The Ocean's Daughter (Sequel to Sirene)

Chapter 27

When I wrote the first draft of chapter 27 last night, I realized it was just too long, so I divided it into two separate chapters. This way I could give enough time and development for the scenes and the characters. Today I edited the shortened chapter 27, and right now I'm working on editing the newly formed chapter 28. Because it is just about ready and only needs some slight tweaking, chapter 28 will be put up tomorrow :)

Unfamiliar words are marked with a star and the meaning can be found at the end of the chapter.

Chapter is dedicated to KhomeshSakeesing, thank you for your votes, comments and support. I am so thankful for it :)

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If I told you I've been cleaning my soul
And if I promise you, I'd regain control
Would you open the door, and let me in
Take me for who I am and not for who I've been--Chris Daughtry (from the song "Sorry")

Chapter 27

Wesley couldn't help dragging his feet as he walked down the path to his former home. He vaguely remembered everything here, but still found it hard to believe that once upon a time this very house had been his home. Now it was just a childish memory, and not a very clear one at that. Still, there was something in the house and the scenery around it that reminded him of auld lang syne*. At last he came up to the low door of the cottage and taking a deep breath, he reached out and gave a firm knock. The fact that he didn't know who would answer the door only added to his already nervous state. Of course he hoped it would be Oceana, but he braced himself with that fact that it might be his father.

After two, long, agonizing minutes, at last the front door opened and a man appeared at the doorway. Wesley looked him up and down. He was about the same height as Wesley, but heftier. His face was weather beaten, speaking of life that was constantly exposed to the elements. It was obvious he had faced many storms in his life. His hair had more gray than black in it, his dark eyes were sad, the cheeks careworn, the shoulders slightly hunched and the hands rugged, but all this passed Wesley by. The only thing he noticed was the absence of the smell of whiskey. The  one disctinct memory he had was that cheap whiskey stench that had always been present when his father had been around, not it was strangely missing. For that matter, the smell was absent from the entire house.

Callum in the meantime had stood silently, waiting for this stranger dressed uniform to state his business, and when Wesley didn't say anything for the first couple seconds, Callum raised his eyebrows and asked, “Can I help ye, lad?”

Wesley took another deep breath. “I certainly hope so,” he said.

“If ye are lost, the village is down that way,” Callum pointed in the direction of the village. “All ye hae* to do is take the main road, it will lead ye right to it.”

“No, I'm not looking for the village, I'm looking for Callum McNeil, and I take it you are him.” Wesley still found it a little hard to comprehend that this man, whom he didn't recognize at all, was his father.

“Aye, I'm Callum McNeil, and who might ye be?”

Wesley didn't answer right away, he still hadn't quite formulated just how he was going to present the news.

“Are ye that good fer nothing blaggard from the navy who went and broke my mermaid's heart?” Callum asked, clenching both fists tightly

Wesley saw muscles on Callum's arm tense and bulge. It was obvious that the Scotsman had a terrible amount of strength in those arms and Wesley figured there was no time to beat around the bush. If he wanted to come out of this meeting alive, he had better just bluntly get to the point.