Mermaid (13 page)

He didn’t hear the man’s reply, but it didn’t seem to satisfy the little girl, because she moved from the bow seat, awkwardly clinging to the side, toward the center of the boat. The man with the camera was paying her no more heed than the one behind the wheel, and as she stood, teetering, Mark’s heart stopped. What in the hell was the matter with those men, letting a six-year-old child scramble around unaided in that damned little rubber raft?

He saw her hunker down, gripping the front of her life jacket. He saw that her head was drooping, but after a moment she lifted it. Whatever she said was too quiet for him to hear, and he leaped from rock to rock, racing out onto a long point exposed by the low tide in order to get closer to her.

“Mr. Larson, how much longer?” Mark heard her ask again.

“I don’t know, kid. Look, you wanted to come. Nobody forced you. So if you’re bored with waiting around, don’t blame me.”

“I’m not bored. I don’t feel good.”

Of course she didn’t feel good, thought Mark. What the heck was the matter with Larson? Why didn’t he start the engine in order to keep the bow pointed into the waves? That way, the rolling and pitching wouldn’t be quite so uncomfortable. He was about to shout out his suggestion when the two men in the rubber boat consulted in indiscernible words. He heard the engines rumble to life, and he sighed with relief. They were going to bring her aboard the big boat where she’d be much better off, he thought.

But to his amazement, the cameraman was the only one who left the Zodiac, leaping onto the rocks of a small island offshore, shouting to the men on the cruiser to focus right.”

Then, quickly, he held up a hand. “There she is. Now, quiet, everybody.”

Of course. That was why the engines were shut off, why the boat had been sent to drift out of the range of the cameras. Suddenly with a disgusted shout, Ken Bristol, congressional candidate, flung his rod to the deck in a fit of temper that would have done credit to a four-year-old. “Oh, hell, the damned line broke.”

Jillian must have surfaced then, because he went on, “For Chri—Pete’s sake, Jillian! What the hell are you trying to do? You’re going to have to go down again, and this time don’t put up much of a fight. We need to make it look good, but not so good that you break the line. Where the hell’s that diver with her air supply? Okay? Everybody ready?”

Obviously everybody was because another rod was put into the candidate’s hands, and again the cameras panned the water, the fisherman, and the photogenic shoreline, waiting for the moment when the even more photogenic mermaid who would bring much publicity to the candidate’s “Clean Up The Oceans” campaign.

What they did not photograph, however, was the little girl leaning over the side of the Zodiac being sick, and the look of utter disgust on the face of the man at the helm, who only glanced at her over her shoulder then turned away.

Mark muttered a curse, peeled off his shirt, and hit the water in a shallow dive. He stroked strongly toward the bouncing boat. As he reached the side, the man at the wheel never even noticed him, so intent was he on watching what was happening farther out. He noticed, though, when Mark reached up and pulled himself half-out of the water beside the sick little girl and said, “Amber, honey, it’s Mark. Want to get off this boat?”

She opened her eyes and looked at him woefully. She was crying. She nodded and clutched at his wrist. She sniffed and tried very hard to smile.

“Mark, I got sick. My tummy hurts.”

The man in charge of the rubber boat scrambled out of his seat behind the wheel and stumbled back to where Mark hung beside Amber. “Hey, Mac, get the hell away from this boat. There’s something important going on here.”

“This,” said Mark, putting his hands under the waiting arms of the child who hung over the side, utter misery on her face, “is more important.” With that, he drew her over the side and down into the water with him. He kicked away from the boat.

“Hey! What the hell?” The man, Mark noticed, managed to keep his voice at a faint whisper in spite of what was happening. “You can’t do that!”

But Mark already had.

“You want to come with me for a swim, baby doll?” Mark asked her. “We’ll go ashore, okay?”

“Yes, please.” Amber showed no shock, no fear, only kept her wide, trusting eyes pinned on Mark’s face. She nodded vigorously.

Mark stroked hard with one arm to take them farther away from the oar man had now lifted and was stretching it out toward them. He kept on talking as he moved her away from the boat out of reach now of the oar now aimed threateningly like a javelin.

