The Selkie (3 page)

Maggie tried to smile as they headed out the creaky front door and back to Liz’s car. She knew they meant well. They’d been close to Nora, and would have wanted to help.

“
Just not right now,
”
she murmured as they disappeared down the road.

She meandered slowly through the old house, quietly touching Nora’s knickknacks, and there were a great many of them. Phyllis was probably right. Gran had been somewhat of a hoarder. She could never resist picking up a pretty bottle or antique necklace from the local market. But Maggie didn’t mind the clutter. Right now, it was comfortable. She almost felt she could absorb her grandmother’s presence through the items she’d left behind.

Nora had been the last surviving member of Maggie’s family. Maggie’s parents had been dead for years, having perished in a car crash together. In a way, this death was harder to take. Nora MacLean had been a larger-than-life personality, a strong woman who’d been passionate about her Orkney heritage and its rugged landscape. She’d played host to her granddaughter many a summer, and Maggie adored her with a fierceness that was unparalleled. The old woman’s death was quickly sucking the life out of her.

She decided she would stay on in Kirkwall for a time after the funeral. Exploring St. Magnus Cathedral and roaming along the beaches would remind her of the times she’d sat at Nora’s knee, listening to the old woman spin tales of the mythical Finmen and seductive selkie folk.

She just had to get through the funeral now. And try to figure out what she would do with Nora’s estate. She knew Nora would have wanted her to stay in Orkney, but the quiet, seemingly magical, island was worlds away from downtown Toronto.

“
Of course,
”
she reminded herself as she fingered the yellowed piece of lace that acted as a tablecloth on the kitchen table,
“
there’s really nothing to go home for anyway.
”
The idea of heading back was currently as appealing as diving into a pool of piranhas wearing a meat bikini.

The last three months had been some of the worst in Maggie’s life. Losing the job that had been her passion. Being granted the glorious opportunity to see her ex-fiancé cheating on her. And then a series of discouraging temp jobs that never seemed to lead to anything more substantial than one-week assignments. To say nothing about the fact that Matthew wouldn’t leave her alone. He kept calling, kept trying to apologize. Luckily, although she’d had some lows, she never reached the kind of low that might send her tumbling back into a cheater’s arms.

Now, with Gran’s death, it felt like the last possible rug had been pulled out from under her.
This
was low.

In truth, things had been bad for a while. Before Matthew, there had been another failed engagement to a man who had seemed promising at the time. Sure, at first, Bobby had been all wine and roses, or more like beer and carnations. Still, he’d been kind and sweet.

But it had turned out the salesman had a woman in every port. Her first cheater. What a milestone.

After that experience, Maggie had figured she could spot a liar at a hundred yards. So why had her cheater radar failed so spectacularly with Matthew? Perhaps she just hadn’t been willing to see it. Maybe it had just been easier to pretend.

She was now determined to swear off men altogether.

And she couldn’t even run into the welcoming bosom of her family anymore. Mom,

Dad, Gran, they were all gone, and she was reeling from the pain.

She needed ibuprofen. She needed to get her life back in shape. It was all she wanted now. Some semblance of normalcy. A good job. And given her current hatred of the male species, she was seriously contemplating a lesbian love affair.

Her head pounding, Maggie trudged upstairs and threw herself on Nora’s bed.
“
Just a short nap,
”
she said to herself, knowing she needed rest before tomorrow’s funeral.
“
Then Liz and Phyllis can fuss over me again.
”

Nora’s pillow felt unfamiliar and she couldn’t get comfortable. She sat up and grabbed the pillow, meaning to give it a good fluffing, but somehow knew sleep wouldn’t come.

It was then that she remembered the cookie jar. Gran had never forgotten her love of sugary cookies, and had had a significant sweet tooth herself. Nothing had given the old lady more pleasure than to sneak cookies to Maggie when she was a little girl. To aid her in this quest, she’d kept her biscuits in a cracked jar on her kitchen counter. Maggie now wondered if she might find a stash in that same jar. Perhaps coming down from a sugar rush might help her sleep.

