Introduction - The Little Mer-Betty

The second story in my Remember WENN Fairy Tale Series is based after the classic Hans Christian Anderson story and was inspired by the second season episode "Behind Every Great Woman." You'll want to check out that on YouTube in order for a lot of this story to make any sense:

Behind Every Great Woman

Like Snow White, this is another fairy tale I didn't mind re-writing. As romantic as Hans Christian Anderson's version of The Little Mermaid is, I'm not the biggest fan of tragic endings. Trouble is, the ending of the Disney movie always seemed like a bit of a cop-out, too. The question is how to give this mermaid what she really deserves...while staying true to the story without getting too sappy?

Over at radio station WENN, writer Betty Roberts has been filling in for Hilary Booth on a musical show. That worked as a one-time stunt....but now everyone thinks it's Hilary who has a golden voice. Even station manager Scott Sherwood is giving Hilary the plush treatment and ignoring Betty's contributions. Betty's fed up with being ignored and treated like a stand-in. She just wants Scott and Hilary to appreciate her. When Hilary suggests The Little Mermaid for a radio broadcast, Betty finds herself relating to the heroine more than she could ever imagine....

The Little Mer-Betty, Prologue

A WENN Fairy Tale: The Little Mer-Betty

Rating: PG (mild violence, innuendo)

Pairings: Betty/Scott, some Hilary/Jeff

Disclaimer: The characters always belong to Rupert Holmes. The show would belong to American Movie Classics if they'd acknowledge its existence. The original “The Little Mermaid” belongs to the estate of Hans Christian Anderson.

Prologue and epilogue are set during the second season episode “Behind Every Great Woman.”

Betty rushed into the writer's room, blushing. She couldn't believe she'd frozen up like she did, in front of Ruth Getty, no less! And after doing all that singing for Hilary in the past few days. I'll bet Hilary was never really a singer at all, Betty thought in annoyance. She probably had a non-singing role in that one musical she starred in.

Although she and Ruth Getty had been able to perform after she'd closed her eyes and had a drink of water, it was hardly one of her great moments. And what's worse, for once, the whole show had been her hairbrained scheme, rather than Scott's. And what got into him? Was he really so desperate for ratings – and so entranced by a pair of witchy divas – that he practically shoved her into something that was morally wrong? Sometimes, I wonder what I see in him.

She watched Scott and Hilary walk Ruth Getty to the elevator out of the corner of her eye. They were laughing, arm in arm. He'd do anything to get sponsors, she thought, almost bitter. Then she shook her head. He was only doing what was necessary to keep the station afloat.

Betty rolled in a new piece of paper. She had dozens of scripts to work on, starting with tomorrow night's “Land of Make Believe” episode. Hilary had brought the Hans Christian Anderson story “The Little Mermaid” to her attention. She'd heard of it, but hadn't often read it. She preferred happy endings. Hilary, on the other hand, thought the show could use a good, tragic story...one that would, of course, show off both her new-found singing ability and her dramatic skills.

Betty had to admit, once she re-read the story, that Hilary had a point. It was one of Anderson's most romantic and beautiful stories. Mr. Foley could have a field day creating aquatic sound effects. Mackie could be King Neptune, Hilary the mermaid and the witch, Maple the prince's other suitor and the mermaid's sister, and Jeff the prince. If she offered to spell Gertie at the switchboard for a few hours, she might even be able to convince her to play the mermaid's grandmother.

Betty sighed as she studied the Anderson fairy tale collection on her desk. Why did that poor mermaid have to suffer so, for a prince who didn't even appreciate her? She didn't deserve to become seafoam or a spirit in the end. All she did was fall in love with the wrong man. And what about the witch? Her character was awfully murky. She'd have to do some work to flesh her out and figure out her motivation besides just giving the mermaid a potion.

I wish Scott appreciated me. I come up with ideas, I work and type and push and grapple with the sponsors, and does he notice? Half the time, he claims it was his idea! And Hilary treats me like a servant. I might as well not have a voice. Scott and Hilary never hear it.

She started typing, but in truth, her mind was a million miles away....

The Little Mer-Betty, Part 1

Nantucket Sound, Just off Nantucket Island, Massachusetts, late August 1906

Beneath the rolling waves of the Atlantic Ocean lay a whole world that no human had ever seen. Fish knew this world, fleeing here the moment they escaped a human's net. Whales knew it, too. Even sharks were welcome, if they kept their feeding frenzy to a minimum. It was a world where sea quartz glittered, rocks glowed softly, seaweed drifted lazily, and flowers blossomed in brilliant hues that could never be possible on land.

It was the world of the merfolk. They were spectral beings, half-fish, half-mammal, who lived in grand cities deep beneath the waves. They were the protectors of the sea, keeping watch over its fish and other animals, and making sure its plants and reefs were well-cared for.

Most of the creatures who lived under the Nantucket Sound were content with their life. There were new schools of fish to count, whales to race, nets cast by fishermen to dodge, and rock formations and ancient wrecks to explore. One mermaid, however, felt differently. She'd always been fascinated by the world above her.

“Tell me about the humans, Grandmother Gertrude,” Betty asked yet again, pulling her reddish-gold tail up by her beloved relative. Betty, the eldest daughter of King MacKinley (or Mackie, if you preferred), was also considered to be one of the loveliest mermaids in the Mid-Atlantic. Her tail glowed with burnished red scales. Her deep brown eyes and soft pink cheeks were framed by masses of flowing chestnut curls. She wore flowers around her pale breast and stomach, like all young mermaids.

Gertrude laughed, pushing the mermaid's hair back from her eyes with a delicate pink flower. “I've already told you what I know a hundred times, my little Betty.”

“Tell me again, Grandmother. I do love to hear about them.”

Her grandmother sighed. She couldn't understand her granddaughter's obsession with the land-dwellers. It was...unseemly...for a mermaid. “All right. Humans don't have fins like we do, nor can they breathe in the water for long. They travel on things called legs, riding strange four-legged whales they call horses, or riding in very large floating pieces of driftwood called ships. Their homes are made from driftwood rather than rock or glass, and are usually smaller than our grand cities. Their legs move on green plants called grass. It's a bit like seaweed, but it doesn't move about as much. They sink their toes into soft golden sand, and watch fish that sing amid tall, waving plants called trees.”

Betty picked another flower from below her rock and twirled it around in her fingers. “They have flowers that smell beautiful, and whirl around and make motions called 'dancing.' Oh, how I wish I could dance!” She playfully grabbed her grandmother's arms and whirled her around and around in the water.

“Betty!” Gertrude couldn't help her laughter. “Enough! This old tail isn't up for such spinning around. You're making me feel like a whirlpool.”

Betty gave her grandmother a kiss on the cheek. “Oh please, Grandmother Gertrude. You're not that old. You're only 369.”

“370 last birthday.” Gertrude settled back down on the rock. “And speaking of birthdays, I know someone....”

“Oh, yes!” Betty grinned. “Let's go see Father. I can't wait for my surprise. Is it a new fish spike quill for writing stories? Or a book taken from one of the wrecks? Or a dolphin to sing with me? Or....”

Gertie laughed. “My goodness, child! Why don't we move along to the main hall and find out?”

The main hall was where the King and his family met for all royal events, from concerts to birthday parties. Unlike her older brother Jeffrey, who loved parties and being the center of attention, Betty had asked for a small family party. She'd rather be with her father and grandmother and brothers and sister than all the merfolk and fish and whales in the Kingdom of Nantucket Sound.

“Surprise!” Betty gasped with delight when she entered the main hall. It had been decorated with garlands of the brilliant flowers she so loved. Glittering gems lit ever crevice. Her favorite foods – clams, sea lettuces, and lobster – had been set out.

Best of all, her whole family was there. “Happy birthday, my little angel fish.” Her father Mackie gave her a kiss. Despite his small stature and graying hair and mustache, he was the defacto King of the Atlantic, and much-loved among his family and his subjects for his fair judgment and laid-back nature.

