The Mermaid's Curse (California Mermaids Book 1) (9 page)

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Xavier

The house is ominously quiet when I stumble in the front doors a few minutes later. I find my parents at the dining room table, taking their coffee in silence. Naturally, Amelie is nowhere in sight; I’m sure that she’s still in bed at this early hour. I wish that she were here to act as a buffer.

As I pause in the doorway of the dining room, Father’s head snaps up from his coffee cup, and his face instantly turns a rage-filled bright red. His nostrils flare like a bull about to charge.

He doesn’t waste time with greetings. “How dare you run away from Victoria last night? She was beside herself.”

I swallow hard, wishing that I’d taken the time to think up a really believable excuse. As it is, my brain is so addled that I have no other option than telling the truth, but it’s probably for the best. I know I’ll have to do that anyway, sooner or later. “I was meeting someone.”

Father draws in a ragged breath, and Mother says in her musical voice, “Meeting someone? Like a girl?”

I nod. “I met a girl at the beach the other day, and I really like her. Last night, we went for a walk. She’s a wonderful person, and I want you to meet her, too.”

An amused smile flits across my mother’s delicate features, but Father scowls, his face contorting into a mass of wrinkles and folds, like a pug dog.

“Another girl? Xavier, you know full well what's expected of you, and that’s a union with Victoria. That makes sense—her father and I work together. Imagine how your marriage would revolutionize the banking industry. We’d be combining two phenomenal fortunes.”

I shake my head, sliding into my seat as Nelly, the maid, bustles in with a cup of black coffee and a tray of breakfast pastries. I nod a thank you as she places the coffee in front of me, and I grab a croissant off the top of the pastry tray, suddenly realizing how ravenous I am.

I take a huge bite of the pastry and wash it down with a swig of coffee before answering. “You're forgetting, Father, that I don't care about money. Victoria is a nice girl, but Oceania is really special.”

“Oceania,” Mother repeats, spreading a nearly translucent layer of jam over her croissant and taking a miniscule bite. “She sounds special. What a beautiful name. It’s so harmonious, like a symphony of letters. Fairly magical, too.”

Father grumbles something unintelligible under his breath before he says in a louder voice, “Beautiful name or not, I want to know who this Oceania is, and where she’s from. You say you met her on the beach, but who is her family? What kind of girl goes for a walk at midnight with a boy she barely knows—un-chaperoned?”

“You'll find these things out in time, Father. In the meantime, can't I at least bring her home to meet you?”

“Absolutely not." He pounds the table with his fist for emphasis. I jump, and Mother squeals in surprise as droplets of coffee fly out of our cups and splatter on the lacy white tablecloth.

“How do I know whether this Oceania is to be trusted, anyway?" Father continues. “She could be a common thief for all we know, fascinated with meeting a millionaire's son. I can't chance having her in this house.”

Mother, who has now recovered from her startled state, glances at Father, her hands clasped. “Oh, Robert. How can you say such a thing? Why would our son be associating with a common thief? And even if she were one, she certainly wouldn't dare to steal anything with you right here in the house. You’re quite an imposing figure, you know.”

Father pouts, but I can see that his eyes have softened. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Arabella.”

But my mother and I both know better; he's never been able to resist her. She flutters over to his side, placing her slender white hand on his shoulder. "Please, Robert. What's the harm in inviting the girl into our home, just this once?"

Father glances at her, and then at me. I occupy myself drinking coffee, while secretly praying that he will relent.

Finally, he shrugs, an unusual gesture coming from such a hulking man. His entire girth seems to undulate, like an enormous old oak blowing in a strong gust of wind.

“Fine. She can come over once, to meet us. But if I don't approve of her, she's not to come back again, and you're to resume courting Victoria, young man. As it is, I want you to apologize to her today, and you're not to say a word about this Oceania. You can tell Victoria that you got sick, or you needed some time alone, or whatever you want, but no mention of your ocean girl.”

I nod, only half surprised that Father relented. If Mother hadn't been present, I'm sure he would've put up more of a fight. “Thank you, Father. So, I was planning to meet with Oceania after luncheon today. Is it okay if I bring her home then?”

“Yes, by all means,” he replies. “The sooner I meet this little ragamuffin, the sooner we can get you back on track to marrying the
right
girl.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Oceania

My parents don't say anything when I swim toward the surface later that day. On one hand, I'm glad that I don't have to sneak around, but on the other, their seemingly careless dismissal of me stings like a jellyfish bite.

This time of my life is just going to be a confusing one, and I'll have to be prepared for that. But at least I only have a few minutes until I can see Xavier.

