Seacliff

Chapter forty-two: Confronting the facts

1920

The naked woman, one of Sorley's four beloved daughters and nameless in the human tongue, helped Saoirse bathe while the two fathers of her son straightened things out. Anna had been dismissed and Natsume was patiently keeping an eye on the baby until someone would bother to enlighten him further.

James paced the front room, struggling to make renewed sense of the world. Sat on the settee in his old shorts, Sorley watched his every move.

"A seal," the young doctor muttered, "a seal came out of my wife's womb."

"A selkie," Sorley corrected him.

James chuckled. "Yes, as if that would make it any better."

Sorley's brows furrowed. "I don't understand."

"No, of course you don't understand. You'll never understand." James stopped and stared at the man. Memories of that one summer night flooded his brain.

"I love Saoirse," Sorley declared, his determination palpable. "I have loved her for some time – a long time, I believe, in human years. She wanted a bairn and I gave it to her. I also think that you will never understand, James."

Crimson heat flushed the doctor's cheeks. "No, I don't believe I will. But that doesn't change the facts. You left her. You left us."

"I am here now. And that is a story I owe to my Saoirse."

A scoff. A gulp. "But not to me? You don't owe anything to me?"

"I... am sorry if I hurt you. I... care for you, James. And Saoirse clearly cares for you. You were kind enough to look after her while I was away and for that I am grateful. But anything I have to say, I will say to Saoirse first. If she wishes to share my story with you, she is certainly free to do so."

"You know, I think I liked you more as an amnesiac."

The shadow of a smirk on Sorley's lips. "No, I don't think you did."

James's blush deepened. "You are a filthy bastard."

"Filthy? I... why? Because I made love to you once? Was it wrong? It felt like you needed it, so I..."

Sorley's befuddlement softened the doctor's heart. It made James realise how unfair he was being by holding a selkie to human standards. After months of denial regarding the summer wanderer's true nature, the man of science and reason was finally confronted with visible, immutable facts that compelled him to face the truth.

In the wake of his explosive anger, acceptance was slowly beginning to seep through the cracks.

"No," James sighed, "it wasn't... wrong, Sorley, despite what some people might have you believe. It wasn't wrong for me and I don't resent you for it. At least, I didn't think I did, but clearly..."

"You were hurting," Sorley stated.

"I was, yes. Grieving. I'd lost someone very dear to me."

"Like Saoirse."

"Yes..." A bitter chuckle floated out of his lungs. "Like Saoirse."

James fetched a glass and a bottle of Scotch from a mahogany cabinet behind the armchair. The situation called for it; his wife would understand. The first drink poked burning spokes at his throat as he downed it in one. The second smoothened the passage for the third, which he brought to the coffee table.

"Why have you come back?" he asked their visitor. "Why are you here today and what do you want from now on?"

Something akin to comprehension tensed Sorley's features, as if he'd guessed James's implication. An odd sight, after the dim-witted behaviour he had exhibited for weeks. Even before he'd lost his memory, the summer wanderer had been such a mystery to James that he'd never perceived his acuity. Where Sorley's gaze was once lost and empty, the depth of it now betrayed his guarded intelligence.

"I have come for my son," the selkie answered.

James bolted upright from the slouched position he'd slackened into. "You're not taking him away!"

"No, of course not. The bairn needs his mother. I want to raise him. Saoirse is an extraordinary woman, but even she will need help with a selkie child."

He had a point, which James hated to acknowledge. "In the eyes of the world, that baby is my son. And it is this belief, however false, that is keeping him and his mother safe from ridicule."

"I am not taking the boy away," Sorley reiterated. "I merely want to be a part of his life. Ultimately, it will be Saoirse's choice if she accepts me in hers, but the boy needs to learn how to live his. If he rejects his selkie form, it could have serious consequences."

"Like what?"

"Like death."

The doctor's blood ran cold, even with the Scotch coursing through it. "Death?"

"If he does not shift, yes. If he does not spend enough time at sea, if he does not feed properly... My father lived for twenty years in this house with the woman he loved. It killed him before his time."

James averted his eyes, peering instead into the amber of his glass. Someone cleared their throat nearby. Two heads turned in the direction of Natsume, who'd just walked into the front room. He stood with his hands crossed behind his back.

"Madame Mortimer has nursed her son and gone to sleep. She will see you when she wakes."

"Fair enough," James said into his Scotch, finishing it. "She needs to rest."

"The bairn?" Sorley enquired.

"Asleep. In its... fur."

The selkie nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer.

"If you'll excuse me, gentlemen." Natsume bowed and retreated upstairs.

He was handling it admirably, James thought, not in the least disturbed by the strange events surrounding him. But then again, Natsume always did a marvellous job of masking his innermost musings.

"I'm going to bed," James said. "I don't care what you do, but you'd better be here in the morning."

He emptied his glass and stood up, looking forward to Natsume's embrace in the guest chamber they shared.

"Goodnight, James."

The doctor froze mid-step on the stairs. Gritting his teeth, he grumbled a barely audible 'goodnight' in return and quickened his climb.