Jenn Alexander - The Song of the Sea

To my grandpa, Gerald Alexander, who shared with me a love of words.

You are missed.

Foreword

On November 7th, 2015, I lost my wife, Sandra Moran,and the world lost a talented writer and learned scholar. Sandra was aprofessor as well as an author, and she shared her talents as an instructor anda mentor with the Golden Crown Literary Society Writing Academy. In 2016, theGolden Crown Literary Society established a scholarship in Sandras name inorder to honor her memory. The scholarship is given to a Writing Academystudent who has displayed the potential to make a significant impact on lesbianfiction.

It was meaningful to me to present the second SandraMoran Writing Academy scholarship to Jenn Alexander in July 2017. Today,it is my great honor to introduce you to Jenns debut novel, The Song of theSea. Sandra would be so proud of Jenn and her first published book.

I know you will enjoy The Song of the Sea. Andwe can all look forward to the next book from this talented author.

Cheryl Pletcher

Asheville, NC

June 2019

ChapterOne

The first time Lisa Whelan had ever listened to thesinging of the ocean she was seven years old, sitting with her grandfather onthe rocks along the shoreline, trying to make sense of her grandmothers death.

Do you hear that? her grandfather had asked as theystared out at the rolling waves. Do you hear the water?

She had nodded, listening to the soft rush of the surfas it rolled toward shore, then back out to sea.

It reminds me of music.

She remembered seeing her grandfather, his face tiltedup toward the sun, eyes closed, head swaying as though he heard an entiresymphony.

Lisa had mimicked him, trying hard to hear the song.At first, she heard nothing more than the steady back and forth of the water,but eventually she began to pick out the melody laced above the rocking rhythmof the waves. She heard the gulls and the boats and the distant voices soundsblending with one another to create harmonies and accents.

Its the song of freedom, her grandfather had said.Dont you think?

She hadnt known what to say, so again she nodded.

Your grandmothers not in there. Her grandfather hadmotioned back toward the grief-filled house. Shes out here. You can hearit.

As a child, she had been too young to attach muchsignificance to her grandfathers words, but twenty-six years later, thatmoment occupied her every thought, as she found herself desperate to hear thesong.

Lisa drew the paintbrush across the page, a curvingshoreline stretching out toward the horizon. She gave herself over to thesmooth brush strokes of the blue, curling waves. Along the shore, she outlinedthe water with a line of white, creating the foam of the breakers, which shealso speckled above the crests of the waves. Lines of gray formed the jaggedboulders that stacked upon each other, until they reached the grassy fieldabove the cliff.

She set her brush down and closed her eyes,visualizing that moment. She wanted to capture the soothing rolling of the waves,the gentle swirling of the clouds, the calming sun that shone in fat, distinctrays down onto the water like lights from Heaven.

A bird circled over the water in search of fish, andshe opened her eyes, dipping her brush in dark brown paint and painting thesmall line of its wingspan in the distant sky.

She closed her eyes and remembered the briny scent ofsalt water and seaweed, the comfort of her grandfathers solid figure settledin beside her, the feel of the cliff rising up to support her.

She didnt hear the music.

She did hear the ring of her phone, jarring herfrom her thoughts. It was the third call that morning, and she frowned at thecell phone that lit up and vibrated along with the tinny ring tone from herkitchen counter. She should have turned it off. Her agent had been calling allweek, inquiring about the frames she was supposed to have sketched for the newbook. The deadline was fast approaching and she had yet to start.

She exhaled slowly and then got up and crossed theroom to silence the phone. She could answer and ask for an extension, but shedidnt have the energy. Her brothers name lit up across her phone instead, soshe hit talk and placed the phone to her ear.

Hey, little brother. She leaned against the counterwith the phone to her ear.

Hey, Lise, Andrew Whelan answered. Howseverything?

Lisa straightened the stack of unopened mail pilednext to her coffeemaker and moved the dishes on her counter onto the pile ofdishes building in her kitchen sink. Good. You?

Im good, he said, but the intonation to the wordssuggested otherwise.

You need help hiding the body? Lisa asked.

He didnt laugh.

Whats the matter? she pressed.

Nothings the matter. Im good. Really good,actually. I just, well, I have some news. I wanted to call you first so you donthear this from anyone else.

Okay? She waited, unsure if she should brace herselffor whatever Andrew was about to say.

Sarahs pregnant.

At those two words, everything stopped, Lisasbreathing included. The air was knocked from her chest as though shed beenpunched. She could feel the walls of her apartment tighten around her.

I needed you to know first before we tell anyoneelse, he continued. The words only barely registered. They were distant,hollow background noise.

Thank you.

Are you okay?

She shook her head, and reminded herself to breathe.Somehow she managed to form words. She could hear herself answer, as though shewas an outside observer. Her own voice was as distant and muffled as her brothers.Of course. Congratulations. Kara and Susie will be such great big sisters.

They will be. Andrews voice lifted, his excitementbreaking through. Susie, she carries around her little baby dolls, feedingthem bottles, and wrapping them in blankets, and I can see her with the baby,you know? Shell be so gentle. And Kara, shes such a goofball and anentertainer. Ill bet you ten bucks now that she gets babys first giggles.

Im happy for you, she said. I mean it.

Thanks, Lise.

Listen, Ive got to go, though. I would love to talk more,but Im waiting on a call from my agent about the new book. Say hi to Sarah andthe girls for me.

Bye, Lisa. Love you.

Love you, too, she said, already pulling the phoneaway from her ear to end the call. Her chest was tight, her breathing shallow,and she didnt trust that she could get another word out without her voicebreaking. There was only so much she could fake.

She turned off her phone and set it on the counter.She stood in her kitchen, not sure what to do with herself. Her hands itched tohurl something or hit something, but there was nothing. The anxious energypulsed through her with nowhere to go. She bit back the tears that stung at hereyes. It was so easy for Andrew. He and Sarah had the twins, and now a baby onthe way. Four years ago, when Sarah was first pregnant, he had come over to seeLisa in a panic and had gotten drunk off his ass at the thought of being a dad.

God, hes your brother. She hated the jealousy thatburned in her chest. She wished she could be happy for him, but the painswelled up within her until a sob choked out.

She had wanted to be a mom for as long as she couldremember. Shed wanted to be a mom so desperately shed been willing to do itall single. Shed decorated the nursery, bought the onesies, and even chosenschools for Mitchell. Shed conceived him in her heart years before shed evergotten pregnant.

But she never got to lay him in his carefully curatednursery. She never got to dress him in the onesie shed selected as his goinghome outfit. She had had only a few short hours with him, just long enough tohold him against her chest and feel his little heartbeat.

She took in the painting through the blurry threat oftears. That solace shed felt as a child she needed to feel again. There had tobe some comfort somewhere. She couldnt bear to stay in the pain.