The waves ripped at the shoreline like giant watery fingers mercilessly tearing at the ravaged earth, taking their booty of shells, pebbles and sand to fathomless depths, never to be seen again.

With loathing and bitterness in her heart, Sara Finnighan observed the sea's thievery from the precarious cliff tops. Her eyes scanned the rocks below then followed the thrashing and crashing waves as they shrank back into the black of the night. That same wonder of nature which so generously yielded its fare of cod, haddock, plaice and sole, had also, only five weeks before, taken to it's depths her husband, Peter; the man she had loved with a passion as wild and deep as the sea itself.

Now she was left with only hatred, equal in intensity to the love she had had once felt. Hatred for the "mistress" she could not compete with; the deep blue enchantress that had wooed Peter from her.

Yet, there she stood, the wind whipping her hair and clothes as she contemplated yet again, of allowing the bitch's watery fingers to drag her in too. And again, she heard her name carried on the wind, out towards the invisible horizon. Night after night since Peter's death, she had heard it. Was he calling her to join him? Or warning her to stay away? Her throat tightened at the thought of him being lost and alone. "Peter?" She took a step closer to the edge. Several stones gave way and plummeted to the predatory waters below.

   "Sara!" This time it was clearer, closer. She leaned forward. Oh, it was so inviting. The wind and waves were working their relentless symphony, luring her into cold oblivion.

   "Sara!" A hand clasped her arm, jolting her from her trance. She stared at it for a moment before her eyes met those of her brother's, Tom. He stood firmly beside her, looking both terrified and relieved.  "What are you doing out here! Are you mad?"

Her expression remained indifferent. "I'm fine."  She tried to wriggle free from his grip, but he held firm.

   "No you're not," he chastised. "You've been sick for days.  Now come inside before you catch your death."

His tone and turn of phrase made the corners of her mouth curl; not in amusement, but with the irony of his words.  His insistent hold on her arm though, brought her back to her intolerable reality.  She had almost succeeded this time. Almost.

Purposefully, he pulled her back from the edge and led the way down the rocky path to the fishing village where he and his wife Elaine, had lived for the past six years.  Sara and Peter had become their neighbours three years ago, when Peter's work demanded it.

Once inside Tom's house, he ushered her into the living room. He sat her down next to the fire, tucked the throw from the couch around her,  then went to make her a cup of tea.

She stared at the flames.  Her thoughts were penetrated by muttering from the kitchen.  She turned towards the door, honing in on a heated conversation between her brother and sister-in-law.

   "For God sake, Tom, we can't go on like this! Every night you end up having to go out looking for her."  The loud clink of mugs on a worktop emphasised her frustration.

   "C'mon Elaine.  She's suffering.  She's lost without Peter."

   "We're suffering too, in case you haven't noticed!"  The clattering of crockery, teaspoons and cupboard doors slamming continued.  Elaine continued, "When was the last time we went out?  Or had friends round? Or even just an evening to ourselves?"

   "She's my sister and Peter was my best friend!" Tom replied defensively.

   "And mine.  I miss him too.  But what about us?"

   "Keep it down, Sara will hear you."

   "Well maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing.  Just because she can't be with Peter any more doesn't give her the right to keep you away from me!  We don't even make love any more!"

Sara turned back to the fire as she heard Elaine stomp past the living room and up the stairs.  Once more she stared into the flames, but this time, she felt an overwhelming guilt.  Her sister-in-law's words had stung deep.  Nausea engulfed her just as Tom walked through the door.

   "Here sis, drink up," he said tenderly, handing her a mug of hot, sweet tea.

They sat for a few moments in silence, both entranced by the the dancing flames of the log fire.  Tom bent down to pick up a bit of tinder which had escaped onto the hearth.

   "Elaine's right," Sara whispered.  A solitary tear trickled down her cheek.

    "Hey..." Tom took his seat next to her again.

   "No, Tom.  She's right.  I've been so wrapped up in myself, grief, pain whatever....I didn't stop to think I was causing you two problems."