Mark knew it was an empty threat. As empty as the whispered order that Mark “bring that kid back here right now, or else!” The man was a functionary, one who couldn’t begin to think for himself, not even when he knew the child left in his care was being swept away by another man right before his eyes. He had been told to keep quiet, and keeping quiet was all he could do.

As concerned as the man might be about his charge being kidnapped, clearly he put a whole lot more importance on not raising his voice or starting the outboard engine during the filming on the other side of the large boat.

“You can come to my house until your mom’s finished work,” Mark said to Amber, grabbing hold of the loop at the back of her life jacket and rolling her over onto her back, towing her along with him.

She tilted her head back and gave him another smile, this one more assured. “Sure, Mark. And you can let me go. I can swim, you know. Even without a life jacket. You just stay beside me so I know which way to go.” He could see she was worried, but determined not to show it.

Mark nodded solemnly. This was one very little girl in a very big chunk of water, and he thought she was showing a lot of guts. With deliberately loud instructions to the man in the Zodiac as to where Amber could be collected, he swam away with the bobbing, life-jacketed child toward the shore, talking gently and reassuringly to her all the while until his feet bumped up against the rocks and he waded ashore, carrying her.

Mark decided it was almost as much fun as catching a mermaid. Especially knowing that just as soon as her job was finished and his mermaid found out what had happened, she’d come swimming ashore after her child.

He laughed aloud as he stood Amber on her feet and hauled the wet life jacket off her, leaving her in soaked shorts and a T-shirt. He led her to his house, wondering what in the world he would dress her in. He decided Edward would be the one to take care of that. He was going to have to go back to the rocks at the edge of the bay and wait for a mermaid. He found himself crazily, childishly excited about his next meeting with Jillian Lockstead, mermaid.

He was sitting on the rocks twenty minutes later while Amber, who had completely captivated Edward, played with the vanful of furniture and the house he had brought for her this weekend in spite of her mother’s protest.

He had left the elderly man and the little girl arguing like a pair of opposite-minded interior decorators over the placement of furniture in the rooms of the log house.

He sat there for what seemed like far too long a time, watching the Zodiac drift. Then drifted back. It floated, bobbing, bouncing against the rocks, disappeared around the other side of the cruiser, and he started to feel flutters of anticipation inside his stomach, much the way he had when he had been thirteen and had decided that he was going to try to kiss Shelly Morton.

As he gaped in shock, the cruiser’s engines started up with a deep rumble, the anchor was pulled back aboard, and the big boat left, Zodiac in tow. Mark stood, shouted Jillian’s name, even though he knew no one aboard the yacht could hear him, he shouted again. Then, as the large swell of its leaving came rushing ashore, Mark glanced down and caught a glimpse of blue-green just under the surface, a sheen of golden fire just under the surface swirling in a coil. At that moment, he was off the rocks, into the water, and gathering up his mermaid once more.

It was awkward because this time she wore scuba tanks. He felt her chilled arms come around his shoulders and staggered back until he was sitting on a rock in water up to his middle. He peeled the mask off her and she spat out the mouthpiece.

“Where’s Amber?” she demanded, and then sat forward so he could relieve her of the tanks and flotation vest.

“Having a wonderful time with Edward. It was a case of love at first sight.” He paused, deliberately meeting her gaze, and added “Another one.”

To his consternation, Jillian dropped her eyes and stared at the tanks he had removed from her back. They floated, bobbing, bouncing against l he rocks, hoses looking like fat, orange snakes. “Another one?” she whispered when she finally looked up at him, her eyes wide.

And then Mark did what he had wanted to do the first time he had hauled this mermaid out of the depths. He placed his lips over her cold, salty ones and kissed them until they were warm and sweet and parted for him. Her arms went around him, and she responded as wildly and as I hotly as he’d known she could, dreamed she would. Even more than he’d remembered, more than he’d hoped, she was answering his most urgent question whether she knew it or not.