“Yeah, sis,” added Jeff, his flowing deep-brown curls framing his chiseled features. “I wanted to give you the first present.” He handed her a seashell. It opened to reveal a sharp quill and a green glass bottle.

“A new fish-scale pen and never-run squid ink!” She hugged her brother. “Thank you, Jeff! I'm almost out of ink.”

“What about us?” She laughed as Christopher and Douglas, her two younger brothers, jostled for position. Doug was plump and sweet-looking, with wide, gentle eyes and their father's laid-back manner. His dark gold hair flowed around his broad shoulders and chest.

“Doug, let me give it to her!” Christopher, or C.J as his family called him, took the seashell. He was the family fixer who always knew how everything ran...and how to put it back together when it was broken. He had long, straight chestnut hair that framed dour, dark eyes and was more slender, like Jeff. He held the seashell out to Betty. “Here you go, big sister.”

The seashell opened through a series of quartz hinges to finally reveal a large oyster pearl on a golden necklace. “I found the pearl when I was helping the food collectors pick up oysters the other day,” C.J explained. “It was so pretty, I thought it would look great on you.”

“I found the necklace by one of the wrecks,” Doug added. “Here, let me put it on you.” He undid the clasp and hung it around his sister's slender neck. “You look so beautiful, Betty. I wish Mom could have seen you.”

“So do I.” Mackie squeezed her hand. “She would have been proud of you. You're such a smart mergirl, and one of the best writers under the Atlantic.”

“Oh, please allow me to give my gift next!” Betty giggled as her youngest sibling hurried over. Enid was small and plump, with a pearly pale blue tail, sweet guileless blue eyes, and masses of golden curls that no amount of working through with pearl combs could untangle. Her gold-rimmed spectacles perched on the end of of her button nose. She always seemed to be out of breath, rushing to study with her sister here, helping her father with his work there. “Here you go! I only just completed this story yesterday. It's fortuitous that I was able to finish it. It's a story about the people above the waters of the Atlantic. I know you truly enjoy Grandmother's tales.”

She smiled and took the bound sheets of seaweed-paper, specially treated to be waterproof. “Thank you, Enid. I'll start reading it tonight.”

Gertrude took the largest seashell from the table. “I've been wanting to give you this for a long time. I think you're old enough to take care of it now.”

When the seashell flipped open, it revealed the most amazing tiara Betty had ever seen. It was made from hundreds of pieces of quartz, in all shapes and sizes. A pearl the size of her father's thick fist was embedded in the center.

“It's beautiful, Grandmother.” Betty was truly amazed. “I've never seen anything like it.”

“It was your mother's on her birthday. Now it's yours.” She took the tiara and nestled it in her granddaughter's thick chestnut curls. “You look so much like her, Betty. She was beautiful, too, and a writer.”

Mackie smiled. “I know what present my angelfish wants most of all.”

“Oh yes!” Betty beamed. “Today is my day to go above!”

“That's right, my sweet little tuna. It's finally that birthday. The one where you get to spend the day taking a gander at the land-dwellers and seein' what they do.”

“I don't know why you'd want to.” Jeff frowned. “I don't trust humans. You know what happened when I went up there. I got caught in a fisherman's net.” He waved a hand at his chocolate-brown fin, which was missing a piece. “I'm lucky I got out with only a chunk of my tail missing.”

“Most humans aren't hunters. They have families and children and favorite animal companions, just like we do.” Doug took his sister's hand. “I went closer to land when I visited. I saw human women in strange, gauzy, flowing scales, splashing each other in the sea or playing with their children in the sand. The little humans were so sweet! They built tiny castles and scooped sand into bowl-like objects. I don't think any of them would have hurt a minnow.”

“You're terribly lucky!” Enid took her hands. “How I wish I could attend with you!”

“Me too,” C.J added. “I want to see if the humans have any shell machines like ours.”

Betty thanked all of them for the presents and gave them huge hugs. “Wish me luck!”

“Be back by sundown!” Gertrude called out. “And mind your manners when you're up there. Don't want the humans to get the wrong idea about us merfolk.”

Betty finally made her way to the surface. She'd been close to the surface before, but had never broken the ripples that flowed gently over her home. Now, for the first time, she was going to see the humans for herself. She was hoping she'd meet more of the females and children, like Doug did. They sounded like fun. And if she encountered a fisherman's net...well, she knew how to take care of herself.

The first thing she saw when her head emerged from the water was a vast expanse of blue-gray overhead. The world seemed to be nothing but fat, greyish puffs swimming through the grayness. Grandmother had told her about the air humans needed to breathe to survive....although right now, Betty was wondering how they could. The air around her was so heavy, she suspected she could cut it with a sharp piece of quartz.

That was when she saw the strangest thing bobbing along in the waves. It seemed to be made all of gaily colored driftwood. The tall floating driftwood glided past her, seemingly swimming on the crests of the waves. Betty had heard about it from her grandmother's stories, but had never actually seen anything like it in one piece. She'd seen wrecked boats on the ocean floor, but none in good condition.

She swam over to the vessel and climbed the rock-like chains to the anchor as well as she could. She held onto the railings and watched the party. The humans moved lightly around the deck, one of them playing a stringed object that made music. They stomped their legs and twirled and sang and made tons of noise.

“Hey Scotty!” laughed one burly fellow with lots of hair on his chin, “this is the only way to celebrate the end of the summer, ain't it?”

That was when she saw him. He wasn't as tall as some of the men around him, nor was he as broad-shouldered, but he had a strong chin, heavy black hair with silver at the temples, and beautiful warm amber eyes. His lopsided smile turned her heart to soft sand. She could hear his infectious and merry laughter across the main deck. “You bet it is,” he grinned, “and you guys deserve it. You've worked hard. This shipment of spices from India will net us thousands of dollars.”

“And better yet,” added another one with thick eyebrows and a hearty, ringing voice, “we'll be home in time for the big Labor Day parade and clambake in three weeks!”

“You think I'd make you boys miss the clambake?” Scott laughed, whirling with another, smaller man. “It's one of my favorite parties of the year!”

“Who are ye takin' with ye this year, Scott?” The big man with the bristly chin nudged him playfully...though he nearly sent the younger man to the deck.

“Haven't figured that one out yet, Harry,” Scott admitted when Harry helped him to his feet. “I'll find a girl. Piece of cake!”

Betty sighed. She wished she could eat clams with him. Or do anything with him. He was so strong and handsome. If only he were a merman, not a human! She wished she could sing for him, read to him, take him to meet her family....

She was so busy admiring the good-natured sailor, she hadn't noticed that the dark clouds on the horizon had become even heavier, and the thick air even closer. She was startled by a noisy rumble that shook the boat to its core. Bright, white lights, like the lights from electric eels, flashed across the sky.

Harry looked up into the horizon. “We'd better batten down the hatches, Scotty. There's a storm-a brewin'.”

“And it looks like it's going to be a nasty one.” Scott immediately started giving orders to the men. Everyone dashed around at once, throwing on strange, slick yellow coverings and tying down things on-deck. Betty barely clung to the railings. She kept her eyes on Scott as he tied down the long piece of driftwood that held the wide white fins. The rain had started coming down now, lashing on the boat in torrents. The air picked up until it was a gale, blowing barrels, small objects, and men across the deck.

The wind was too much for Betty. She wasn't accustomed to such force! She finally lost her grip and plunged back into the sea. She swam away from the vessel, trying to avoid being caught in its currents.

She made it to the surface again, this time watching the ship from a distance. The ship wasn't handling the storm well. It was being tossed around like her brothers' childhood shell boat toys. She gasped as a bolt of light hit the mast, setting it on fire. Scott was struggling with a circle with spikes on it to keep the boat in control. Without the mast and fins, the boat was easily thrown into series of jutting rocks by the shore with a sickening crunch!

Most of the men had climbed into a smaller version of the boat, one without a mast. Betty swam as close to it as she dared. She saw Harry and some of the other men, but not Scott. The other men were concerned, too. She could hear their chatter over the booming noise from the sky. Oh, where was he?

