Bride of the Sea_A Little Mermaid Retelling by Emma Hamm

Author:Emma Hamm [Hamm, Emma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-04-02T18:30:00+00:00

Manus stared at the rotting roof and wondered why it had taken him so long to get here.

He’d made a promise, and he prided himself on being a man of his word. So why hadn’t he shown up on this doorstep weeks ago?

Because he was also a coward, he admitted to himself. The thought of telling Arturo’s wife he wasn’t returning tore at Manus’s soul. It wasn’t fair. Of all the men to survive that wreckage, Arturo should have been that man.

Instead, his body lay at the bottom of the sea. His bones were likely picked clean by fish and those merrow men who still haunted his nightmares. It wasn’t a fitting end for such an honorable, good man.

What was he going to say?

“Your husband was the best man I’ve ever had the pleasure of sailing with,” he tried. “No, that’s not right. I wasn’t in love with the man.”

What else could he tell her? Arturo was like a brother and it was a damn shame he wasn’t here anymore.

A cry drifted through the window into the night air. Manus winced. The baby would grow up without a father, and that was even more of a damn shame. He knew the pain first hand. The child deserved someone who loved it.

He straightened his jacket, stepped up the small stairs leading into Arturo’s home, and knocked.

It took a few seconds for his wife to open the door, and Manus realized he’d never asked her name.

She was a pretty little thing with a splash of freckles across her cheeks and hair the color of gold. In her hand she held a broom, dust covering her simple gown.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

His tongue refused to work. In her eyes, he saw his own future. A pretty little wife, a babe, a small cottage by the sea. A wife who lived alone because her husband disappeared every chance he could get.

A wife who would inevitably find herself alone and starving.

“Och, you’re looking a wee bit pale there,” she muttered. “Come in with you.”

“I really shouldn’t—”

“In.” Her stern tone reminded him of his mother.

Manus let himself be pulled into her humble home and almost closed his eyes as a pang of pain struck him in the chest. This was the place Arturo spoke of so often.

It was a quaint little house, as his friend had claimed. Pretty and filled with a woman’s touch. Small tapestries hung from the walls, a hand stitched quilt over the small bed. Even the cups were painted with flowers.

The baby cried again, and Arturo’s wife raced towards the crib. “Sorry, it’s her feeding time and I can’t miss it, or she gets grouchy.”

He watched her life the tiny bundle into her arms and coo. In his mind, he filled in her image with that of Saoirse. His merrow would look wonderful with a few children, a life.

“It’s all right,” he murmured as she turned away from him. “Take your time.”

“I apologize, I’m usually better with guests. Are you a friend of Arturo’s?”

He tripped over his words, “I-Well-Yes.

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