Children of the Sea 02 - Sea Fever

“The best,” she said.
     
    Another cramp ripped her like a knife. Regina closed her eyes and leaned into her mother’s hand.
     
    *
     
    Dylan called the wind to his sails until they swelled full-bellied as the moon. Another sign? he wondered. Or an illusion?
     
    The silver dollar he had given Nick beamed a steady signal like the lighthouse at the island’s edge or a dot on Conn’s map of the world. The water rippled white under his prow, following the coin’s pull like a compass needle drawn true north. The boat moved by magic between the dark and the deep, between the vastness brimming with life below and a
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    greater vastness sprinkled with stars. This was Dylan’s element. His lips peeled back from his teeth. The demons had invaded his territory.
     
    But there were a thousand islands off the coast of Maine, mostly uninhabited fortresses of spruce and stone, incursions of molten magma through the earth’s crust. Nick could be hidden anywhere. Or lying at the bottom of the sea. The fire spawn could have tossed him overboard as a warning or out of spite.
     
    From another shore, the sea birds keened over something dead.
     
    “He has no value to them.”
     
    “Please, bring him back to me.”
     
    Dylan clenched the rudder and thought about the coin. Focused on the coin. As long as he felt that small, bright tug, he allowed himself to hope.
     
    *
     
    “You can’t blame yourself.” Donna Tomah’s voice was gentle and compassionate. Her eyes were bright and cold. Regina pressed her thighs together, shivering under the stupid paper sheet. “There’s no evidence that either sexual activity or stress can cause an abortion.”
     
    “Not her fault” was good. But . . .
     
    “Miscarriage,” Regina corrected.
     
    The doctor raised her eyebrows. “I was speaking medically.”
     
    Regina felt her face turn red. “Right. So, can you stop it?”
     
    Donna hesitated. “Often an abortion— or miscarriage, if you prefer— can’t be prevented. And shouldn’t be. It’s usually an indication that the pregnancy isn’t normal.”
     
    Regina supposed having a selkie father and a human mother qualified as unusual. But Dylan had said the baby was normal. Human.
    For now. “Is something wrong with my baby?”
     
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    “It’s possible.”
     
    Just this once, Regina wished she had a hand to hold when somebody delivered bad news. She bunched her fists at her waist, wrinkling the paper sheet. “How can you tell?”
     
    “We can’t, unfortunately.”
     
    “Then why the hell am I here? What are you going to do?”
     
    “We need to confirm that your pregnancy is in fact terminating,”
    Donna said steadily. “We’ll do a pelvic exam, possibly an ultrasound. If the uterus is clear, then there’s nothing else we need to do.”
     
    So clinical. So cold. Regina’s heart tightened in her chest. “And if it’s not?”
     
    Donna Tomah smiled. “Let’s just see, shall we? Lie down.”
     
    A chill slithered down her spine. She didn’t want to lie down. She felt exposed and vulnerable enough already. She didn’t want to put her feet in the metal stirrups and open herself up to more disappointment.
     
    Regina moistened her lips. “What if the uterus isn’t . . . You know.
    Clear.”
     
    “We would take steps to prevent infection.”
     
    Steps. Misgiving contracted her stomach, sharp as a cramp. Uh-oh.
    “Antibiotics?”
     
    “Let’s get the pelvic over with before we decide on a plan of treatment,” the doctor said.
     
    Which made sense. It did. Regina opened her mouth to agree. Heard herself say, “I think I’ll come back in the morning.”
     
    Donna’s pleasant smile set. Well, she probably wasn’t happy at being dragged from her dinner and whatever was on TV tonight just so Regina could refuse medical attention. “We could be busy.”
     
    “I have an appointment,” Regina reminded her. “Ten o’clock. I’ll come then.”
     
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    Donna stiffened. “That’s not a good idea.”
     
    Antonia used to complain that the surest way to get Regina to do something was to tell her not to do it. “Attitude,” her teachers said.
    “Bitch,” Alain called her. Resistance tended to make her stubborn.
     
    She was uncertain and sick and afraid, but she wasn’t giving up her baby. Dylan’s baby. Whether their child was the fulfillment of some selkie prophecy or not, he was precious to her. She was not giving up.
     
    “I’ll take my temperature. I’ll call if I