I burst through the surface of the water into full-blown daylight. I'm almost blinded by the happy yellow sunbeams that dance off the tops of the waves. Shielding my eyes against the brilliant glare, I hone in on the rocks of Point Joe, and spot two figures on the rounded boulder, Xavier and...a girl.

I suck in my breath, and for a fleeting moment I wonder whether he's brought Victoria with him. But I know in my heart that this couldn't even be a possibility. As I paddle closer and my eyes finally adjust to the brightness of the sun, I realize that the girl is his sister, Amelie, sitting under a lacy parasol and waving at me.

I flop onto the rock next to them, and Amelie shrieks with delight at the fine mist of sea-spray that shoots up on her from the waves. "Hi, Oceania," she says, staring at my tail. "I can't believe what I'm seeing." She reaches toward it, her face holding an expression of half-curiosity and half-repulsion. "Can I touch it?"

Xavier rolls his eyes. "Amelie. She's not an animal in the zoo.”

But I just smile at her, liking her enthusiasm and interest, even though I don’t much appreciate the way her lip had curled upward in disgust. I suppose that a mermaid’s tail would seem a bit strange and revolting to a human. "It's okay. You can touch it if you want.”

Amelie strokes her hand along my scales, exclaiming, "By Jove! You feel like a fish."

I laugh a little, but my real attention is on her brother.

Right now, Xavier is even handsomer than he'd appeared under the stars or the rising sun. His skin is a shining golden bronze, and I can see the slightest glints of auburn in his nearly black hair. He throws his arms around me, while Amelie finally tears her hand away from my tail and averts her gaze.

"You made it," he says, kissing me. We look into each other’s eyes, and for a fleeting instant, we are the only two people in the universe.

A moment later, however, Xavier glances around at the clusters of fishermen peppering the shore, and the liberal sprinkling of tourists on the beach. Although none of them look at us, I can tell from Xavier's furtive glances that he interprets them as a kind of danger.

"We're going to have to be kind of secretive about this," he says softly. "I don't want anyone seeing your tail. If they do, they're likely to capture you and sign you up for a traveling circus.”

"What's that?" I ask, my eyes darting nervously toward the people. I hadn't thought about the implications of coming to the surface—and undergoing my transformation from mermaid to human—in broad daylight. And although I’ve never heard of a circus, the idea of being captured is frightening. I already feel trapped enough by the curse that hangs over my family like a dark cloud.

"Don't scare her," Amelie says. She holds up a brown leather bag and adds, "The circus is a fun event to watch, but you definitely wouldn’t want to perform in it; I’ll leave it at that. Luckily, I have just what you need to fit in here."

With a flourish, Amelie pulls out a towel and hands it to Xavier, who rubs it over my tail. He doesn’t have to work very hard; my tail dries to legs almost instantly in the warm sunshine.

Amelie gasps, her eyes riveted to my lower half. "That was incredible."

"Thanks," I say, giggling, but Xavier suddenly clears his throat, holding the towel up around me to obscure my view of the fishermen and tourists—and theirs of me.

"Let's hurry. Some tourists are coming this way," he says brusquely. To Amelie, he adds, "Come on. Help her change."

Amelie nods, and behind the towel, she assists me as I wriggle out of my seaweed and seashell coverings and into a corset and another dress, this one a dazzling sky blue. She twists my hair onto my head, sticking pins into it before she adds a heavy hat over top. Finally, she says, "All ready."

Xavier pulls away the towel, and his eyes light up at the sight of me. "You look so beautiful," he says, kissing me under the wide brim of the hat. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes," I say, smiling. Xavier takes my hand and I walk barefoot down the beach next to him, with Amelie trailing behind. As my long, romantic skirt billows in the breeze, I feel as though I blend in with the women on the beach, some of whom wear similar dresses, while others are dressed in shorter bathing costumes.

We all walk in silence for a minute or two, until Xavier asks, "So, were your parents terribly angry?"

I nod, wishing I could forget the unpleasant confrontation. "They were, until I told them that I'm an adult and I have the right to come and go as I please.”

Xavier smiles. "You stood up to them. I'm proud of you, and I'm glad that you didn't lie. I was honest with my parents, too, and I really think it made everything go more smoothly. I basically told them everything about you, except for the fact that you're a mermaid, of course. And now, you'll get to meet everyone."

When we reach the long walkway of Xavier's house, Amelie reaches into the bag for one last thing. I groan when she pulls out a pair of those atrocious high-heeled shoes.