The men had just gotten the smaller boat away from the larger one when the larger boat began to break apart. No! Betty had to go to the boat and make sure Scott was all right. Grandmother Gertrude told her that humans couldn't survive for very long in the water without special equipment. Their lungs weren't made for being without air for more than a minute or two at most.

She swam around the part of the boat that was now in the ocean, dodging debris and scraps of driftwood. She finally found Scott trapped under the mast that had been flung into the sea. He was struggling to get loose, but he couldn't hold his breath and push it away at the same time. His furious struggles lessened, until he finally fell unconscious, his body becoming lifeless under the heavy cylinder of wood.

Betty had no time to think. She used another piece of the mast to push the log off Scott as well as she could. She then pulled him to the surface as quickly as her fins could carry them. The storm was already passing as she dragged him to the shore.

By the time she made it to the nearest piece of land, the storm was gone. A beautiful streak of red, gold, lavender, and pale blue had replaced it. Rays of gold broke through the gray clouds, illuminating the duo on the shore. Betty held Scott against her tail, singing sweetly to him. Her reddish curls flowed around both of them. He was so beautiful, with his thick, dark hair streaked with silver, strong chin, and muscular arms and chest. He was still breathing a little ragged, probably due to his sudden immersion.

“Oh Scott, I wish I could stay with you for always.” She gave him a kiss on the lips, the way she remembered seeing her father and mother do many years ago, when she was but a tiny mergirl of 50.

Scott's eyelashes were just fluttering when Betty heard a happy bray of a female voice. “Scotty!” She dove into the surf just as a tall, bosomy red-head in a fancy flowered covering and knitted wrap rushed onto the beach. “You're all right!” She knelt beside him and gave him a huge hug.

He was coughing up water. “Yeah, I am, but I won't be if you don't give me some air, Mapes.”

The young woman slapped him on the back as he leaned over. “That must have been some ride you had. Your crew got back here about a half-hour ago. They're all fine, but they're worried about you.”

Scott looked at her with a dazed smile. “Maple...did you rescue me? Was that you singing?”

Maple raised an eyebrow. “Scotty, I just got out here. I haven't sung a note. That must have been a seagull you heard.”

“No, it wasn't a seagull.” Scott looked around him, as if trying to find the source of the unknown singer. “It was beautiful. Maple, it was the most amazing music I ever heard. It was like...like a mermaid's voice.” The young woman slowly helped him to his feet. “I've gotta find her. I know someone helped me when I was stuck under the mast on the ship. I remember seeing a face....a very pretty face...coming towards me when I was under water.” He sighed. “And then, I blacked out. That's all I remember, until I heard that voice.”

“You musta hit your head on the deck when you went down.” She put an arm around him to steady him. “Come on. Eugenia's got corn bread, baked beans, mashed turnips, and fresh peas on the table for dinner. We were gonna celebrate you comin' home with your cargo.” She gave him a big, toothy smile. “We can still celebrate you livin' through that storm.”

Betty watched Maple help Scott up towards the strange shapes on the shore. She felt so discouraged. “He doesn't remember me!” she exclaimed. “He doesn't know I was the one who saved him.” She fingered her necklace. “I have to be with him. I have to tell him somehow.”

She dove back into the water. She was already late getting home. Her father would be furious, and her siblings and grandmother would worry. Especially Jeff. He and his wife Hilary, a noted sea witch, were convinced that humans were no good. They considered merfolk, with their ability to swim like fish and breathe in the air as well as in the water, to be vastly superior. Merfolk only took the fish and crustaceans they needed to feed their families and keep populations down, no more. Humans caught and caught until there was nothing left to catch, then moved on to the next patch of ocean to strip that of life.

That can't be true of Scott, Betty thought. He didn't mention catching fish. I saw no nets on his ship. He catches something called spices. I'll bet he's never harmed a fish in his life, except for to have one or two for dinner.

“Princess Elizabeth Ariel Marina Pearl, where in the name of Neptune have you been?” Her father's normally gentle voice shouted with anger when she finally arrived back in their family grotto. “You should have been home hours ago!”

“Father, you won't believe this!” She took his hands. “I saw the most amazing things on the surface! A ship passed by me, and there was a huge storm, and I actually saved a human's life!”

“You...what?” Mackie frowned. “Betty, you know we're not supposed to make contact with humans. If they were aware that we're down here, they'd fish us and catch us and push us out of our homes until there's nothing left. Remember what happened to most of the whales around here?”

Betty was too excited to heed his anger. “Father, he was knocked out in the storm. He would have died if I hadn't gotten him to shore. He didn't really see me.” She sighed. “He was the most beautiful creature! He had hair the color of a black pearl, and eyes like ancient amber, and his skin was so...”

Her father interrupted her. “And he has legs.” Mackie patted his daughter's shoulder. “Hon, you'll be better off if you just forget about him. He's a human. You're a mermaid. You can't live in his world, and he can't live in yours.”

“But I...”

“Honey, just go to bed. This will all pass in the morning.”

She did go to bed....but it didn't pass. She thought about Scott and the world above constantly. She wondered what it would be to have legs, like Scott's friend Maple. She'd dance with him, and sing for him, and be by his side, and write stories for him and other humans to read. She wished she could tell him who rescued him. She was so caught up in her daydreams, she barely left her room in the grotto.

“Betty?” Gertrude peered into the opening to her room about a week after her birthday. “Are you all right, hon? Everyone's been asking for you. We've barely seen you for days.”

Betty turned from her stories. “Grandmother,” she started, “can humans breathe underwater? Isn't there any way for them to live down here?”

“No, my child.” Gertrude shook her head. “I've told you before. Humans aren't equipped for living here. Their lungs can only breathe in air, and even the most adept swimmer can't move among fish and aquatic plant life like we can.”

“Couldn't we live among them? Live like they do?”

Gertrude sighed. “It just isn't possible. Humans don't live nearly as long as we do, only 70 years or so at the most, maybe 80. When they die, their souls become immortal. Our souls are different. We live longer, but our souls don't. When we die, we become one with the water...but we don't live on.” She nodded at Betty's tail. “Besides, we can't walk on land any more than then can swim under the waves.”

“How can I get an immortal soul?”

Getrude frowned. “Betty, does this have anything to do with that sailor your father said you rescued from drowning?”

Betty played with her pearl necklace. “Partly.” She turned to her books. “But it mostly has to do with me. I liked what I saw of the land, Grandmother. I love my home here...but I want to explore there, too. I want to see it all, write about it all.”

Gertrude shook her head. “You have a whole world to explore down here. Be glad of that.” She hugged her granddaughter. “Things will be back to normal tomorrow.”

“No, Grandmother,” Betty whispered to herself as she watched her beloved grandparent head for her own room. “I don't think things will ever be normal again.”

The Little Mer-Betty, Part 2

Betty knew what she had to do. She put her tiara on her book, then swam out of the palace, to her brother Jeff's smaller grotto.

Her brother was married to Hilary Booth. She had once been one of the finest performers in the Atlantic Ocean...and one of the most notorious sea witches, offering her potions for a price. When her popularity among merfolk faded, she turned to her other profession. Though she did love her husband Prince Jeffrey, she still spent most of her time in her grotto, trying to find ways to return to the legitimate stage.

“Jeff!” She was thankful her brother was at home, reading and listening to a fish orchestra near-by practice. “I need to see Hilary.”

Jeff put his book aside. “Why? What's wrong?”

“I want to become human, and she's the only one who can help me.”

“Betty, are you crazy?” Jeff put his hands on her shoulder. “You're a mermaid. You belong here, with us. You don't belong up there. You wouldn't know how to act, how to behave. Besides, you don't have legs.”

“I have to get up there, Jeff. Hilary knows how. I know she has potions that can make anyone into anything.”

“Betty, there are plenty of young mermen you can choose from down here.”

Betty smirked. “You will take me to Hilary, or I'll tell Father what the two of you were doing in the back of the hall during our last concert.”

Jeff glared at her. “You wouldn't.”

She crossed her arms. “Try me.”

