Friday Fiction for May 15, 2009

Friday Fiction is hosted this week by Shelley Ledfors, on her blog, The Veil Thins. If you’ve clicked here from there, then you already know about the list of terrific writers participating in Friday Fiction this week.

As promised, today’s posting is the third part of Allison. If you’re new to this story, you’ll probably want to go read Part I and Part II before reading this section. Part IV will post on Monday, May 18, and I expect to conclude with Part V on Friday, May 22. Part III is a bit long, but it really seemed this was the most natural division point.

Allison
Part III
By Rick Higginson

Marta waited until Erin finished giving Allison her morning meds, before crawling up to them. “Well, Allison; what would you like to do today?”

The girl looked surprised. “You mean, I get to pick? I just thought I’d get to hang out with the Pod as you did your normal stuff.”

“I’m not sure that would be much more fun for you than it would be for us. What did you hope to be able to do while you were here?”

“Oh, wow,” Allison said. She seemed hesitant to ask. “I was hoping to have a chance to dance with some of the guys in the Pod, and to see the cavern where you all used to live.”

“We can arrange both of those. What else?”

“Well, we already played Marco Polo, and I didn’t even know about Movie Night, but that was awesome, and then spending a night in the sleeping rooms with Leanna keeping me warm like she helped you keep Mr. Cardan warm. Would it be possible to hide beneath the dock and wait for a boat to come in? Or are any boats scheduled to arrive while I’m here?”

“Diego is on his way to the Island this morning. We could watch for him to arrive.”

“Oh, could we? That would be perfect, since it was Rev. Hyland that you and Mr. Cardan waited for under the dock.”

“I’m not sure the water outside is warm enough for you to be out there that long, sweetheart,” Erin said.

“We might be able to do something about that also,” Marta said. “Josh?”

Josh looked up from the coffee he was preparing, and came over, stirring the cup as he did. “Need something?”

“Do we have a wetsuit that will fit Allison?”

He sized the girl up with his eyes, while twisting his mouth to one side the way he always did when considering a problem. “I think we do, and I think we also have dive booties and fins that will fit her as well. Come on, Allison; let’s go see what we can do.”

Allison and her mother headed off with Josh, pausing long enough at the coffee maker for Erin to pour herself a cup. When they had left the room, Marta looked around.

She spotted Charles on one of the computers, and went over to him. “I’m going to take Allison out to watch Diego’s boat arrive,” she said, when he noticed she was there.

“Is it okay if I come along, too?” he asked.

“I thought you’d want to. Charles, you do understand she can’t stay out here with the Pod permanently, don’t you? She has to head back day after tomorrow for another round of her treatments.”

“I know; maybe it’s crazy, but when we were playing Marco Polo yesterday, it was like I’d known her all my life. I mean, with everything she’s going through with the cancer, she is still just so incredibly alive, you know?”

“I noticed that, too, and it’s probably why she fits in so well with us. Still, I want to remind you that, just because she’s an unusual situation, doesn’t mean our rules are suspended for you.”

“I know that, too, and I think that, even if I thought to risk breaking the rules and suggested it to her, she is so devoted to what she believes, she would never agree to it.”

“I didn’t think I really needed to remind you, but I think Erin will appreciate knowing that I didn’t just take it for granted.” She gave him an approving smile. “I think Allison will like it if you take her out to watch for Diego’s boat. I’ll go along so that the rules are maintained, and you two are not alone together, but I’m sure she’ll enjoy it more if she’s waiting with you.”

“Marta, she asked me to kiss her good-night last night, and I did. That was okay, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t know if Erin would agree, but I think it was quite okay.”

***

Allison floated in the shade of the dock, watching seaward for a boat that they, as yet, could not see. The wetsuit was a good idea; not only was she staying plenty warm, but the neoprene made her float better. Between it and the fins, treading water was much easier than it had been the day before.

Not that there was even the least chance of her sinking with Charles holding onto her. He floated just behind her, with his arms wrapped gently about her waist, occasionally whispering assorted tidbits of trivia about the Island and the sea life surrounding it.

Several dolphins stayed close, and they seemed to pay a great deal of attention to her. One larger one, especially, never strayed far from them.

“This is Andromeda,” Charles said. “Dolphin pods are matriarchal, and she’s one of the dominant females. She’s very protective of all of us.”

“Why is she so interested in me?” Allison asked.

“I’ve read that some scientists think dolphins can ‘see’ inside our bodies with their sonar, so she might be able to sense your cancer. Dolphins have been witnessed taking care of their sick and injured, so she might be staying close in case you need help.”

“Kind of like all of you take care of each other,” she said. “Is that why you’re out here, Charles? Are you just staying close to me because I’m sick and might need some help?”

“Why are you out here, Allison? Are you just here because we’re all freaks that were given tails by Dr. Marcel instead of legs?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He turned her around to face him. “I’m out here because you are one of the most alive people I’ve ever met, and I enjoy your company. Now, what about my question – did you want me to kiss you good-night last night, or did you just want a merrow to kiss you good-night? Would you like me if I was just a normal boy you knew?”

“Something strange happened when the doctor told me I had cancer,” she said. “Kids that never looked my way before started talking to me because they felt sorry for me, and some of the friends I had all along quit talking to me, because they didn’t know what to say. It was like, all of a sudden, I was no longer Allison; I was cancer.”

“Am I Charles, or am I a merman?” He gently lifted her face, and she looked into his eyes again. “Are we defined by the things we have no control over, or are we the people we choose to be? I don’t know much about cancer. I don’t know anything about how they treat it, or where it comes from, or what would be different about you if you didn’t have it. All I know is, I like you, Allison, and I really hope you like me for more than just my tail.”

She kissed him, without waiting for any further invitation. His first response was surprised hesitation, and then he reciprocated the affection.

“There’s Diego’s boat,” Marta said, from beside the Bitter Pill. She chuckled. “It’s not the first time his arrival has interrupted kissing beneath this dock.”

