Siren's Call

Not even a ghost of amusement lit Sam’s eyes. “Yes. Except, like I said, they aren’t exactly mermaids, although they must be closely related.”

“C’mon. I’m not a kid anymore. You don’t really expect me to believe that tale. Surely you don’t either, do you?”

“It’s passed down from our ancestors.” Sam’s eyes flashed and his spine stiffened. “Every word is true.”

Nash kept his face blank and his tone neutral. “I mean no disrespect.”

“Of course you do. You think I am a foolish old man.” Sam eased up out of the chair and stood, looking out to sea.

Nash reached up his hand and touched his grandfather’s knee. He might be a skeptic and occasionally amused at his grandfather’s ways, but he would never think him foolish. “Not foolish. Please sit.”

Sam stayed rooted, as if debating. Finally, he sat. “I’m an old man. I’ve kept in shape by walking these woods for years, but my time’s short. So while you’re here I need to explain more of your heritage.”

“I’m listening.” He felt chastened like a small child. “I respect my people and their ways. Nothing will ever change that.”

“I know it makes you uncomfortable when I speak of the spirit world. But it’s there. It’s real. Just as you are sensitive to nature and its creatures, my gift is seeing the spirits around people. They can be human, animal or plant spirits, sometimes all three.”

“Father said you chose my name because you saw a wolf spirit near me.”

Sam nodded. His serious, deeply lined face rearranged to an unexpected, wistful smile. “When you were born, I fasted three days and went on long walks, seeking guidance. The first time I held you in my arms I heard a wolf howl. I envisioned a pack of wolves celebrating your birth, tails wagging, the males wrestling one another in a show of affection.”

“So you named me Nashoba—Choctaw for wolf.” He’d heard this before, remembered Mom rolling her eyes at Dad’s insistence on naming their children with traditional names. “So how did you end up with a name like Sam?”

“My parents did it to honor a gentleman named Samuel who was good to them. He hired my father as a laborer and paid him a decent wage for the times. But my middle name is Chula.”

“Chula means fox,” Nash said, combing through his memory of their native language.

Sam fixed his gaze back to the water’s expanse with an absorbed look Nash remembered from childhood. He would stay in this same spot for hours in deep contemplation, the fishing pole loose in his hand like an afterthought.

“Do you think about grandmother out here?”

She’d died decades ago from a boating accident. The one memory of his grandmother was of her shucking corn in the kitchen. The room was cozy and warm, smelling of fried goodness, fresh vegetables and herbs. When he’d entered, her dark eyes sparkled in greeting. She’d dropped to a knee and held out her arms and he’d run into them. The safest, most loving, secure spot in the universe. And it was but a thirty-second memory.

“Yes. And all the others that have passed before and since.”

It was a shame he’d never remarried. Nash struggled for words to convey sympathy while not sounding like a condescending jerk. “I wish you would leave this place. At least for a few vacations. You should see new things, meet new people.”

“I can’t leave.”

More like don’t want to leave. Sam was old and stubborn as barnacles clinging to a ship hull. No changing him at this late date.

The silence stretched between them as the sun had completed its day’s journey and disappeared. All that remained was the water’s memory of it in coral-and-purple sheens that rippled in the Gulf breeze. Grandfather turned to him. “The spirits say it is time.”

“Time for what?” So that’s what he did alone out here—communed with spirits. He should have guessed.

“One last story.”

Alarm brushed the back of his neck like a nest of crawling spiders. He half rose. “Do you have chest pains? Should I call a doctor?”

“It’s not my time tonight. Although it draws near.”

“Don’t say that. There must be something the doctors can do.” A suspicion gurgled up. “Are you taking your medicine? You can’t depend only on the spirits and herbs for healing.”

“There’s more to tell you of the Okwa Nahollo,” Sam continued, ignoring Nash’s question. He fixed him with sharp, dark eyes. “You are a descendant.”

“Of the mermaids?” Nash scoffed. Really, Grandfather had gone too far this time.

Sam’s jaw clenched and his mouth set in a determined line. “It is in your blood.”

* * *

“I want purple or pink highlights. Something striking.” Opal fingered a lock of lavender in Lily’s hair. “Something deeper than this.”

No point mentioning the subtle pastels in her hair were entirely natural. Fortunately, Lily kept a rainbow of hair-dye colors stocked because so many requested some version of her unusual hair hues. The beauty shop, Mermaid’s Lair, was officially closed, but Lily did the odd job for customers who begged for her service. Plus, it was convenient for Jet and Shelly to come in for weekly hair-and-nail maintenance—important because both grew at three times the normal human rate.

