Selkie

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

The documents that the Reverend handed me contained an entire life. 

Meg Deann-Mhara's life. She was born in Glasgow but had an American passport on account of having grown up in Seattle. She was a freelance social media strategist. She had my face, but just looking at her, I wasn't sure we'd get along. 

"Why am I blonde? Sorry - why is Meg blonde?"

"Because you're a brunette, child." He pulled a series of official looking tubes of hair dye out of his seemingly bottomless bag. "Meg also wears a smidge more eyeliner than you do and isn't afraid of a bold lip."

"I thought we were trying to avoid notice. Nothing screams "don't notice me!" like a full face of makeup and platinum blonde hair."

"We want people to notice Meg. Look at your tickets. Meg is flying from Dawson's Creek to Vancouver. She's just spent a month there helping out a fledgling bed and breakfast create their online presence."

"You're scaring me." He was scaring me. A pit was growing in the base of my torso, threatening to swallow me whole. You must have been working on this long before I arrived."

"Honey, if this scares you, we are in big trouble."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"You're smart. You'll figure it out. But, if I could make a suggestion. Take lots of pictures while you're here - send them to me, and I will post them on your accounts. That will buy us a bit of time. I don't think he has a man on the ground yet, but I'm sure he is monitoring your social media. Just coming here set off a chain reaction that there is no stopping."

"Wait, you're not coming with me?" 

A ghost of a shadow crossed his face. "I can't go with you. I really am the Priest here. That really is my Church, and nothing would quite blow my cover like running away with a young woman who just showed up in the house I've been trying to rent for a decade."

"You can absolutely rent this house."

"Thank you, child."

We stayed up long into the night. He shared stories of my biological Mother that painted her as a tragic heroine. She was perfect. Funny and brave and bone-deep sad. It was so clear that he was in love with her. Then, now, always.