***

Somewhere, Erin was certain, a classical music instructor was rolling over in his grave. Maybe several instructors, and possibly even Bach himself, she thought. Joshua Cardan and Diego Hyland performed a clarinet duet of the Minuet in G, but by their lack of seriousness, they might as well have been playing Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.

At that moment, it sounded like the most beautiful music she’d ever heard. Allison was in the Family Room pool, dancing in the manner of the Pod, and it looked like every merman would take a turn spinning her about in time to the music.

The girl could not have beamed more if she’d been chosen as Prom Queen, and although she was so tired that her dancing was mostly just being carried through the motions by the boys, she refused every time she was asked if she wanted to take a break.

If they weren’t doing all the work, I would make you take a break, Erin thought. It’s just so wonderful to see you so happy, though.

There was a touch on her ankle. “Would you like to dance, Erin?” Charles asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t really know how to dance like that, and besides; this visit is for Allison.”

“You’ll never learn if you don’t try, and Allison is afraid you’re not having any fun. All you’ve done since you arrived is sit back and keep an eye on her, and she said that’s pretty much what you’ve been doing from the day she was diagnosed with cancer.”

“That’s kind of the lot in life for the parent of a child with cancer. There’s so much they have to endure that all we can do is watch helplessly from the side.”

“This is something you don’t have to watch helplessly from the side. I think your daughter would love it if you got in the water and danced with the Pod.”

“I’m not dressed for swimming, either.”

“Would a bathing suit be much different than the shorts and tank top you’re wearing?”

“They might get a bit transparent when wet.”

He laughed, and rolled on his side to look up at her face. “Every merrow in the Pod is naked; do you think it’s going to be a problem if anyone here sees your underwear through your clothes? Even if your undies became transparent, too, no one here would notice, and if it did bother you, you can always wrap a towel around yourself when you get out of the water.”

“All those girls out there; surely you really don’t want to dance with someone old enough to be your mother, do you?”

“There’s always one more excuse for not dancing, but if this were the last time Allison would have a chance to see you dance, would those excuses matter?”

She considered his question for a moment, and then kicked off her shoes. “You had better never be that persuasive with my daughter regarding something she shouldn’t do.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, rolling onto his belly to crawl to the water. “Besides; I won’t get in trouble with Eva and Marta for persuading you to dance.”

Letting Charles tow her out to the deep part of the pool, she remembered the line from an old song. I hope you dance, I hope you dance…

***

Marta crawled through the quiet Family Room, peeking into each sleeping room as she made her circuit. She lingered at the door of the third one. Allison slept near the center of the room, with Charles little more than an arm reach away. Gretchen was perhaps just a bit closer on the girl’s other side, while Kelli, Mark, Brenda, and Rachel were jumbled together in the corner.

All in all, not much different than what she saw in the other sleeping rooms. Everyone seemed worn out that night, and no one stirred as she made one final check on her Pod.

The dancing earlier had been nice. That Josh and Diego had taken the time away from whatever business it was that had brought the pastor to the Island, just to play the Minuet on their clarinets, had been an especially thoughtful touch. The only drawback had been, with Josh playing, he couldn’t get in the water himself.

He waited for her by the pool, mask and fins in hand, smiling in the dim light as she crawled up beside him. “Ready?” he whispered.

She gave his leg an affectionate rub in reply, and slid into the pool ahead of him. When he joined her in the water, and had his mask and fins in place, she took his hands and dove for the exit tunnel. They surfaced once under the moonlight outside, surrounded by dolphins, and then dove again for the natural tunnel into the old chamber.

Once inside the dark cavern, she waited while he placed the mask on a rock ledge above the waterline, and then floated with him close beside her in the deeper water.

Wrapping his arms around her, he brought his lips close to her ears. “You are still the most beautiful, and the most human, person I have ever met,” he said.

She kissed him in response, and then harmonized along as he sang the tune of the Minuet for their dance.

To be continued – look for Part IV on Monday

“I Hope You Dance” by Mark Sanders and Tia Sillers, performed by Lee Ann Womack.

More for Monday - Allison, Part II

“Allison” is currently up to around 4500 words, and I still have several important events in the story to get to. Rather than make you wait a week between each part, I thought I would post fiction twice a week until the story is concluded.

If you are new to this story, it will work best if you read “Allison Part I” before proceeding with this installment.

Those familiar with the Pod stories will already know that, culturally, the Pod has a rather different mindset concerning certain things than we do. Throughout the series, the Pod shares a communal sleeping arrangement. To them, “sleeping together” means nothing more than occupying a common space for the night, and has never included a sexual connotation. Please keep this point in mind while reading this installment.

Allison
Part II
By Rick Higginson

The force of the water pressed the goggles tighter against Allison’s face, but the discomfort was hardly worth noticing. She held tight to Marta’s wrists, though it was the reciprocal grip that kept her securely moving with the mermaid. Several dolphins swam alongside them, and their frequent, close passes indicated they were as interested in her as she was in them.

Marta surfaced for air often, lingering far longer than she suspected any member of the Pod would normally do so. Did Mom have a talk with you while I was on deck? She wondered. It was something her mother would do, despite the number of times she’d tried to explain to her mother that it would be hard for things to get much worse than the cancer she already had. Could drowning be any worse than chemo? At least it wouldn’t last nearly as long.

“We’re about to take a longer stretch underwater, through the tunnel into the Family Room,” Marta said. “Are you going to be okay?”

She nodded. “Compared to some of the medical tests that I have to hold completely still and not even breathe for, this is easy,” Allison said.

“All right, then; deep breath and hold it.”

She sucked in as much air as she could, grinning with her cheeks puffed out.

Marta smiled, and then dove for the geometric shadow below them. The dolphins sped ahead, leaving trails of small bubbles for the human swimmers to pass through. When filtered light replaced the shade of the passageway, they turned upwards and came to a stop when their heads broke through the surface.

Allison removed the goggles, finding it more difficult to see things out of the water with them on. She and Marta were in the center of a circle of faces, and the mermaid beside her gently turned her until they were looking at one she recognized.

