Selkie

Chapter fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

It was just after seven in the morning. My plane had landed in Glasgow. I was facing a new world full of magic, mystery, danger, and nightmares come to life. I was ready for a coffee.

Do you find that when you have a long stretch of time to yourself, your brain starts drawing conclusions and sorting through things on its own? Like it's percolating? Boiling things around and acrobatically infusing the most innocuous things with new meanings. I think that's why I like reading novels so much. It's more fun to dive into another world than it is to deal with your own. Who enjoys sifting through every bit of information you have ever taken in? Every thought you've ever had. Who has the time?

I slept well on the plane to Glasgow, finally. On the flight to Heathrow, I'd sat next to a man who felt entitled to half of my seat and the entirety of my armrest. I spent the seven and a half hours curling into myself like a croissant.

The layover was too short to do anything, I barely made it to the gate in time, so I didn't have time to pick up another book. It was for the best, though. I needed the sleep. My poor brain needed time to sift through all the proverbial sand.

I liked Scotland right away. The air was charged. It felt - magic. The clouds filtered the sunlight in a way that can best be described as photogenic. Everything was softer like the world had a pastel filter over it. The edges of things blurred into each other.

The spell was quickly broken, though. I had to laugh at myself when I found the baggage claim and stood face to face with that Coffee chain - you know, the one. I ordered myself a grande jackfish roast, black and bumped directly into a wall of a man.

"Oh, pardon me." He reached out a hand to steady me, and somehow I fell into his arms.

"Hi." I said, looking up into familiar brown eyes that seemed to say, 'you can tell me anything.'

"Hi" his smile widened, and my heart stopped dead. He showed no signs of recognizing me as he took his time perusing my face. "You look so familiar. Have we met before?"

"No, you must be thinking of that last woman you dashingly saved from spilling your drink." I gestured to the cup he had in the hand that wasn't around my waist.

"You know what they say? No use crying over a spilled latte."

"Clever. So," I paused for dramatic effect, indulging in a sneaky glance at his lips, are you going to let me go?"

He reluctantly complied, which was extremely flattering, and I took a step back, distancing myself. I'd just gotten off a very long flight and couldn't vouch for the freshness of my own breath. We had met before. He was the border agent that I'd met coming into Canada. But, even with the danger of being caught in my ruse - I couldn't resist meeting him grin for grin. I blame the novels. It felt like fate.

Besides, the Reverend hadn't covered protocol for what I should do if I ran into someone who could see through the hair dye and extra makeup and see Edith rather than Meg."You know, you look familiar too."

"Meg," the barista called, putting my coffee on the counter. Meg, it was, not out of an abundance of caution but rather because it would have been too embarrassing to explain why I'd dyed my hair and changed my name in the weeks since we'd met.

"That's me!" I pushed some extra cheer into my voice. "Is there anything more satisfying than a coffee after a long flight?"

"You came in from Heathrow, didn't you? I was on that flight too. You were sitting a few rows ahead of me." I was both flattered and charmed by him. He seemed sweet, sheepish.

If anyone from back home could have seen me, would they have recognized me? My Mom would have had a heart attack, and my brothers would have beat up this poor man for no reason.

"I did. But I came all the way from Canada. I'm a social media consultant and just finished a big project in Northern BC." Why was I giving so many details? I remember feeling like I'd forgotten how normal people talked.

"I'm from here." He smirked in the way men do when they think they're charming. "A bit further north - a little place called Stromness. I know my accent isn't quite what you'd expect, but I live in Canada now. In fact, I did most of my growing up in Canada, but this is still where I'm from. Where in Canada are you from?"

"Vancouver," I lied.

"I work at the Vancouver airport!" He seemed so delighted by the development. His face lit with cartoonishly happiness. "My parents are divorced, and Mom and I lived all over the west coast. I visited my Dad up here quite a bit, though. It's good to have dual citizenship. All in all - not a bad childhood. What about you?"

I would have answered. I would have spilled all sorts of details to that earnest young man, but at that exact moment, a red-headed ball of energy ran up to me like a hurricane.

"Meg! It's me, Maria! M&M together at last! We spoke on the phone. I can't believe you're really here!" She put her arm through mine and steered me to the doors. "I knew you'd be pretty from your emails. You can just tell - you know? This is your bag, right?" She gestured to the rolling suitcase she clutched in her other hand - it was mine. 

"We have to get a move on if we're going to make our reservation."

I waved over my shoulder as the handsome border agent faded from view. His confused expression mirrored mine, except that, just before the doors closed behind me, his face clouded.