Chapter One
The candle in the window flickered. A cool breeze was slipping through the small cracks in the walls. A little girl lying in its path shivered.
She slipped out from underneath the small scratchy blanket that had been lovingly tucked about her, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth. She left the room, no larger than the one scratchy hay-filled bed that stood in it.
On silent bare feet she passed the ladder to the hayloft where her sisters slept. She did not pause when thunder made the ground rumble. She stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking to the window.
Rain beat against the expensive glass. The little girl walked to it and pressed her small hand to it, not flinching when the cold spread through her fingers.
The window had been her papa’s gift to her mother, so she could gaze out of it to the hills beyond while she was washing. It is a pity, the girl thought, that he didn’t place the window on the front of the house, so we can see the ocean.
The girl could feel the rough basin and pump she was leaning over press into her stomach. Lightning flashed, and she gasped as it lit the countryside. The falling rain looked like small but thick needles dropping out of the sky.
The girl could hear the waves beating against the cliffs, and she imagined standing on the edge of the rocks and facing the storm. She was so intent on her mind’s pictures she did not notice a frail old woman exiting the tiny room next to hers.
“Ah, Rebecca.” Her grandmother said. “Did the storm wake you?”
The little girl shook her head. “I never fell asleep.” She replied softly.
The old woman came to stand beside her. She, too, gazed out. The girl studied her features, wondering what occupied her grandmother’s thoughts.
“It was a stormy night like this when Marie’s true love set sail.” The old woman began, not taking her faded blue eyes from the view. Rebecca knew she was to hear one of the many stories her grandmother told. She stayed silent, waiting patiently.
“He was a good man," Rebecca's grandmother went on, "who cared for what was right and did nothing that was not pure. They were poor, Marie and her man, so he set sail to earn enough money for them to marry and to have a home together. He left with a group of young men that wanted to leave their homes and families behind and make something of themselves. But as they sailed, fate had a terrible thing in store for them all. The ship was attacked by pirates. Marie’s man was allowed to live because of his strength and honest look of him. He was forced to become one of their murderous crew.”
The old woman glanced down at the child’s face, so sweet and expectant.
“Despite his good heart and love for Marie, he became a hard man. He was cruel, and uncaring. But he still loved Marie as much as he had from the day he'd left. And he did eventually return to her…he ran to her small home and kissed her and told her of all that had transpired. Marie was grateful he was alive and thought he would stay with her and they would live together for the rest of their days…but Marie’s man had grown accustomed to the life of pirates and did not leave the crew. He went back to them, and would only visit her when the ship would pass by.”
The grandmother paused, her throat sore, for she did not talk often. But she kept on, “Marie was saddened at what her man had become, but loved him still nonetheless. The rest of the people in her village feared him, and she became an outcast for loving a pirate. Marie and her man never married, for he had forgotten his old ambition, and she knew reminding him did no good. He was no longer honorable, and kept no promises he made. They had children, and became wealthy. Marie was the only woman in the village who lived in a mansion…but she was also the saddest. She hoped that her man would give up pirating and the endless roaming, but he did not. Marie was known for her wondrous voice. Even though the villagers scorned her, whenever someone would hear her singing, they would stop and listen, but only for a moment. When the children asked her to sing in their papa’s long absences, she would sing this,” Rebecca’s grandmother’s voice was old and tired, yet she still sang
“My true love was a sailor,
he sailed the seven seas.
And when he came ashore,
he would run to me.”
Rebecca’s face was emotionless, yet the old woman sensed her interest.
“When the children were grown and had gone their own ways, Marie grew even lonelier. And her true love’s visits even more seldom. Eventually, Marie’s man did not return from his voyage. Marie became unbearably full of sorrow, and, with love for him still burning in her heart, died. She became a part of the waves, and searches for her lost love. He never did return to their homeland, and was never seen or heard from again. Some say he died in a swordfight and is among the waves with her. Others say he left and forgot about her and lived with his mistress. What really happened, I suppose we’ll never know.”
Rebecca looked up at her with large, black, unblinking eyes. “I think he died in a storm," she murmured.
Her grandmother smiled. “And how would you know that, little one?” She asked lightly.
The little girl did not answer but looked out the window once more. “The wind tells me," she whispered.
The old woman frowned. “I think you’ve had enough of my stories for now. Off to bed with you.”
Rebecca obeyed and quietly went back into her small room, shutting the coarsely-made door as gently as possible behind her. The old woman stared out into the rain.
“Strange, that one.” She said to herself. Lightning flashed, and the old woman reconsidered. A small secret smile curves her lips, and she shook her white head. "Maybe not so strange."
Thunder rumbled, and the old woman wrapped her weak arms about herself as her granddaughter had, cold but not allowing herself to shiver. The wind increased, and, with what seemed like renewed vigor, the waves crashed against the rocks harder.
“It would seem you agree.” The woman said to no one in particular, and then turned to go to her own bed. Lightning flashed, making her white nightgown glow.
* * * * *
“Rebecca! Mama says to come back and help with supper!”
The little girl hid behind a rock, hoping to avoid her sister’s searching eyes.
“Rebecca!” The older girl looked among the rocks nearest the stone cottage. Exasperated, the little girl’s older sister went back to help the rest of the women.
The little girl sat silently, staring at the rock which protected her from view of her family, listening patiently. Assured, she stood, unmindful of her wrinkled and worn dress.
She climbed down the rocks. She did not falter or stumble; she knew the way well. Soon her bare feet touched the warm sand. Her dark eyes scanned the endless blue horizon.
The wind whipped long strands of dark hair against her small, serious face. She stood there, by the sea, the lapping waves just out of reach of her tiny toes.
Her grandmother’s story that she had heard during the storm came to her mind, and she remembered the song that Marie had sung.
“My true love was a sailor, he sailed the seven seas.” Her quiet, child-like voice was carried by the wind, to where she did not know. “When he came ashore, he would run to me.”
The waves, which had been beating against the shore, seemed to still, and listen.
The little girl moved foreword, until the water touched her feet. There she stood, enjoying the wind and the waves. And they enjoyed her; this child was so unlike the rough men that came and ignored the songs they gave them as they snatched all the fish from the sea.
The little girl tipped her head and listened, as so many others rarely do. A faint voice blew past her ears. She did not move, but stood solemnly and listened. It was singing. The little girl thought that it was a sad, longing sort of melody.
She felt the water stir. The little girl looked up. There, so still and watching her, was a seal. Rebecca did not back away, nor did she move foreword. She gazed into the round, unblinking eyes. A faint smile curved her small red lips.
“I am Rebecca,” she said. The seal tipped its head a bit, not taking its eyes off her. The song was gone now, but the girl did not mind.
“Rebecca! What in heaven’s name are you doing?” The child saw her mother was climbing down the rocks to her. “You’ll catch cold! Get out of the wretched water!”
As the little girl's hand was snatched and she was dragged away, she looked back. The seal was gone. But she did not despair, for her ears caught a faint hum in the wind. She knew she would see it again.
