Free The Selkie Enchantress by Sophie Moss

said, sighing. “You can come with me.”
    His whole face lit up. “Can I bring the books?”
    “There’s no light or heat where we’re going,” she warned.
    “That’s okay,” Owen said quickly, already scooping them up and clutching them in his arms.
    Caitlin eyed his still-wet clothes. “Come on, I’ll loan you a slicker.” She fished two rubber jackets from her hallway closet, one for each of them. He slipped into his, and it fell to his knees. He looked so young and innocent, taking such care to tuck the books safely into the big inside pocket. The ache it left in her chest almost stole her breath away.
    Swallowing that desperate yearning for a child of her own, she looked down at Owen’s feet. His socks were still drenched, leaving little wet prints on the tiles. She ducked into her room and came back out with a pair of thick wool socks. “Here,” she said, handing them to him. “These’ll be too big but at least they’ll keep your feet warm.”
    She watched a sudden shadow of fear pass over his eyes. “That’s okay,” he said, trying to hand them back to her.
    Caitlin crossed her arms over her chest. If Owen was her responsibility then she was responsible for making sure he didn’t catch a cold. She might not like how his mother was treating her but a mother’s actions weren’t the fault of the child. “We’re not leaving until you put them on.”
    He shifted his feet nervously, curling his toes under to hide them.
    “Come on,” Caitlin held out her hand. “Off with the wet ones. I’ll hang them in the shower to dry.”
    His eyes darted around the room, but finding no way out he finally sulked over to the couch, turning his back to her and slipping his wet socks off.
    Caitlin shook her head. Boys , she thought, rolling her eyes and sliding her feet into her sneakers, then walking into the living room to grab the wet ones before he changed his mind. But she froze mid-step when she caught a glimpse of his bare foot, and the translucent webbing between his toes.
     
    ***
     
    Caitlin backed out of the room, careful not to make a sound. Webbed feet? Her wide-eyed gaze dropped to the puddle his sneakers had made on the floor.
    “I’m ready,” he said cheerfully, hopping off the couch and handing his wet socks to her. She took them, forcing a bright smile and bit back the questions lodged in her throat. He slipped his feet, covered now in warm fuzzy wool socks, into his wet sneakers. “So where are we going?”
    Caitlin swallowed. Surely it wasn’t normal for a child to have webbed feet. “Do you remember that cottage where we found the rose yesterday?”
    He nodded.
    Caitlin opened the door. A blast of cold wind swirled into the house. “That’s where we’re going.”
    Owen stepped out into the street, blinking as the rain stung his eyes. “What are we doing there?”
    Caitlin pulled the door shut behind them and they headed out into the biting winds, leaning forward to keep their balance. Across the street, the Dooley’s sheep dog pressed his paws against the window, barking at them from behind the glass. “I need to decide what to do with it.”
    “The rose?” Owen asked, jogging to keep up with her.
    “No,” Caitlin answered, veering off the main road and onto the muddy moss-covered path leading north to the bogs. “The cottage. It’s going to take a lot of work to get it livable again. But someone, someday…” Her voice turned wistful and the rubber flaps of her jacket smacked up and down in the wind. “Someone will either spend a holiday in it or call it a home.”
    “Is that what you do?” Owen asked. “Make old things pretty again?”
    Caitlin glanced down at him. “You could say that.”
    “Is that what you did to the cottage I’m staying in?”
    “Yes.”
    “But you said you weren’t finished.”
    He remembered that? From the first night on the dock? “That’s right. I’m not finished.”
    “What’s left?”
    “Little things. My friend Glenna is