There was just a hint of a smile as Eva rose slightly in the water. “Well, Marta; now that she’s here, what are we going to do with her?”

“Play Marco Polo?” Allison ventured.

The circle broke into laughter as Eva approached her. “Well, you’re obviously not intimidated by us. Welcome to the Pod, Allison.”

***

The first day had gone well enough, Marta reflected. If she overlooked the fact that the girl had no hair left, or that she tired out quickly, it would have been easy to believe there was nothing wrong with Allison. She’d made a valiant effort at playing Marco Polo with them after the initial introductions, and had not Charles volunteered to carry her on his back for the bulk of the game, it would have ended almost as soon as it started.

The Movie Night had seemed to mortify Erin, though, when some of the humor degraded into a rather bawdy exchange between Gretchen and Brenda. Allison, though, had nearly laughed herself sick, much to her mother’s horror. Remember this when your daughter is fifteen, Marta reminded herself. Will I still look at this the same way when my children are old enough to potentially be influenced by it?

Their young guest joined with the other younger members of the Pod to listen to Angela Williams reading a story, clearly enjoying the teacher’s talent at bringing the tale to life. Like the Pod members, she was stretched out on her belly as though she also had a tail behind her instead of legs. Charles was next to her, and stole an affectionate glance in the girl’s direction. She smiled back at him, and he ventured a hand towards hers.

Erin saw the exchange, and started to stand up.

Marta moved closer, and gestured for the woman to stay seated. “It’s okay,” she said.

“She’s only fifteen,” Erin said.

“And Charles is sixteen, which is why it’s okay. Charles knows that no one under eighteen is allowed to be alone with anyone of the opposite sex, and he will not dare defy both Eva and me on that.”

“I don’t want my daughter to get hurt.”

“I don’t want Charles to get hurt either, but neither can I deny him the ability to live and take chances. The only way we can hope to protect someone from getting hurt is to try and keep them from ever experiencing all that life has to offer.” Do you wonder what it’s like to be human, Allison? Will you ask him what it is like to dance? “Let her enjoy being found attractive by someone her own age. I suspect with everything she’s gone through, she hasn’t had much chance to see what that’s like.”

The weariness appeared in the woman’s eyes again. “It’s strange; when she was younger, I thought she had so many years ahead to experience what life has to offer – boyfriends, proms, love, marriage; but then the doctors said that awful word and I saw all those years disappearing.”

“You don’t know that all those years are gone; Allison is still very much alive.”

“Yes, and I thank God that she is, but after so many ups and downs on this emotional rollercoaster, it gets more difficult to let go of the lows and embrace the highs. You don’t know how many times I’ve prayed that God would let me take her cancer and give her my health.”

“Does it help?”

“What? The praying?” She nodded. “Sometimes I think God created praying specifically with mothers in mind. You agreeing to invite her out here was an answer to prayer; ever since you called it’s almost as though she’s forgotten how sick she really is.”

***

The night was winding down, and the Pod members crawled to the various rooms where they would spend the night. Erin regarded the hopeful look in her daughter’s eyes, and wrestled with the question.

“Please, Mom? Can I sleep down here in the Family Room with the Pod?” Allison asked.

With Charles, the unspoken implication filled her with dread.

He would not dare defy both Eva and me on that, Marta’s assurance replayed in her mind. Consequences, however, hadn’t been that much of a hindrance to countless young couples in the past.

Including me, and I somehow survived my own folly, she thought. Would you possibly making a mistake be better or worse than implying I don’t trust you? “Who all is going to be in the room with you?”

“Leanna, Ophelia, Patricia, Brenda, Mark, Andrew, and Charles. It’ll be okay, Mom. If I do have an episode, Leanna can get Dr. Jenkins down here, and call you.”

It’s not an episode I’m worried about; then again, that’s a lot of chaperones to inhibit improper behavior, too. She forced a smile and nodded. “You just make sure you keep your phone by you, and call me immediately if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Mom,” her daughter said, and then gave her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. “See you in the morning.”

She stood still, watching her daughter disappear into the sleeping room with the others. Lord, this entire trip is a gift from You; please keep my daughter safe and close to You.

Joshua Cardan stepped up beside her. “You can sleep down here tonight as well, if you’d like,” he said.

She thought for a moment, and then smiled. “I think it will be better for Allison if I just go back to my room, instead.”

***

Allison was exhausted, but for once, she didn’t mind. She stretched out on the padded floor, and smiled at Charles in the dim light. They held each other’s eyes for a few moments, before he tentatively scooted closer to her.

“Was today everything you thought it would be?” he asked.

“It was more wonderful than I ever imagined,” she said. “There’s just two more things that would make this day perfect.”

“What’s that?”

She felt a nervous flutter in her stomach as she answered. “First, for you to kiss me good-night; and second, to be held close and kept warm all night long.”

He closed the distance between their faces. “I think I can accommodate that,” he said, and brought his lips gently to hers.

The first kiss was brief, and she put her hand behind his head to pull him in for another, longer kiss. “Good night, Charles,” she said.

“Good night, Allison,” he said. “Do you want to roll over so I can scoot up behind you and keep you warm?”

“That would be very nice, but would you mind too terribly if I said I wanted Leanna to keep me warm tonight, since she helped Marta keep Mr. Cardan warm when he was first brought here?”

The look he gave her was genuine. “I wouldn’t mind at all, but if Leanna can’t stay in that position all night, I’ll be happy to take over.” He touched her nose with his finger, and lowered his voice to a whisper. “If you’re going to ask Leanna, though, you’d better do so quickly. She looks like she’s almost asleep already.”

She crawled over and made her request, receiving a smile and an upraised arm in response. Snagging a pillow for her head, she wiggled back into the warm embrace, and soon drifted into a restful sleep.
*

To be continued - Look for Allison, Part III on Friday, May 15

Friday Fiction for May 8, 2009

Friday Fiction this week is hosted by Julie, The Surrendered Scribe. If you haven’t already been there to find Mr. Linky, be sure to click over there.

