The Little Mer-Betty, Part 5

 Jeff and Betty's other siblings spent that week gathering all the items Ruth wanted for her potion. They brought her colorful rocks and ancient driftwood and glistening sea glass. They gathered things from the palace – pieces of seaweed-paper, the shells left behind by crabs who had outgrown them, flowers that waved in the currents, the oyster shells from Grandmother Gertrude's tail. King McKinley and Grandmother Gertrude thought they were out looking for their sister all week and left them alone. They were too busy conducting their own searches.

It was the day before Betty's week was up when they finally gathered all the items Ruth requested. They met at Ruth's grotto, their arms laden with stones and paper and shells. “Do you think this will really work?” C.J asked as they made their way past the strange creatures in the halls.

“There's only one way to find out.” Jeff lead them into Ruth's blue and purple crystal cave. She was already mixing things in the cauldron, her seashell wrap swishing in the water around her.

She looked up as they arrived, her eyes very large and bright. “Did you find it all?” Her small smile was rather amused. “I'm surprised you did it so quickly.”

“Quickly?” Jeff glared at her. “It took us almost two weeks and a lot of bruises to round up all this! I had to go searching for those jewels in a cave guarded by a shark. I'm lucky I got out with my tail intact!”

“It's worth it, isn't it? You want to save your sister.” She inspected each item and dropped them one by one into the cauldron. “Now, I'm going to need one more thing from each of you. The potion requires the hair of each merfolk who will be effected by the magic.” She turned to them with a black crystal-handled knife. “Since your sister isn't here,” she swam over to Jeff and fingered his long dark brown curls, “you'll be more than adequate substitutes.”

Enid gulped and hid behind Doug. “Now I'm not at all certain this is really the appropriate thing for us to do. I'm terribly frightened!”

“Don't worry, sweet little Princess Enid, no harm will come to you.” She chopped off a lock of Jeff's curls. “I just need your hair.”

Up above in the little box on the beach, Betty was nervous. The two weeks were coming to an end. It had all been so much fun, but Scott had yet to give her a declaration of love. He hadn't tried kissing her again after that one time on the beach. She'd been distracted and sad the last few days. Her new friends couldn't figure out why. They tried to cheer her up with preparations for the huge clambake that celebrated the end of the summer. The whole town would be there, Scott told her. There would be music and dancing and pony rides for the children and games like horseshoes and badminton for the adults.

Maple fussed with Betty's short curls, pulling them back with a large ribbon the same color of the pearl she still wore around her neck. Betty sighed. She liked Maple. The vivacious red-head was a good friend. She'd shown her how human women behaved, and what to do and not to do around men (although she wasn't sure she liked the idea of elbowing them when they got, er, fresh). She'd bought her clothes and showed her the musical instrument shop where she worked. Betty never saw so many musical instruments in one place! Maple showed her each and every one.

Betty had also heard people talking. Most people assumed Maple was Scott's sweetheart. There were rumors that the beautiful musician and one of Nantucket's most popular and wealthiest sailors would marry as soon as Scott put in one more good shipping trip. Maple and Scott never said they were in love, but Betty saw them together. They were so comfortable around each other, so carefree, like a brother and sister.

“Aw honey, what's got you so upset? You should be happy! This is the last big blow out before the season ends. Scotty n' I always have a great time.” She frowned, straightening the lacy ruffles on the collar of Betty's floaty white gown. “Is it the dress? I told Eugenia all the ruffles and bows were too much. You ain't a kid. You're a grown woman.” She shook her head. “You know, there's something about you that just ain't...real. Like you're not quite human. A fairy, or a mermaid, or something.”

Betty nodded at the mermaid part, then winced as she moved her stocking-clad feet into dainty white kid slippers. She'd gotten used to the enormous pain by now, but there were still times when she'd have to sit down to relieve the sharp, needle-like feeling in her lower extremities. She lifted her skirt to indicate her legs, trying to show Maple that she'd once had a tail.

“Yeah, you got nice gams there, honey. I know Scotty likes 'em.” She grinned knowingly. “He thinks you're cute. He told me himself. Said he'd never met a girl like you. I think he wants to take you to the clambake tonight.” Betty frowned, confused. “I'm goin' with the owner of the music shop. He's talkin' about makin' me the head saleswoman. Maybe even a partner!”

Betty sighed again. “He likes you, hon,” Maple went on. “I know you like him. I've seen how you look at him. I can't blame you. He's a real find. Smart, good-lookin', loyal to his friends. He acts tough, but he's got a soft heart in there.”