“All right, all right.” He lead her out of the grotto and towards the darker part of the ocean. “But if anyone asks, this was all your idea.”

Betty shivered as she followed Jeff. She knew about the sea witches. They were discussed in hushed tones by merfolk. Some of the witches were healers who aided the sick with potions. They were respected and well-thought of in the Atlantic. Most, though, practiced strange and frightening black magic. Betty heard the rumors of the worst of them, who took a creatures heart or mind or hair in exchange for a potion that could make all their dreams come true...or make their lives a living hell.

She dodged the waving seaweed that tried to grab at her tail and long brown locks, passing by eels and strange fish with eyes that were too large or small for their bodies and spiny fins that would kill anything that touched them. The grotto was dim and moody, just barely lit by sparkling rock embedded in the walls.

“Jeffrey?” Hilary looked up as the duo entered the caves. She was mixing a glowing green liquid and chunks of something pinkish into a gleaming cauldron. “This is a surprise. I thought you wanted to spend the night at home.” She raised her eyebrows at his visitor. “Betty? You're the last person I expected to see. I thought you disapproved of my...work.”

The younger woman gathered all the courage she could muster. “Hilary, I need your help.”

“So does everyone, dear.” She dipped her finger into a viscous purple liquid, then poured it slowly into the cauldron.

“I want to be human.”

Hilary stirred the cauldron slowly. “Why in the name of the seven seas would you want to be one of those ignorant fish murderers? We live longer, we have a whole ocean to explore, we can breathe and move around underwater better, we...”

“Hilary, I'm in love. With a human...and with the land. I have to get up there somehow. You're the only one I know who'll do it. I want to have a soul, like humans do.”

“Ahhh.” Hilary went to a large, crumbling old book on a high shelf in a corner of the grotto. “You made the mistake of falling for one of those two-legged monstrosities.” She couldn't help her small smirk. “Is he good-looking...for a human?”

Betty smiled dreamily. “Oh, incredibly so! Good-looking, smart, fun and kind to his workers.” She sighed. “I do love my family, and my home. But land...there's so many things on land I want to see, so much I want to experience. I want to dance and sing and celebrate among the humans. I want to know what it feels like, well, to have real feelings.”

“I tried to talk her out of it, Hilary.” Jeff made a face. “I think she's crazy, but she's bound and determined to do this.”

Hilary put the book on a flat rock. “I can help you, dear...but there are several conditions. First, I'll require three things from you.” She worked her fingers through Betty's chestnut curls. “I'll need your hair and one of your largest scales to make the potion work.” Her fingers went down to the mermaid's slender white throat. “Second, I'll need you to trade your most precious possession to me. Your voice.”

“My voice?” Betty drew back, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Hilary,” Jeff snapped, “can't you ask for something else?”

“I could give you my books, or my stories.” Betty fingered the pearl on her breast. “Or the necklace that Doug and C.J gave me. Or the tiara that was Mother's.”

“No, my dear.” She rubbed Betty's throat a little more. “I've heard you sing. You have a voice like an angel. If I had your voice, I would be the greatest music star in all the Atlantic, not sequestering myself away in my grotto, dreaming about impossible romances.”

“If I can't talk, how can I tell Scott how I feel?”

Hilary smirked. “There are other ways to tell a man you love him besides words. A mere glance can speak a thousand words. A gesture can say more than some of the greatest monologues in merfolk history.” She swam around her husband, grinning like a catfish. Her hand sprang out to Jeff's tail. He nearly toppled over into the grotto!

Jeff rubbed the back of his tail. “Hilary, please.” He made a face. “I enjoy our little games too, but save them for when we get home and don't have an audience.”

“Hold that thought.” She patted Jeff's cheek, then went to Betty. “This won't be easy for you, dear. You're giving up not only your tail and your voice. The moment you stand, you'll feel like you're walking on sharp knives. Every step will feel like a stab into your nether limbs. However, you will be able to dance and walk and see everything you've been dreaming of.”

“Betty, you can't be considering this.” Jeff's large deep-brown eyes were pleading. “Think of everything you're giving up. We're your family. It's not on the surface. It's here.”

Hilary nodded. “For once, I agree with Jeffrey. I think you're insane to want this. You only saw this fellow once.”

The younger mermaid shook her head. “I have to do it, Hilary. I want to love Scott...and the land. Oh Hilary, he's so worth it.” She patted her brother's shoulder. “How did you feel when you first met Jeff? I know you two love each other, even if you fight sometimes.”

Jeff raised an eyebrow. Their noisy quarrels were legendary in the grotto. “Sometimes?”

“Like...” Hilary sighed. “Like I'd do anything for him. Of course, I regretted it the next day, but...”

Jeff glared at her. “Hilary....”

Hilary ignored him and began gathering ingredients from her shelves. “If you do this, you'll have two weeks to gain his love. He must come to love you, cherish you, appreciate you. When he does, he'll declare his love for you, then kiss you. His kiss will transfer part of his soul to yours, making you soulmates...and giving you an eternal soul.” She frowned, pushing back her long, heavy auburn waves. “If he marries another, or fails to kiss you by the last rays of twilight on the final day, you'll become sea foam on the waves. You'll never be able to return to the sea. You won't be seeing your family and friends or Jeff or me ever again.”

Betty only nodded again. “I understand.”

“I don't think you do.” Hilary took a coin on a long gold chain off of a hook. “However, since you seem bound and determined to ruin your life, I'm not going to stop you.” She sat Betty down in a bed of seaweed. “I'm going to put you under a trance. The voice removal and tail splitting can be excruciatingly painful. I don't want you to back ou...to suffer more than you've already set yourself up to.”

Betty sighed. “All right, Hilary.”

Jeff watched from the cauldron. “Hilary, what are you doing?”

“Jeffrey, quiet.” She swung the medallion in front of the younger mermaid's wide, innocent eyes. “Now, watch the medallion, Betty. Concentrate on it. Let it lull you into a sweet slumber. Don't think about anything but the coin and the sound of my voice.”

Jeff watched as Betty's eyes glazed over and became murky. Her pretty, slender face was placid and gentle. Her lids lowered, then closed all together, and her breathing slowed.

“Jeffrey, hand me the knife. The one with the pearl handle.”

He did as he was bid. “Is she all right?”

“Yes, dear. She's just under hypnosis.” She took the knife from him and cut off Betty's floor-length reddish-brown curls, cropping them close to her chin. She dropped the long ropes of hair into the cauldron.

Jeff looked sadly at his sister's now-short locks. “Did you really need that much, Hilary?”

“It's part of the potion.” She shrugged. “Besides, I think she looks much better that way. Here.” She handed him a knife. “You get a scale. Be careful. Don't hit her skin. I don't want blood, just a scale.”

“She's my sister, Hilary. I may think she's off her seashell for wanting to do this, but I do love her.” He gently pried a scale from close to the bottom of Betty's red-gold tail, making sure he didn't push too hard.

“Here.” Hilary dropped the scale in the cauldron, then handed Jeff a long-handled spoon. “Keep stirring this. I'll get her voice.”

“Hilary,” Jeff started to protest, “why can't you leave her voice alone? She wants so badly to talk to this human of hers.”

“She agreed to it.” Hilary took a long-necked green glass bottle from a shelf. “Now, dear girl,” she said as she went to Betty, “tilt your head back, close your eyes, and open your mouth for me. Let the magic pull your voice free of your throat. It's no longer yours.”

As Betty opened her mouth, Hilary put the bottle close to the younger mermaid's lips. A green light flowed from Betty's throat into the bottle. Even under a trance, Betty winced in pain. Her throat was on fire. She could barely swallow, and she couldn't feel her tongue at all.

The moment the light stopped flowing, Hilary put a piece of quartz into the stopper. “There. I believe that's all of it.” She put the bottle on a shelf. “Now, speak to me.”

Betty opened her little red mouth, but not a sound emerged. She tried again, but she remained silent.

