Chapter 7

With the impression that he was out looking for a girl to date, Maria let her son have the car again, happy to laze around for the rest of the day in front of the TV. Aside from work and her son, Maria Cabrera had few interests. She always said that she would live her life later, pick up a few hobbies, and explore the world once Fenton didn't need her anymore. Another reason to feel guilty for deceiving her.

Close to five o'clock, he went back to the lighthouse. By this time, the storm had lightened up to a constant shower, but at least the wind had died down. The ocean behind the lighthouse looked unfriendly and foreboding as he parked up front, next to two other cars. One belonged to the security guard, and the other would belong to Della.

When Fenton went inside, luckily the security guard wasn't at the front desk—most likely walking the building to make sure everything was secure—so he didn't have to concoct a story as to why he had come in. Walking in, he went to the elevator and had his hand scanned which unlocked the mechanism before realizing that the elevator was only for the basement floors. It did not go up.

Which meant he would have to climb all the stairs up to the top.

Still feeling sore from being tossed around in the ocean, Fenton did a few stretches before heading up the winding stairs, reading a little plaque at the first step that told just how many steps it took to get to the top of the McDuck Lighthouse which was still one of the top ten tallest lighthouses in the world.

By the time Fenton made it to the top, he was a sweaty mess, huffing for breath and swearing on heaven and hell that he would start exercising from now on so that he would never feel this weak ever again.

"Can I help you?" a voice asked.

Fenton held up a finger, leaning on his knees as he took a few more breaths.

"Are you okay? Can I get you something to drink?"

Fenton nodded, leaning against the rail that sectioned off the hole in the floor where the stairs disappeared. He took the bottle of water offered him and guzzled it, feeling much more refreshed.

"Thank you," he said, breathing more easily.

"You're welcome," the same voice said congenially before turning hard. "Now, would you mind explaining what you are doing trespassing before I call the cops?"

Fenton looked up to see a woman duck glaring at him with her hands on her hips. She had on a worn, leather jacket, a scarf and aviator glasses. Peeking out of one of her pant legs was a metal, prosthetic foot. The resemblance between her and Donald was uncanny. She had a masculine feel about her that tom-boys wore like a badge of honor, but it felt more like it was part of her personality than a feminist stance.

"Uh…Hi, you must be Della Duck," Fenton said, holding out his hand. "I actually work here…in the lighthouse…I mean, I work in the basement with Dr. Gearloose, so I'm allowed to be here." This awkward introduction was more to prevent the police from being called.

"Oh, yeah, I heard that Gyro got himself a new gopher," Della said with a smirk. "Don't worry. After you work with him for a few years, he gets a whole lot worse."

Fenton wasn't sure if this was a joke or not, but he chuckled nervously.

Suddenly, the glass door of the lighthouse opened up, the sound of rain entered along with another child who looked exactly like Huey and Louie, except different hair and a livelier expression.

"Whoa, Mom, you should totally go out there. The waves are huge!" the boy said, then spotted Fenton. "Oh, hi. I'm Dewey. Are you the guy who's going to fix the lighthouse?"

"Uh…no, Dewey," Della said, putting an arm around her son. "This is…I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

"Uh…Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera," Fenton said, holding out his hand to shake Della and then Dewey's hand. "Did you say that there's something wrong with the lighthouse?"

"Uh…yeah. The storm fried something, and I don't know a thing about these new-fangled circuitry and wiring system," Della said, giving the computer console a good kick with her metal leg. "Things were a lot easier before they put all this junk in. It was simple. Most of the time, all I had to do was change a lightbulb, replace a fuse, you know, simple stuff. Now I have to call Gyro every time something is on the fritz."

"I could take a look," Fenton offered.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Della said. "This is your day off. And if I recall, you're an unpaid intern. Sorry about that. My uncle can be a little…cheap."

"It's no problem," Fenton said. "I'm already here, so why make Dr. Gearloose travel in this weather." From what he could see, the system looked pretty basic. If he needed to replace anything, the lab would have the parts. "What's the problem?"

"The light, for one thing," Della said, pointing to the large bulb in the middle of the lighthouse. "I've checked the bulb and it's still good, but it doesn't seem to be getting any power."

Fenton went to the computer and ran troubleshooter, finding a list of what could have caused the short and figuring out where to fix it. Along the way, he found a multitude of other problems. "It seems you have a problem with mice."

"Mice? Up here?" Della asked, sounding defensive.
"Well, I did find half of a cheese sandwich in the corner and there's peanuts everywhere," Fenton said. "Maybe you have a vagrant coming up here."

"Oh, I know exactly who the vagrant is," Della said, her sharp eyes turning to her son.