Maple finally patted Betty's ribbon into place. She grinned. “Ok, you're done. Now I've gotta make myself gorgeous. I picked up this amazing dress the last time I was visitin' my family in New York. I've been savin' it just for the clambake. I can't wait to show it off.” She grinned at Betty. “I'll meet you n' Scotty on the beach with my date at 6 o'clock.”

Betty watched her as she made her way to the front door. The young mermaid sighed again and picked up a book. It was a beautiful old collection of fairy tales. She never liked how mermaids were depicted in these stories. They didn't use their songs to lure men to their doom....well, most mermaids didn't. Men hurt them, not the other way around.

Her mind was so engrossed in the stories, she lost track of time. The huge old grandfather clock in the hall had just chimed 6 when she heard feet coming in through the back kitchen. “Betty, Betty, Betty!” exclaimed a familiar, happy voice. “I just got you your corsage...”

Scott stopped the moment he saw her. “Betty,” he gasped, “you look...you look beautiful. I mean, you've always been pretty, but tonight, you look...nice.” Betty blushed at his praise. He gently helped her to her feet. “Here.” He handed her a small bouquet of white flowers. “I got you this for the clambake. That's what men usually do for the girls they're courting.”

Betty's eyes widened. Court? “Yeah,” Scott admitted as he pinned the corsage onto her blouse. “I've really had fun these last couple of weeks. I want to get to know you better. I don't care if you can't talk. You say more with your eyes than most women do with a hundred words. I swear, I'll do whatever I can to help find your family. Maple, too. We want you to be happy, like you've made us happy.”

She threw her arms around him, delighted. Now surely, he'd kiss her and say he loved her. She knew she loved him! She wanted to get to know him better, too. She wanted to find her family and introduce him to them. Once King Mackie met him and saw how wonderful he was, surely he would reconsider his protests about him not being a merman.

“I'm glad you agree.” He put his arm out to her. “Shall we, my little mermaid?”

She smiled gently and took his arm. They made their way outside, down to the beach. It was very different from what it had been the past two weeks. The shore was crowded with people wearing white or pastel colors. They set up tables groaning with all kinds of fruit, vegetables, bread, cheese, pies, cakes, candy, and ice cream. There were pits dug in the sand for the clams and seafood to cook in. Men laughed and drank flowing gold liquid from huge barrels. Women played croquet on the sand and chased their children and sipped Eugenia's iced tea. Beautiful lanterns made from brightly-colored paper with tiny white sticks called candles inserted in them were strung from poles over her head. It was truly magical, even more lovely than a thousand crystals twinkling in the main hall of her home.

A local string band on a hastily-built wooden platform played a lively tune. “Care to dance, my lady?” Scott bowed low before her, his amber brown eyes merry. She smiled and took his hand, letting him whisk her into the dance. She didn't care how much her feet hurt, or that this could be her last night alive. All she knew was there were people and he was there and nothing else mattered.

Many men surrounded her as they finished. They admired her beauty and asked her to dance. It took ages for her to pull away from them. She danced with a few, but she really wanted to get back to Scott. She tried to see his head over the women who begged for a chance to swirl around the wooden platform dance floor with him, but it ultimately vanished in the crowd.

She finally let the last young man go and went to the food tables. She was famished! She loaded her plate with bread and cheese and peach cobbler and tomato salad and clams just out of the pit, then took it to a chair to have a bite.

She couldn't help overhearing Eugenia chatting with a group of women as they handed out the food. “You work for Scott Sherwood,” a round lady with a bristly chin grunted. “You know he's one of the most eligible bachelors on the island. There are dozens of young women who would love to jump right into his arms and marry him.”

Eugenia looked around. “I'm not normally one to gossip,” she began, “but I've heard he's almost considering asking Maple LaMarsh to be his wife. I mean, they're around each other all the time. She's over every night. They're practically lovers!”

“The tall red-head with the big teeth and the loud voice?” The very big woman snorted. “Surely he could choose someone with more culture and refinement. What about that young lady they've been escorting all over Nantucket the last two weeks?”

“I don't know what's the story with poor Miss Betty,” sighed Eugenia. “She still can't talk or tell us where her family is. I don't know what we'll do when she leaves, though, especially Mr. Sherwood. He's been quite taken by her.”

“You don't even know where she's from?” The woman stuffed a sausage into her mouth, then continued between bites. “We have many fine young women from right here on the island he could choose from. He doesn't need a musician from New York or some mystery girl.”