“Good.” She dipped another green glass bottle into the thick black liquid in the cauldron. “I want you to swim to land and drink this potion. When you awaken, you will be out of the trance, and your tail will be legs. You will not only remember all that happened here, but that your movements will be lovely and graceful, but also painful.” She handed Betty the bottle. “Go. You have two weeks.”

Betty nodded and swam away, clutching the potion between her small, delicate fingers.

Jeff turned on his wife with an anger he'd never felt before, even during one of their periodic quarrels. “Hilary Booth, how could you let her do that? Why didn't you make her listen? Not only is she going to be one of those...those land monsters, but if she doesn't get some human she saw once to fall for her, she'll lose her life! She doesn't deserve that!” He groaned. “And how will I tell the rest of the family? Father will kill me!”

“She wanted it, Jeff. I did try to talk her out of it.” She smiled and patted her husband's rear tail. “Why don't you go home and prepare a fish souffle for us? I could use a nice meal after a hard day of helping poor unfortunate merfolk.”

“Hilary....”

“You move along.” She almost shoved Jeff out of the grotto. “I'll be ready and willing to join you on our bed when you get home. A night of....love...sounds like fun.”

The moment Jeff was out of sight of the grotto, Hilary went to the shelf with her potions. She took down the green glass jar with Betty's voice. “I'm sorry, dear girl, but this is the only way to get what I want.”

Hilary Booth had a secret. For all her success with every other form of entertainment, she'd never been as good of a singer as most merfolk actresses were. She watched them enchant audiences with their amazing voices and stunning songs, while she merely recited words etched onto dried seaweed paper. Princess Betty's request had given her one last chance to restore her former glory.

She pulled out the quartz and drained every last bit of her sister-in-law's voice from the jar. She started to sing...and was delighted to hear beautiful music pouring forth. “Maybe it is wrong,” she muttered to herself, “and maybe Jeffrey will have my head. It's worth it. My sweet, silly sister's loss is my gain.”

While Hilary was rehearsing with her voice, Betty swam to the patch of coastline where she'd taken Scott after the storm. The first light of the day spilled on Betty as she dragged herself onto the soft yellow sand. She pulled the stopper off the jar and drank it deeply.

That was the last thing she remembered. The moment the potion went down her throat, there was a sudden stabbing pain in the center of her tail. It felt as if it were being cleft in two. The pain below her torso was so unbearable that she blacked out.

“Miss?” Everything was blurry at first when she finally awoke. All she could make out at first was black and pale peach. Gradually, she found herself staring into the warm, comforting eyes of her beloved Scott.

“Are you all right?” She was laying on his surprisingly comfortable lap. Maple, the pretty red-headed lady with the odd voice, knelt next to him. Scott wore a plain white cover on his upper half and gray over his legs. Maple was mostly covered by masses of pale blue and white fluff and frills. A wide-brimmed yellow circle with blue flowers around the crown shaded her soft, pale skin.

“Poor kid.” Maple was rubbing her hand. “You ok, honey?”

Betty opened her mouth to tell them. The tearing pain in her throat reminded her that she had no way to explain what she was doing there. She settled for shaking her head “no” instead.

“Aw, poor girl.” Maple rubbed her back. “Whatever washed her up here scared her so much, she can't talk.”

“Maybe you'll feel better if we get you into some nice, fresh clothes.” Scott turned red in the face. “We found you, er, naked except for some sea flowers.” As Betty looked around, she realized she was covered in a soft rectangle that was made from many colors and patterns. “Good thing we were on a picnic and had that old quilt with us. Someone might think you're startin' a nudist colony.”

“Let's get you home.” Maple and Scott put their arms around Betty's shoulders. “Do you think you can walk, hon? Scotty lives just beyond the dunes over there.” Maple pointed to a series of wooden boxes with triangular tops that looked like non-floating ships. “His house is closer n' mine. I live in town.”

Betty started to stand...but the moment she got to her newly-created feet, she almost collapsed. Hilary was right. Just moving hurt more than she could have ever imagined. Heavy pain shot up her legs. Her throat and torso felt like they were hotter than boiling water.

“Whoa!” Scott caught her and scooped her and the quilt into his strong arms. “Looks like you don't have your land legs yet, miss. I'll get you home. And don't you worry. I'll be a perfect gentleman.”

“Yeah, or else.” Maple grinned. “I'll keep an eye on him an' make sure his hands don't go anywhere they shouldn't be.”

Betty didn't hear them. She was just happy leaning into Scott's broad, warm, safe chest. Now, surely she could show him how much she cared about him, and how she had saved his life.

************

Mackie was horrified when Jeff told him what happened. “How could you let her do it? My oldest daughter, among those...those fish-snatchers!”

“Father, she was bound and determined to get up to the surface. Hilary and I told her she was crazy. She wouldn't listen. She wants to see the land and get that human to love her.”

“But she only saw the guy one day!” Mackie was swimming up and down, waving his hands around. “Isn't there something we can do?”

“I asked Hilary that later, after we....” Jeff coughed. “Well, I asked her that last night. She said no, there's no way to reverse the spell. What's done is done. The only way to change it is for Betty to get the human to give her part of his soul and make her his soulmate.”

“Isn't there anyone else we could get who could change the spell?” Mackie went to his son. “There's lots of other witches in the sea besides your wife.”

Jeff frowned. “We could try. We'd just have to be careful. Some of those dark witches are truly ruthless. They want a lot more than a pretty voice.”

“Can we help?” Doug came over with C.J and Enid. “Betty's our sister, too.”

Enid nodded. “That's right. We wish for her to return safely to our arms as much as you do.”

Jeff gulped. “I know of another witch who might be able to help us, Father. Her name is Ruth. She worked with Hilary, briefly, several years ago.”

Mackie shook his head. “No, I can't let you go to her. I heard rumors she practices dark magic – a lot darker than Hilary's. She'll end up turning you all into sea cucumbers!”

“She's also one of the strongest witches in the ocean.” Doug frowned. “I don't think we have much of a choice. She may be the only one who can counter Hilary's spell.”

“No!” Mackie shook his head. “I can't let you do it. Not even to save Betty. I don't want to lose all of my children! I forbid you going anywhere near that witch! And that's final!” He swam out in a frustrated huff.

Enid wrung her hands. “Oh brothers, what should we do? I don't wish for Betty to remain above the waters any longer than is absolutely necessary. I'm terribly frightened for her.”

“So am I.” Jeff started out the grotto. “Which is why I'm going to see Ruth. I don't care what Father says. There has to be a way to bring Betty home without making more sacrifices.”

“I'm going with you.” Doug swam right up to him. “I've studied the law of the seas. It might help to have someone who knows how they work on your side.”

“That means us, too.” C.J was on Doug's other side, Enid right behind him. “Do you think you're going to leave Enid and me out, just because we're a little younger than the rest of you?”

“I've never gazed upon a real dark magic sea witch before, besides Hilary,” Enid added. “This will be an extremely edifying experience.”

“Or a frightening one.” Jeff sighed. “Let's go.”

The Little Mer-Betty, Part 3

Lady Ruth Geddy was a very elegant and very popular merfolk actress. She was also a witch – the possessor of some of the darkest magic in the entire Atlantic. She lived in a beautiful, expensive grotto made of black crystal on the end of a wealthy street in a fashionable part of the ocean. Her glistening royal blue scales were always bedecked with fine crystals and precious sea-stones. No one knew where her army of loyal slaves came from. They were shriveled, mindless creatures covered in ragged seaweed that obeyed no one but her.

Hilary hated Lady Ruth. When Ruth was an up-and-coming star and Hilary was one of the most popular performers in the mid-Atlantic, Hilary had gotten a role Ruth badly wanted. She sabotaged Hilary...then reminded the producers that she could sing, and Hilary couldn't.

Jeff and his three younger siblings swam through the grotto, passing strange flowers that closed when they came near and dried-out arms that grabbed at them. Enid screamed when one reached for her with long, shriveled fingers. Doug managed to untangle her tail and pull her away.

Enid shivered. “I'm not at all certain I consider this to be a good idea now. What were those...those things...we passed?”

“No one knows, Enid.” Doug gulped. “I have the feeling we're better off not knowing.”