Dewey gulped and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, but I've been kind of using the lighthouse as a…secret lair. Heh heh."

Della sighed. "Go clean everything up. Now."

Dewey groaned, hung his head, and did as he was told.

"Sorry about that," Della said. "I guess that means a lot of wiring needs to be replaced."

"Not a problem. Most of the damage is just loose wires. I can fix everything with some electrical tape, and Gyro can look over the whole system tomorrow when he comes in," Fenton said, his nimble fingers already making the repairs. "We'll get it running as quickly as we possibly can. In this weather, the lighthouse needs to be working."

"Meh," Della said. "Actually, lighthouses haven't been necessary for a while. It's more like a comfort and a landmark than anything else. The people here like to see it, but with GPS and radar, most ships and airplanes can find their way easily enough. Not to mention, the electric lights of the city are bright enough."

"I guess you're right," Fenton said. "So why do you come here every week to check on the lighthouse and make sure everything is working? And why the computer system for it to turn on every night?"

"Oh, my uncle likes to keep up with tradition," Della said. "Not to mention, the computer system does more than turn on and off the lighthouse. This controls the security system and a few other things, including stuff in the lab. Uncle Scrooge insists I'm the one to look everything over even though I don't know how to use this dumb computer. How do you know I come here every week?"

"Your brother," Fenton said. "I went out on his boat yesterday with your son, Louie."

"Oh, is he still doing that?" Della asked, waving her hand. "I would have thought he'd get an actual job by now."

"Like taking care of an obsolete lighthouse," Fenton said before checking with his brain. "Sorry, that was a little rude."

"No, no. You have a point," Della said, smirking as if she enjoyed the quip. "But I also fly a small cargo plane. I take deliveries out to Cape Suzette and to a lot of the islands down south. Sometimes I even work with search and rescue."

That explained her clothing, Fenton thought.

"And at least I don't work for free," Della said, grinning.

"Touche," Fenton said with a nod. "But I did have a nice time on your brother's boat. He's a…very interesting man. And your son also told me some interesting stories about you."

"All good things, I hope," Della said, hopping into a computer chair, crossing her prosthetic leg over her other one.

Fenton couldn't help but stare.

"Airplane crash," Della said, tapping her metal leg. "I crashed into the ocean trying to get through a storm worse than this one. I washed up against the rocks a few miles from here, and was pinned by some of the debris from my plane. I was there for a day before someone found me, and by that time, they couldn't save it. That was ten years ago."
"I wasn't trying to pry," Fenton said, returning to work.

"Everyone is curious," Della said. "I like to talk about it first, get it out of the way. I'm not ashamed of it, and it happened so long ago, I almost can't remember what it's like not to have this."

After that explanation, Fenton felt awkward bringing up another subject, but if he didn't, coming up here would be all for naught.

"So, as I was saying, your son Louie told me some interesting stories," Fenton tried again. "About some of your mermaid stories."

Della threw back her head and laughed. "So, someone finally appreciates some good stories."

"Uh…yeah. I heard from you son and from my mom that you were really creative. You made up a lot of mermaid stories," Fenton said.

"Your mom?" Della repeated, then tilted her head up in thought. "Crackshell-Cabrera…Oh, Cabrera. Is your mom Marie?"

"Yeah."

"I know her. She gave my cousin Gladstone a crack in the jaw for being such a jerk," Della said with a chuckle. "She's quite the spitfire. Yeah. So you heard some of my stories? Pretty good, huh?"

Fenton nodded, although he had only heard parts of a handful, but Della seemed to be the type who liked to talk. If he said the right things, she would most likely open up to him. "Yeah, I was especially interested in the story about the mermaid with the really long tail."

Della paused, her face going somber. "Oh, that story. Louie shouldn't have told you about that one."

"Oh, uh, well, he only shared it with me because I asked," Fenton said. "I was looking for really interesting stories about unusual mermaids for my niece." He needed to stick to a common lie in case any of the people he had talked to shared information. "And somehow, we got on the story about the mermaid with the long tail."

"Oh, is that the one where she squeezes her victims before dragging them down to the ocean floor to eat them?" Dewey asked. "I love that one. Oh, you should tell him about the mermaid with the monkey's paw, Mom. You see, there's this mermaid who lost her hand after fighting a shark, and she had to replace it with a—"

"Oh, maybe I should tell about the ghost mermaid," Della said, her voice turning spooky. "Legend has it that she only comes out with the full moon. Or maybe the swamp hag, who likes to lure people into bogs with her will-o'-the-wisps. Or better yet, the one about dozens of mermaids gathering together to create a tempest. That one would be great considering our predicament."