Her mermaid suit was rough against his arm, is scales pressed into his legs, and the thick textured fabric over her breasts kept him from touching her as intimately as he wanted to. But this time there was no babbling little voice in his mind telling him that it was impossible for him to be holding a mermaid in his arms. When he lifted his head and stared at her beautiful face, once more he felt a bubble of joyous disbelief welling up inside him. Because, even if he didn’t truly hold a mermaid in his arms, in his heart he again held magic, and in his soul there was a brand new world.

And this time he knew it was for more than just one moment.

Slowly Jillian opened her eyes and said, “Oh, my,” before she felt his mouth descend onto hers again, felt its incredible heat, felt once more the hardness of his chest and the breadth of his shoulders and knew she had been waiting for him all her life. She gasped, her lips parting to admit his tongue, and a delicious heat rose inside her, warming every part of her, even her chilled skin.

When he next lifted his head, they stared at each other for several seconds. “ ‘Oh, my’, is right,” he said, and she smiled weakly, feeling as if she had just tried to take a breath from an empty air tank. By the time she had managed to inhale, she was light-headed, dizzy, ready simply to let go and drift.

As their mouths crushed together once more, the wash from a passing boat caught her tail and lifted it, tilting them backward. Then they were both underwater again, arms and legs and tail tangled, her hair floating across his face. His hands caught the strands and shoved them aside as his lips reluctantly left hers and they surfaced.

It was all they could do to catch their breath before they were locked together again in a tight embrace, sitting waist-deep in the water, clinging to each other, oblivious to their surroundings.

“I wondered,” she said moments later, running her fingers through the thick, dark brown mat of hair on his chest. “I wondered what it would be like.”

“You knew what it would be like the same as I did,” he said roughly, his apparent confidence a thin mask for his insecurity. “You spent all week wanting to kiss me again, just as I spent all week lying awake aching for you. Didn’t you?”

She nodded, smiling happily at him. “Only I didn’t remember exactly what the impact would he,” she admitted.

“I didn’t expect it to be quite that...uh—impactful either,” he said in a ragged voice. “If just a kiss after a week of missing you is so explosive, what is it going to be like making love when time comes, Mermaid’? Think about that one.”

Her gaze flew to his face. Her hands stilled on his chest.

Mermaid. He still thought of her as the fantasy creature he had caught on his line. And maybe it was just as well. She forced herself to smile and swam a few feet away from him. Catching onto the air tanks they had let go of earlier, she lifted them onto the shore, set her floating mask and snorkel beside them, out of reach of the waves, then flipped onto her back, stroking away from him, thinking about what he had said—not that she needed his encouragement. She’d thought about little else since she’d last seen him.

Mark grinned and dove after her, lifting her high as he carried her carefully up over the rocks until they were lying on the hot shale with the sun beating down on them. He closed his hands over hers, flattening them to his chest. She wanted to pull away, but her strength was puny compared to his, and her will was even more so as she lost herself in the blue of his eyes.

Mark swallowed hard, his eyes burning into hers as he tugged her hands up around his neck. “Jillian. When?”

“When?” she echoed, her heart going wild.

“Yes, when,” he said impatiently. “When can we be together?”

“We... we are together, Mark,” she said. “I mean... we’re in the same place.”

“That’s not what I mean. Not what I want. I want—” Dammit, he hadn’t meant to do it this way! He had planned it so differently, all slow and soft and sweet with candlelight and music. But his need for her overwhelmed him and he heard himself blurt out, “I’m in love with you, Jillian. I want to marry you. I want you. And I know you want me.”

“No! No, you don’t want to marry me!” She pushed him away. “You said you never wanted to get married again. And you don’t know anything about me, Mark. You don’t know—

“I know I love you,” he said. “Sure, until today I didn’t think I wanted to get married again. But while I was waiting for you, watching what was going on out there, thinking of you down in the cold water where you didn’t want to be, I wished there was some way I could have the right to demand that those men get you out of there. I realized that there was only one way for me to have that right, that marriage is the only thing that makes any sense for us.”

“Mark, no, we—”

“We have to be together, Jillian. You know we do. Because not only do I love you, but you love me, don’t you? Tell me,” he said hoarsely. “Jilly, tell me you love me!”