Page 11 of For the Ghastly and Beautiful

The guilt and mourning slam into me anew, and I know she’s right. That fishing trip would have been my last. I don’t know when I would have done it, or how, but I can’t say I wasn’t thinking of ending my life. I haven’t felt like that in a few weeks now, haven’t even thought about it.

“If I’d have been happy, what would you have done?”

Her frown deepens. “I would have left you to live your life on Earth.”

I nod, slowly digesting everything. “Okay.”

“Okay?” she parrots.

“What would you have me say? There’s so much to think through, and you still haven’t answered my question truthfully. You told me how you picked me, not why.”

The pursing of her lips doesn’t hide the curves of her cheeks. She studies me intently, and I meet her head-on. This seems to make her happy, though I don’t immediately understand why.

“I need a fearless and unpredictable water bearer. I need a matriarch from a new era who isn’t afraid of change, who can dive headfirst into the unknown while remaining calm and grounded. You are that person, Adelaide.”

“How do you know?” I challenge.

She scoffs, her knowledge bordering on condescension. “How do you not?”

“I—”

“You do know,” Spiran interrupts. “You aren’t ready to accept it, but you felt it as soon as you touched this world. How many humans do you think wash upon my shore terrified but not accepting, not willing to change for a second chance at life?”

That question sobers me to my core. “What about the others who were caught in the waterspout with me? Are they okay? Alive and thriving or struggling to find their footing?”

“They are alive, though one struggles more than the others. It's no fault of her own; Nesta has not been welcoming to the young woman. She denies that she’s grown weak over the last millennia, and she refuses to mentor her replacement.”

“What?”

“Yes. It is unfortunate, but Isolde has been accommodating. I suspect you’ll be getting a visitor in the coming weeks.”

I wave my hand for her to stop. “Did you say replacement? As in to replace the current queen?”

“Oh. I forgot myself, but I see you’ve caught my slip.”

“Are you telling me—”

“Ada, don’t stress yourself. Isolde knows, and she’s ready.”

I jerk my head back, the verbal slap ringing in my ears. “I’m not.”

“We know…” she trails off and holds her hand out to me. “Let me show you something before I leave.”

“Leave? Like leave-leave or just visit someone else for a while?” I ask, even as I place my hand in her warm embrace.

“I am the island,” she whispers as her light washes around me. “We can go nowhere, for they all need us to survive.”

I blink, clearing the speckles from my vision, when I notice a familiar boat beneath me. My dad stands at the end, passing me the tackle box and fishing poles.

Tears stream down my face as I relive the last time I was truly happy.

I had asked my dad to take me fishing, because I couldn’t bear sitting in the hospital room with my mom any longer. I wanted to be one with the water and forget the world, forget the troubles. She had sent us on our way, a tender smile gracing her lips that didn’t reach her dim hazel eyes.

My dad grins as he climbs into the boat and shoves away from the pier. The sun is shining brightly, casting playful light shows in his auburn hair. The small engine gives a half-hearted roar as we head to our favorite drop-off.

“I hope we catch some fish,” he says, pointing to the crickets and glittering, fake worms. “Load us up, baby girl. We’re almost there.”

My heart aches for the ten-year-old Ada. I hear my adult voice seep into the childlike tone. “When I’m all grown up, can we still do this, Dad?”

“Every day, and twice on Sundays.”

I laugh. “That’s too often. I won’t have time to swim then. But maybe we can pick some Addy-Daddy days?”

“Addy-Daddy days, huh? I like that.”

We cast our lines and wait… And wait... And wait… Until there’s a tug at the other end.

“I have a bite, Dad,” I squeal quietly, trying not to spook all the fish. “A bite!”

I reel it in with all my might, and despite this being a memory, I feel the ache in my biceps. I grimace at the squirmy fish. Dad chortles at my expression, masterfully unhooking the little sea bass to release it.

“Let’s make this day a yearly Addy-Daddy day, okay? But be prepared, baby girl, because with luck like that, I’m taking you to my next tournament.”

“Every year? Even when I’m an adult?”

His phone rings, and he digs it out of the tackle box as he promises, “Even when you rule the ocean and tides, baby.”