Read Online The Mermaid's Curse (California Mermaids Book 1) by Kristina Ludwig - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kristina Ludwig
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quickly avert my gaze. “Well, I must be going. I think I’ll go for a short swim.”
My parents un-fuse their lips just long enough for Father to wag his index finger at me. “Don’t go above the surface, now. I hope that you won’t be so eager to see your human again, knowing the implications of such a relationship.”
“Yes, Father.” With a swift flick of my tail, I glide through the house and out the front doors, preparing for a solitary swim around the ocean floor.
My father is absolutely right; after hearing about the curse, I should want to avoid Xavier completely. He won’t help me to break the curse, and a relationship with him will only lead to heartache and estrangement from the world I’ve known for eighteen years.
But yet, I just can’t stop myself. I have to see him again, and I can barely wait until tonight.
Chapter Twenty-Two: Xavier
After the sleepless night followed by the day of fishing in the bright sunshine, I’m completely exhausted. I want nothing more than to skip dinner and stretch out on my bed, sleeping until midnight, when Oceania and I will meet.
Unfortunately, Mr. Simonsen seems to have other plans.
“Come over for dinner, why don’t you?” he suggests as Father navigates The Arabella back to the docks. “Our new cook is a master. I think she’s making roast quail tonight, and there’s always extra.” He rubs his protruding stomach. “I can hardly wait.”
“I would love to come,” Mr. Roth says. He’s always open to dinner invitations, mostly because he’s a lonely widower with three grown daughters who have already gotten married and moved away.
“My wife was planning dinner at our house,” Father says as we alight from the boat, clutching the day’s catch.
“Come on,” Mr. Simonsen wheedles. “She’ll understand. She’ll love the quail.” He winks at me. “And besides, Victoria will be there.”
Father nods. “All right, then. You’ve convinced me. Thanks for the invitation, Henry. I’ll see whether Arabella and Amelie want to join us, as well.”
“Bully!” Mr. Simonsen exclaims, his round face jovial. As Father and I walk toward home, waving behind us, he calls, “See you at eight-thirty.”
Later that night, I’m perched on the edge of my seat, as far away from Victoria as possible. Naturally, Mr. Simonsen has seated us side-by-side, and Victoria leans toward me throughout the entire meal, her rosy cheeks inches from my face.
When the last bite of dessert has been devoured, Mrs. Simonsen begs my mother to treat everyone to an aria from her opera days, and everyone adjourns to the parlor to ooh and aah over my mother’s crystalline voice.
I follow the throng, but Victoria stops me, her little gloved hand fluttering to my arm.
“Let’s not go in there,” she says, smiling to reveal her buckteeth. Really, she has quite the overbite, but she’s not entirely unattractive. In fact, she cuts a fine figure—just not fine enough, especially since I’ve met Oceania.
Victoria gazes at me through her layer of black eyelashes and adds, “Let’s go outside for a walk instead.”
This is a horrible idea; the last thing I want is to be alone with her. But Mr. Simonsen, who has been walking in front of us on the way to the parlor, obviously eavesdropping on our conversation, says, “Yes. You young people must go outside. But don’t stay too long. I’d love to hear you sing and play the piano together.”
Before I can protest, Victoria links her arm through mine, practically dragging me outside and down the dimly-lit garden walk.
She leads me past the trellises encircled with vines, past the flower garden, and into the graceful white gazebo that overlooks the Spanish Bay.
“It’s so lovely here, and so peaceful,” she says as the sea breeze tickles our cheeks. “Isn’t it, Mr. Rose?”
Victoria is so ridiculously affected. We’ve known each other since childhood, yet she still insists upon calling me Mr. Rose, even in
My parents un-fuse their lips just long enough for Father to wag his index finger at me. “Don’t go above the surface, now. I hope that you won’t be so eager to see your human again, knowing the implications of such a relationship.”
“Yes, Father.” With a swift flick of my tail, I glide through the house and out the front doors, preparing for a solitary swim around the ocean floor.
My father is absolutely right; after hearing about the curse, I should want to avoid Xavier completely. He won’t help me to break the curse, and a relationship with him will only lead to heartache and estrangement from the world I’ve known for eighteen years.
But yet, I just can’t stop myself. I have to see him again, and I can barely wait until tonight.
Chapter Twenty-Two: Xavier
After the sleepless night followed by the day of fishing in the bright sunshine, I’m completely exhausted. I want nothing more than to skip dinner and stretch out on my bed, sleeping until midnight, when Oceania and I will meet.
Unfortunately, Mr. Simonsen seems to have other plans.
“Come over for dinner, why don’t you?” he suggests as Father navigates The Arabella back to the docks. “Our new cook is a master. I think she’s making roast quail tonight, and there’s always extra.” He rubs his protruding stomach. “I can hardly wait.”
“I would love to come,” Mr. Roth says. He’s always open to dinner invitations, mostly because he’s a lonely widower with three grown daughters who have already gotten married and moved away.
“My wife was planning dinner at our house,” Father says as we alight from the boat, clutching the day’s catch.
“Come on,” Mr. Simonsen wheedles. “She’ll understand. She’ll love the quail.” He winks at me. “And besides, Victoria will be there.”
Father nods. “All right, then. You’ve convinced me. Thanks for the invitation, Henry. I’ll see whether Arabella and Amelie want to join us, as well.”
“Bully!” Mr. Simonsen exclaims, his round face jovial. As Father and I walk toward home, waving behind us, he calls, “See you at eight-thirty.”
Later that night, I’m perched on the edge of my seat, as far away from Victoria as possible. Naturally, Mr. Simonsen has seated us side-by-side, and Victoria leans toward me throughout the entire meal, her rosy cheeks inches from my face.
When the last bite of dessert has been devoured, Mrs. Simonsen begs my mother to treat everyone to an aria from her opera days, and everyone adjourns to the parlor to ooh and aah over my mother’s crystalline voice.
I follow the throng, but Victoria stops me, her little gloved hand fluttering to my arm.
“Let’s not go in there,” she says, smiling to reveal her buckteeth. Really, she has quite the overbite, but she’s not entirely unattractive. In fact, she cuts a fine figure—just not fine enough, especially since I’ve met Oceania.
Victoria gazes at me through her layer of black eyelashes and adds, “Let’s go outside for a walk instead.”
This is a horrible idea; the last thing I want is to be alone with her. But Mr. Simonsen, who has been walking in front of us on the way to the parlor, obviously eavesdropping on our conversation, says, “Yes. You young people must go outside. But don’t stay too long. I’d love to hear you sing and play the piano together.”
Before I can protest, Victoria links her arm through mine, practically dragging me outside and down the dimly-lit garden walk.
She leads me past the trellises encircled with vines, past the flower garden, and into the graceful white gazebo that overlooks the Spanish Bay.
“It’s so lovely here, and so peaceful,” she says as the sea breeze tickles our cheeks. “Isn’t it, Mr. Rose?”
Victoria is so ridiculously affected. We’ve known each other since childhood, yet she still insists upon calling me Mr. Rose, even in
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