This week’s submission is a bit longer than I prefer to post for Friday Fiction, but I wanted something to go with a Mother’s Day theme, something that hasn’t been posted or read before, and something that will have a good, positive message to it. This story contains some spoilers to what happens in “Marta’s Pod”, the second book of the Pod series, but I wanted to share it anyway. This story is mentioned in the fourth Pod book, “Merrowsong”, and ever since writing that scene, I’ve wanted to flesh out this scenario into its own narrative.

This story takes place between one and two years after the closing scene of Marta’s Pod, and will be shared in probably three parts. Not only am I looking forward to sharing this incident in Marta’s life, this will also give me extra incentive to finish up the story.

Allison
Part I
By Rick Higginson

Marta Cardan dried her hands before wrapping the towel around her dripping hair. “Diego gave this to you?” she asked, taking the letter from her husband. “Where did he get it?”

“It was sent to him by another pastor that he knew from his seminary days. The family attends the other pastor’s church,” Joshua Cardan replied.

She sighed as she read the letter. “I don’t know anything about the condition this woman’s daughter has. Is it serious?”

He settled to a seated position on the floor, and gave her a single nod. “I checked online, and asked Dr. Jenkins about it as well. It’s a form of cancer that has a very low survival rate, and Dr. Jenkins says that, from the way the mother describes things, the girl isn’t responding well to the treatments.”

“She wants to come and swim with the Pod; in her condition, is that safe for her? Is there anything we can do for her?”

“From a medical standpoint, no; there is nothing we can do for her. There are a lot of doctors, including Melanie, that point to patient morale and attitude as having a dramatic effect of how well they respond to treatment, though. She said if the girl finds the idea of meeting the Pod that fascinating, it could make a big difference in her prognosis.”

She looked back towards the pool. “Leanna,” she called to her sister. “Pass the word to the Pod that we need to discuss something just as soon as everyone gathers.”

***

Erin Quantz closed the lid on the washing machine, and rushed to grab the phone before it switched to the answering system. If I hurried just to hear another sales pitch, I may scream, she thought as she spoke the neutral “Hello,” into the handset.

“Hello,” a pleasant, but unfamiliar feminine voice said. “Is Allison Quantz there?”

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“This is Marta Cardan.”

She leaned against the counter. “This isn’t some kind of joke, is it?”

“I would hope not; I’d hate to think someone was joking when they wrote this letter.”

“You got my letter? Pastor Black was able to get it through?”

“If you’re Allison’s mother, then yes, we got your letter. How is she? May I speak with her?”

She ran through the house towards her daughter’s room. “Of course,” she said, and then covered the mouthpiece with her hand. “Allison! Allison, honey; pick up the phone!”

There was a click, and her daughter’s quiet voice on the extension. “Hello?”

“Allison? This is Marta Cardan.”

“Marta Cardan; you mean the Marta Cardan of the Pod?”

“I don’t know of any other Marta Cardan, and if this wasn’t just ordinary telephone service, you could see the Pod behind me.”

“Oh, wow; I can’t believe it’s really you. I’ve read the book about you and Mr. Cardan and the Pod like five times, and I have all the television specials about the Pod recorded so I can watch them when I can’t do anything else.”

“So your mother said in her letter to us. She also said that you would really like to visit us on the island and meet the Pod. Is that true? Would you like to come and meet us?”

“I’ve dreamed of doing so ever since the first time I saw all of you on television. Could I really come to the island and swim with the Pod, Mrs. Cardan?”

Erin brought her free hand to her mouth, and met the enthusiastic look in her daughter’s eyes. She nodded even as the voice came through the phone.

“The whole Pod would love to meet you, Allison,” Marta said.

***

Marta rested on the bunk aboard the Bitter Pill, reading a book while waiting for their guest to arrive. So close, she thought, glancing out through the porthole at the town just beyond the marina. I’m closer to the human world than I ever thought I would be, and it’s still out of reach. She returned to her book, and tried to put the thought from her mind. It wasn’t like it was the first time she’d ridden along with Josh to the mainland; still, it would be nice if just once, they could leave the boat and go into town like normal people.

She heard Josh talking to someone outside, and a moment later he dropped into the cabin.

“Watch your step,” he said, turning back to offer his hand to the teen-aged girl that followed him.

So very thin, Marta thought, looking at the girl. She wore a baseball cap on her head, from under which no hair showed. For that matter, she had no eyebrows, either, though the eyes shined with a brightness that matched the colorful shorts and tank-top she wore.

The eyes grew wide when they spotted her. “Oh, wow,” she whispered. “I didn’t think I’d get to meet you until we got to the island. Are you Mrs. Cardan?”

“The only person who ever calls me Mrs. Cardan is my husband. To everyone else, I’ve always just been Marta. You must be Allison,” Marta said, extending her hands towards the girl. “You’ll find the only person on the island that accepts such formality is our teacher, Mrs. Angela Williams.”

“Thank you so much for inviting me to stay with the Pod, Mrs. Cardan.” She took the offered hands.

Her hands are almost skeletal. “Before we go to the island, do you know the two rules of the Pod?”

“Yes, Mrs. Cardan; never argue with Eva, and what you say goes.”

“Now, I’ve told you already, the only person who ever calls me Mrs. Cardan is my husband. He does so only in private, and as a term of affection. Everyone else calls me Marta, okay?”

An older woman came in to the cabin with a large shoulder bag, and stopped short on seeing the two.

“Okay, Marta,” Allison said.

“Allison,” the woman said. “Remember your manners.”

“But, Mom,” she started to object.

Marta met the woman’s eyes. “You must be Erin Quantz,” she said. “I’m Marta Cardan, and as much as I hate to contradict a mother’s instructions to her child, the Pod has always gone by first names. You can return to the formal courtesies when you return to your world, but here in our world, the surnames are just part of a culture we’ve only recently been allowed to pretend to belong in. For the Pod, they just remind us that we are still on the outside.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Erin said.