Jet winked at Lily from behind the desk where she sat running the numbers for their various family businesses: a maritime and antiquities shop, aquatic therapy and the small income from the beauty shop that kept the rent and utilities paid.

“You made a grand total of fifty dollars in profit last quarter,” Jet said, frowning.

Lily laughed, expertly assembling mixing bowls and chemicals. “Ah, but it was double that amount if you included tips.”

“I’ll tip handsomely,” Opal promised, an earnest look on her face.

Probably thought she was broke. As if. Lily styled hair because she enjoyed it and was good at it. “This is on me.”

“Maybe you should reopen full-time,” Jet persisted. “It would give you something to do.”

Hell, no. She’d had enough of the town women’s snotty, superior behavior and the men ogling her breasts as she stood close by to trim their hair. Besides, shop hours would interfere with her painting.

“Don’t need to.” They were stinking rich.

“But you’re home alone. What do you do all day?”

Lily shrugged. “Paint.”

“She’s really good,” Opal cut in. “I saw her sketchbook.”

“Sure, I know that.” Jet waved a hand around the room. “She did this, after all.”

Opal surveyed the varying shades of coral, rose and ivory on the walls. Lily had painted pearly tones that gave the effect of being enveloped in the shelter of a giant conch shell.

“Remarkable,” Opal said in a hushed tone.

Lily felt a tiny glow of satisfaction at the praise. She’d spent lots of time with Opal the past couple of days, enjoying the novelty of shopping with a girlfriend and showing her around the bayou.

“But I don’t see art as a career path.”

Jet’s acerbic observation squashed the flicker of warmth. Her sis was in a lousy mood today. Must be some hormonal pregnancy thing.

Lily absentmindedly brushed Opal’s red hair. She’d been thinking of entering the prestigious Garrison Hendricks art contest. All finalists would be invited to showcase their work at a premiere gallery in New York City. The chances of placing were slim, but the rewards could launch her fledgling dreams.

The click of Jet’s fingers on the adding machine resumed.

“How’s Nash’s work going?” Lily asked Opal casually.

“It’s been a challenge, but he enjoys it. Doesn’t he talk to you about it?”

“I haven’t talked to him in a couple days. Maybe I’ll run out there tomorrow.”

Opal winked. “Bet he’d love to see you. You two can pick up with the passionate kiss I interrupted at the picnic.”

The clicking stopped. “Passionate kiss? I thought you were seeing Gary Ludlow,” Jet said.

“I cut him loose last week.” Lily sharpened her scissors, ignoring Jet’s exasperated sigh.

“One day you’re going to run out of men to date around here,” her sister warned.

Lily placed chunks of Opal’s hair between her left index finger and thumb and made the first cut. She didn’t defend herself against Jet’s remark. It wasn’t that she deliberately set out to hurt anyone. When she saw it couldn’t work, she ended it quickly, figuring that was the kindest thing in the end.

A ping sent Opal scurrying through her purse. “Gotta take this,” she apologized, scooting out of the chair. “Is there somewhere I can talk privately?”

Lily pointed to the break room in back.

“Be back in a minute.” Opal hurried away, the black vinyl cape flapping behind her like a bat.

Jet arched a dark eyebrow. “Kind of secretive, isn’t she?”

“A little.” She wondered if Opal’s boyfriend might be married.

Jet sipped from her water bottle, then set it down slowly and deliberately. Her gaze drifted to the shop window. “I went for a swim last night and the current brought interesting news.”

“Let me guess. Mom’s coming.”

Jet nodded. “Judging from the sound-wave strength and pattern, I’d say to expect her in about two days.”

Mother was the last person Lily wanted to see right now.

“Maybe she wants to check on you. Make sure everything’s okay with the pregnancy,” Lily said hopefully.

“Nah. It’s you she’s concerned with.”

Lily swept up snippets of Opal’s hair on the floor, aware of Jet’s scrutiny. Damn, she didn’t want maternal pressure to leave the bayou for good and “resume her rightful position as the best siren of the sea”—words her mother eschewed with increasing regularity. Mom had gone from baffled to miffed to frustrated over the past few visits.

A few minutes of silence descended before Jet spoke up. “You okay?”

“Nothing I can’t handle. She’ll just pester me to take my rightful place with other merfolk.”

Jet regarded her, eyes direct, brows knitted and chin down. A fierce look that Lily knew masked concern. “Not such a bad idea. Especially with this Twyla business.”