She padded down to the kitchen, which still appeared well stocked for a nuclear attack, and looked around. The old, red jar was still there. Grinning in spite of herself, Maggie lifted off the cover. There were indeed cookies in there, her favorite kind with the bits of sugar on one side, but there was also a piece of paper wedged at the back. Curious, Maggie stared at the paper while she inserted most of a cookie into her mouth. And then she reached for it.

When she saw it was a note from her Gran, she almost spit out what was left of the cookie. And when she saw what it said, she almost tossed all her cookies.

Maggie, my love. I knew you’d want a wee sweetie, and I thought this was the safest place to leave you a note.

There is a special part of your inheritance that I have had to hide. I dare not even mention the hiding place here. It isn’t safe. I shall have to trust you to find it. Just look in the places that meant the most to me.

It is the skin of a selkie. Once you find it, and find it you must, you are not to give it away until you’re done with it. Keep it hidden. Maggie, trust no one with it. There are those who would go to great lengths to steal such a prize. When I discovered it on the beach, I wanted it for you, and you alone. It can bring you great pleasure, something you haven’t had in a long time.

It belongs to my friend Calan Kirk, but he mustn’t have it back until you’re done with it. I explained that to him. I know he needs it, and he’ll try to get it back. When he realized I didn’t want it for myself, he said it had to be returned to him. I suggested we settle the matter in a friendly game of poker.

Thank the Lord your granddad taught me all those poker tricks!

I won it from Calan fair and square. Don’t get me wrong. Calan is a good man, but even he cannot be trusted with the selkie skin. Do not put it in his hands until you no longer have need of its powers.

You must find it. I won’t rest unless you do.

I love you, my wee one. Stay safe.

Maggie breathed in.
“
Hidden sealskins? Yuck.
”

Surely these were the ramblings of a sick, old woman. And yet her Gran had

mentioned Calan Kirk again, and she wasn’t even dreaming this time. What did she mean when she said she won the sealskin from him? Maggie could just picture the sight. Two old people playing cards for a smelly animal pelt. It was almost sad.

If it weren’t for the parts about not resting and trusting no one. That was just plain scary. What would make her Gran so paranoid?

She sat still, not sure what to do next.

It took all of thirty seconds for her curiosity to get the better of her. She turned and eyed the piles of books and figurines and small appliances ordered from the television. The mass of stuff around her. Where did one begin in such chaos?

Look in the places that meant the most to me.

Tentatively, as if she were being watched, Maggie took a step into the living room. Gran had an antique chest, one that had been reclining in the corner longer than Maggie had been alive. She knelt before it, unlatched the rusty latch, and raised the lid. She winced at the loud creak. The smell of old mothballs greeted her. With her nose wrinkled, Maggie reached in and burrowed through the worn blankets and clothing Nora had stopped wearing in the seventies.

“
Go-go boots? Please tell me these weren’t yours, Gran.
”

There was a noise somewhere outside. Without even thinking, Maggie pulled out her arm and slammed the lid shut. She quickly fastened the old latch. Then, without understanding why, she ran around the small house, locked the door, and shut all the blinds. Only after she was satisfied that no one was about, did she make her way back up to bed.

Yet, as tired as she was, she still could not sleep.

* * * *

“
More wine, please, Annette,
”
called Calan from his place at the end of the bar,
“
and another oyster platter.
”

The pub waitress did her best shimmy as she approached him with an inviting smile.
“
Why, Calan Kirk, that’ll be your third oyster platter tonight.
”
She leaned over his table, giving him an eyeful of carefully propped-up cleavage.
“
Are you fortifying yourself for the evening’s adventures?
”
She reached out a finger to twine in his long hair.

He pulled away, but gave her what he hoped was a kind grin.
“
Not tonight, pet.
”

Human women. The grasping, gullible creatures.

