Empty Beach: Moonlight Tales, #1

By Marianna Palmer

Serena once had it all. Princess of her school, beloved by all, and the object of lots and lots of crushes. After her mother's death by drowning, though, Serena lost her ability to shine. One day, on an Empty Beach, she almost joins her mother. A handsome and charismatic swimmer named Morten saves her and then disappears into the ocean. Desperate to see him again, Serena walks that lonely beach day after day having no hope.

Enter Ridley. Ridley is a mysterious young man who can't speak, but he looks so much like Morten! But how could he be? He can't sing that amazing song that made Serena weak at the knees. 

As she tumbles into love, she can't give her heart to the mundane, where just beyond the ocean lies her true love.

But danger follows that path, and a secret about Ridley threatens to end her life.

This is a fairy tale retelling of The Little Mermaid, set in a modern day world full of excitement, danger, and a love that surpasses death.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Marianna Palmer
• Release date: Mar 18, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224193493

Marianna Palmer

Marianna Palmer is a creative force who has been crafting captivating stories from the depths of her imagination since she first learned to dream. Encouraged by a dare from her sister, she bravely embarked on a journey into the world of writing, which became her sanctuary during years of solitude, personal challenges, and overcoming deep-rooted fears. With an unwavering passion for storytelling, Marianna pursued her education and proudly earned her BA degree. However, she didn't stop there. Preferring the enigmatic allure of privacy, she briefly disappeared from the public eye, resurfacing intermittently in the company of her sister before once again retreating into her world of words. Currently residing in the vibrant city of Tacoma, WA, Marianna draws inspiration from the beauty of her surroundings while reveling in the safety of her sister's presence. Determined to live life to the fullest, she fearlessly confronts the unknown, defying the daunting obstacles that once hindered her path.

Book preview

Empty Beach

Marianna Palmer

To my best friend and sister, Esther

Contents

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Author Bio

Chapter One

I was drowning when I met him. I had taken to walking the long, lonely shores of the coast, just staring out over the gray waters. This was my new favorite place. Maybe because of my mother. She had always thought the ocean had a personality. On the day she drowned, rain made the ocean cry. Yesterday the sun had been shining, marking a good mood. But today—this day—the ocean was angry. Water swirling and fog covering over anything that could be seen. The curtain of silver rain pitter-pattered on the cold sands.

Forest Beach made it so easy to disappear. No one to see me or even call. Cell reception was spotty at best. Nothing from my dad worrying over where I was and none from my concerned friends. I couldn’t hear, I’m so sorry, Serena even one more time. No one could be as sorry as I was! They didn’t understand. When Mom died, she took me with her. Everything was her.

On the beach under the dripping sky, I could forget. The beach made memory fade away. Life existed as the pounding of the tide, the squawk of the seagulls, the endless ocean—the elements of nature were more important than my trivial problems.

It was probably why I didn’t see the gigantic piece of driftwood that was in front of me. When I slipped for that one instant—that was it. The angry tide had me.

Mom, I’m coming to join you, I thought as the water grabbed hold and pulled me under.

Then, out of the blue, strong arms were under me! Pushing me back, dragging me upwards like a cannon shot out of the water.

I coughed more from expecting to than any real need. No water had entered my nose. But reality was far away right now. I tried to sit up, bleary-eyed, not able to see in complete pictures. The water loomed at me. The sky was angry. I couldn’t tell if I was in shock or not.

Finally, my eyes focused enough to take in a strange sight. A form was bobbing in the water—no, not a form. A guy about my age was just there, treading water. His hair was what I noticed first—bright crimson red, like a fiery lantern sitting on top of the water. His chest was below that. Bare. Very well defined.

My mind finally saw the whole picture and I realized that this guy was insane! The water was freezing. And here he was bare-chested and swimming. For some reason, he wasn’t even shivering. In fact, he didn’t even look uncomfortable. His perfect full cupid’s bow lips weren’t blue. They were a dark black (he must have been wearing some kind of lip stain) and his perfect teeth just gleamed in a smile at me. Not chattering in the cold, which I totally was.

Who are you? I yelled out to the guy. Did you just save me?

He opened his mouth as if to speak and then looked down at his lower half, hidden in the waves. I saw you walking … and tripping, he said, trying to be heard over the crash of the waves that were doing their best to push him forward. I was on the waves’ side. I wanted to see this guy much closer up.