“Twyla still bothering you?”

Lily jumped at Opal’s voice and cast a furtive look at Jet, wondering how much Opal had overheard. She patted the seat for Opal to sit down. “Maybe.”

She stirred the color and developer together and brushed streaks of color on Opal’s hair. The bright colors should perk up the rather plain face with its scattering of freckles and a slight scar that spread across one cheek. “This is a temporary dye,” she explained. “You can try out the effect and see how you like it.”

Jet persisted with her questioning. “What does maybe mean? Either she is or isn’t bugging you.”

“I got several hang-up calls last night. They never spoke. After the third one, I turned off my ringer.” The scissors trembled slightly in Lily’s hands as she trimmed a few uneven locks of Opal’s hair. “When I checked this morning there were seven missed calls and no voice-mail messages.”

“Ouch!” Opal swiped the side of her neck and stared at a blood splash on her fingers.

“I am so sorry.” Lily grabbed a towel and wiped the nick. “That’s never happened before.” Geez, how embarrassing.

“No problem, I’ll live,” Opal assured her.

Jet cut in, still focused on the phone calls. “Did you call back the number on the screen?”

“Of course. But I got a recording saying the number was no longer in service. Must have used a throwaway phone.”

Opal circled her index finger around her right temple. “Somebody’s cra-zee.”

“Say the word and I’ll have Landry talk to Twyla,” Jet said.

“No need to drag him into it.” Lily didn’t want her brother-in-law knowing her business.

A collective mewling of cats turned their attention to the shop front. More than half a dozen felines in various colors and sizes perched along the window ledge, motionless and unblinking except for licking their mouths. As if they observed a delectable treat fit for a feast.

Jet frowned. “We ought to bring Rebel to chase them away.”

“Dog’s so ugly he wouldn’t even have to bite or bark to scare them,” Lily said drily, returning to the familiar routine of coloring and styling hair.

The three settled into a comfortable silence as Jet continued crunching numbers and Opal observed Lily at work.

A loud rap on the front window scared off their cat stalkers. A husky guy wearing a camouflage shirt waved and motioned for someone to open the locked door.

“Who’s that?” Opal asked.

Lily unfastened her apron with a sigh. “Gary.”

“Thought you broke it off with him,” Jet said.

“I did.”

Jet scowled at Gary and motioned him to go away.

Gary rapped harder on the glass. “Open up,” he yelled. “I need to talk to you, Lily.”

People passing by on the street stopped and stared.

“He’s making a scene,” Opal noted, tapping her lips.

Jet stalked to the front door in brisk strides. “I’ll get rid of him.”

“No. Let him in before he breaks the glass,” Lily said. She picked up a pink chiffon scarf from the counter and knotted it at her throat, hiding the faint line of scars where gill slits aligned both sides of her neck. She didn’t bother with it around Nash because he’d seen the marks when they were children and she’d made up a story about an accident. And she hadn’t bother to cover it up around Opal. Seeing as she had her own scar to deal with, they figured she wouldn’t ask prying questions.

“You sure?” Jet hesitated, hand on the doorknob.

Lily touched her scarf in a silent reminder.

Jet turned up her collar, covering the gills that were also three inches in length on either side of the neck, extending from the top of the collarbone to her windpipe.

At Lily’s nod, Jet unlocked the door. The smell of whiskey preceded Gary as he staggered straight to Lily.

“Whatever I done wrong before, Lily, I’m sorry.” His eyes were weepy and red-rimmed, yet also held an odd glimmer of hope.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Lily said, sweeping up her station. “I wasn’t feeling it anymore.”

“But why? I must have done something.”

She almost winced at the pleading note in his voice. Best to cut him off quickly.

“I promise whatever it was, it’ll never happen again.” He stumbled closer and drew his face next to hers, trying to kiss her cheek.

Lily stepped back, eyes watering from the whiskey fumes on his breath. She hated these kinds of scenes.

He straightened, took off his baseball cap and began twisting it between his hands. “I couldn’t believe it when I got your message. Thanks for giving me a second chance.”

“Message? I didn’t send you any message.” Her sympathy vanished. Stupid drunk. What a lame pretext to make a play at her again. “For the last time, Gary, I’m not interested anymore. Let’s leave it at that.”

He flushed. “I can’t believe this. I thought you wanted to get back together but you’re so...” he waved a hand in the air “...so cold-acting.”

Lily shrugged. “Move on. I have.”