“It’s all right; I understand. If you wish, the Pod will address you as Mrs. Quantz, though they will take that as an indication that you wish to maintain your distance from them. You may want that, and we will respect it if you do.” She released one of Allison’s hands and extended her free hand to the other woman. “Now, how shall I introduce you when we arrive at the island?”

“I’m Erin,” she said, accepting the hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Marta.”

Her grip was every bit as strong as her daughter’s was weak, and there was a weariness in the woman’s face that seemed to lift a bit as she gave the woman a welcoming smile. “You’re free to stay down here with me for the trip, but the view is much better from the deck.”

“Can I get either of you anything before we cast off?” Josh asked. “We have water, coffee, a few cans of assorted sodas, and I think I have some cranberry juice in the cooler. If you have any problems with seasickness, there are ginger chews in the bag by the table. I’ve always found they work about as well as any drugs to settle the stomach, and don’t leave me feeling like my head’s in a fog.”

“Nothing for me, thank you,” Erin said.

***

She had thought her daughter was excited that morning on the plane; that had been nothing compared to the enthusiasm Allison exhibited talking with the mermaid.

My daughter is talking to a mermaid, Erin thought, listening to the exuberant exchange. It wasn’t that long ago you were talking to your mermaid doll, slipping the satin fish tail on and off the plastic legs, and telling me how you would love to meet a real mermaid. I told you mermaids were make-believe, didn’t I?

She watched Marta, patiently entertaining every question posed to her by the teenager. Marta was lying on her side, her back against the hull of the boat and her tail curved forward. She seemed oblivious to the way the sailboat leaned with the wind, or the constant rise and fall as it rode over the waves. If the mermaid lacked any confidence in either the boat or her husband’s seamanship, she didn’t let it divert any attention from Allison.

It was worse than this when You slept in the boat, wasn’t it, Lord? This is just a steady breeze on a beautiful day, unlike the stormy sea that You called Peter to walk on, isn’t it? I’m trying to keep my eyes on you, Lord, but I’m still sinking. Did you send Marta to lift Joshua Cardan when he was sinking? Did you send her to life me up as well? She sighed quietly and looked through the window closest to her. Waves regularly splashed the glass as if to remind her that the ocean was ready to burst in at any time.

A brass plaque on the wall by the cabin door quoted Psalm 107. “Those who go down to the sea in ships, who do business on great waters, they see the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the deep.”

Closing her eyes, she recited instead the words from Isaiah that she’d repeated more times than she cared to remember now. Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by your name; you are Mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they will not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned, nor shall the flame scorch you. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior…

“Mom?” Allison’s repeated question broke her train of thought. “When we get to the island, is it okay if Marta takes me into the Family Room through the water?”

Marta met her eyes, and there was both strength and understanding in them. The mermaid’s hand moved slightly across the pink scar on her belly, and the unspoken message was clear – I have a daughter, too. I won’t let anything happen to yours.

Doing her best to smile encouragingly, she nodded her permission.

To be continued.

Friday Fiction for May 1, 2009

Friday Fiction is Dancin’ on Rainbows this week, courtesy of our hostess, Sharlyn. Dance on over to her blog, and allow Mr. Linky to lead you to some terrific fiction.

Since Katya is going to play such a major role in Precocious by Consent, I thought I should feature an excerpt with her in it. Lloyd and Faye Timmons have traveled to where she is now living, and shown up at the church she attends. They are invited to join the pastor and his wife for Sunday dinner, and in the previous chapter, Lloyd has dropped a bombshell on the meal by blurting out that they are there to ask for Katy’s help. In angry reluctance, Katya affects the persona of Katy at the end of Chapter 1.

Chapter 2
Sunday noon

Lloyd looked across the table. The eyes that stared back at him were those that had once defied him in the interrogation room. It wasn’t Katy, the innocent little girl he’d first met on the platform of Tibbington Street station; it was Katy, the guarded and savvy performer. What have I done?

What you needed to do, detective.

Not now, Ilsa. I don’t have the time.

He slipped the photo from his shirt pocket, and handed it over the table. “Those two girls are Lara Schumacher and Celia Moore. Celia’s body was left in a parking structure for us to find. As of this morning, we have no word concerning Lara, though she is probably also dead already. While Celia was still alive, the killer carved a message into her back with a pocket knife. He sprinkled alum powder into the wounds, and then continued to torture her for several hours before electrocuting her with a lamp cord. The only reason we know that she was picked was that her last name was the same as the login alias of an FBI agent working to catch him on Facenet. He has a knack for ferreting out law enforcement officers posing as children on the ‘net, so we need someone that can pass for a child anywhere.”

“What do you expect me to do?”

“The FBI has a good idea what the killer looks for on Facenet, and they think he looks for evidence that his subject is who she says she is. He might check school newspapers, or watch bus stops, or music recitals, or any of a number of things that an adult posing as a child would have a difficult time faking. Katy looks like a child and knows how to act like one.”

Katya leaned back and crossed her arms. “You want me to live full time as a child? Is that what you’re asking, lieutenant?”

“It’s the best chance we can think of to catch this guy. The FBI has tied him to the deaths of twenty-nine girls all over the country, and he’s taunted them by saying they’re missing a lot of his victims. A child goes missing roughly every forty seconds in this country, and with that many missing children, he could easily be connected to a lot more abductions.”

She looked at Faye. “You said God would set me free of this.”

“Katya, I-”

Gosia interrupted the response by tapping on her glass with a spoon. “I do not know how things are done in California, but here, Sunday Dinner is a time of peace. You may continue this discussion in the living room after lunch, but for now, all it is accomplishing is to make our food and our hearts grow cold.” She alternated glances between Lloyd and Katya. “I put up with it this long, because I hoped you two would settle it and we could move on, but that isn’t turning out to be the case. Now, Lloyd, pass me the bread, and let’s enjoy lunch in peace.”

“Yes, ma’am; I apologize for my poor timing,” Lloyd said, handing the basket of bread over to her.

“I’m not hungry anymore,” Katya commented, starting to stand.

“Please, sit,” their hostess said. The request was a nearly perfect balance of gentle entreaty and firm command. “I know you, Katya; if you do not eat, you will be ill before the afternoon is out. You need the food, and you need family right now.”