“I don't think Miss Betty means any harm,” Eugenia explained. “She hasn't hurt anyone in the entire time she's been here. She's as gentle as a lamb.” She looked around, then added. “She does seem to be a little...odd. There's so many things she doesn't seem to recognize. She didn't even know how to use her silverware the first night she was here. I'm wondering if whatever trauma she experienced that ended with her washing up on the beach did something to her memory and her voice. Maybe she can't remember how to speak.”

Betty made a face as she finished the last of her peach cobbler. She didn't know what a lamb was, but she was glad Eugenia thought she was gentle. She didn't want to hurt anyone. Far from it. She hadn't realized her lack of knowledge of the land was so obvious, though. She put her plate in a wooden bucket filled with water and went to see if she could find Scott. It was getting late. The sun was going down. She had to get an answer from him on how he felt about her by the day's end...or she would cease to exist.

“Betty?” Maple wore a pale green gown scattered with gold print flowers and a wide gold sash around her waist. An elaborate green hat with gold feathers was pulled over her red waves at a rakish angle. “Have you seen Scotty? I can't find him anywhere. He's not playing horseshoes with the men or eating or dancing.”

Betty shook her head. Maple groaned. “I hope he just went off with some of his men to talk about their next voyage or somethin'. Come on. We've gotta find him.”

Scott was, in fact, looking for Betty at that exact same moment. He wanted another dance with her. There was something about her that worried him. Maybe it was how sad she'd looked for a lot of the evening. What was with her? He was more and more starting to wonder if he was right and she was somehow not of this Earth. There was just something about her...

That was when he heard it. That voice. The one he'd heard the night he was rescued from the sea. “Who is that?” The voice sang sweetly from what sounded like the direction of the cove. It was so pure, so beautiful, so otherworldly. He was sure it was a mermaid, or some kind of siren. “Is that you?”

He followed the song on the breeze to a sheltered cove on the edge of the beach. He couldn't help himself. That voice entranced him. He felt drawn to it. He had to find out whom it belonged to! He made his way to a quiet cove, near the rocks where his ship had gone down.

A beautiful woman with shoulder-length auburn waves and wide brown eyes stood on the shore. Another woman was behind her in the water. She also had auburn hair, maybe a little darker, and large dark eyes, but she seemed a tiny bit older and far more careworn. The smaller woman wore a gown of sapphire blue, trimmed with a hundred glittering sequins.

“Who are you?” he asked. “Are you the one who rescued me?” He frowned. “There's something about you that isn't quite...right.”

The small woman in the blue dress smiled seductively. She turned to the other woman. “Hilary, why did you stop singing? He wants to hear” she coughed a bit, “your golden voice. Sing for us, dear.”

Scott started back. “She's the one?” He looked down at Hilary as she began to sing again. “She doesn't quite look right, either. At least, I don't think so.” He rubbed his temple, his eyes looking weary. “I wish I could remember.”

She glided through the soft sand, ignoring the pain in her bare feet. “You don't need to remember,” she purred. “You need to be a good little human and do what I tell you to.”

Scott's eyes were growing more and more clouded. He tried to shake his head to clear it, but she put her hand on the back of his neck and stroked it. His face struggled. “I....I...have to....remember....Betty....”

“Forget her,” Ruth continued to purr. “Forget the red-head I saw you with, too. You're mine now. Your precious soul belongs to me.” Her fingers went down to his chest. She pressed her hand against it, rubbing her fingers along his white sailor's shirt. “Yes. I knew you were perfect. Such a strong soul you have! It's just right for a fabulous star like myself.”

Scott's eyes closed. His breathing became deep and even, his face placid. “Good boy. You're completely under my control.” She ran her fingers over his throat, making a dark light appear. “We're going to go to that little party on the beach. You will tell everyone there that I'm you're fiancee, and we'll be married in the morning.” She took a green glass bottle from a pocket in her skirt. “Then you'll give me your voice. You have no need of it.” She stroked his temples on either side of his forehead. “Now, open those deep brown orbs, but keep them focused on me. I am your true love.”

Scott opened his eyes. The brown had been swallowed by a cloudy black. He turned to Ruth, but didn't seem to look at her. “You are my true love,” he repeated in a mechanical monotone. “You are my fiancee. I will do what you say.”

“Good.” Ruth turned to Hilary. “Go tell your husband and his siblings to bring up the knife. I'll need his blood for the final part of the spell.”