The Mermaid's Mirror - L. K. Madigan [49]
Lena moved to the corner and picked up the chair. It was solid wood, but spindly, so she was able to move it out of the corner easily. She examined the wall behind the chair. It looked smooth and unblemished. She knelt on the carpet, feeling for bumps or irregularities, but there were none. She put her fingers to the edge of the carpet and tugged, but it was tacked down securely.
Baring her teeth, Lena tightened her grip on the edge of the carpet and wrenched upward with all the strength of her anger and frustration. The staples holding the carpet in place popped out of the floor. Lena pulled the carpet back.
The wooden floor beneath the edge of loose carpet had been cut into the shape of a rectangle.
In the tick of time between her heartbeats, Lena hesitated.
What could be so important—or dangerous—that her father would hide it this thoroughly? She was still holding up the edge of loose carpet; now she pulled harder, revealing the full size of the cut in the wooden floor. It was about two feet long and one foot wide. She bent the carpet back and knelt on it to hold it in place. Then she fit her fingers to the cracks between the wood, and lifted until one edge was raised. She fit her hands around the piece of wood, and lifted it out, revealing a neat rectangular hole.
In the hole lay a dusty, brown leather sea chest.
Lena set aside the piece of wood and reached for the trunk. As her hands touched the cracked leather, she hesitated once more. Whatever was inside this trunk was something her father had clearly never wanted her to see. Suicide by drowning ...the blunt, black words on crisp, official paper floated into her mind.
Then a vision of the mermaid replaced the image of the death certificate. There had to be a connection between the mermaid's key and this dusty old trunk. She couldn't stop now.
Trembling, Lena lifted the sea chest out of the hole in the floor and set it beside her. She took the key from around her neck. Taking a deep breath, she fit the key in the lock. She turned it, and felt a click as the lock released.
Lifting the lid of the trunk, the scent of salt air drifted into her nostrils. It was as if she had stepped outside. There were photos and letters lying on top. Lena thought she had seen all the photos of her mother that existed. Now she realized that her father had saved some and hidden them away in this trunk. Lucy looked impossibly young, hardly older than Lena was now. She was laughing in some photos, looking serious in others. More beautiful than anyone Lena had ever seen, with her long hair rippling over her shoulders and her emerald eyes shining with love. Then there were photos of her father with her mother, hugging and kissing and acting silly for the camera. Her father looked very young, too, in these photos. His hair was longer and shaggier, and he had a blond goatee. There were even a few photos of the two of them in the ocean, her father sitting astride his surfboard, and her mother treading water near him.
She doesn't have on a wetsuit, mused Lena. She must not have minded the cold water.
Here was one of Lucy, her dad ... and Allie! They were all three smiling into the camera, sitting at a table in a restaurant. Her dad's arm was around Lucy, and Allie leaned close to them, as young and pretty as they were.
The last few photos were stuffed in a too-small envelope. Lena slid them out. The first one was a photo of a small shop—the sign read, BAY AREA BODY ART, in large black letters, with a smaller line below: TATTOOS, PIERCINGS, AND SPECIAL-OCCASION BODY PAINT. The photos documented her parents getting tattoos. First they took pictures of each other making pretend-scared faces for the camera, then her dad took a couple of shots of the artist working on her mother's tattoo. When it was finished, a small dolphin adorned the skin just above her left ankle.