"Sorry, Oceania," she says, helping me to slip into them. "I know you aren't used to wearing shoes, but you have to admit, these are lovely, aren't they? They're the latest fashion.”

"I suppose so." Fashionable or not, I can't get past the fact that they're cutting off all circulation to my toes. Between the confining corsets and the nightmarish shoes, I have no idea how these women function every day. I suppose that, if I choose land, this is something I will have to consider, although it seems trivial compared to the more serious factors like leaving my family and losing my immortality.

I draw in a deep breath as we saunter toward the front doors of Xavier’s house. During the day, it looks even more grandiose and terrifying than it does at night, with its glittering windows and bronze-topped towers. It's larger than King Triteus’s palace, and prettier, too.

I freeze when we reach the doors. I'd thought I wanted to meet everyone, but now I’m frightened to death. Xavier and Amelie are nice people, but what might their parents be like?

Chapter Thirty: Xavier

All color drains from Oceania’s face as we walk, hand-in-hand, through the doors of the house. I give her a smile that I hope seems reassuring, but her delicate hand quivers in mine.

“It’s okay,” I say. “Don’t be nervous; I won’t leave your side.”

Oceania smiles, her lips wavering, and makes a tremulous sound that remotely resembles the word, “Okay.”

Amelie giggles, patting Oceania on the shoulder. “Come on, Oceania. Our parents aren’t
that
bad.”

With one last squeeze of Oceania’s hand, I hook my arm through hers, and Amelie does the same on the other side. Together, we half-walk, half-drag the reluctant mermaid into the parlor.

Father is seated in his deep leather chair, reading one of those dry, dull business magazines he’s always forcing upon me, while Mother lounges luxuriously across her red velvet fainting couch, humming under her breath as she reads one of her penny romances. Both parents look up from their reading material to stare at Oceania.

Mother floats to her feet, extending a hand to Oceania. “Hello, dear,” she says. “You must be Miss Oceania. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Mrs. Arabella Rose.”

I’m thankful that I taught Oceania a bit about our social graces, for she shakes my mother’s hand as though she was brought up behaving this way.

Father heaves himself out of his seat, thrusts out his meaty hand, and says gruffly, “Mr. Robert Rose. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Oceania treats both parents to a charming smile. “The pleasure is all mine,” she says in a mellifluous voice, sounding every inch the well-bred lady. “You have a lovely house.”

“Thank you,” Father grunts, eyeing her skeptically, as though he expects her to pocket a trinket or a piece of fine china at any moment. He gestures to the couch. “Please, sit down.”

Amelie, Oceania, and I plop down side-by-side, and Nelly appears with a tray of refreshments. As we take coffee, tea, and water, Father begins firing questions at Oceania with the determination of a bulldog. He really hadn’t been joking about revealing her as a “ragamuffin” quickly.

“So, Miss Oceania,” he says. “What brings you to Monterey?”

“The same thing that brings you here,” she says, laughing. “I’m on holiday.”

“And where are you from?”

Oceania waves her hand. “Far away. You probably wouldn’t even know the place if I told you.”

Father leans toward Oceania, steepling his fingers. “Oh, trust me, I’m quite well-versed in geography.” His sharp, badger-like eyes snap with challenge. “Why don’t you try me?”

I intervene, just as Oceania draws in a shaky breath. I can tell that Father is already starting to frighten her. I’m sure that she’s never encountered any creature like him in her relatively peaceful mermaid world.

“Oceania is quite the musician,” I interrupt. “Why don’t we play something for you?”

Mother springs up from her seat, clapping her hands. “Good fun! What instrument do you play, Miss Oceania?”

“The sea harp,” Oceania answers quickly. Her face reddens as both my parents stare at her.

“The sea harp?” Father repeats. “What in tarnation is that?”

“I—uh—meant the regular harp,” Oceania says, faking a smile. “I don’t know why I added the word ‘sea’ to it. I suppose it’s just the ocean air getting to me.”

Mother places a hand on Oceania’s shoulder. “I’m sure that’s exactly what it was, dear. The same thing happens to me all the time.” Turning toward the doorway, she calls, “Nelly! Can you fetch us the harp, please?”

The next few minutes are a flurry of activity as Nelly sets up Amelie’s harp next to the baby grand piano, and Oceania and I take our place in front of the small group.

As I slide onto the piano bench, I wink at Oceania. If there’s one way to win over my father, it’s with Oceania’s gift of song.

Although he doesn’t encourage my music, Mother said that Father once told her that he fell madly in love with her the instant he heard her sing in the opera house for the first time.