One of the creatures stopped Jeff at the main room of the grotto. “Is Lady Geddy in, uh, sir?” he asked, trying not to look at the withered creature.

It nodded and lead them through a series of corridors. Lady Ruth's grotto was, indeed, a thing of wicked beauty. It was almost as large as their own grotto, decorated in black and dark blue crystal. Seaweed-papers detailing her career and drawings of her many performances could be seen on every surface.

They were brought into the largest antechamber, a huge cave with a vaulted ceiling made entirely of sparking blue and purple crystals. Ruth was turned to a cauldron that was much larger and newer than Hilary's. She was a small merwoman with full red lips and wide dark eyes. Her thick, straight auburn hair waved around her shoulders. She wore a fish-scale wrap that was all the rage among society merwomen that season.

Jeff didn't like the look on her face. Her brown eyes were cold as the ice that crusted the Atlantic in the winter. The expression on her round, pink face was that of pure arrogance. Even his beloved Hilary never looked that spoiled...or that cruel.

She gave them a small smile, almost a smirk, when she turned to the four. “My goodness. King MacKinley's brood certainly has grown up lately. You've all gotten so long since I was last at the palace.” She looked around. “But there's one of you missing. The oldest mergirl, I believe?”

“Ruth,” Jeff started, “our sister Betty made a deal with my wife to go to the surface and get an immortal soul.”

“She did?” Ruth got closer to him. She played with the brown curls that spilled over his shoulders. “I can't say I blame her. I'd love to have an immortal soul. If I had a soul, why I could conquer land with my voice, and get even more applause there than I already do here.”

“Isn't it enough that you're one of the most famous of all performers under the Atlantic?” Enid pointed out timidly.

“Of course it isn't, little mermaid. It's never enough.” She turned to her cauldron. “What kind of deal did your sweet sister make?”

Jeff frowned. “She gave Hilary her voice, her hair, and a scale from her tail to make a potion that changed her tail into legs. She only has two weeks to get this man to love her, Ruth! If he doesn't, she'll die! We'll lose our sister!”

Ruth put up a hand. “Calm down, fair merman. I can help your sibling. I think I can even guess what spell Hilary used.” She took down a heavy book, very similar to the one on Hilary's shelf, and ran a finger down a page. “Ahh, here it is. The antidote. This will restore the Princess's mermaid form, whether or not her human has agreed to marry her. It is, however, more complicated to assemble than the transformation potion. I'll need many ingredients, some of them spread across hundreds of miles.”

“We'll do it.” Jeff drew himself up to his full height before her. “We'll do whatever it takes to get our sister back to normal.”

She picked up a sharp fish scale quill and scratched off words quickly, then threw the list into Jeff's arms. “Here. This is everything you'll need to assemble the potion. I do have some of the items here, but many of them can only be found in caves or grottoes in the deep parts of the ocean. A person of my finer qualities wouldn't fit there. Besides, I do have my concert schedule to keep up with.”

Doug glared at her. “This had better be on the level. I know the rules for this sort of thing. If we do all this work for you, you have to give something to us.”

“You'll have a potion, of course, and your sister.” She turned on him angrily. “Don't question me, lawyer. You're the one who came to me. All I need from you are scales, stones, sand, and cold water from the very bottom of the sea. This is nothing that difficult.”

Jeff's fists were clenched in anger. “So help me, Ruth, if you hurt any of my family, including Hilary and my father and grandmother, I'll...”

“You'll do what you're told.” She shooed them off with the list. “Go! I need all of these things within two weeks. Then, you'll have your precious sister back.”

She watched the quartet swim off with their list. “Those foolish children.” She turned to one of her dried slaves. “They think I actually care about that silly sister of theirs. I have no use for her, except for as a slave.” She paged through the book. “I really want to get on land. Oh, I can turn my tail into legs any time I wish. I have the potion for that. It's a matter of staying there and not becoming sea foam after a week or so, not to mention get around the constant pain. For that, I need a human soul. A good, strong one, one that will allow me to continue on for a very, very long time.”

She smirked. “I'm going to go for a swim up to the land. I haven't been there in a while. Perhaps I'll see a soul there worthy of being in my beautiful body.”

Betty had never felt so pampered and petted in her whole life. Scott had carried her across the sands, to one of the largest of the boxes made from driftwood. A plump female in a simple blue-striped wrap, her hair pulled back in a bun, met him at the entrance.

“My goodness, Mr. Sherwood! Who's this pretty girl?” Betty liked the female right away. She had a sweet, cheery voice and a gentle, round face that looked like the moon over the waters at night. “What happened to her? Where are her clothes?”

“We don't know. She can't talk. I think she's just scared. She probably washed up from a capsized schooner or something.” Betty clung to Scott as he went through the entrance. She'd never seen anything like this grotto. It was filled with strange objects, golden squares with pictures of humans and animals and places, a huge hunk of driftwood with little white and black rectangles lined up in rows, a big fat bass hung on a one wall, old netting and dried starfish and crabs decorating another. A huge old crab trap and a thick piece of driftwood stood in front of soft sea-blue chairs and couches.

“You poor thing!” Scott finally set her down. She wobbled, wincing in pain and falling back into his arms. Eugenia took her other arm. “You must have broken something. Why don't we give you a good, warm bath, then see if we can get you some clothes. I'm afraid I don't have anything that'll remotely fit you.”

“We'll take her shoppin' tomorrow.” Maple put an arm around her. “For now, I'll loan her a blouse and skirt. She'll need underthings that are tailored to fit her. Her bosom is a lot smaller than mine n' yours, Eugenia.”

Eugenia pushed Scott towards the kitchen as Maple lead Betty to another room. “Mr. Sherwood, why don't you go check on the clam chowder and make sure it's not boiling over? And if you eat it now, you won't be getting any blackberry pie with fresh cream for dessert!”

Scott crossed his fingers in front of his chest. “Cross m' heart, Eugenia. I'm no snitch.” He patted Betty's arm, then headed towards the back of the box.

Betty was lead to a small room in the back of the house. Maple and Eugenia helped her into a white basin made of a rock-like material. They filled it with water that didn't taste of salt, then added a liquid that smelled like roses and created the most wonderful bubbles! Eugenia laughed as Betty blew them around, giggling when they tickled her nose.

“You're such a beauty,” Eugenia said as she picked up a long brush and scrubbed Betty's back with it. “I wonder where you came from?”

Betty showed her the pearl around her neck. “Yes, that's a beautiful pearl. It looks like a real raw pearl from the sea.” Betty nodded hard at the last word. “I know you came from the sea, miss. That's where Mr. Sherwood found you. But we're going to have to find your real home sooner or later.”

But that is my real home...or it was. Betty finally just let Eugenia rub all over her body with a soft cloth. Eugenia was just helping her out of the basin when Maple came in, carrying something pale and flowing over her arms.

“Well, she's looking a little better. Not so much like a drowned puppy.” The tall red-head frowned and tugged at Betty's hacked-off curls. “No offense, sister, but who did your hair? Looks like someone took a knife to your head.” Betty nodded. “They ought to be horsewhipped. You have nice hair. It deserves better n' this.” She pulled a strange metal object from a drawer in the shelves across from the basin that looked like two small knives fused together. “We'll have to fix that. Good thing I used to do my brothers' an' sisters' hair when they were kids.”

Maple sat Betty down on a soft little chair with no sides. She trimmed the ragged edges off, trying to even them out. “There,” she said after a few minutes. “Much better. It'll probably look even nicer when it dries.”

“Miss Maple, could you get her dressed?” Eugenia nodded at the door. “I have to check in on the clam chowder and slice the bread and cheese, before Mr. Sherwood and Mr. Foley eat them all.”

“Sure, Eugenia.” She helped Betty to her feet. “Come on. Let's see what we can do with this outfit.”