Then I noticed his concealed laughter. I gritted my teeth. I have problems, thank you very much, I said, trying to hide my offense. Besides, it was that driftwood’s fault!

Yeah, it jumped right out at you, he smirked.

I gritted my teeth. Well, it’s a good thing you were … I looked around the empty beach. Only wet sand met my gaze. Not another soul was in sight. Not that I expected them to be. But the cold drizzle made it even more unappealing. The wind picked up, reminding me that my outfit was soaked. I had to resort to holding my hands in fists inside my pockets as the wind tugged at me. It was like it was ordering me to go inside and get dry. I had lost my cap that was supposed to keep my head warm. My drenched blonde hair whipped around.

I brought myself back to the guy. He was just bobbing in the water, unaffected by any element.

Where did you come from? I asked.

Um … down the beach, he said quickly. I like to, uh, go out in the water in weather like this.

I nearly snorted in laughter. Yes, okay, some surfers like to tame wild waves, but even they weren’t crazy enough to be out here in nothing but shorts (I assumed he was wearing shorts at any rate) and with … no board. Wait a minute. You’re lying, I declared.

His smile died on his lips. I am not. Is that any way to say thank you to the guy who just saved your life?

Maybe I didn’t want to be saved, I spit back. Now, I was lying myself. Of course, I wanted to live! No matter my attitude recently, life was worth living. I think … But it would have been easy to stay down there. And infinitely preferable to going back home. Which, unfortunately, I had to do. I took a quick look at my watch. It read a quarter after six. I would already get an earful for ditching school, but now I’d have to explain my attire, soaked and freezing the skin off me.

Dad would ask if I was suicidal. Then he would look at me with those eyes. The ones that said, I’ll lose you too, won’t I? Ugh. He might even call for an ambulance.

Well, I am not sorry for saving you. And if you feel generous at any time in the near future, then you’re welcome, the guy said with a new smile.

Thanks, I muttered. But I have to go. Suddenly I had an idea. It would ruin all of Dad’s questions if I brought home the guy who saved my life.

He looked like he was about to swim off. Hey, wait, um, uh, what’s your name?

Morten, he said readily. He wasn’t afraid to tell me—a point in his favor.

Still, I wasn’t familiar with a Morten. Morten, would you like some dinner? I mean, my dad is probably starving by now.

What does that have to do with you?

I cook for him. But that’s not my point. See, he is seriously crazy. My mom died, and … well, he might just think I was trying to, well, you know, join her. But you saw what happened. You could explain.

His eyes fell, and he looked unbelievably sad. I … can’t.

What? Why? Are you going to just … just s-sit out here in the wa-water? My teeth were chattering so badly I could barely speak, but I wasn’t leaving until I could bring this guy to dinner. And maybe, just maybe, hang out with him longer. I mean, I didn’t exactly want to end this with a See ya.

You should get home, he said. I can’t come with you … I can’t! He dove under the water, disappearing.

Morten! I yelled, waiting for him to resurface. After all, he had to rise soon … didn’t he?

I started worrying, but then I saw a red head pop up in the water far down the beach. Wow, he could swim fast … But I couldn’t follow. If I didn’t get out of the cold and into my car and turn the heater on full blast, I’d probably get hypothermia. I took one last glance out at the water and saw nothing … now not even the red streak of his hair. He had just vanished. Gone as quickly as he had come.

I ran off the beach to get my blood moving. The steep path towards the parking lot disappeared under my feet. Soon I was in my car, blasting the heater on my frozen hands, trying to get some feeling back in them. The smell of water filled the car. One thought hit me repeatedly. I almost drowned. The enormity of what had happened slammed into me just like the ocean had. That wall of water surrounding me. Shivers hit, not from the cold, but from the what if? What if Morten hadn’t been there? What if I had … drowned? My dad would have been further broken. My best friend, Andrea, would have looked like I have these past few months.

But Morten had been there. Morten had saved my life! I had almost died … and he, like a swimming angel, pulled me free of death’s grasp.

I shook off the fear and started my car.

* * *

My dad has owned the house I live in for as long as I can remember. He inherited it from his grandfather. I personally think he should have given it back. Now don’t get me wrong. It isn’t a bad place: a two story with a cozy little porch that wraps around the whole house. Blue and white trim hit the tree line behind it with a familiar hug of colors. Itty bitty stones made up the driveway and led all the way to the front steps.