Dewey folded his arms. "I liked the money paw one better."

Fenton smiled. "They all sound great, but I really wanted to hear the one about the long-tailed mermaid. Louie told me some of it, but he couldn't remember how it began."

"Louie was always the first to fall asleep for my stories," Della said. "And he could barely remember half the details. Okay, so the story goes like this:

"A long, long time ago, long before the McDuck Lighthouse stood as a sentinel against the forces of evil, there was a fisherman that was in great need. He was very poor, and could barely provide for his wife and children. Every day, he would row out to sea and throw out his net, hoping to catch anything that his family could eat. But for some reason, no matter where he cast his net, he couldn't catch even a tiny shrimp. Once more, the fisherman would have to return home empty handed, and his family would go to bed with empty bellies.

"But then a strange thing happened. The fisherman tried one more and threw out his net. Pulling it back was almost impossible, as if something heavy and strong had been caught up in it, and desperate to save his family, he used all his strength to bring his net on board.

"Shockingly, he found that he had caught a mermaid, a real beauty with long silky hair.

"'Please, let me go,' the mermaid pleaded. 'If you do, I will reward you.'

"The fisherman had already decided to let the mermaid go because he was a kind person, but at the thought of a reward, he said, 'My family is hungry. Will you please make sure that we always have enough to eat?'

"The mermaid smiled, 'This is a hard thing that you ask of me, but I will, but you must do something for me as well. I have lost my pearl. A fish has swallowed it. You must check every fish you catch, and if you find my pearl, you must give it to me. If you don't, something bad will happen.'

"The fisherman agreed and let the mermaid go. When he cast his net back out, he caught enough fish that when he went home, his family had enough to eat.

"The next day, he fished all day, hauling in enough fish to not only feed his family, but also to sell the rest at the market and make some money. He did this every day, making more and more money until he grew quite rich.

"And just as he promised the mermaid, he always checked each fish, slicing open the bellies and checking for the pearl. He worried that once he found the pearl and returned it to the mermaid that that would be the end of the fish. He dreaded finding that pearl.

"But one day, he did. He opened a large mackerel and inside its stomach, he found a shiny, black pearl. Fearful that the mermaid would no longer send fish into his nets and that he would no longer make any more money—despite the fact that he had enough to survive on if he was wise—he kept the pearl.

"The next day, not only did he not catch any fish in his nets, but none of the other fishermen did either. Nor the next day. Nor the next. Soon, everyone in Duckburg was relying on their stores of dried food, and that would soon be gone.

"The fisherman knew that he had done wrong. He rowed out into the ocean and called for the mermaid. When she appeared, he said he would return the pearl if only she would bring back the fish. The mermaid refused, filled with wrath that the fisherman did not live up to his promise. He pleaded and pleaded until she said she would bring back the fish, but only if he brought his family, the family he had been so desperate to save before.

"The fisherman agreed, not realizing he was being tricked. The next day, when he brought his family out in his boat, the mermaid gladly accepted the pearl. But it was not the only thing she was after. The fisherman's youngest child, a girl that was still just a baby, was her true target. The mermaid snatched the babe from her mother's arms and dove into the ocean.

"The fisherman and his wife were quick to react, grabbing the mermaid's tail and tugged and pulled. The mermaid yanked on her tail, trying to get free, but the fisherman and his wife held on fast. The more they pulled, the longer the mermaid's tail stretched, until it was fifty feet long.

"With one last yank, the mermaid freed herself and disappeared into the sea with the baby, never to be seen again. And in one last cruel twist, the fisherman continued to cast his net each day to provide for his family, and each day he grew in wealth as if the mermaid was paying for his daughter's sacrifice."

All through the story, Della had kept the perfect tone, her timber and inflection perfect for the somber story.

Fenton had listened raptly, but he was horrified at the gruesome ending. Silence weighed down his heart once Della was finished, and he had to clear his tense throat to say anything. "That was…a terrible story," he admitted. His mother wasn't joking when she said that Della liked macabre stories.

He looked to Dewey, who had turned away, maybe disinterested in the story since he had heard it so many times. If all of Della's stories were like that, the child was most likely desensitized to such violence.

"Yeah…I was never a normal kid, and I guess that made me into a morbid adult," Della said. "I was never into stories about princesses and happily ever afters."

"But still creative," Fenton said. "It wasn't what I expected."

"Well, maybe I'll tell you a few more," Della said, comfortable in her chair. "If you think that one was bad, I can—"

"Uh, one is enough for now," Fenton said, not wanting to get into something worse than the last story. "Although I was just curious how you came up with the idea of a long-tailed mermaid. It's very…unusual." He hoped to get Della to broach the subject of Fethry. The McDuck cousin seemed to be a sore subject with everyone, and, to be honest, he was a little afraid of Della.