She reluctantly sat down and picked up her fork. With little enthusiasm, she speared a carrot and ate it.

Asher took a bite of the roast, closing his eyes with a smile as he chewed. “Sweetheart,” he said after swallowing. “The roast turned out fantastic.”

Lloyd chewed a mouthful of the tender beef, and had to agree. If Faye didn’t ask for the recipe before they left, he would.

The pastor dipped his bread in some of the drippings. “So, where do you folks fellowship out in California?” he asked, before taking a bite of the bread.

“We go to Shepherd’s Chapel in Sunny Grove,” Faye said. “The teaching is solid, the music is good, and it’s just big enough to have ample opportunities for service and fellowship, without being so large that we feel we get lost in the crowd.”

Lloyd’s mind drifted away from the small talk. I blew it, he thought.

You didn’t ask the right way, detective. You asked for Katy, and in Katya’s mind, Katy is the prostitute she no longer wants to be.

Katy was also the child that could have fooled all of us, if we hadn’t already known about you, Ilsa.

You first saw Katy as the child on the platform, but did you ever consider how long Katya lived as Katy, the performer?

No, I never did.

So much of your identity is wrapped up in the work you have done for years, lieutenant. What if you decided your work was immoral, and that you needed to walk away from it? Would you still appreciate being called Lt. Timmons?

I don’t know; being a detective has been so much a part of my life for so long, I’m not sure I can imagine not being one.

Perhaps Katya had been Katy for so long, that she had a hard time imagining not being Katy. Now, you have come here and suggested she is still Katy.

I was right; I blew it.

She will agree.

After what I just did to her?

Trust me; she will agree, because she cares. She knows what was done to me, and she cares about what was done to Celia. She cares about what will be done to other girls if she doesn’t help.

“Lloyd?” Faye nudged him.

“I’m sorry; what?”

“Asher asked you a question.”

“Oh; sorry. My mind was wandering.”

“I could see that,” Asher said with a chuckle. “I asked what had you so deep in thought.”

“I was just thinking about – someone.”

Friday Fiction for April 24, 2009

Friday Fiction this week is being hosted by Vonnie on her blog, My Back Door. Look for lots of great submissions over there.

After two consecutive FF submissions that were rather dark in nature, I decided I needed to post something more pleasant. If I had to title this excerpt from “Eridanus Comes”, I think I’d title it something like, “The Memory of Trees”. I like this scene, and while there is much more waiting to happen in the story, this snippet shouldn’t leave the reader hanging.

Chapter 12

After all the work of helping organize the reunion, being back at the Embassy seemed sedate and lazy. It didn’t help that her mother was loathe to offer her any other venues for service, and even basic tasks were handled by the staff priestesses.

She enjoyed spending time with her mother, sharing the details of her youth in T’Cha and especially at the priestess school, but she needed more to do than reminiscing. A priestess was not supposed to envy the domestic duties of her husband, but at least T’qa had work to occupy him. Between the children and S’Ra’s puppy, he was constantly dealing with one thing or another.

Walking down one of the forest trails near the compound, S’Bu enjoyed the smell of the evergreens and the sounds of life around her. Her nephew’s farm was interesting, but vast fields of grain were no replacement for a thick cover of trees. There were differences between the forests of Qi’le and their Terran counterparts, such that she could not just close her eyes and pretend she was near the village that had been home for so many years. While it wasn’t the forest she was most familiar with, it was still home in that it was where she had been born.

Home; it was a matter of choice, even if so many people didn’t think of it as such. Y’La’s husband Sean; the priestess Alice; the priestess Holly; Fred Timmons; they were people that had been a part of her young life that had all chosen a home far away from the places of their births. Her mother could stand with that group, but the priestess B’Tra had chosen the B’sela more than she had chose Earth as a home. Perhaps it was easier for the Terrans on Qi’le, since the culture of the Archipelago was as near as the Terran districts in the larger cities or the settlement of Puerta del Cielo. The Embassy was the only real Qi’le culture to be found without a journey aboard one of the Voidships, but for all of her mother’s efforts and the contributions of the staff priestesses, the Terran influence was still far more prevalent.

It could be home, if she simply thought of it as such. The presence of her husband and children contributed much to her acceptance of a place. She might even grow to accept Earthrise as home as long as they were with her, though it would always be a struggle to feel comfortable without even a real sky overhead, much less the covering of the trees.

She removed the letter from the high priestess and read over it once again, wondering if the time was right to present it to her mother. The high priestess L’Sa had gone to her final dream the winter before the delegation had departed, and her daughter had become the high priestess D’Ya. The priestess B’Tra could name three high priestesses she’d had close access to, though she had never met any of them face to face. It was ironic, really; many priestesses served their entire lives and counted themselves fortunate if they garnered the attention of the high priestess once in their service. Her mother had exchanged familiar communications with three, and her recommendations had carried significant weight with them.

That her daughter had been personally blessed by two high priestesses would have brought her considerable status in any village on Qi’le, though it didn’t rate mentioning to any Terrans.

A transport passing high overhead disturbed the natural sounds of the forest for a few minutes as the craft accelerated out of the atmosphere. At least one such vessel a day departed Portland for the orbiting stations, while many more transports remained in the atmosphere en route to other cities on the planet. The price of rapid travel was the regular desecration of nature’s peace, but at least Portland was not one of the busier terminals on the continent. The interruptions did not last a long time, either, and before she had walked much farther down the trail everything was back to as it should be.

She decided she would ask her mother just how long it had taken her to become accustomed to the unnatural noises of the Terran technology.

The trail curved down a gentle slope, bringing her to the shore of a small lake. A simple wooden bench had been constructed under some sheltering branches, and she sat for a while looking out across the water. Some birds paddled across the surface, periodically diving after something unseen beneath them, while in the distance a larger animal waded a short ways in to drink of the clear liquid.

