Chapter 1
The salt-laden breezetugged at Molly Anderson’s tangled, red-brown hair as she steered the boat into the wind, trying to ignore the rain pelting her face. It was not easy, despite her long experience with the Scottish weather and no matter which way she turned her head, the rain seemed to blow right into her eyes. Ugh. Would she ever catch a break? She turned to survey her passengers huddled under their raincoats, their faces a mix of excitement and unease.
She counted only seven souls on this particular excursion—a far cry from the bustling tours she would usually lead at this time of year. A flicker of worry wriggled in her gut as she gripped the tiller tightly, steering them through the choppy waves as she scanned the horizon for what they’d come to see. The bad weather had been a recurring problem all season, deterring tourists from venturing out to sea, and it was taking its toll on her business.
“You’ll want to hold on to something, folks!” Molly called out cheerfully, her voice competing with the howling wind. “We’re heading into a bit of a swell.”
The tourists nodded, clutching onto the railing or each other, their eyes trained on the distant seabird colonies.
The boat, christened theSelkieby her father, handled the weather easily. Although she was a thoroughly modern vessel with as much comfort for her passengers as money would permit, theSelkiehad been built in the style of a traditional Scottish birlinn, with a smooth wooden hull and a single square sail. The only difference was that instead of oars as it would have had in times past, theSelkiehad an outboard motor in the back, providing the power needed to navigate the ever-changing Scottish seas. TheSelkiewas the best boat that plied these coasts—even if Molly did say so herself—but her family business still couldn’t compete with the large multi-vessel companies that were slowly taking over.
“Look there!” a middle-aged man wearing a bright blue raincoat cried, pointing to a cluster of puffins nestled on a rocky outcropping. “They’re so cute!”
“Ah, the clowns of the sea,” Molly replied with a soft smile, her melancholic thoughts momentarily forgotten. “The Atlantic puffins are a true delight in these parts. They’re quite the little adventurers, too—spending most of their lives out at sea. Did you know that they don’t build nests but dig holes? And a pair will mate for life.”
“Is that so?” a young woman with an American accent chimed in, her camera clicking away as she snapped photos of the birds. “Fascinating.”
Molly felt her mood lightening as she shared her knowledge of the seabirds and their habitat. She loved this part of the job. The wonder in her passengers’ faces, the joy in their smiles as a puffin skimmed past not three feet from where they sat—it made everything worthwhile.
Her thoughts turned to her father and she felt a twinge of sorrow that he couldn’t be here. He would have loved this—despite the weather. He had taught her everything she knew of the sea and its inhabitants, bringing her out on trips since she was old enough to walk. He’d been a fisherman for many years, but had switched to tourist tours when it became more profitable. But age and illness had forced him to step back from the family business. Now it was Molly’s responsibility.
The wind picked up, sending her hair swirling across her face and blowing spray across the boat. Turning west, Molly saw the sky darkening as gray clouds rolled in, merging with the horizon like some ominous watercolor painting. The ocean’s surface, which had been calm and serene this morning, was now stirred into a frenzy of choppy waves that slapped against theSelkie’swooden hull. She sighed. It wouldn’t be safe to go any further with that storm rolling in. It was time to turn back.
To the disappointed groans of her passengers, she turned the boat for home. As she navigated theSelkiecloser to shore, Molly mentally calculated the day’s earnings. It wasn’t enough—not by a long shot and with the look of that storm, she’d not be doing any more trips today. Worry gnawed at her insides, a familiar ache that had become almost comforting in its constancy.
Things will pick up, she told herself.They have to.
All she needed was a spell of sunny weather that coincided with the school holidays and the tourists would come flocking in. Then the business could get back on an even keel. Was that too much to ask?
Ahead, she spotted the opening between two craggy cliffs that led into the harbor. Steering neatly between them, she swung theSelkieround to the east to avoid the nasty currents on the west side of the bay, and entered the calmer waters of the harbor.
Hollincross came into view ahead—a tumble of white cottages marching down the hill to the harbor, which was filled with fishing boats and leisure craft of all kinds. It was a welcome sight—but one that brought a twinge to her stomach as well. The village had been her home her entire life, but sometimes these days it felt more like a prison. She’d once had dreams of becoming a marine biologist and traveling the world, studying and protecting the oceans. Things hadn’t exactly turned out how she’d imagined.
Stop it, she thought.Self-pity doesn’t suit you.
The boat’s timbers groaned and creaked as she guided theSelkieagainst the quay and tossed the mooring rope over one of the bollards. The storm clouds had brought an early twilight and lights were already beginning to twinkle in the village, making the water sparkle. The tide was high, so the waves churned around Molly’s feet as she stepped onto the wooden planking, nipping at her boots like impatient hounds as she secured the vessel to the dock.
“Alright, folks,” she called out with a smile. “We’re back on dry land. Sorry about the weather!”
One by one, the tourists disembarked, Molly standing by to help them if they needed it.
“Thank you all for joining me today,” she called out, her voice carrying over the crying of the seagulls perched on the dock. “I hope to see you again soon!”
“Thanks, Captain Anderson!” the young American woman shouted back, waving enthusiastically, despite the wind and rain. “It was amazing!”
As the last echoes of laughter and chatter faded away, a heavy silence settled on the quay. Molly allowed herself a moment’s respite, leaning against the railing and letting the salty sea breeze whip through her hair. She reached up to touch the silver-knotwork necklace around her neck. Her da had given it to her for her sixteenth birthday and, as always, the feel of it helped to ground her. For a fleeting second, she could almost pretend that she was content—for a second.
“Right then,” she said to herself, pushing off from the railing. “Get to it.”
The sooner she finished tending to the boat, the sooner she could get inside out of the weather. She pictured the roaring fire in the hearth in the living room, a mug of cocoa in her hands and putting her feet up whilst she watched something mindless on the TV. Heaven.
She scanned the boat, checking for any forgotten belongings or rubbish left behind by the tourists, but as she turned toward the stern, she started in surprise. A small, elderly woman sat there. Molly blinked. She’d thought all the passengers had disembarked. How had she missed this woman?
The woman was tiny, her gray hair neatly pinned into a bun, her dark eyes shining as she stared out at the gray waves.
“Hi!” Molly said, approaching the old woman, who seemed not to have noticed her. “I didn’t realize I still had a passenger aboard. Do you need my help to get onto the quay?”
The woman didn’t turn to face Molly but instead continued gazing out at the sea. “Such a beautiful sight, isnae it?” she mused, her voice carrying a Scottish lilt. “The sea always holds so many secrets, so many tales waiting to be told, dinna ye reckon?”
