The Crossing by Kathryn Lasky

Author:Kathryn Lasky
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2015-05-14T16:00:00+00:00

Stannish had returned from New York a few hours before and had come to Hannah’s apartment bearing a lovely gift.

“Something for your trousseau!” he announced. He watched her carefully as she lifted the lid from the box and removed the layers of tissue paper. It was a lovely silk paisley shawl.

“Oh, it’s beautiful, Stannish.”

“I bought it to match the color of your hair now that it’s …,” he trailed off as his lips twisted into a scowl. “By Jove, you’ve been swimming, my dear, haven’t you?” He had leapt up and taken a tendril of her hair. “The dye hasn’t held, and the color is now … now like … like rust,” he said with distaste.

“Just once or twice,” Hannah answered, her voice trembling.

“We cannot have lies between us,” Stannish said in the tone one might use to admonish a small child.

Hannah shut her eyes for a moment. She felt herself grow still.

“You are right. We cannot have lies between us.” Her voice was surprisingly calm, and she looked Stannish straight in the eye.

“There! You understand!” he said, almost triumphantly, as he grabbed her hands. “So you won’t lie anymore.”

“No, I’ll tell the truth. Whenever I go swimming I shall tell you.”

He flung down her hands so violently that she almost staggered from the force. He was strong. Strong in the way mer were strong powering through a wave, but he had not been in the sea for years. Yet he still seemed to have a great deal of that residual strength.

“That hurt, Stannish!” For the first time ever, she felt frightened by Stannish. It wasn’t just his physical strength, but the way he made it feel as if the walls were closing in around her.

“You are hurting me. I have the power to provide you with a magnificent life —”

She interrupted him. “But why is it always me who has to give things up?”

“I am an artist. I had to give it up to become an artist, Hannah, so I could follow my passion.”

“But aren’t I your passion?”

“Of course you are. But you cannot have it both ways, Hannah.”

“Listen to me, Stannish. I think we could. You said you wanted to paint more landscapes, not just portraits —”

He cut her off. “Are you really that stupid?” he spat.

“How dare you call me stupid!” Her voice dropped, a deadly coldness tinged every word. “I am not stupid. I am what I am — mer. And I think I could live on both land and sea. My mother did.”

“But then she died. In a shipwreck. She drowned.”

“I don’t think she drowned. I’ve thought about this, Stannish. I think —”

“Don’t think, Hannah!” he thundered. “Girls get in trouble when they think.”

This last statement took her breath away. What have I become? Then something hardened in her. She would show him. She would show him that she could live in both worlds. Before she gave him up and before she gave up the sea, she would show him if it was the last thing she ever did.

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