Siren's Call

Earlier, she’d driven by Nash’s grandfather’s home, saw the light from the curtain-less window, saw the cozy bunch at the table eating. Stabs of jealousy prickled her skin all over like leprosy. She was in the dark, on the outside looking in. Her childhood repeated. The ugly redheaded foster kid no one wanted.

* * *

Lily bit into the hot, buttered corn bread and forced the crumbly mixture down her throat. “Delicious,” she lied, chasing it down with a sip of sweet tea. More like wet sawdust. Determined not to offend her hosts, Lily swirled a mound of pinto beans around the plate and lifted a forkful to her mouth. This tangy rotten mush was worse than the tasteless corn bread. Human food—bleh. Soon as she got home she’d eat a real meal—a bowl of seaweed salad and a barely blanched lobster. Still, she enjoyed sitting in their cozy kitchen with its rustic pine cabinets and table. This place had been a second home for her growing up.

“Nash says you volunteer at the animal shelter,” she said, diverting attention from the uneaten, rearranged food on her plate.

Sam nodded. “Every Friday.”

“What do you do there?”

He chewed a piece of venison and put down his fork and knife. He always spoke carefully, as if mindful of the power of words. “Clean cages, bathe them, take them for walks.”

“That’s admirable.” She didn’t care for animals all that much. She loathed cats and the way they licked their chops around her, as if she were a delectable morsel they wanted to devour. “Jet has a dog that’s around a lot. Ugliest thing you ever saw.”

Neither man responded. Lily wanted to stamp her foot in frustration, but instead she surreptitiously studied the two.

They were similar: tall and large-boned with prominent cheekbones and the same aura of strength. Both had long black hair, although Sam’s was streaked with silver. Each had olive-colored skin, Sam’s a shade darker. Nash was a younger, more virile version of his grandfather. The only other striking difference between them was the green eyes Nash had inherited from his mother.

Those eyes that avoided her own at every opportunity. How could he resist her siren’s voice? The more he retreated, the more determined she became to get answers.

Lily took another stab at starting a dinner conversation. “The dog’s name is Rebel, and he’s supposedly a Chinese crested, but I say he’s a mutt. Got the ugliest yellow teeth and mangiest fur ever.”

Sam lifted an eyebrow. “You aren’t fond of animals?”

Rats. They would find that odd. Nash worked photographing wildlife and Sam was devoted to all kinds of animals, even nursing wild ones back to health. She remembered an orphaned squirrel he’d fed from a dropper bottle that had hung around their backyard for years before disappearing.

Lily lied for the second time. “They’re okay.”

A corner of Nash’s mouth turned up, as if realizing she wasn’t being truthful.

“I have a saltwater aquarium,” she said in defense. “It’s like an undersea rainbow of colors. I’ve got violet dottybacks, blue damselfish, spotted dragonets and orange pipefish—” Lily broke off, aware she was rambling.

Nash nodded at his grandfather. “She still fits the name you gave her long ago.” He fixed his gaze on her. “Chattering Magpie.”

“I am not—” Lily closed her mouth abruptly. Defending herself with more words was a trap. She smiled sweetly at Nash’s smirk. “Perhaps a bit.” She didn’t often have much opportunity for conversation. Truth was, she didn’t often have anyone to talk to. No girlfriends. And Mom gallivanted at sea most of the time. Jet and Shelly, her cousin, had their own lives now, complete with adoring husbands. Jet had a baby on the way and Shelly helped her husband care for his teenage brother, who had autism.

Damn, so much had changed the past two years, and not all of it in a good way. She’d always been the special one of the family, the youngest and fairest and most beloved. Now she felt alone and outcast, taking refuge in her painting. Why the hell didn’t she leave Bayou La Siryna? Undersea with the merfolk, her siren’s ability made her special—admired by male and female alike—not despised, like in this place.

“He teases you,” Sam said. “Your voice is most engaging. This old cabin’s been too quiet for too long.”

A flicker of something—guilt or annoyance?—crossed Nash’s face, and she sensed the tension between them.

“I’ve invited you to go on assignments with me,” Nash said to his grandfather, a muscle working above his jawline. “Get away from the bayou. It wouldn’t kill you to take a trip once a decade.”

“I can’t leave.”

“You don’t want to leave. Big difference.”

“My home is here,” Sam insisted with a trace of stubbornness.

“Home can be anywhere you want.”

“I have no need for traveling the world, nor the time. I provide healings for our tribe. And I have my shelter work and my fishing.”

“You can fish and work with animals anywhere,” Nash countered.

“This is my place. Bowmans have lived here since the Choctaw first claimed this land as theirs. It means something to me to walk the land of my ancestors.”

Was that a veiled jab at his grandson’s wanderlust? Sam must be lonely living so far from town. A nicer person, like Shelly, would have been thoughtful enough to visit occasionally. Lily bit her lip. It had never occurred to her. Lily took advantage of their absorption in each other to rise from the table and scrape out her almost-uneaten meal in the garbage can.

She spotted a pie on the counter. “Who’s ready for dessert?” she asked brightly. “Smells heavenly.” The third lie at dinner. She was on a roll. Lily set the pie between the men. “Is this pumpkin or sweet potato?” she asked.

“Sweet potato. Nash’s favorite.”

The tension eased at Sam’s olive branch of peace.

“Thank you, Grandfather.” Nash cut a slice. “I haven’t eaten this in...” He paused. “I guess it’s been decades.”

Lily cut a piece for Sam.

“Aren’t you having a slice?” Nash asked.

“I’m stuffed,” she said, waving a hand to dismiss his comment. She beamed at Sam. “Dinner was wonderful.”

His deep wrinkles settled into a frown as he folded his arms and nodded at the scratches on her arms and legs. “What happened?”

“Got them walking on that trail behind the cabin.” She sipped more tea, reluctant to tell more.

Neither man said anything but their unblinking stares meant they were waiting for her to elaborate. Lily flushed and twirled a tendril of pale pink hair near her neck. “I got spooked by a coyote,” she admitted.

Sam glanced at Nash.

He nodded. “I checked it out. We may have a rabies outbreak.”

Sam turned back to her. “Why did it spook you?”

“It...it stared at me weird. After a few seconds—or maybe minutes—I don’t know—it lowered its head and started toward me. I took off. Was I wrong to be scared?”

Sam frowned. “Normally a coyote is more afraid of you than the other way around. But rabies can make animals do strange things.”

“That’s what Nash said, too.”

Sam pushed away from the table. “Think I’ll sit on the back porch a spell. I’m sure the two of you have lots of catching up to do.”

Nash rose immediately. “Actually, I’m retiring early. Got to get up before dawn to catch the first ferry to Herb Island.”

Lily sighed inwardly. No gracious way to stay longer and probe for clues to explain Nash’s strange indifference to her voice and his cryptic remarks about poison. She stood also. “I’ll clean up in here and head on out.”