded. “I think that’s fine. I think you’ll like him. You’re both similar in a way. Kind to a fault.”
“You would not say that if you heard my thoughts,” he teased.
“Oh, I don’t know. My father used to say that courage was not the absence of fear for there was no courage without it. One cannot be brave over something that does not bother them. Goodness is probably the same, no? How could you be good if you never had the chance to choose the darkness?”
He smiled, though there was still a touch of melancholy. “Perhaps you’re right.”
“I am sorry though,” she said. “I never meant to hurt you.”
“It’s alright,” he said, looking to the lighthouse. “Just tell me you truly love him and that he’ll be good to you and love you back, and that will be enough for me. First and foremost, I want your happiness, Daria. I’ve always wanted your happiness.”
“Are those really the words you want to hear?” she asked, the corner of her lips now turning up in silent sadness. Why torture himself like that by hearing about their happiness?
But he said, “Yes, in fact, I need to hear it. I need to hear that you love him and will truly be happy for all your days.” He snorted a laugh. “You look at me like I’m a masochist, but tell me it and fully end my misery, Miss Wains. Masochism would be to not hear it.”
“I love him,” she said. His swallow that followed was tense. “I love him with all my life.”
He nodded as if coming to a conclusion. “Then that is enough for me. May I still visit as a friend?”
“Always.”
“And may I speak to him man to man? You have no men in your family now. Let me make sure he treats you right.”
She laughed. “He will. Don’t scare him off.”
“I won’t,” he said, now actually smiling. “I promise. I just need to make sure he’s good enough for you. I don’t imagine there is such a man, but just enough. Maybe half as good.”
“Don’t flatter me, Mr. Wilson,” she said, laughing.
“No, it’s a tease. I would never flatter a married woman, Mrs. Wains. Even if it’s you.” And he looked as if he wanted to say more—one might almost guess ‘I love you’—but chose not to.