Seacliff

Chapter thirteen: Pride and prejudices

1919

"Warmth... Sorley?" James guessed.

"No, it was her lover!" Saoirse replied. "Well-endowed Eachann, remember?"

"I do remember, but... What about the sealskin?"

"It was his."

"What?"

"His sealskin, that he wore. He was a selkie."

James blinked, bewildered. "I beg your pardon?"

"I know, it's incredible, but Aoife described it in very much detail. It wasn't just grief or madness or illness making her see things. James, you knew her. Even on her deathbed, with the cancer eating away at her, she remained sharp and lucid and cunning. She wouldn't be making something up to this extent."

The young doctor swallowed a knot in his throat and dabbed his handkerchief to his perspired forehead.

"That's impossible," he declared. "Impossible."

"It's impossible that he's human, James," Saoirse argued. "I sewed six stitches into his head. In six days, he was as good as new. Six days! And you saw him swimming in the sea! That's too cold to swim in like that even in the summer, let alone bloody November."

James shot up from his seat. Saoirse had surmised that, as a man of science, he wouldn't be able or willing to entertain her wild theories. Nevertheless, she'd hoped he might be flexible in her favour upon being confronted with the facts. Now she feared she might have proven herself insane to him, ripe for the asylum.

"You don't believe me." A desolate statement, rather than a question.

"Saoirse, I wish nothing more than to believe you, but I – I simply can't. Everything I've learned, everything I stand for – "

He shook his head, unable to find the words.

"I thought you'd understand... You of all people. You know what it's like to be unusual! An... an anomaly – "

A hurt look passed across his face and she regretted her choice of words. Though her apology never made it past her lips, because Sorley barged in just then, cheerful and oblivious, still dripping seawater. He was grinning from ear to ear and stooped to kiss Saoirse's cheek. Perhaps due to sharing her bed, he'd grown extremely affectionate towards her.

"Oh, no, Sorley!" Saoirse exclaimed, noticing his bare, filthy feet. "You've made a mess of the carpets again! What did I tell you, wash your feet in the basin by the door before you walk in."

His brows furrowed in a sheepish expression.

"Time for your bath, big man," she decreed and he brightened up again.

His hair had grown out by now, more than it was humanly possible in the five short weeks they'd known each other. It flowed to the middle of his torso and he needed help washing it.

He loved it when she washed his hair. But then again, he loved it when she patted his back or held his hand, or read him stories – he didn't seem able to read or write himself. After the first six days during which he'd healed uncommonly fast, he became uncommonly happy.

It felt like everything was new to him and he loved it all. The dogs, the horses, the sea, and the fields... He spent long hours sleeping. At night, he couldn't, if he wasn't holding onto her, but during the day, he dozed off on the settee while Saoirse busied herself around the house.

She rejoiced in being a caregiver again. It delighted her even more to look after such a sweet, special creature like Sorley. He gave her life renewed purpose, after the initial shock at his oddities had subsided, and his contagious excitement infected her.

"I must go," James announced, gathering his hat. "But, um..." He cleared his throat. "I will think about what you've told me." He reached for the journal she had read from. "Might I finish this at home?"

"Yes, of course. I trust you to bring it back safely."

"Thank you, I will," he nodded. "Good day, Saoirse. Sorley."

Sorley beamed at James as the doctor walked past, tipping his hat. Saoirse watched him go, then remembered that apology she owed him.

"James!" she called out as she hurried down the stairs. "James, wait!"

She caught up with him in the front hall.

"James!" Saoirse gasped and he swivelled to face her. "James, I'm so sorry about earlier. I didn't – I was... wrong and cruel, please forgive me."

He graced her with a compassionate smile. "I've been called much worse."

"That doesn't make it – "

"All is forgiven," he cut in, sweeping his hat off his chestnut curls. As he leaned in, his free hand stroked her hair while his lips pressed to her forehead. "It's really only too bad," he chuckled, "that I can't bring myself to fall in love with you, Saoirse. I'm sure I would have loved to be your husband."

Saoirse rolled her eyes, her cheeks reddening. "Nonsense. I'm... I'm not much of a woman, not really."

"And I'm not much of a man."

Sparks flew between their locked gazes, charged looks that made Saoirse's fists clench on her skirt, until James put his hat back on and bowed.

"I really must away," he said. "I promised Mrs MacKenzie I would attend her charity soirée in Edinburgh. I shall see you next week, dear Saoirse."

"What, are you staying all weekend?"

James sighed. "Yes, my parents took advantage of the situation and begged me to keep them company over the weekend. I could have hardly said no."

"No, of course not. Well, enjoy." She straightened the wrinkles in her skirt. "Surely, there's some fun to be had at such events."

James looked like he disagreed, but did not comment. "Should I bring you anything from the city?"

"Oh, I..." Saoirse almost said no, before deciding to give it some thought. "Or could you perhaps... if you could pick up some things, that would be lovely. You're driving, yes?"

"Indeed I am."

"Then..." She rushed to find a pencil and paper to make him a list of the things she'd been meaning to purchase from the city. "Let me fetch my purse and I'll – "

"No, don't bother." He took the list from her.

"But – "

"We can sort it out when I'm back."

"All right, then," she relented. "Thanks very much."'

"My pleasure."

The doctor tipped his hat again and went, leaving Saoirse to return to her dirty-footed charge.