"Oh, that. My cousin, Fethry, was always making doodles and junk. He made a sketch of a long-tailed mermaid, so I came up with the story," Della said with a shrug, mentioning Fethry like it wasn't a big deal. "To be honest, I came up with a lot of my stories because of his drawings. He's the creative one."

"Oh, Fethry Duck is your cousin?" Fenton asked as if he didn't know, glad that they were now on his goal subject. "You know, I found some of his notes down in the lab. They had some research on them and some drawings. I'd like to return them to him."

"You have some of Fethry's research?" Della repeated, sitting up. "Like a journal or something?" Her tone sounded nonchalant, but her body was tense.

It was a risk to tell this kind of lie, but Fenton needed to take a risk. "No, nothing like that. Just a few loose pages. They looked important, like he was writing a paper. I'd like to return them to him."

"If you give them to me, I can do that," Della said. "Are they in the lab?"

Fenton realized that this lie might bite him the wrong way. "No, I have them at home. I don't mind sending them to him or even giving them to him in person. I'd like to meet him. Do you have his phone number or address?" He knew Della was lying about giving them to Fethry. Did she suspect he was lying?

"He doesn't like to be bothered," Della said. "It would be best to give them to me."

"But as a fellow scientist, I'm sure he'd like to share his theories. I was even thinking of reopening the Aquatic Observatory. There's so much we can learn from the animal-life on the reef and open ocean," Fenton said, feeling unusually calm as he continued to shell out falsehoods. He was calling her bluff. "I think Fethry might want to be involved."

Della narrowed her eyes at Fenton. She looked ready to take him on.

"How about I give you my number, and you give it to Fethry?" Fenton offered, meeting her halfway. "If he wants to contact me, that's fine. If I don't hear from him in a week, I'll leave the notes up here and you can take them to him."

"Oh, that should work," Della said, lightening up. She put his number in her phone and added, "I'm sorry about this. Fethry is a very private person. He's a bit funny that way."

"I understand," Fenton said while thinking, Liar. He couldn't help thinking of that strange rumor three years ago about Fethry's disappearance but it had been quickly squashed by Scrooge McDuck. It had been merely a rumor, but Fenton thought that it was about time he did a little more research in it. Especially since he couldn't help but thinking that Fethry might be the key to learning more about the mermaid.

"Well, thank you for the story," Fenton said, finishing with the last wire. "And I think you're ready to go."

"Alright," Della said, jumping up. She went to the computer console, clicked the mouse a few times, and then there was a humming. Then a bright light shot out of the lighthouse, the bulb above them shining brightly, directing a beam onto the dark waves below. "Well, everything looks good. Thank you for your help. I'll make sure to tell my uncle about you."

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Fenton said. "I'm just happy to help." He bade them a quick goodbye and went down all those stairs, glad to be going down instead of up this time.

It wasn't until then that he realized that Della's story had a pearl in it. The pearl was black, but a pearl none-the-less. Was that also part of Della's creativity, or was there something to pearls being important to mermaids? If so, then why did his mermaid give him a pearl? Why is it so important?

He had many questions running through his head, unfortunately, he wasn't asking the right ones.

Della watched from the lighthouse until Fenton exited the building, got into his car and left. At her side was her son, remaining quiet, which was unusual for him.

She took out her phone, preparing to send an email.

"Hey, mom?" Dewey asked.

"What?" Della said, a little distracted.

"Why did you change the story?"

"Huh?" Della took her eyes away from her phone to focus on her son.

"You changed the story. The baby wasn't supposed to die," Dewey said, looking worried. Or was it disturbed. "In the story, the fisherman always gets his baby back, safe and unharmed."

"Oh…" Della had forgotten that Dewey was still there when she changed that detail. "Well, since I was telling it to a grown-up, I thought that it needed a more grown-up ending."
That answer didn't sit well with Dewey.

"Look, sometimes people need to hear scary stories so that they understand that the world can be a dark and scary place," Della said. "It makes it easier to stay out of places that we have no business getting into, understand?"

Dewey didn't, but he nodded.

"I'm almost done here, and then we'll get ice-cream," she said, knowing just what would put a smile back on her son's face.

"Woo-hoo!" Dewey shouted, jumping into the air.

"Oh, and Dewey?" Della added. "Please don't tell you brothers about the different ending. Especially Huey. He's a little sensitive."

Dewey nodded solemnly and went back to cleaning up the lighthouse, gathering the garbage in a sack to throw it out into the dumpster.

It gave Della enough time to finish her email to Scrooge McDuck.