   "But you're not," Tom replied, noticeably embarrassed that she had overheard the conversation in the kitchen.

Sara dismissed his words with a wave of her hand.  "Oh Tom, if only we hadn't moved here."

   "Peter was a fisherman, just like me.  You had to move here from the city.  It was too far for him to travel all the time.  And it meant he would get home to you quicker once they landed."

   "He could have changed his job!  Then he wouldn't have been caught in the chains when they were hauling and dragged overboard."

   "It was in his blood, Sara.  He'd been fishing since he was eighteen.  You knew that when you met him.  It was a tragic accident.  I miss him too."

She fought to stem her tears.  Her grief was unbearable.  "I better go.  You have work tomorrow."  She leaned over to place her cup on the mantle.  A cramp in her stomach made her wince.  The thought of Tom returning to sea terrified her.

   "Still feeling sick? Finish your tea, " he said.

   "No. I'm fine," she lied. "Thanks. Again."  She left quickly and returned to her cottage next door, where she threw up once she reached the bathroom.  Her grief had manifested as a physical ailment.  Until she somehow managed to move on beyond this pain of loss, she feared her health would never improve. 

As she lay in bed, listening to the wind and sea in their seemingly endless rage against the coastline, she thought she heard Peter's voice calling her name again.  She picked up his picture from the bedside table and pressed her lips against the glass.  "I love you darling," she whispered.  Her tears finally flowed freely.  "I miss you so much Peter..."

A dull thump woke her from a troubled sleep.  Rain battered the window and the wind had picked up tempo, screaming like a banshee round the house.  She lay still, listening keenly.

There it was again!  She was certain it wasn't the elements playing havoc.  Another sound followed in its wake; like something dragging along their stair landing. Instinctively, she sat up, pulling her knees to her chest. The sound neared the bedroom and her panic rose. She always slept with the door slightly ajar, how she wished she had closed it now.  Her eyes widened as she saw it slowly opening further.  With horror, she realised something had just come into the room.  She was rigid, unable to move.

A flash of lightning suddenly illuminated the four walls.  She tried to scream.  Another flash.  An indescribable shape was rising at the base of her bed.  It looked at first almost gelatinous, then like water morphing into another form.  A third and final bolt blasted through the room and she found herself staring at a familiar figure. "Peter?"  Her voice was barely a whisper. 

His smile instantly calmed her, as it had on so many occasions.  His eyes brimmed with the love they shared.  "Sara, my sweet Sara.  Lie still darling, for I have something to tell you and you must heed what I say."

She had never gone against Peter's advice, ever,  and she wasn't about to start now, but she ached to hold him. Yearned for the touch of his skin against hers.  Oh, to run her fingers through his soft, black hair and nuzzle against his chest to hear the rhythmic beat of his heart.  Her longing was almost suffocating.  

He held her gaze, his preternatural blue eyes commanded restraint.  And deeper still , lay the pain of his hunger to be with her once again.  Yet, somehow he knew they could not touch.  It was like an unspoken rule.  A law.

His voice, quiet and tender, seemed to silence the storm outside.  "Sara. Listen carefully.  Do not look for me where I am not.  Look for me within.  And know that I love you, with all my heart and soul."

A violent burst of lightning, brighter than any of the others that preceded it, filled the room for what seemed an extraordinary length of time.  The intensity of it made Sara  reluctantly squeeze her eyes shut. When she opened them again, Peter was gone. "NO!"  Adrenalin coursed through her and she tussled with the duvet as she tried to get out of bed. "Peter!"

Breaking glass made her jump.  She blinked and rubbed her eyes roughly.  It was morning!  There was no storm.  Her door was closed. 

Peter's picture lay smashed on the wooden floor. 

Moments passed and the realisation that she had dreamed the whole thing gave rise to anger, then an insufferable sense of loss.  She desperately needed to speak to Tom about the whole thing.

