Page 108 of Positively, Penelope

“Aye?”

Penelope shuddered back to attention and found a hulk of a man rising from a chair near the counter. With each second, he grew taller. White hair poked in all directions from his head and even encircled his face, making him look like someone who’d been shocked by electricity. He wore a red shirt, fitted to his round belly, and a pair of massive black rain boots pulled up over yellowish pants. A pipe poked from between his grin as smoke curled around his rosy cheeks, dissipating above his head and just below the sea monster. He reminded Penelope of what Santa Claus might have looked like when he first got out of bed in the morning after a tumultuous night’s sleep or a wrestling match with the reindeer.

“Excuse me?”

His bushy brows took flight. “Americaugh.”

Ah, she’d heard that dozens of times since arriving in Skymar. “Yes, I’m American.”

“You’re here to visit the kirk, eh?”

“I am.” Penelope pulled her gaze away from the sea monster again. Were those eyes following her, or was it her imagination? She swallowed through a lump in her throat. Probably just her imagination.

“You’ll be wantin’ a map then to find your way. Nice walkin’ trail to the kirk.” He lumbered behind the counter and slapped a pamphlet down for view. “And you’ll want akeiligwith ya for the crossin’.”

Penelope studied him for a moment, trying to make sense of this new word. “Keilig?”

“Aye.” He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the counter before twisting a pudgy finger around a nearby display of necklacesand key rings intricately woven with marbled and colorful stones. “Keilig. Made from the Skree stones. To keep you safe.”

Penelope studied him through squinted eyes. “I need a keilig to keep me safe from a church?”

“No, not from the kirk. From the Kronimara.”

She’d heard a lot of words in Skymar, but not that one. And for some reason, she didn’t like it.

“Kronimara?”

Her gaze settled on the shelf nearby where replicas of a sea creature waited for purchase, then she looked above the man’s head as the red-eyed monster stared back at her. “Mara” meant sea. Did “Kroni” have something to do with monster? She cleared her tightening throat. Surely not.

“The holy stones keep ya safe from him, so you’ll be sure to take ’em with you across thebrune.”

Brune? Bridge. Right. There was a land bridge. She didn’t have to take a boat. No need for worries.

A smile quivered into place and she laid her money on the counter for the map, then pulled down one of the keiligs.

“You know the story of the Kirk of Skree and Elerk the Younger, eh? When Elerk brought the folks from the mainland to Skree, they was protected from the Viking raid, aye?”

“I’ve heard about it.” From Izzy after her trip. Penelope pulled at the map, but the man caught the corner of the paper, unyielding, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“And those folks were protected by the Skree stones and the Kronimara.”

She gave the map another tug. “But I heard the Vikings didn’t try to get to the islanders who were hiding in the kirk on Skree.”

“Oh, now they did. The Vikings crossed the brune but dinna return from Skree.” His gaze shot back to the keilig. “The creature knows who belongs and who doesna belong.”

Her fingers tightened around the keilig. Visions of Matthias waiting for her on the other side of the land bridge, roses in hand, maybe even a string orchestra, fought against the desire to run.

“Okay, so I’ll just get one more.” She tugged a lovely pink keilig off its hook to add to the blue one she’d already taken. “And maybe just another.” A green. Her gaze shot back to the Kronimara and she offered a nervous laugh. “Seven is a good, solid biblical number. How about that?”

His grin broadened beneath his thick mustache. “Very good idea,beaunig.”

Beaunig? What was that? Bird? Or fraidy-cat?

“And you’ll want to return by three o’clock.” He tapped the map. “The tide comes in then.”

She looked down at her phone. It was barely noon. “No problem there.” She’d find Matthias, have their confession of feelings for each other, exchange a few heel-popping kisses, take a walk to the Kirk of Skree, and find her way back arm in arm with time to spare. “Thank you so much for these.” She raised the keiligs and they clinked together like glass coins. She began digging through her purse for money, but the Santa man held out a hand and shook his head to stop her.

“Just to be warned, beaunig. Kronimara bubbles beneath the water before he strikes.” The Santa man wiggled his brow. “But hold up the keiligs and he should see you as a friend, not a foe.”

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