Gary rocked unsteadily on his heels, as if she had struck him. “But...I broke up with Wanda to see you.”

Jet stepped in front of him. “You heard her. Time to move on.” She laid a hand on his arm and pulled him forward.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Gary jerked his arm back and glared at Lily. “Not until she explains why she’s playing games.”

Lily crossed her arms. “I’m not playing and I don’t like your game.” Despite the show of bravado, Lily’s stomach fluttered. Had someone—Twyla—set this up to cause trouble?

Opal stood and placed a hand on Gary’s arm, trying to ease the confrontation. “This is obviously not working out. Maybe you and Wanda can get back together.”

“But I want Lily,” he insisted like a two-year-old denied his favorite toy. He advanced toward the object of his desire.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Jet clamped an arm on him and yanked. “Time to go.”

“No, I don’t want— Hey, you’re strong.”

Lily almost laughed at his stunned expression. Jet, with her rare blue mer-clan bloodline, had the strength of two men. Too bad they didn’t share a paternal parentage. The physicality could come in handy.

Jet pushed him out the door hard enough that he fell on his ass. Gary shook his head as if to clear his mind, obviously stunned he’d been manhandled by a woman. Jet locked the door behind him and pulled down the shades.

“Wow.” Opal pressed her fingers into Jet’s biceps. “You’ve got muscles.”

“Um...yeah. I work out a lot.” Jet went back to the desk and resumed working, head bent over the figures.

“Do you get that a lot from old boyfriends?” Opal asked. “Must be scary.”

“Sometimes. He was more forceful than most.”

Opal clutched the plastic cape closer to her body. “Twyla might have done it to piss you off.”

“Maybe. You think so?”

“Sure. Could be a warning for you to cool it with the men awhile.”

Lily studied Opal’s blue eyes. They were shot through with alarm. Nice to have someone outside of family actually give a damn.

“You could be right.” Lily lifted her chin. “But my interest isn’t with a local man right now. That should keep me safe.”

“Really? I wouldn’t be so sure.” Opal absently ran an index finger over the scar on her cheek. “If I were you, I wouldn’t see anyone for a few weeks. Let everything cool down a bit.”

Lily lifted her chin. “No way. Nash will be gone by then.”

“Okay, ignore the warning signs. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.” She crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap. “Your decision.”

Chapter 6

The red moon of August lay low and full, as if scorched and swollen from summer’s heat. Lily’s step skipped in time to the rhythm of her rapid pulse. It seemed like it’d been three weeks instead of three days since she’d seen Nash. She grinned at the sight of his truck and the light in the cabin. Even better, Sam Bowman’s vehicle was gone. She rapped at the door, feeling like the wolf descending on the innocent Little Red Riding Hood.

The door flung open and she was eye level to Nash’s bare chest. She looked up and stared into verdant green. He registered no surprise at finding her on his doorstep. Casually, he leaned an arm against the doorframe.

“You again,” he said, voice tinged with smoke and velvet.

The low, deep timbre of sound vibration made her gut clench. Is that what her voice did to men? It was wonderfully disturbing.

“What kind of welcome is that?” she purred, reaching up and laying a hand on the curve of his jaw.

Nash stepped away from the heat of their touch and waved her inside. He shut the door behind her, and Lily was struck by the fact they were alone and sheltered from the world. A cozy company of two. Without a word, Nash walked into the den, snatched a T-shirt from the back of a chair and pulled it over his head.

Darn it.

“Why are you here, Lily?” he asked, plopping down on the sofa.

She sat across from him and crossed her legs demurely. “To see you, of course.”

“What do you want from me? I get the feeling it’s not to resume a childhood friendship.”

She leaned into him, resting her hands on his bare knees. “Don’t you find me attractive?” Her lips curled upward, certain of his answer.

“You’ll do, I suppose,” he said drily.

Lily straightened. “Why are you so hostile? I thought after our kiss we were on more...friendly terms.”

He frowned. “You know I’ll be leaving in a few weeks. I’m not the settling-down type.”

But that’s because you haven’t known me. “So you say.”

He crossed his arms, studying her. “I’m not in the market for a permanent relationship.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Nashoba Bowman. You haven’t heard me say I want anything of the kind.”

“Then that leads back to my original question. What do you want?”

You. I want you. “While you’re here, let’s see what happens,” she answered carefully. After what had happened with his past two girlfriends, she didn’t want to push too hard and scare him away. “Look, you used to be my best friend. Can’t we at least be friends now and explore if something else is there for however long you’re here?”

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