But his crew was not familiar with the treacherous waters around this beach where I stood, listening to Penelope’s tale. The rowboat was turned about then dashed against the rocks. The sailor manning the oars and Penelope’s father went under at once; their bodies never even washed ashore. But something in the water had taken hold of her mother and carried her to safety. A selkie, Penelope had said. And the minute her mother’s feet had touched the sands of Newfoundland, Penelope had been born.
She took me to the very spot where she had been delivered from her widowed mother by a selkie midwife and laid down upon the sand, pulling me down beside her. I would say she allowed me to take liberties, but in fact she did the taking. I only gave, willingly.
It was not a dream I wished to be havin
