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already talked it over with your mom.”
    “You talked to her about this?”
    Dad looked at me with a puzzled expression. “Of course. She wants you to come home, and I don’t have any great excuse for keeping you away anymore. Heck, Lil, I want you to be with us. I’ve missed you. More than you know.
    “And since I haven’t seen any sign of …  him  … Don’t look at me like that, you know who I mean. I don’t think we’ll have any more—”
    “Dad, this isn’t about begging to come home, although I’m really glad you want me to. Really. But what I want to talk about … well, it is kind of related to that.”
    “Related to what?”
    “Home. I know you haven’t been feeling yourself lately.”
    He looked at me intently then.
    “And I think I know why.” I waited for him to give me permission to go on. He didn’t say anything more, though, so I faltered. “Um … so yeah. Well … Maybe I should tell you a story.”
    Dad ran his fingers through his hair. “Is this about what happened last month? Because I don’t—”
    “Sure, Dad. But that’s where the story ends. It’s not the beginning.”
    I watched the replay of last month’s events in his eyes, the panic of seeing me in the water, the terror of seeing the monster his dad had warned him about, the uncertainty of not knowing what to do. “Do I want to hear this?” he asked.
    “I’m hoping you already know what I’m going to tell you.”
    He shook his head and started to stand up. “Your mother needs some help packing. We want to leave by five.”
    I caught his hand when he was halfway up. “Sit down, Dad. This is important. You need to hear this before you leave.”
    He collapsed with a sigh into his chair and ran his finger up and down one of the grooves in the white plastic table. “Fine, Lily. You talk. But I can’t promise to listen.”
    I pulled my chair up to his, bringing our knees together. The skin on his hands was dry and cracked. I rubbed my finger over my own knuckles a few times, looking for the words to start. “Okay, so, once upon a time …”
    He raised his eyebrows, and I looked into his eyes. How many times had this situation been reversed? Him reading me a bedtime story that began exactly this way. My story wasn’t starting the way he expected.
    “There was a woman named Nadia. She lived on Lake Superior, or I should say, she lived in the lake.”
    His lips tightened in response.
    “Dad, remember that story Jack told us around thecampfire? The one about the mermaids who walked around like regular people?”
    “That’s just a story, Lily.”
    “That was Nadia,” I said. “Nadia had children. Three daughters. And a son.”
    Dad closed his eyes and sighed in resignation. “You’re right, Lily. I do know what you’re telling me. I saw it. And him. That boy. That …  thing . Calder.” He said his name like a curse. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me? Calder is this Nadia’s son?” He shook his head to clear the impossible image of the mermaids from his memory.
    “No, Dad. Not Calder. You . You are Nadia’s son.”
    The words hung there. In the air. Hovering. Like a soap bubble waiting to pop.
    “No,” he said.
    “Dad, just listen to what I’m—”
    “No,” he said again. This time louder. He nearly growled. “I know who my mother was.”
    I nodded and bowed my head. I’d always known Grandma would be the biggest obstacle to making him believe. “Dad, I don’t know what Grandpa told Grandma, but after what you saw last month, you have to realize that Grandpa wasn’t crazy after all. He kept the truth a secret from you because he must have thought he was protecting you.”
    Dad pressed his fists against his forehead. “You’re being preposterous.”
    I could tell it was just as Calder had predicted: Not believing and not wanting to believe were two different things, and in that moment they were battling to the death in my dad’s head.
    For a second, I wished I’d taken