She could imagine a time when her siblings had been young and the family had walked down the same trail to sit by the lake. Lessons would have been recited, drawing on examples from the scene around them, before the children had been excused to play. There would have been games and laughter, and none of them would have thought of a time when the family bonds were broken. Elizabeth would have been old enough to have received the early lessons of priestess training, but she would probably not have reached the stage where she’d rejected the calling. K’Mi had been the baby sister at that time, and it would still be some years before her mother would cry out in desperate prayer for a daughter to accept the robes of the priestess.

The trees had been there when that happy family had gathered by the lake, and there were those who believed the trees could remember the things that had happened around them. There was a tradition that the first tree of the original forest still stood somewhere on Qi’le, and that if one found it and went to sleep beneath it, the tree would reveal its memories through the person’s dreams.

It was nice to think that if she went to sleep for a while, her dreams would be filled with the tree’s memories of her siblings all playing together on the shore of the lake. She smiled and looked at the spongy loam covering the ground. It was just as likely the memories could be of a private moment her parents had shared in that location when they’d walked the trail without the children. She would not be surprised at all to learn she had been conceived in such a location, since she had already thought how nice it would be to bring T’qa down the trail while her parents watched the children.

She folded the letter back up and placed it back in the protective covering provided for it. Rising from the bench, she turned back up the trail towards the Embassy, hoping to take back some of the serenity of the isolated lake with her.

Friday Fiction for April 17, 2009

Things have been so busy, I didn’t manage to submit anything for Friday Fiction last week, nor did I even get a Challenge Entry in for the Faithwriters “Hot and Cold” topic this week. Tonight has been the first chance I’ve had in several days to get any work done on Precocious by Consent. In the last excerpt I posted, I left the reader with something of a cliffhanger, so this week, I offer the resolution to the main question left by that chapter. The story is now up to 10,600 words, and hopefully, I’ll have more time to work on it.

Friday Fiction is again hosted this week by Patty over on her blog, Patterings.

Chapter 7
Saturday, late night

Sid accepted the cup of coffee from Lloyd Timmons. “Thanks,” he said, and took a sip. Numerous boats moved slowly about the channels, shining spotlights across the water. Searchers walked along the shore, the piers, and even the breakwater surrounding the Queen Mary, likewise looking for anything that might indicate where the missing girl might be. Officers from several police agencies, the Sheriff’s Department, the Coast Guard, the Bureau, and volunteer divers, had descended on the two cruise ship terminals to join the search.

The Sunny Grove detective took a drink of his own coffee. “Do you think he was telling the truth, or just jerking us around?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Sid replied. “I wouldn’t put it past someone like him to send us out here for no other reason than his sick amusement, but I’d hate to assume he was lying and learn later we could have saved the girl if we’d taken him seriously.”

Timmons grunted. “These are the kinds of cases that both make me want to retire, and drive me to work harder. Homicides are bad enough when they’re a crime of passion, or a fight that got out of hand, but this guy enjoys it.”

“It’s a game for him, and he keeps us playing by making sure we know when it’s him.” His cell phone rang. “This is Powell. Uh huh? Okay; where at? I’ll be there as quick as I can.” He snapped the phone shut. “The Coast Guard divers have something over on the San Pedro side. Come on.” He took off at a fast jog for the car, with the detective following behind.

“Did they find her?” Timmons asked when they got in the vehicle.

He started the engine and switched on the lights, including the flashing red and blue emergency strobes. “They didn’t want to say over the phone, just in case someone might be eavesdropping.” He sped out of the parking lot and along the road that skirted around the harbor complex. The well-lit yards of cargo containers and lots of import cars waiting for transportation to market passed by on his left, and as the San Pedro terminal buildings came into view, he fought a sick feeling in the pit of his gut.

“For what it’s worth, my wife was getting the church Prayer Chain going when I left. By this time, we should have a whole lot of people praying for this girl.”

Sid didn’t respond to the comment. His mouth was dry and his throat tight as he took the turn towards the old Ports o’ Call shopping area. An officer waited by the sidewalk with a flashlight, and he stopped next to the man and shut off the engine.

“Agent Powell?” the officer asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“I was told to wait for you, and take you to the dock. The boat should be here in just a couple of minutes.”

“Lead on.” They walked between buildings to the waterfront, and followed the path to a gate. Several officers waited on the empty pier, while another opened the gate from the other side to let them through.

Standing with the other officers, Sid closed his eyes. Under other circumstances, it wouldn’t be a bad way to spend some time. A wisp of a breeze carried the smell of the open ocean through the harbor, and the sound of the waves washing against both the pier and the shore created a deceptively peaceful background noise. He’d always preferred the mountain forests to sandy beaches, but he had to admit there was also a certain magic to the sea. Will there still be a mystique to the Pacific after tonight? Investigating an abduction and murder on Mount Baldy hadn’t spoiled the mountains for him, but he’d already had ample pleasant memories of camping trips through most of the western forests.

He opened his eyes. Timmons had his eyes closed and his head lowered, with his lips making just the slightest motions of silent speech. The mood on the pier was sober, and the rest of the officers watched with grim faces the distant lights of an approaching boat. If there’s any good news, it hasn’t been spread around yet, he thought.

The gate opened behind them to admit a man and a woman with a gurney. Paramedics or coroners, he wondered.

The boat made a sweeping turn to line up with the pier, and throttled back to approach at a safe speed. Lines were tossed to two of the waiting officers, and the vessel was pulled into the mooring. A man in a Coast Guard uniform stepped up on the gunwale. “Agent Powell?” he called.

Sid stepped through the gap made for him in the waiting group. “Right here,” he answered. He gestured for Timmons to follow him.

The ensign led them to the back of the boat. “Is this the girl we’re looking for?” he asked, pulling a tarp back.

He dropped to his knees beside the body. “This is her,” he choked out. “This is Lara Schumacher.” Biting back an expletive, he asked, “Where was she?”

