Mackenzie tugged and grunted.
The frigid chill in the air never deterred Mackenzie from walking, but he was too old to stand while putting on his walking boots. Shadow was tapdancing around him, yapping at the prospect of a beach outing.
Side-stepping the excited dog, Mackenzie tripped over the entrance hall basket holding umbrellas and walking sticks, banging his head against the doorknob.
‘Damn!’ Mackenzie was rattled.
The dog, chastened, slotted his snout into the gap under the door to check whether his best mate, Rusty had passed by that morning. He continued sniffing out a bouquet of salt, fishiness and marine decay so insistently that the old man yanked the door open.
‘Well, go on then!’
Shadow bounded away, toenails scrabbling on the slippery cobblestones towards the smooth black rock where Rusty had left a pungent message an hour ago. The ammonia-like signal pointed south, towards the sandy flats. Not the direction they would be heading today.
Following at a slower pace, Mackenzie stopped to grab Maggie’s scarf. Donning the scarf was becoming a habit. Tucking its loose ends under the collar of his puffer jacket, he lifted its cashmere softness to his nostrils and inhaled deeply. Yes. It was still there, the lavender scent. Maggie had been gone two years now – cancer was a murderous thief – and still her smell lingered.
Gritty sand crunching underfoot, Mackenzie turned north to where memory lingered. He had an anniversary to celebrate. There at the foot of the lighthouse he and Maggie had made love and exchanged their first real kiss all those years ago.
Unlike today, it had been a bright summer’s day. Mackenzie had just delivered supplies from the village to the lighthouse keeper. Maggie, an avid swimmer was emerging from the water and looking for a spot to dry off in the sun.
Thinking back to that day, now so long ago, he imagined again those sticky drops falling from her hair onto his arm. He could still taste her mouth when he took from her soft lips what he could of the salty caramel squares she had been munching before the swim.
Overcome with longing, the old man raised a hand to brush away a tear.
Blood?
He must have hit his head harder than he thought, no wonder he was a bit groggy. Well, he would just sit here awhile, then go back to the cottage. He picked out a spot on the rocks where a mermaid had just emerged.
Only a mermaid swims in this weather.
A bit confused, the old man plopped down onto the rock. He began to remove his clothing. He struggled. His fingers were cold, and so slow. He stowed his clothes methodically – Maggie had always appreciated his tidiness.
Pointing to the clothes, Mackenzie called, ‘Shadow, on guard!’
Then, turning back to the mermaid, recognition dawned.
‘Maggie? Is it you? Wait for me. I’m coming too.’
Rusty and his master passed by the next morning; Shadow was still on guard.
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