Black Water Born - Excerpt 1

PROLOGUE

1895, Off the coast of Newfoundland

Pregnant woman falls from ship in the middle of night.

Oh, how perfectly stupid, Marion Norton thought as she took a mouthful of water, coughed, then spat. She shouldn’t have been so careless, hovering along the rails in her dainty shoes, anger fueling her empty threat that she’d jump and swim across the Atlantic Ocean to land. And in her condition? What had she been thinking?

Marion coughed again. The sound of her retching carried across the waves. How much time had passed since she’d fallen into the sea? She and Teddy had argued about their leaving Boston for England. He reminded her of his godfather’s offer in his law firm -- after all, they had to consider the birth of their first child.

She’d smoothed her swollen belly through the thick red dress. "Our child will fine in Boston. I want to go back where my family is."

"Impossible now, Marion. We’re in the middle of the ocean. What’re we to do, swim?"

She folded her arms. "Maybe I will."

Teddy raised his voice and announced that as her husband, he would make the best choice for both of them. Then he’d turned his back and left her alone on deck. And that’s when Marion climbed along the top of the rail, moving her feet in little steps, pretending that she might jump into the dark water.

The ship gave a sudden lurch and down, down, down she tumbled, a flurry of red taffeta and silk, twirling and splashing into the water.

Struggling back to the water’s surface, Marion shouted that she’d fallen overboard, but already the ship was moving further and further away while she watched helplessly, her cries impotent against the grinding of the vessel’s engine.

A wave slapped her ears, muting for an instant, the rumble of the ocean and thrusting her thoughts to the present. Oh, she was tired, a tired that bled deep into bone and marrow.

Let go, a watery voice cooed. Just let go...

Her eyes closed and the relief was so sweet, she felt herself smile.

Only when a hand grabbed her hair, causing her head to lurch forward did Marion realize she’d been slipping into the sea.

No, not a hand. A seagull.

The gull bawled and with a flutter, was folded up into the night sky. It’s okay. I’m safe, Marion told herself. It’s just a bird --

A light!

She squinted and stared ahead.

Yes, there it was. A blinking light. And then the sound of water gnashing against rock. The shore couldn’t be far now; perhaps they’d be all right.

Marion ribboned her legs back and forth and spread her arms outward as if she were flying. But so quickly again, she became tired. The dress bogged between her legs. Her breaths were heavy. Where was the light?

Had she imagined it?

The answering darkness was a weight that pressed down. Her hair matted against her head, heavy and cold, like seaweed. Just as water trickled into her nostrils, Marion saw the flickering light again.

And then nothing at all.

Next: Excerpt 2