A diver with his wetsuit pulled off his shoulders and back stood over them. “We found her just off the tip of Terminal Island,” he said. “We informed Ensign Whitt as soon as we located her, and he called you, but it took us a few minutes to get her to the surface. She wasn’t in real deep water, but her legs were threaded through a cinder block. He bound her feet together with four large zip-ties and several dozen turns of adhesive gauze, and had used a bunch more of that stuff to bind a scuba tank to her back.”

“How long-?”

“It’s hard to say, sir. An eighty tank with three thousand PSI of air at that depth could last someone who stays calm an hour or more easily, but we don’t know what pressure was in it to start, and it’s doubtful a girl in that situation is going to stay calm. The tank was empty, so if there were air in it to start, she managed to keep the regulator in her mouth until it ran out.” He shook his head. “I don’t know if she would have survived even if she had enough air for hours. The water here isn’t exactly warm, even at that shallow a depth.”

“I’m sorry, Agent,” the ensign said. “Should I recall the rest of the searchers now?”

“Yeah, call them in. I assume you brought up the tank and the cinderblock?” Sid said.

“They’re up by the dive gear. Whoever did this got hold of an older set-up, and just used the bare minimum. Just the one regulator hooked to the tank; no mask for her face, or proper mounting for the tank. He had her hands bound under the same gauze holding the tank to her back, so she couldn’t have even pinched her nose to equalize her ears if she needed,” the diver said.

He stood up. “Let the coroner take the body; I need to go tell her parents.”

Timmons placed a hand on his shoulder. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“No; we have them waiting at my office, and a couple of other agents are waiting with them. You might as well go home.”

The older man nodded. “Extend my condolences to the family, please. I’ll see if I can get one of these other officers to give me a ride back to my car.”

Sid watched the detective head up the pier towards the gate. I hope this idea of yours works, Timmons.

Friday Fiction for April 3, 2009

Wow. What a week it’s been. It’s hard to believe it’s time for Friday Fiction again. This week, you’ll find Mr. Linky right at home over at Patty’s blog, Patterings.

I’ve fallen quite a bit behind on reading Friday Fiction the past week or so. Between things jumping at work, and getting two entries ready for the ACFW Genesis contest, I haven’t had a lot of reading time. I’ve managed to hit a few submissions, but not nearly all of them. Now that the contest preparation is finished, I hope to get caught up.

For Friday Fiction this week, I’m posting pretty much all I’ve managed to have time to write on Precocious by Consent this week one short chapter taking the word count total from last week’s 7200 to this week’s total of just under 8000. Any progress is good progress, but hopefully I’ll be able to devote more time to it now. The story is playing out various scenes in my head, and I really want to get them written.

Besides which, as you’ll see from this latest chapter, there’s a psycho on the loose, and I need to see just how everything is going to play out.

Chapter 5
Saturday evening


Sid Powell stood at the old wooden workbench in his garage, carefully sanding the first of four table legs he’d turned on the lathe earlier. Carpentry was relaxing; the puzzles and challenges of extracting furniture from the wood occupied his mind, and didn’t leave lives hanging in the balance. The Red Oak he’d chosen for his latest project had an interesting grain, and as always, he enjoyed the smell of real wood.

Two squeals sounded through the open door to the house, followed by an exasperated shout and a door slamming closed. His youngest daughter had a friend staying over, and his oldest daughter had finally had enough of their shenanigans. At fifteen, Carmen was impatient for her driver’s license, and lacking the ability to escape by car, she regularly retreated to her bedroom. Ten year old Lori seemed to take special delight in seeing just how quickly she could drive her big sister from any other room in the house.

Between the two girls, thirteen year old Ted managed to escape the antagonism of both sisters. Last Sid had looked, his son was in the den, killing zombies or something equally weird on the game console. Though he had tried repeatedly to interest the boy in woodworking, Ted was still just a bit too impatient for the time-consuming process of finishing the wood properly.

Sid blew some loose sawdust from the table leg and smiled. Getting all four table legs ready for the first coat of varnish would take many hours of careful work, but there was always discernible progress. He liked being able to see results; in his professional career, a case could often stall for days, weeks, or even years. Progress could depend on something intangible and unpredictable, and some cases were never solved.

It would take a while, but eventually a new table made of stunning Red Oak would replace the old, mass-produced factory table in their dining room. Where a sticker on the old table admitted it had been made in Mexico, the new table would have his initials carefully carved in attractive script, next to the year he’d completed it. With care, his grandchildren could someday feed their grandchildren at that table.

His cell phone rang, and he wiped the dust from his hands before answering it. “This is Powell,” he said, his tone a balance between business and personal.

“Agent Powell,” the taunting voice drew out the words. “You’re not letting Lara Moore play on Facenet anymore, are you?”

“How did you get this number?”

“Oh, you of all people should know that information is out there for the taking. You just have to know where to look.”

Keep him talking, Sid thought. Listen for anything that gives away his location. “Okay. You called me; what’s on your mind?”

“Come now, Agent Powell. It’s not what’s on my mind that matters, is it? It’s what’s on your mind. What information would you like to know where to look for?”

“Well, for starters, why don’t you tell me where we could meet face to face? I really hate having these conversations by phone.”

“I think I’ll let you figure out how to find that information for yourself. What other information would you like to know where to look for? Or maybe I should give you a hint; who would you like to know where to look for?”

“Are you going to tell me where to find Lara Schumacher?”

“No, but I’ll tell you where to look. Think big boats and happy people, but think fast. If she remains calm, she should have an hour or so of air.”

“She’s still alive?” He ran from the garage to the phone in the kitchen.

“Yes, at least she was when I left her a few minutes ago. Lara and I have been having a good time this past week, but I’ve gotten bored with her, so it was time to move on.”

“Where is she?”

“Good luck, Agent Powell.” The call ended.

He dialed 911, and identified himself as soon as the operator came on the line. “I need search teams to the cruise ship terminals in both Long Beach and San Pedro,” he said, grasping on the first idea of where big boats and happy people would be found. “I have information that a missing twelve year old girl may be trapped somewhere around one of those places with about an hour’s worth of air. Tell the responding agencies to look anywhere that might be enclosed or underwater. My team will be on its way.”