Chapter 5 — The Woman at Fisherman’s Wharf
Christmas Eve arrived wrapped in fog.
San Francisco was lit in gold and red, the streets crowded with shoppers and laughter, and Fisherman’s Wharf smelled of salt, sourdough, roasted nuts, and ocean cold.
Lavender stood near the pier with Flint, Kadira, and Mateo. Nicholas had insisted they take Thor to see the Wharf’s lights before dinner. Maëlle held Thor’s mittened hand while he bounced excitedly, his cheeks pink from the wind.
Grand-mère Catherine stayed home, “to prepare the mercy candle,” she said, eyes twinkling.
Lavender watched the water. Fog moved across the bay like silk.
Then the air shifted.
Not dramatically. Not like thunder. Like breath.
A ripple moved across the surface of the water near the dock, and a woman stepped onto the pier as if she’d simply walked up from a hidden staircase.
She wore a white coat. Her hair fell dark and glossy around her shoulders. Her eyes—ancient, luminous—searched the crowd.
Lavender knew instantly.
“Eidothea,” Lavender whispered.
Flint’s body tensed. “That’s her?”
Kadira’s hand flew to her mouth.
Eidothea moved slowly, uncertain, like someone who hadn’t walked on land in a very long time. She glanced at the holiday lights with wonder, like they were stars hung low just for her.
Then her gaze met Lavender’s.
Eidothea’s face softened.
“Lavender Ann Landry,” she said quietly. “I have been told you are a bridge.”
Lavender swallowed. “I… I don’t know what I am.”
Eidothea stepped closer, her voice barely above the wind. “You are what love makes possible.”
Kadira stared. “Are you… are you really a—”
Eidothea’s eyes warmed. “A mermaid?” She smiled faintly. “Not tonight.”
Thor tugged Maëlle’s sleeve. “Mommy, is she magic?”
Maëlle, to her credit, did not panic. She crouched beside Thor, smoothing his hat. “Yes, baby,” she said carefully. “But we’re going to be polite.”
Thor beamed at Eidothea. “Merry Christmas!”
Something flickered across Eidothea’s face—shock, then emotion so raw it nearly broke her.
“Merry Christmas,” she whispered back, voice trembling.
Lavender felt the world tilt.
This wasn’t just magic. This was healing.
Eidothea glanced toward the sky.
A bright moon rose behind the fog. Above it—like a painting come alive—Santa’s sleigh silhouette crossed the moon, reindeer flying in perfect formation. People cheered. Children pointed.
Eidothea stared as if she couldn’t believe such innocence still existed.
Then she took a breath and said, “I came to bring a gift.”
Mateo frowned. “What gift?”
Eidothea said, “The kind that matters.”
And she began to walk.
No comments:
Post a Comment