I didn’t even hate that it was old. The door squeaked on opening; the banister squeaked when I climbed the stairs; the floors squeaked—okay, everything squeaked. I was totally biased because the whole thing lived and breathed my mom. The one place in the world I could get away from her was Forest Beach, but the one place I couldn’t escape her was my house. Even the walls talked to me with her voice.

Mom had been an artist. She had left her personal touches everywhere. She had been in love with flowers. By the time I was ten, even the littlest of corners was filled. From peonies to fuchsias, whichever she had been in the mood for. As I walked towards the front door, a trellis of painted roses towered over me. The wooden foyer with its mudroom showed daffodils and pansies.

The rest of the house was just like that. I couldn’t look anywhere without seeing a flower of my mom’s. Each one sent my heart twisting until I couldn’t breathe.

I squeaked the front door open, and I heard … oh no!

How long has she been gone? a gruff voice said.

Ooh! How did I miss the cop car out front? It was those stupid flowers’ fault! They had buried what was going on around me. If I had been paying attention, I could have stayed away until they were gone. I twisted around hoping I could run out again when I heard, Serena, is that you?

I cringed and accepted my fate. I walked in to quite the scene. Dad was sitting at his normal place in the kitchen, sitting on his wooden backed chair (peonies on this one) his big elbows splayed in melancholy drooping. His unwashed blonde hair fell in short disorder. His face had fallen even more than this morning, and his eyes cried out to me. Standing next to him were Officer Smith and Officer Brooks filling out a report.

Serena! Where have you been?

I’m okay, Dad. I noticed the notebook in Officer Smith’s hands. Really? I asked. I knew him, of course. Pan’s Crossing was a small town with a grand total of two thousand inhabitants. Unfortunately, that meant we all knew each other like one big extended and meddling family. Isn’t it customary to wait twenty-four hours before listening to any report of a missing person?

Officer Smith gave me a sheepish smile. Not when the missing girl is my bud’s daughter. We were all worried. Especially, since you ditched school. He then noticed my wet clothes. What happened to you anyway?

Fell in the ocean, I said matter-of-factly.

Dad moaned in unending despair. When he got engaged to my mom, he wasn’t all there. His father, a musician, had named him Amadeus after Mozart. And the name fit very well. Even my sensible mother couldn’t destroy the romantic dreamer he was.

Unfortunately, after Mom died, the only dreams he had in life were nightmares. Now he spent most of his days waiting for another tragedy to fall. One that had something to do with me.

It’s alright, Am, Officer Smith said. She seems fine.

I really did fall in, Gary, I insisted.

I hope so, Ms. Reynolds, he said seriously and gestured to Officer Brooks. Come on, Stan, let’s leave these two to their family stuff.

And they left, leaving my dad staring at me with wretched puppy dog eyes. His eyes were so blue, I usually could see myself in them, but now they were cloudy. Troubled, stormy.

Dad, I tripped over some driftwood.

Okay, then why did you skip school? And why weren’t you home at six?

Your dinner! I exclaimed and rushed to the chicken.

That’s not what I meant! he moaned, but all I could think about was getting some food on the table. Without me, Dad would have just ordered some pizza or something else equally unhealthy. He didn’t care about anything now—kind of like I did. If I wanted either of us to eat right, I had to make the meals.

Serena! I don’t want any damned dinner. I want to know what is going on with you! Dad suddenly exploded standing up. I was a bit taken aback. Dad never raised his voice.

It’s … Can I go upstairs and change first?

Go ahead. He deflated and sank back down. I went up to change. With a strengthening sigh, I went back downstairs.

Once in the kitchen again I quickly rubbed a few herbs on a nice fresh chicken breast and stuck it in the oven.

Unfortunately, now all I could do was sit and stare at my father’s wretched face. Dad … I don’t want to die, I said carefully.

You sure? When he was upset, he mastered the two-word response.

I had to get away. Just for an hour.

An hour? he asked skeptically.

Okay, five hours.

School called.

I ditched the afternoon classes. Look, on the way to lunch, I ran into Ms. Martin. You know how she never listens to any gossip. She was only at school to talk to the principal about donating or whatever. As soon as she saw me, she latched on! I threw my head down on the table. She asked how Mom was doing. I did the only thing I could and ran in the opposite direction.

Dad sighed heavily. Nosy old bat.

She’s okay. It’s us! We’re not getting over it! I don’t do anything I used to. The things Mom would have wanted. And when was the last time you wrote any poetry? But that doesn’t mean anything. I did not try to kill myself!

