The Selkie Enchantress by Sophie Moss Page B

the rose? “I heard him cough a few times. I thought he should see Tara and make sure it’s nothing serious.”
    Nuala’s eyes narrowed, her arm curling around her son’s shoulders, protectively. “I think I’ll decide what my son needs or doesn’t need.”
    Caitlin’s mouth fell open. “I didn’t mean…”
    “What are you doing out in this storm, anyway?”
    “Looking after one of my cottages,” Caitlin explained, raising her voice over the howl of the wind.
    Nuala eyed the crumbling cottage in disgust. She took Owen’s hand and started to lead him back toward the village. “Next time, don’t bring my son with you.”
    “Excuse me?” Caitlin marched after them. Her sneakers filled with rainwater and squished into the soggy blanket of moss with each step. “Owen followed me out here. I didn’t put him up to this.”
    Nuala glanced over her shoulder. “He’s only a child. He doesn’t know any better.”
    “He told me he couldn’t go home,” Caitlin shouted. “That you wanted to be alone to write.”
    Nuala stopped and turned to face her. “Children can come up with the most imaginative stories, can’t they?”
    The rain pelted the back of Caitlin’s legs, soaking into her jeans. “You’re saying it was a lie?”
    “Of course it was a lie. I would never throw my child out of my home so I could write.” Nuala’s eyes were like ice. “I apologize if he was bothering you. It won’t happen again.”
    Caitlin’s hands curled at her sides. “Owen’s never… a bother.”
    Nuala pinched the drooping sleeve of Owen’s bright yellow rain jacket. “I assume this is yours.”
    “It is.”
    “I’ll come by later to return it.”
    “Keep it,” Caitlin said through clenched teeth. “Let him use it through the weekend and leave it in the cottage when you go. I’ll pick it up later.”
    “How kind of you,” Nuala said, her voice dripping with derision. “But he has his own. He just refuses to wear it.”
    Caitlin looked down at Owen, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes.
    “Owen,” Nuala said, frowning when she saw Owen rustling around in his pocket. “What do you have in your jacket?”
    “Nothing.”
    “Let me see,” she said, reaching for the buttons.
    “It’s okay,” Caitlin cut in. “It’s just a book. I told him he could borrow it.”
    Nuala shook her head. “Owen, give Ms. Conner back her book.”
    Owen swallowed and with shaky hands he withdrew Beauty and the Beast , and held it out to Caitlin. “I’m sorry I got it wet,” he whispered.
    “That’s okay,” Caitlin said, tucking it into the crook in her arm. “I’ll get another. It’s just a book. It doesn’t matter.”
    “Let’s go, Owen.” Nuala scooped up her son’s hand, gripping it tightly in her own as she glanced back up at Caitlin. “I’ll be by this afternoon to return your things.”
    Caitlin nodded, numb as the mother and child turned, disappearing into the curtain of rain. But just before they faded, Owen looked back at her over his shoulder, helplessly. Caitlin stared at their silhouettes until they were nothing but ghosts in a gray landscape and her gaze fell to the book still clutched in her arm.
     
    ***
     
    Owen ducked into the shelter of the cottage, but the chill followed him inside and he stood in the damp living room, shivering. He flinched when his mother shut the door behind them and locked it.
    She swept back her hood, shedding her cloak and draping it over the hook behind the door. “Give me your jacket.”
    Owen clutched at the rubber folds. “It’s got dirt all over it.”
    She held out her hand.
    “I could take it into the bath and rinse it off,” he offered.
    “Give me the jacket, Owen.”
    Trembling, he slipped it off, sleeve by sleeve. Rainwater dripped from the hood onto the floor. He bundled it up, wrapping the thick rubber around the book still tucked in the inside pocket and handed it to his mother.
    She took it and frowned at the weight. “What else do you have in