She pouted, her rouged lips curling into a perfect, little pucker.
“
But it’s been so long since you visited me.
”

It had been a while. Months, to be cock-teasingly precise. And for someone with his appetites, it was a bloody sacrifice. But as much as a mere whiff of Annette’s perfume used to tighten his trousers, now the sight of her ample bosom left him limp. And it was all Nora MacLean’s fault. Damn that meddling, old woman.

Calan swallowed. He hated making women sad, even the human variety. The very idea grated on his fraught nerves, but it was best to make a clean break of it.
“
Annette, you know it has to end. We’ve talked about this.
”

The waitress blanched.
“
Is it another woman?
”

Shite
. He didn’t even know how to answer that question.
Was
there another woman? Was it possible that Maggie Collins was more than just a tempting dream? Or was she a sin-inspiring succubus sent by the devil himself to torment him?

Why did his life sometimes seem like an endless cycle of trying to escape those soft-skinned beauties?

He knew the Collins lass was in Kirkwall. It didn’t take long for news to spread on the island, and the place was abuzz with word of Nora’s Canadian granddaughter. He just hadn’t been able to seek her out in person yet, despite his promise to Nora.

He needed Maggie to do a little something for him first.

How on earth would he introduce himself to the petite redhead? Not that introductions would be required. Surely, she’d recognize him as the stranger she’d been having intense, sexual dreams of for months. As the creature who’d been haunting the periphery of her fantasy world, egging her on in her nighttime touch fest because it aroused him as much as her.

He shook his head, wishing he’d never lost that damned card game and subsequently, the pelt. It would teach him to drink and gamble at the same time. But he’d made an oath to the dying woman, hoping to appease her, when all he’d wanted was the pelt.

When Nora had found his pelt on the beach during one of his swims, he’d thought he’d have to
entertain
the stout, old woman. She’d gotten a strange look in her cloudy eyes then, telling him she wanted him to please her lonely granddaughter instead. He’d explained the magic only compelled him to pleasure the finder of the skin.

“
So be it, Calan,
”
Nora had answered.
“
You are obliged to pleasure me. However, I daresay my old parts will not accommodate yours, and I shan’t break another hip. Therefore, the only thing that will give me pleasure is if you satisfy my Maggie.
”

The cagey, old woman had found an interesting loophole.

He’d sputtered and griped but it had been hard to argue with her logic. After all, in doing this, he’d be pleasing Nora and the magic would be appeased. Still, he’d argued his point, feeling put in his place.

Nora had tittered.
“
Poor lad. Would it ease your mind if we played poker for it? If you win, I’ll give you the pelt. If I win, you take care of Maggie.
”

“
A tad unorthodox,
”
he’d grumbled. Still, he’d agreed, thinking he’d trounce the old bird.

It hadn’t quite gone that way. Nora had plied him with booze, and he’d lost in a spectacular fashion. The deal had been done. It was his duty to lavish Maggie with some selkie attention, and to look after her, as Nora had requested.

Because he could tell the old woman was dying, he’d given her his word.

And now, for some bizarre reason, he couldn’t think straight for thoughts of Maggie. Even though he’d only glimpsed her in dreams. Not that it really mattered
how
he glimpsed her. For someone like him, dreams were a powerful method of communication. Why, he’d carried on entire conversations with family members in his dreams! And now, he felt as if he already knew Maggie, not that he’d asked to know her, although they hadn’t spoken a single word to each other in the conscious world.

In his dream life, they’d done a lot more than just speak. And that was the only thought nowadays that put a bulge in his pants.

“
I asked you a question, Calan.
”

He looked up at the barmaid. Damn. He’d forgotten all about her.
“
I’m sorry, Annette, really I am.
”
He offered her the charming smile that had raised the skirts of many a barmaid over the years.
“
But I’ll take that wine and the oyster platter as soon as you’re ready, pet.
”