Chapter One
Nick bolted at Angie as though the docks were burning behind him.
“Angela! Hey, come here!”
Angie cringed at the sound of her full name. Figures the jerk called her Angela despite repeating to him over and over how she hated it. She’d only been home two weeks and already she felt like throttling him.
Nick was drawing closer.
Too tired to deal with him now, Angie lowered her head and turned the corner around their warehouse, blending into the evening crowd as they left the docks for the day, and lost him.
One last task to finish.
Stretching her fatigued legs, she walked to the dock’s edge to wait for the last fishing ship to arrive. She smiled as a cool breeze swiped her nape. She spied the forty-foot long boat approaching, in awe at how its modest size so easily sliced through the thick waves.
Summers in Creston, her southwest Alaska hometown, were always her favorite time of year. Late May brought highs only reaching the upper forties, and the cold invigorated her and awakened her senses.
Beneath the deck’s wooden planks, the Bering Sea’s gentle lapping waves created a hypnotizing splish-splash, splish-splash, carrying balmy, aromatic salt air into her nostrils.
So refreshing and calming.
The ship docked, jolting her from the moment of calm. Angie helped the sailors and fishermen moor it, grabbing ropes thrown to her and tying a round turn and two and a half hitches knot around bollard posts.
She itched to go home, doff her heavy boots and baggy pants, hit the shooting range for an hour, grab dinner with Bàba, and take a long, hot bath at her childhood home where she lived for the summer.
Workdays were long and physical. They weren’t doing her energy levels any favors. She was such a worn out twenty-four-year-old.
A group of fishermen stepped off the boat, dragging their trawler behind them. A red-bearded fisherman addressed her as he walked past. “Hey lady, help us sift through this? We’re running behind, and we still have to take weight and record everything.” Then under his breath: “Dying for a hot shower. I smell like stale shit.”
Angie chuckled. Had she been out at sea for three straight weeks, she’d feel the same.
She hesitated before answering. There was no need for her to stay. Yet, going through the catch would give her practice identifying fish. As an extra bonus, Nick would have to keep waiting. That didn’t bother her one bit. “Sure.” She followed them to the weigh station.
“How much today?” the red-bearded fisherman asked.
Angie half-listened to their rambling as she pulled out a pen and clipped a piece of paper to her clipboard.
“Half as much as yesterday,” his colleague replied.
“Same as the last two weeks, then. I don’t like this at all.” The red-bearded fisherman stroked his chin. “Where the hell are all the fish lately?” Jotting the weight down, Angie frowned.
Not good. Less fish meant business would suffer, and so would her job. Then there was that issue of her tiny, self-sustaining fishing village not receiving their daily fish supply and not having enough to eat.
She would have to look into this.
A shiny sea glass-studded bracelet fell from the trawler.
Rosie, her young niece, would love this deep-sea treasure, as she liked to call them. Angie’s gaze lingered on the bracelet before palming it. “Mind if I keep this?”
The red-bearded fisherman nodded without glancing at her.
Once they no longer needed her assistance, Angie said goodbye, fish report in hand, and scribbled down her daily duties to hand to Bàba.
Before she reached Bàba’s office, Nick Richelieu called out again, a raucous “There you are!” followed by a “Goddamn, woman! You’re hard to track down.”
“And yet, you managed anyway,” she spoke through clenched teeth.
He was within eyeshot, strawberry blond hair flopping at his forehead. His steps were heavy and clumsy, arm swing stilted, his forced smile lopsided.
What did Mia, her older sister, see in this overconfident, obnoxious man? It beat her.
Nick stopped beside her, panting. “Angela,” he drawled.
“You know I don’t like being called that.” With her arms across her chest, she faced him.
“I know.” His lips widened into a toothy grin, too fake for Angie’s liking. “You told me. Because your parents and teachers called you that when you got in trouble.”
So, he did listen, but clearly, he didn’t care. No need to remind him yet again. “What’s up?” She plucked the thick gloves off her hands and shoved them into her coat pockets, keeping her distance and angled her body away from him.
If she were lucky, he would get the hint that she wanted to go home, not be stuck here longer than she already had.
No luck. “Well, Miss Angela Song.” He paused, still not telling her what he wanted.
Angie winced, but forced a smile.
Stay calm. Don’t piss him off or you’ll piss off Bàba, too. Can’t have that. Nick was his right-hand man. The son he never had.
This was her dream job for the summer. She could be with family, save enough money for graduate school. And work near the ocean, her happy place, where she could dive and explore the undersea world in her free time.
And more importantly, get enough work hours to meet her future graduate school’s requirements before starting her PhD program in the fall.
Nick continued despite her non-response, his voice grating. “You have today’s duty report?”
“You want my duty report? That’s why you were running at me like your ass was on fire?”
Her sarcasm might as well be a shooting star over his head. “It’s the end of the day and I need to get them from sixty of you. So, hand it over.” The phony grin stayed on his face, and he extended his arm.
Angie pushed past him. “I’m giving it to my dad.”