She pulled on a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt, pushed her feet into canvas pumps and ran out of her front door, struggling into a hoodie as she half walked half ran down the path, out the gate and turned into Tom and Elaine's garden.  She was just about to open their door when she noticed Tom's car was gone.  She was too late, he had left for work.  She suddenly found herself not knowing what to do.  She turned to leave, when the front door opened.

   "Sara," Elaine said gently.  Sara simply nodded hello, uncertain of her sister-in-law for the first time.  Elaine opened the door wide.  She looked a little ashamed as she held out her hands.  "I'm sorry.  For last night.  I can't even imagine what you are going through just now.  Can you forgive me?"

Sara sighed.  She really needed to talk to someone, and if she was being completely honest, she needed Elaine to be the one to listen.  She smiled, much to her sister-in-law's relief.

   "Come, " Elaine stepped aside.  "Have breakfast with me."

Sara crossed the threshold.  "Thanks, that would be nice."

As Elaine busied herself making them toast and tea, Sara related the dream she'd had.  She thought she saw the trace of a smile playing on Elaine's lips.  "Are you laughing at me?" she asked, once more a little unsure about the woman in front of her.

   "No! Not at all," Elaine replied. "But..."

   "What!"

   "Well, you might laugh at me. Or, you might not, considering..."

Sara looked at her questioningly.  Elaine took a deep breath before continuing.  "I grew up in these parts and what you have just told me, well...."

   "Well what!"

Elaine passed another piece of toast to Sara.  "There are legends of silkies around here, though I don't think I have ever heard of anyone having actually seen one."

Sara was totally bewildered.  "What on earth are you on about?"

   "Silkies are seals.  Kind of, anyway."  She paused to measure Sara's reaction. " Legend has it that when a man is taken by the sea, if he has unfinished business, or a message to relate to his loved ones, the spirit of a silkie will help him to do that. But only that, and then his soul is at peace."

Sara was staring open-mouthed.  Unable to read her expression, Elaine placed a hand on hers.  "Have I upset you?" she asked.

   "N-no," Sara breathed.  "Go on, please."

   "Not much else to tell you, I'm afraid.  It is folk-lore, myth, but say about... a hundred years ago probably, the women of this village and others nearby took great comfort in the legend.  Many of their men were lost at sea and stories of their seeing their men-folk again, albeit usually briefly, was said to have been a great healer for their grief.  Some told their wives of where money was stashed, or who had wronged them so that justice could be served, or that the wives were....."  She stopped suddenly, a smile clearly on her lips this time.

   "What is it?  Tell their wives what!"

Elaine jumped up and ran through to the living room.  Returning with her jacket, she picked up her house keys.  "Still feeling nauseous Sara?"

   "Yes, every now and again, but...."

   "Grab your hoodie.  You're coming with me."

Sara sat on a blanket, a safe distance from the cliff's edge.  She relaxed in the spring sunshine, her hands supporting her as she leaned back enjoying the light breeze that played with her long auburn hair.  She heard footsteps approaching.  She didn't need to look to know who it was.  "Hello Tom, welcome home."

He seemed a little breathless as he sat down next to her.  "Hi.  How are you?"

   "I'm fine."

He couldn't conceal his concern.  "Elaine said you had something to tell me."

A contented smile turned the corners of her mouth as she observed distant boats sailing on the horizon.  "Have you heard about silkies?" she asked him.

   "Silkies? Yes, nonsense if you ask me," he guffawed.  "Elaine been filling your head with silly stories, has she?"

Sara narrowed her eyes at her brother for a moment.  Then she smiled again.  "I don't think they are silly," she said calmly.  "Infact, it's helped me a lot, Tom.  She told you about my "dream", yes?"

He nodded, then shook his head to state he still thought it nonsense.

   "Well, " Sara continued, "I think it was the spirit of a silkie, and that it was Peter.  He told me to look for him within."

   "Meaning?"  Tom wasn't convinced.

   "Meaning, my sceptical brother, I haven't lost Peter completely; he was trying to tell me I'm carrying his child."

THE END