Bound to the Sea

Part 3 - Let Her Go

There was drumming within the darkness, pounding to the staccato rhythm of his heartbeat. First it was the rushing cadence of waves striking the sides of his boat, then it blended into the quiet patter of raindrops on a windowpane. There was a voice, too, sweet as a bell and achingly familiar. It was calling his name.

Ellis! Open your eyes. Come back! Come-

The oblivion melted away as he forced one eye open, then the other. A soft yellow glow surrounded him. The glow resolved itself into the familiar interior of his bedroom. He was tucked into his bed under about four layers of blankets. Sitting on the antique nightstand beside the bed was a steaming mug of tea and sitting on his chest was a little boy, staring at him solemnly through huge blue eyes.

"Da!" The child exclaimed in response to Ellis' confused expression. "You're awake!"

Ellis wanted to slip back into the numbness he had experienced a moment before, but the boy was tugging on the uppermost blanket to get his attention.

"How'd he get in there?" The voice of an older woman filtered in from the main room of the croft house, muffled slightly by the almost-closed bedroom door. "Owen, honestly, you had only to keep one eye on the child." The owner of the voice blustered into the room like a hurricane contained by an apron. The door banged against the wall, and Ellis winced as the sound sent a stabbing headache behind his eyes.

"Och, laddie, look at you!" The woman crossed the room in three strides and put a plump hand to Ellis' forehead. She tutted and lifted the boy off of his chest. The child had the good sense to look guilty, and cuddled into her shoulder. "You gave us an awful fright. Near drowned, you did." She adjusted the boy on her hip and tucked one of the blankets more snugly under Ellis' chin. "What on earth compelled you to go out there in that storm?" She plowed ahead before Ellis could answer. "No, never mind, I don't want to know the reason. It couldn't have been a good one. With a wee one to look after, what were you thinking? And after what happened to S- "

Ellis had patiently endured her tirade, but at her last comment he had gone even paler, and his eyes had taken on a tortured look. "This had nothing to do with what happened to-" He swallowed hard, pushed the blankets away, and sat up to a wave of dizziness.

"I misspoke, lad." The woman dropped her eyes. "Forgive me." She pushed a few stray locks of salt-and-pepper hair back into the cloudy mess of her bun. "How do you feel? Come sit out here with us. I'll make you something warm." She gestured toward the open door. "The doctor's just left. Said you'd swallowed a good bit of seawater but that it's a miracle you're alive, really. Should be right as rain, he said."

"It's fine, Moira. I'm alright, I'm alright." Ellis shooed her concern away. A fit of coughing on his part only deepened the frown on the woman's face. "Didn't mean to trouble you." He swung his legs off the bed and took up the mug in his chilled hands. He then followed in her wake, taking in the cozy main room of his cottage like he was seeing it for the first time.

In the center of the home was a worn oak dining table flanked by a stone fireplace where a large, scruffy wolfhound was sitting at attention like a wooden soldier. The table divided the room into a sitting area with a bay window facing the sea and a tiny kitchen. At the table Ellis noticed a newspaper held upright by a pair of calloused brown hands. The paper folded in half to reveal a face like a peach pit, round and wrinkled and wreathed in a close-cropped white beard. The old man to whom it belonged tugged his riding cap further over his forehead and appraised Ellis with shrewd grey eyes. The wolfhound behind him wore the same expression.

"What happened out there, lad?" The old man, Owen, asked in a no-nonsense Irish burr. "Found you washed up on the strand like a piece of driftwood. Pale as the lining of a seashell."

Moira placed bowls of steaming stew on the table, and Ellis took the seat opposite Owen. He tried to recall the events preceding the moment he had blacked out. "I... I don't know. It was clear when I left the house. But about halfway out I was ready to drop the net when the storm hit. Rain like I've never seen. I was thrown from the boat..." His eyes flickered back and forth, and his fingers tightened convulsively around his mug. "... this will sound mad, but before I went under, I saw... I saw a woman. A woman with black hair, standing on the dock."

When he finished his tale the old man's eyes went wide, his face grave. "You saw a selkie, lad." He said in all seriousness. Ellis choked on his tea.

"A selkie? A seal woman?" Ellis snorted and mopped tea off his chin with a napkin. "Aye, and I suppose fairies will crawl out of the woodwork and the Dullahan will come down over the hills?"

Owen folded the newspaper and slapped it down with a crack that caused the little boy to jump away from the table, where he had been watching the exchange between his father and the old man. "Watch your tongue, lad. You'll bring bad luck down upon all our heads if you anger the fae folk." Owen snarled. At Ellis' stricken expression, Owen sat back in his chair and resumed a calmer tone. "How else do you explain how you survived something like that? The selkie maid saved you, she did."

Ellis turned his eyes down to watch the cream swirl around inside his tea like a miniature thunderstorm. "I can't explain it, you're right. But it wasn't some fae creature that saved me. It was damn good luck." Something like guilt made his sore throat tighter. He pushed aside the memory that threatened to bubble to the surface of his mind.

"Enough talk of this." Moira turned from where she had been stocking the pantry with items she took from a carpet bag at her feet. "I think we ought to let Ellis rest." She turned her attention to Ellis. "Do you need us to stay? You're so frightfully pale..." She pressed the back of a hand to Ellis' forehead and frowned as she had done in the bedroom.

Ellis pushed his mop of dark hair out of his eyes and ran a hand over his short beard, dismissing her motherly gesture with an apologetic half-smile. "Nah, I'll be fine. Ronan'll look after me, won'tcha, lad?"

The little boy leaned against his father's chair and nodded a fraction before stuffing an entire biscuit in his mouth. Ellis stood and planted a kiss on the woman's head, then the child's. Moira squeezed his hand then moved toward the front door. They lived just up the hill, only a few minutes' walk from Ellis' house. Owen followed his wife out of the cottage but glanced back at Ellis as he paused in the doorway. A melancholy look flashed briefly in his eyes as he addressed the younger man.

"Lit 'er gang, lad." He said solemnly, and with a swirl of salty air off the Atlantic the door shut behind him.

Let her go.