Well … alright, Dad said slowly. You’ll start going to Doctor Johnson tomorrow.

No, I was not hearing this! Dr. Johnson was the local psychiatrist. Of course, he had also coached my baseball games. I really didn’t want to start talking to him about all my feelings. Especially when I could still hear his yell of, Come on, Reynolds! You can hit better than that!

No, I’m not, I said simply.

That showed him! I would hold my ground on this. There would be no way he’d move me.

I already set up the time. Refuse and you lose your car.

My ground fell out from under me. Wow, was he playing some serious hardball here or what? I couldn’t lose my car! How would I get to the beach? This was not happening.

Suddenly, I got suspicious. Dad had put his foot down twice in my entire life. Once when I wanted to burn all my Barbies in a bonfire, and the other when I wanted to sleep in a tree all night. He didn’t come up with ideas like this! He wasn’t into ultimatums!

Whose idea is this, Dad?

Uh, mine. I think it’s a great idea. He shifted a little in his chair.

Okay. And this idea, whose inspiration?

Dad hemmed and hawed until I gave him my best eagle eye, and he caved. It’s all Gary’s fault! He doesn’t think you’re dealing well. I’ll be going, too, of course, but at a different time!

Yeah, and spend the hour hanging out with your friend from high school while I will have to actually talk to Wayne!

Better call him Dr. Johnson, Dad reprimanded. Keep it professional.

I groaned.

It’s a good idea. I know what you’re feeling. The walls are alive with … your mother. He didn’t say her name. Neither of us could. The very dirt outside misses her. The air breathes without her in short gasping breaths. Tears filled his eyes, and he once again looked at me with that tragedy-expecting gaze.

I’ll go, okay? Let’s just eat dinner. Then I made a salad and got a bottle of juice for Dad while I stuck with water. Dad set the table, and I knew he’d do the dishes afterwards.

So, how’d you get so soaked? Dad asked.

I told you I tripped. Then I fell completely under. Would have been … Well, it would have been different, I amended casually. No reason for him to know how close I had gotten to death. If not for Morten.

Morten. What a great name. He paused and stared off into space. I shook my head. He loved names and always tried to create poetry with new ones that only sometimes rhymed. Morten, fortune—rich as a sunbeam. It was awful and made my heart hurt. Before, Dad would have come up with more than one sentence. His eyes cleared and he looked back at me. Wait … never heard of Morten. Is he an out-of-towner? That’s odd at this time of year.

I, um, am not sure, I replied, suddenly troubled. I hadn’t asked. I had just assumed I’d say that name, and Dad would say, Ah, Jack and Sarah’s boy or the equivalent. But it raised more questions than answers, such as why was Morten here and why had he been able to swim so far after diving?

The puzzle I had discovered today grew. Instead of the simple forty-piece puzzle, it was turning out to be a thousand.

Chapter Two

Puzzles, however, are only fun when one has all the pieces. I had only the two. Worse than that, I had a life that I didn’t want to live pushing that puzzle out of my head. The days continued in their drudgery. The funny thing about grief is people only put up with it for the acceptable amount of time. Mom had died almost a year ago. That was plenty of time for me to get over it. The teachers at the beginning had given me a lot of slack, but now they all expected me to do my homework, to show up in class, to smile.

I didn’t smile anymore. I couldn’t. What could be expected from someone who had lost the very earth she walked upon? Maybe others saw my mom as dispensable. But for me she was everything. I hadn’t gone to Andrea when a problem came up. No, I had gone to my mom. Now I had no one. And problems were hitting me in regular succession.

This new one … I had almost drowned. At night, I could still feel the power of those waves knocking me around like a little toy. The only thing that made those images bearable was the flash of who accompanied that memory.

Morten’s strong arms lifting me away from the gaping jaws of death. What I had told Dad was true. I didn’t want to die. Yes, as much as life felt like a pathetic struggle from one day to the next, I wanted to stay in it. I knew there would be hope someday that life would be good again. That one day, I’d find it bearable to see Mom’s flowers, to remember and not mourn her.

That hope kept me going. It made me want to stay in this life.

The next day I dreaded leaving the house. I almost asked Dad if I could stay home. Because I knew school was going to be awful. But I knew Dad. He would worry even more if I said I wanted to skip school for the second day in a row.

In Pan’s Crossing,