Betty couldn't believe how complicated human scales were! There were so many things to hook and thread and tie. Maple did up her white wrap, which she wore above her torso. There was lots of fluff around her neck and chest, just like on Maple's wrap. It was too long and too wide in the bosom; Maple had to pull it down to keep it from sticking out. Her legs were covered by a pale blue wrap that flowed around them like seawater. Her new red-haired friend had to wrap a piece of thick leather around her waist to get the too-big wrap to stay put.

“There.” She sighed. “My feet are bigger n' yours. You're probably not gonna go anywhere else tonight, anyway. You can go barefoot until we can borrow some shoes from Eugenia.”

Scott and a smaller man with a thin mustache were setting the table when Maple brought Betty out. Her now-chin-length curls were tied back from her face with a soft blue piece of wrap. “Wow.” Scott went to her, turning her around. “Is this the same skinny, half-drowned sea urchin we found at the beach?” Betty bristled at being called “skinny,” but his eyes were twinkling. “You look gorgeous, miss. Like every Charles Gibson model rolled into one.”

“You know,” Eugenia said as they sat down on hard chairs made of driftwood, “we can't keep calling her 'miss.' She needs a name of some kind.”

Betty frowned. She had a name, a perfectly good one. Her eyes lit up, and she darted into the living room. Scott and the smaller man exchanged amused looks as she came back with a book. She pointed to the cover.

Scott read where her finger was pointing. “History of England, Elizabethan Era.” He looked up at her. “Your name is Elizabeth?” She nodded, smiling. “What's your last name?” Betty's face fell. She didn't know what he meant by “last” names. Merfolk only had one name! He sighed. “You know, we'll figure that one out tomorrow. From the look on your face, you may not even remember.”

“I'll bet you have amnesia, like in the old romances.” Eugenia was putting small bowls of a white liquid in front of them, along with a plate of bright green sticks and red circles. A long crusty white sponge sat in the middle of the table. Eugenia cut slices from it, then spread it with a thick yellow substance.

The little man smiled as he passed her some sponge slices. “This is Mr. Foley,” Eugenia started before the little fellow could open his mouth. “He's our gardener and handyman. Does just about everything that needs to be done around here.” Mr. Foley opened his mouth to talk again, even as he ate a second slice of bread, but Eugenia shook a finger in his face. “It's not polite to talk with your mouth full, Foley.”

Betty sniffed at the liquid. It smelled absolutely delicious! She started to pick up the bowl with her fingers, the way they did at home...then realized everyone else at the table was staring at her. She put the bowl down, a red hot flame spreading across her cheeks.

Scott smiled and took her hand. “Here.” He put a long, silvery stick with a small basin on the end into her hand. “Around here, we usually use these for eating soup.” She watched her dinner companions eat, trying to get the hang of it. They stared at her when she slurped. She couldn't help it! She never ate from a basin like this before.

She had an even harder time with the tiny trident that was used to eat the red circles and green sticks. She couldn't get the food to stay on the tines. She sighed, annoyed. She felt the flame on her cheeks again when Scott helped her hold the trident properly.

After dinner was lovely. Eugenia took the dishes to another room to be cleaned, while Betty, Maple, and the two men went out to the shady place in the front of the grotto Scott called “the porch.” Mr. Foley played a song on a stringed instrument, and he, Maple, and Scott sang along. I wish I could sing along, too, thought Betty sadly. I used to love singing with Father and Grandmother and my brothers and sisters.

“Are you ok, Elizabeth?” Scott gave her his lopsided smile. “Missing your family?”

She nodded sadly. She wanted to tell him so badly how much she missed them. She wanted them to be a part of this world...and him to be a part of hers. She was surprised when she felt salty water running down her cheeks, flowing across her chin and dripping onto her white wrap. She rubbed violently at her smarting eyes.

“Tears?” Scott gently wiped the water away. “Aw, don't cry, Liz. You're too pretty to cry. We'll get you back to your family. I promise.”

She made a face at the “Liz.” She hated being called that. “Ok, you don't like Liz. Lizzie? Beth? Betty?” She nodded at the last one with a grin of her own. “You're now Betty, then.”

Maple put an arm around her. “How'd you like to see the town with me tomorrow, Betty? We could go shopping and even take in one of those moving picture shows at the theater that just opened.”

“I'm afraid I'll have to miss out on the shopping,” Scott admitted. “I have to meet the crew down at the docks and see what we can do about salvaging the ship. How about I meet the two most beautiful women at the new restaurant at Brant Point for lunch?”

Betty nodded. She didn't know what a “restaurant” was. It sounded fascinating. Maple agreed. “Yeah. We'll do lunch, then go see the picture show, then do the beach. It'll be a great day!”

The Little Mer-Betty, Part 4

The next day was one of the loveliest Betty had ever known. She never witnessed so many amazing sights before.There was a shell-carriage that went without any seahorses. Everyone stared at them as Maple hollered at people to get off the road and watch where you're goin', buster! Funny white creatures that flustered and cackled fled as they flew past.

“Town” was a series of the wooden box grottoes, each containing a different place to purchase supplies. There was a grocer who sold fruits and vegetables. A butcher sold meat; a fishmonger sold fish and clams and oysters. There was a place to buy books, and a place to buy pretty trinkets that looked like the items her family had salvaged from sunken ships.

They spent most of their time in two shops adjoining one another. One sold long, rolls of scales Maple called “fabric.” They were so soft and colorful! She'd never seen so many kinds of scales. Another sold more wraps like the ones Maple and Eugenia wore. Maple explained that they were called “blouses” and “dresses” and “skirts.”

Betty had no idea that dressing like the humans was so hard! Maple had to show her how to button her dress and her white and black shoes. There were stretchy wraps that went around her legs called “stockings,” and things called “garters” that held them in place. She laughed at the mere idea of the bony thing Maple called a “corset” and refused to wear it. Maple finally agreed. “You're so small, you probably don't need it anyway,” she said as she helped button her new dress up the back.

By the time they met Scott for lunch, Betty felt more like a real female human. Even Maple said the result was “really gorgeous, like a paintin'.” Betty admired herself in the heavy pieces of glass humans called a mirror. She wore a soft pink dress with lots of the fluff Maple called “ruffles and lace.” The thing on her head that Maple called a “hat” was laden with a pink ribbon and the flowers Maple called “roses.” Even Maple bought herself a new dress with yellowish flowers and a new hat, this one trimmed with yellow and white flowers she called “daisies.”

They took the car across the green land to “Brant Point,” which turned out to be more like a cliff. Scott did indeed meet them at a long box surrounded by chairs and tables. It was more weathered than the boxes in town, and closer to the water. Betty could smell the same cooking clams that permeated Scott's box back at the beach.

“Wow.” Scott's eyes were wide. He took Betty's hand and kissed it. “You look incredible. It's like you're a whole different person.” He grinned at Maple. “And you look pretty cute too, Mapes.”

Maple gave him a little shove on the arm. “Aw, go on.”

“No, really. You're the most beautiful girls in all of Nantucket.” He took their arms. “Would the most beautiful women in Nantucket like to go to lunch with the most handsome man?”

“Sure!” Maple grinned. “Where is he?” Betty couldn't help her own smile at Scott's fallen expression. Maple finally patted his arm. “Aw, come on, Scotty. I'm so hungry, I could eat three lobster.”

“Well, thanks to losing my cargo, I don't quite have the money for that.” He smiled as he lead them to a table. “I hope clams casino and fried scallops with bacon will work just as well.”

The lunch was delicious! Betty'd never tasted anything that had been “fried” before. “Fried” turned out to mean a bit greasy and covered in crunchy nuggets. It melted on her tongue. The salad of lettuces, round red slices called “tomatoes,” and herbs was excellent, too. It was doused in a liquid Maple called “dressing.” It was tangy and greasy and very salty.

The picture show in town was even more incredible. By “picture show,” Maple meant “moving pictures.” Betty never heard of pictures that moved. They sat in a small box and watched black and white pictures on a large white fabric square. She saw huge rolling vehicles go back and forth, a woman and a man kiss, a woman in long, flowing wraps dance, and a group of men steal money from a rolling carriage. She never dreamed she'd see anything like this. The last show was so life-like, Betty found herself grabbing at Scott when the guns were seen on the screen. Scott smiled gently at her and kissed the top of her forehead.

