Free Derrolyn Anderson - [Marinas Tales #1] - Between The Land And The Sea by Derrolyn Anderson Page A

She was always on the lookout for the newest and most talented musicians to showcase at her parties and charity events, and loved hunting them down for herself. Evie had a good ear, and was responsible for many an up-and-coming artist’s big break.
    “I don’t think I’m ready for anything like that,” Megan said, shaking her unruly curls with a terrified look in her eye.
    “I think you are,” I pronounced with conviction.
    She blushed as red as her hair and stammered out her thanks. We spent the morning talking and I coaxed some more music out of her. The first song was no fluke, and as her confidence rose her voice strengthened. I was even more captivated after her second performance, now certain I was right about her impressive musical talent. I needed to introduce her to Evie.
    Cruz told Megan about my near drowning and she repeated Ethan’s warning about keeping an eye out on the waves. Apparently there had been several accidental deaths at the beach over the years, all blamed on high, unpredictable surf and erratic rip currents.
    “Cruz and I aren’t real beachy types,” she said with a smirk, “but then again... we’re not really into surfers.”
    I cast her a baleful glare.
    She returned my gaze mischievously, “Did Ethan really carry you all the way home?” she asked. I nodded, mortified and suddenly flustered.
    “Well,” she said seriously, “I suppose that makes it all worthwhile.” Cruz and Megan snickered to each other as I flushed bright red.
    “Very funny,” I said with a sour look, “but something else happened yesterday that I didn’t tell anyone.”
    I’d felt as though I was going to explode all morning, holding in my thoughts of the strange encounter. The urge to say it out loud kept the news bubbling to the tip of my tongue, threatening me with its intensity. I couldn’t wait any longer. The floodgates burst open and I told them about the mermaid, pouring the whole story out to them, describing the first sighting and finally going into detail about our contact yesterday.
    They sat there quietly, taking it all in. Then they exchanged a meaningful glance between them.
    “Are you sure you didn’t bump your head or something when you were underwater?” Cruz asked.
    Megan chimed in, “You passed out... right? That could cause oxygen deprivation...”
    “Are you accusing me of having brain damage?” I asked acerbically, then joking, “Or should I say drain bramage?” They didn’t laugh.
    Cruz tried to placate me, “It’s just, you might have gotten knocked out and dreamed it or something...”
    I rolled my eyes at him, “I just told you I saw her before the accident,” I said.
    “Maybe it was someone playing a trick on you,” Megan reasoned, “Some of those surfer girls can be really mean.”

    They spent the better part of an hour trying to explain away my story. The more I insisted that what I saw was real, the more condescending they got. They spoke to me like I was a confused child. Frustrated, I excused myself and went for a walk to calm my rising irritation. I should have known better than to tell anyone. Who in their right mind would believe such a story?
    I walked the neighborhood lost in my thoughts, agitated, and without even thinking my feet took me down to the pier leading towards the cement boat. I came upon the lone fisherman leaning against the rail, looking intently into the murky swirling waters. I walked to his side and looked down, puzzled to see nothing. He glanced over at me with a grin, giving me the strangest sensation that he’d been expecting me.
    “Good morning,” I said routinely.
    “Hello water girl,” he replied, smiling so broadly I thought his lined face would crack, “The water spirits are strong today.” He gestured to the bucket at his feet, overflowing with fish.
    I looked down and back up at him, remembering his cryptic remarks at the farmer’s market.
    “Really?” I asked, looking out towards the ruins.
    “Good fishing,”