An Ordinary Drowning, Book One of The Mermaid's Pendant Read Free

propelled
herself backward with her hands, her tail lifted slightly above the stones.
Once she was in the water, she paused, her gaze taking in the wide stance of
the ancient woman, who stood over the stranger as though he were her bounty from the waters. Was this all there was to saving a man’s life?
    Before
she could lower herself underwater and speed away, the old woman called to her.
    “Oh,
yes, young one, I need some turtle grass, and a sea cucumber. And one of those
pink sea urchins, you know the ones.”
    There
was nothing of the usual promise of a human artifact or any stories about the
human world on this island. The mermaid nodded. It was the old woman’s price
for keeping her secret.
    ***
    When
John regained consciousness, he found a wizened old woman hunched over him
holding what looked like a mini-bar liquor bottle. But its rank liquid was no
whiskey that he’d ever smelled. Upon seeing her wild, white hair and a burning
right eye in a face like a walnut, he sat up quickly. She chortled and hunkered
down, her ragged skirt splayed across her bony knees.
    “So, you
don’t like the smell? Strong it is. Just be glad you aren’t dead, then, and can
smell it.” Her voice crackled. Her accent was odd, not like the locals.
    John
shook his head, trying to clear the confusion that still hung over his
thoughts. “Who …?”
    The old
woman just sat there and looked at him. He cleared his throat and began again.
    “Who
pulled me from the water?”
    “You
were pulled from the water?”
    “Yes.” A
cough interrupted him. “Almost drowned.”
    “What’d
he look like?”
    He
shifted his position on the rocky shore, bracing himself and pushing his hair
out of his eyes. “Not he, she.”
    “She? Then
you did see her?” The woman’s voice was sharp.
    “No.” He
shook his head. “Not really.”
    The old
woman at first said nothing; instead, she wrapped the top of the bottle with a
bit of cloth and then tied that with a bit of string. She dropped this bottle into
a bag that lay on the rocks behind her before turning to face him again.
    Finally,
she spoke. “You were lying on the beach. You were breathing; you weren’t dead.
That’s when I put my tincture under your nose.”
    John
recalled the foul odor of the tincture, grateful that she hadn’t poured it down
his throat. “Thanks.”
    “It’s
little enough I did.” She shrugged. “If you want a doctor, there’s one in the pueblo ,
across the plaza from the dock. But you’re all right.”
    Without
waiting for him to agree, she picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder.
She headed toward the east and the low-growing shrubs there. Not sure what he
should do or say next, John sat watching her go. As she reached the edge of the
rocks, the old woman turned for a parting shot.
    “You
should thank God for your life.” She raised her chin toward the water of the
canal and continued, “The ocean is as lethal as it’s lovely. You’d do well to
remember.”
    She
disappeared into the shrubs and darkening shadows, going who knew where. John,
feeling chastised, sat for a long moment before studying the rocks near where
he’d been lying. There was nothing to show how he’d gotten ashore, no
footprints, no drag marks. No way of knowing where his rescuer had come from or
gone to. Why hadn’t she stayed around?

Two
     
    John leveraged himself to his feet before shaking gripped him. He sat down
again, hard, on the stony shore. His heart seized up and he flushed hot and
cold before it resumed beating. Turning to look at the canal, he thought that
he saw his snorkel floating north but the fractured sunlight dazzled him and he
couldn’t be sure. His second flipper and mask had disappeared into the
deceptive water. The shaking intensified. He’d almost lost his life in an
out-of-the-way corner of the Caribbean. The silence of the empty shore
confirmed how fantastic his rescue had been.
    Maybe
his rescuer was still close. The thought impelled him to his