They finished the day at the beach in front of Scott's box. The sun was going down as they brought a basket of sandwiches and fruit and the quilt with them. Maple and Betty stripped off their stockings and shoes, and Scott did likewise. They laughed as they chased each other and built a grotto made of sand, sticks, and stones.

Maple went back to the house briefly to get something to drink. Betty finally leaned against Scott, tired but very happy. He smiled down at her. “Had a nice day, Betty?” She nodded, sighing. “I'm glad. You know...there's something familiar about you. I swear I've seen you before. You look like someone...someone who saved my life, once....but she had longer hair, and the most beautiful voice I ever heard. It was like a nightingale's.” Betty groaned inwardly. If only she could tell him! She settled for leaning on his shoulder instead. “I didn't really see much of her. I wish I had. I'd hope she was as pretty as you. You're such a sweet girl. I wish I knew...where you came from....who you are...”

They were just about to kiss when they heard footsteps running down to the quilt. “Hi there, you crazy kids!” Maple sat on Scott's other side as they broke apart, blushing. She handed them jars of brown liquid. “Here. Eugenia's own iced tea, steeped all day and made with the finest lemons Scott brought home himself from Florida.” She sipped her tea. “You know, Scotty's got a great story about that trip to Florida. He told me about it the last time he was in town.”

Betty's eyes lit up. She'd heard of the southern side of the Atlantic, but she'd never been there. Scott grinned as he took the jar. “Yeah, that was an interesting job. We were hauling citrus fruit from Sarasota to Boston, and we ran into these smugglers who thought we had real jewels, not jewel-colored fruit. So we painted a box of strawberries to look like rubies...”

Maple and Betty weren't the only ones who were avidly listening to Scott's tale. Had any of them happened to gaze out at the cove at that moment, they would have noticed a diminutive white body covered in a fish-scale wrap watching them with a great deal of interest.

“Hmm,” Ruth murmured to herself, “so this is the human Princess Betty gave up her tail and her voice for. I can't say I blame her. He is quite a looker. I'll bet his soul is amazing, if his stories are anything to go by. Why should a silly mermaid get such a prize? I would make a far better soul mate for this charming creature.”

The next two weeks were the most enjoyable Betty had ever spent. She chased Maple around the beach in the morning, then explored the town with Scott. They went for a boat ride on a small ship Scott borrowed from a friend, and Scott taught her how to fish with something he called a rod and reel. Maple took her to the town library, which was filled with books in every size, shape, and description. Betty spent hours there, reading every book she could get her hands on. They went to the picture show again, this time to see a romance about two families who kept a pair of lovers apart. They went to lunch at a little box Maple called a “soda fountain.” It was really a long marble counter with iron chairs, where they ordered something called “ice cream.” Betty's vanilla was smooth and creamy and delicious. She'd never tasted anything like it.

Her favorite part of the day was after dinner, when it was just her, Scott, and Maple. Scott would play music on the long driftwood rectangle in the parlor, which he called a piano. He even showed her how to play some simple songs. She'd dance with Maple, and then alone. Maple would take over the piano, and she'd dance with Scott. When she swung around the living room with him, she forgot her sore feet and that she was living on borrowed time. All she thought about was him and how happy she was.

There was only one thing that truly put a damper on her wonderful two weeks. She really missed her family. She missed hearing their singing, their laughter, and her grandmother's stories. She wished she could talk to them just one more time and tell them about the wonderful things she'd seen! If only they could be a part of her new home, or Scott and Maple could be a part of theirs!

Meanwhile, Ruth Getty was making her own plans. She'd gone to listen to Hilary Booth perform in concert about a week after Betty went to the surface. Unlike most of the audience, she wasn't surprised to hear a familiar voice come from Hilary's throat. The concert was a sell-out. Every merman and woman wanted to hear this amazing voice that Hilary had previously kept hidden.

Ruth met Hilary in the back of the theater after the show, much to the latter's dismay. “Why, Hilary Booth,” Ruth purred, “I didn't know you had such a magnificent singing voice. You have real talent. Why didn't you tell me during that one show you graciously allowed me to take over?”

“I didn't graciously allow you!” Hilary snapped. “You sabotaged my performance, with your little notes that said things like 'iceberg' and 'sink like a rock.' I wouldn't have talked to you after that for all the pearls in all the oysters in the entire Atlanic Ocean!”

Ruth took Hilary's hand in hers. “But you sound so wonderful here! I was wr...w....” She sighed. “Well, I should have known someone as beautiful and...seasoned....as you would have a voice to match.” One side of her lips went up in a sneer. “Although, there is something...unusual....about your singing voice.”

Hilary did not like that sneer. “What do you mean by 'unusual?'”

“It's lovely, really, but it's much too high. It's doesn't match your speaking voice at all.” The sneer widened. “It's not yours, is it?”

“Of course it is! Where do you think it came from?”

“Your sister-in-law.” Hilary opened her mouth, but Ruth waved a hand in front of it. “You'll tell me the truth, Hilary. It's not your voice, is it? You stole it from your husband's sister, Princess Elizabeth. The one who's been missing this past week.”

“I don't know anything about it!”

Ruth patted her flowing auburn locks into shape. “Oh, but I think you do. Your husband and his siblings told me all about how you cut her hair and took her beautiful voice for yourself.”

“She came to me!” Hilary protested. “I tried to stop her! I told her how painful turning a tail into legs is. Jeff tried to talk her out of it. She was in love with some human she rescued from the storm a few weeks ago. I had to have some payment for such a strong potion.”

The smaller merwoman patted Hilary's cheek. “You know, you and your spectacular voice could be useful to me now.”

Hilary shoved her hand away. “Do you really think I'd do anything for you, after you stole my career from me? You told anyone who would listen that I couldn't sing and wasn't worthy of the better roles. You know how important singing is to us merfolk.”

“It's important on land, too.” Ruth sighed. “I'm bored with these ridiculous, fawning merfolk. I want a new venue to conquer, new music to sing, new slaves with energy to take. I want to get on on land.”

“But you know we can't stay there longer than a few weeks at the most! We can't survive up there!”

“You can't.” Ruth swished her scale wrap across Hilary's face. “I can. I have the same book as you. I can make myself a potion that will give me legs...and win myself a handsome human.”

“Not you, too! It's bad enough Betty's chasing after some fish-catcher!”

Ruth smirked. “Hilary, have you seen that human Princess Elizabeth has her eye on? As all the little mermaids would say, he's quite a catch.” She inspected herself in a piece of sea-glass. “He'd be a fine addition to my collection, once I got my hands on his immortal soul.”

“No!” Hilary pulled back. “Not only am I not going to help you, but I have every intention of telling my father-in-law King McKinley what you're up to. He's been beside himself with worry this past week.”

“You do that,” purred Ruth, “and I'll tell him who gave his daughter the potion in the first place, and what happened to her voice.”

Hilary clenched her fists. “You wouldn't dare!”

“Would I?” She turned back to Hilary. “You don't seem to quite understand your position, Miss Hilary Booth. You're the one who has his daughter's voice. I'm just a simple merwoman who wants to become the greatest star anywhere.” She moved around Hilary. “You know, your husband has a very warm, pleasant voice. If I were to take it...and maybe give him some long legs to go with that torso...”

The dark-haired merwoman witch growled. “Don't you even contemplate putting your rotten little tail on my Jeffrey!”

“Then you'll do exactly what I tell you to.” She nodded above them. “I need you to use that lovely voice that isn't yours to lure your sister-in-law's fair human male away from her and into my arms.”

“But she'll die if she doesn't marry him!” Hilary groaned. “And if she dies, I have the feeling I won't be living long, either.”

Ruth tugged at one wayward lock of brown hair. “Do you think I care about some little mermaid? It's my career I'm thinking of.” She patted Hilary's chest...hard. “I'll let you consider it. Come back to me in a week.” Hilary was still sputtering when Ruth swam off.