“No, he asked me to take it from you.” Nick’s outstretched arm blocked her path, and Angie sighed, dropping her papers into his grubby paws. “Oh, and Mia’s looking for you. She’s here with Rosie. They’re coming this way now.”
Angie's irritation subsided, and she beamed.
“She’s picking you up?” She never broke stride, hoping to get to Mia and Rosie before Nick did.
Private time with her older sister and her daughter, without Nick, was a luxury. Not waiting for Nick’s answer, she waved to Mia and swept Rosie – named for the female lead from Titanic, Mia’s favorite movie – into a hug, before embracing Mia.
To this day, she didn’t understand Mia’s hopeless romantic views, or why she loved the movie so much.
How could you fall in love with someone in a matter of days? The thought of falling for someone who was her complete opposite just seemed like more headache than it was worth. Why should love be hard?
“Angie āyí!” Five-year-old Rosie’s hazel eyes were alight.
“I see you’ve been learning Mandarin.” Angie grinned. “Look what I got you!” She held out the bracelet. Rosie burst into excited chatter, taking it from her hands. “Yay thank you!”
“Yes, we started teaching them Mandarin and French last year,” Mia added, grinning.
Rosie offered up a greeting in a foreign language, hands on her hips and chest puffed. “That means hi, Auntie Angie in French!”
“I love it. I don’t speak French, but you sound perfect.” Angie glanced at Mia, who stood with her arms loosely folded over her chest. She held her full figure rigid, keeping an eagle eye on her daughter. “And Nick is French? Like, French-French?”
“French-Canadian. He’s from Montréal,” Mia replied. “I’ve been with him eleven years and you never knew?”
“Nope.” Angie pursed her lips. Why did that still surprise Mia? Angie didn’t care for the man – outside of him treating her sister well.
“He’s part of the family, you know.” Mia’s tone became cutting. “But if you hadn’t gone to the lower forty-eight for college, you might see he’s not such a bad guy.”
Angie reeled in a sharp response. She wanted to spend quality time with her family in the few months she was home, not cause friction. Especially not over Nick.
“This came from the sea?” Rosie squeezed in between them, waving her bracelet at Angie.
“Yes, the fisherman got it with their catch.” Thankful for the interruption, Angie knelt to slip the bracelet onto Rosie’s wrist. “I’m glad you love the ocean as much as I do.”
“Oh, she’d come every day if she could. She must have been a fish in a past life. Or a mermaid, from Bàba’s stories,” Mia said.
“Mermaids dropped this?” Rosie’s hazel eyes widened with wonder.
Angie met Mia’s gaze which pointedly told her to play along.
“They might have,” Angie kept her tone neutral. Once upon a time, she was just like Rosie. Wanting to believe fairytales were real as she fell asleep to Bàba’s bedtime stories of how merfolk with healing powers once frequented the waters around the Last Frontier but inexplicably vanished over three hundred years ago. She could keep Rosie’s mermaid dreams alive until she found out about their nonexistence for herself. “Maybe one day you’ll do what I couldn’t and find them.”
“Yay!” Rosie exclaimed, then looked to the side, eyes lighting up. “Papa!”
Angie moved aside when Mia walked around to greet her husband with a quick kiss before asking Angie, “Walk with us to the car?”
“Sure.” They made the ten-minute trek out of the docks, idly chattering about their days, the way they did after middle and high school. Nick walked ahead of them, holding Rosie’ hand and asking about her summer camp.
They crossed the threshold into the parking lot, the crisp, fresh air giving way to a leaden, brisk scent. Mia put a hand on Angie’s arm. “Tell Bàba we’re coming for dinner?”
“Sounds good.”
“And.” Mia stopped, letting Nick and Rosie walk ahead of her. “If you and Nick could try to be civil tonight, I’d appreciate that a lot.”
Angie gave her sister a tight nod, and caught the slightest shake of Mia’s head as she turned and joined her family.
She planned to be polite with Nick for her family’s sake, but he could make it so tough.
Once they were out of sight, Angie returned to the docks to grab her belongings. As she strolled, she reached into her pockets for her phone to check if Bàba had texted or called her.
“Damn it.”
They were empty.
The phone must be in her locker. She purposely kept it there to resist checking her texts all day to see if her sort-of college boyfriend had texted her back.
It was a half hour before the next ferry to her village came. She could make that work.
Angie dashed back to the waterside and into the nondescript building that was the staff’s locker room. Most of the staff had gone for the day, and she hurried to enter the code.
As the long metal door flew open, a glint appeared at the corner of her eye. Angie glanced out the window at the ocean, where calm ripples trailed over the brackish seawater, a reflection of the overcast skies.
She leaned against the windowsill. Against the larger-than-life backdrop of towering mountains and majestic glaciers, a lone fishing boat coasted by. A tranquil, everyday sight.
When it sailed past, the glint reappeared. A long, slender maroon fishtail, unlike any she’d ever seen, broke the water’s surface.
Angie staggered back, her next breath catching in her throat.
In a blink, the fishtail disappeared.
