The Curran Sea

Judah

Judah was tending the alpacas, but he heard the wet footsteps approaching, all the same. The soft hush of the sand, followed by the shush of the grass. Light step, possibly a woman or child.
   When they were ten yards away, he quietly ordered them to state their business. No sense in alarming his son, or Ibrahim's children, if he didn't need to.
   "Was my coming not foretold?"
   He didn't like the religious sound of it, but the husky contralto spun his head to face her, faster than anything.
   One glance, up and down. That was all he permitted himself. Bent to fill the feed bin, outwardly calm. He had to remain calm, united, with his brother.
   "If you're Saoirse, it was not." He tried for Ibrahim's bass rumble, but it had never been in him to be so... unconsciously intimidating.
   "And if 'twas Orla?" she asked quietly. "What then?" Her steps never faltered.
   His grip on the bag was tighter than it needed to be, but it was something to keep him grounded. He now understood his brother's comment about their siren nature.
   "I was told of no Orlaigh who was to visit me." He paused. "There was a promise, but as I hear it, 'twas rescinded, after our line was sung."
   She stopped at the fence, lay her arms along the top railing, and watched him work. She didn't even flinch when he mucked out the pen.
   When he was finished, he wheeled the barrow out the gate, toward the compost machine. She was there to latch the gate for him, when he turned. Their hands almost touched, but he caught himself in time. She followed him to the compost, at a comfortable distance. She neither pushed her presence on him, nor fell too far behind.
   He was supposed to shower, after checking the twins, but he hesitated to go into the house. She might follow him in. Did he dare take a dip in the ocean, knowing what she most likely was? Which was the greater risk?
   There was no door from his bedroom to the porch. He'd never seen the need for privacy, as it had always been him and Jonah. Now, with the Smith kids in the living room watching television, there was no way except through his window. He was no teenager.
   He opted for the sea. He was, as he'd told himself, an adult, with sort-of grandchildren. What he chose to do in his spare time was his own affair. If a beautiful, young, well-endowed mermaid happened to follow him into the water for his ablutions, well, it was none of their business.
   He did, however, check on the twins through the window, first. Only after he saw steady, somnolent stats on their hover prams did he go to wash off the stench of manure.
   She kept pace, even when he looked in on the premature infants. Much to his surprise, she remained in a two-legged form, when she joined him in the water. It made sense that she wouldn't approach until he had washed Dolly and Dana's feces off of his body. It didn't take much, as the Curran males oft went shirtless. Swim trunks were almost a uniform, and they washed clean fairly easily. They were made of Isla Juda proprietary fabrics, of course.
   When he was clean, however, he was easy prey. She was mer. He was only a cloned half-mer. If she wanted what her golden eyes declared, there was little he could do about it.
   Not that he would have put up much of a fight.
   She seemed to know that. If she was like the other mer they had met, it wouldn't surprise him. Her approach was that of a predator, tempered with the intelligence of a thinking, feeling person. She did not cut off his retreat to land, taking the deeper water route around to his front. He'd bathed with his back to her, out of modesty.
   And then, she stood in front of him; long, violet hair barely concealing anything in the dusk light. The last rays lit her nipples a bright pink; drawing his gaze, almost against his will. Almost. He did ask, his voice husky, what it was she offered. He was not the man he once was.
   "All that you see, and more."
   His hands, which had not begun to discolor with age, trembled as they reached for her. Hers, long and lithe, were strong and certain.
   Judah had bedded many women--in and out of actual beds. This... this was different. It made sense, if their people were empathic, that he would feel a bond forming. That every touch would be more impactful than any other time.
   He wondered, as the stars exploded behind his eyes, how he was supposed to share such a creature with untold other women, for an unspecified number of years.
   Even when they staggered from the waves, and he heard the twins cry, she did not leave his side. She would have followed him right into the house, had he not stopped her.
   "I'm not denying you entry, Orlaigh. I merely ask that you wait for me to grab... something to cover your nakedness. There are children here. Go, wait by my window. It's that one. I will hand you a robe, or nightshirt, or... something. Go, please. I must tend the twins."
   He stirred no small amount of interest, as he scooted into his room; still dripping, despite the air jets. He acknowledged none of it, focused on the cries that were causing his pectorals much discomfort. He got one latched on, before grabbing the nearest bit of fabric and flinging it out the window. He bade her enter the same way, to avoid questions from the kids. Then, he asked her to help him get the other infant latched on.
   Then, he had no choice but to sit down and explain their whole, twisted, strange lives to his intended, and hope she did not run back to the sea.