Eamon

Back in town bearing a small chest of gold, the first thing I do is go straight to the lawyer’s office. Andreas is an old friend of my mother’s, a small man with a prominent forehead that gleams in the late afternoon sun streaming through his window. Small beads of sweat collect on it, which he stops periodically to dab with a handkerchief.

“And what is it exactly you want me to do for you, Eamon?”

“Come with me and make sure I don’t get swindled,” I say very seriously. “I know the price of boats so I won’t get cheated there, but things like foreign exchange rates, investment and interest, I don’t know a thing about it.”

“Then, I think, rather than a lawyer, you’d need an accountant.”

“Erasmus said to bring a lawyer next time I sign anything with the bank, so that’s what I’m going to do,” I say stubbornly. “I’ll pay you fairly to make sure those bankers don’t take advantage of me, so please say you’ll come along.”

“Alright, Lad,” he says, straightening his vest and leading me out from his office and down the street to the bank.

Erasmus’ eyes when he sees what I’ve brought with me practically bug out of his head. Suddenly this busy man has all the time in the world to help me, and charm aplenty. With a faint smirk I wonder if he regrets the advice he gave me this morning. If not for Andreas’ meek but firm presence at my side, I feel certain this fellow would be doing all he could to shave a share off of the fortune I’ve just brought him.

Together with my lawyer I get my own account set up with the bank of Solor.

“I know you want a new fishing vessel. When it’s time to pay the shipwrights you may take them directly to us,” Erasmus tells me.

“And the debt collectors?”

“Let me handle them,” says Andreas.

I sigh with relief. With one peevishly delivered present from a cheeky little mermaid, it seems all of my problems have been solved. But the bigger relief is having that chest of gold out of my hands and safely deposited in the bank. Walking around in broad daylight with that much money was the most nerve wracking thing I’ve ever done. I think Andreas feels the same.

“I say, Eamon,” Erasmus stops me just before the door to his office, the tip of his tongue coming out to wet his lips faintly. “That chest was quite a lucky find. You said you got it out of a shipwreck?”

“That’s right,” I answer guardedly. “I was swimming and happened to find it.”

“I don’t suppose you remember where you were swimming?”

“I can’t recall, exactly. I’ve been up and down the coast a lot recently. Was it east or west of Solor?”

Erasmus’ smile is thin and unamused. “What a shame. Of course it’s always been my dream to find such a treasure.”

“Truly?”

“That’s right. I go diving on the weekends. There are many shipwrecks off of the coast and I’ve been lucky enough to find a few odd valuables from them. But never a treasure like this.”

“Beginners luck, I guess,” I say with a wry smile.

“Yes. Beginners luck.”

Later outside the bank I invite Andreas to my home for supper, but he politely refuses. We part ways with a firm handshake and I go whistling down to the grocer who’s just about to close up for the evening. I buy a leg of lamb and a bottle of wine and carry it up to my home, still whistling happily to myself.

“Welcome home,” Mother greets me from her usual chair. “Chowder’s on the stove.”

“Give it to the beggars,” I say, plopping the goods down on the table.

“Excuse me?” Mother demands, affronted. Grinning I rush to her side, lift her out of her chair and spin her around. “Good heavens, Eamon! What’s gotten into you?”

“We’re celebrating tonight. You season the leg of lamb, I’ll get the fire going out back.”

“But it will take hours to cook!” she protests.

“That’s alright. You and I… have a lot to talk about.”

Over the next few hours Mother and I take turns turning the spit. The scent of roasted lamb fills the seaside air, mixed with wine and fragrant wildflowers. Mother drinks sparingly, mindful of her weak heart, and listens with wonder to my tale.

I tell her of the shipwreck and how I was saved by a mermaid who only wanted songs and cheese pastries in return. I tell of the cheats at the bank who stole Uncle’s money and how I got only a pittance for the insurance on his boat. I confide the worries I’d had and the plans I’d made for us to move inland. Then I tell her how Blossom became angry when I said I was leaving, and gave me a chest full of gold.

“We’re rich, Mother. The debt collectors will never bother us again. We can buy a new boat and fix up the house. Andreas said he’d do some research and help me invest the leftover funds. And I’m going to learn to read,” I declare. “So we’ll never be swindled again.”

Mother takes every word in stride. Perhaps it’s because she was once a traveling musician, but nothing ever really fazes her. Even my story about the mermaid doesn’t raise any eyebrows. Instead, she seems excited.

“To think a mermaid would fall for my own son. Why, it’s just like something out of a bard’s song.”

“Our relationship isn’t like that,” I say quickly, glad my mother can’t see my ears turn red.

“But of course she’s in love with you, Dear. Why else would she go to such lengths to keep you around?”

“I’m telling you it’s because she’s got a taste for human food. She doesn’t know any other people so I’m her only link to cheese pastries.”

“Hm,” Mother replies, smiling in a way that leaves my face hot with embarrassment. “Tell me, is she pretty?”

I drink down the last of my wine in a gulp and move to trade places with her at the spit and grumble.

“Isn’t that lamb done yet?”

The following morning is a whirlwind. Working with the bank and the shipwrights, I purchase a readymade craft, a twenty-five footer with a wide stable hull, a swinging keel and a powerful square-top mainsail supported by a sturdy mast. It’s the kind of fishing vessel my uncle only could have dreamed of owning. I wish he were alive to see it.

Not wanting to wait even a minute to test it out, I have it hauled to the water and out to sea by lunchtime—though not before stopping at the bakery to pick up a huge bag of pastries.

I don’t have the lyre with me but I take in the sail and let the vessel drift while I sing the song of lemon trees over and over. It’s a calm day, and my voice carries far across the water. But it seems it’s not enough.

Half an hour passes without sign of my mermaid. Was it too much to hope she’d hear me a second time? I wonder with a pang of distress. Perhaps I should sail nearer to our beach and try there. Though as Blossom pointed out, that’s a particularly treacherous stretch of coastline, with many rocks hidden just below the water’s surface. I dare not bring my new boat there.

When I think I might not see her today my chest begins to ache. How can I describe this longing as I look out over the horizon and continue to sing? My pragmatic, pessimistic side tells me I should give up. But hope is stronger. And desire. I can’t stop. Even if I sing myself hoarse, I can’t stop.

I have to see her again.

“Eamon!”

A cry from the other end of the boat pulls an embarrassing sound from my throat and I very nearly pitch overboard in surprise. Regaining my balance, I turn to find Blossom hanging off of my rudder, breathless and grinning.

Relief washes over me like a warm current. Without really thinking about it, I find myself mirroring that grin as I hurry over to her side.

“Blossom!”