"Daddy, Daddy!" Jessa, Ryan Jenkins' whirlwind of a daughter, shot into his office, her red pigtails flying. "I saw a mermaid."

Picking up his six-year-old bundle of energy, he set her on his lap. "Did Ms. Peterson put on The Little Mermaid again?"

Every day he had to listen to her ocean-going adventures, despite the fact that he hated the water. It nearly made him lose everything he held dear, but he pushed away the gnawing hollow feeling in his gut because it was the one thing that made his baby girl happy.

She shook her head wildly, her bright green eyes sparkling. "Come and see!"

A storm had recently passed through and it probably brought a log or something that looked like fish-woman. "Where's Ms. Peterson?"

"She's with the mermaid."

Ryan pulled his lips to one side in amusement as he placed Jessa on her feet. The nanny was always feeding his daughter's imagination with some mythical goop, which was usually a good thing, but he'd have to talk with her about this whole ocean addiction. They were going to be moving away soon, and they had to get his baby girl used to the idea.

He wanted to be as far away from water as possible. He couldn't look out over the sea without his chest feeling like an anchor weighing him down, pulling him into the murky waters below.

Sucking in a breath, he followed his daughter out the back door and down the stairs to the beach, the salty ocean air wrapping around his senses. The grey-haired nanny, Dorothy Peterson, was kneeling behind an old fallen log, and she looked up when they approached. "Oh, thank god. You're here," she said. "I didn't know what to do."

Glancing over the log, his eyes fell upon a woman with dark charcoal coloured hair, her skin was almost pure white and her lips ruby red, like that of a vampire. "Did you call an ambulance?"

"Sir, you need to come to this side."

Moving around the log, his feet came to an abrupt halt, his jaw dropping as his eyes followed her pure white skin to her waist and then stopped there. "It's a—she's a..." He couldn't even find the words to complete the sentence. Below her waist was an opulent fish tail, covered in silvery-white cycloid scales. She wore a chain of smaller shells around her neck attached to the shells covering her breasts.

Ryan ran a hand through his thick, messy brown hair that desperately needed a trim. A dream. Yes. This had to be a dream. Mermaids don't exist. Any minute now, he'd wake up and find a fairy tale book on his chest. One he had just finished reading to Jessa at bedtime.

"Isn't she pretty, Daddy?"

He placed a hand on his daughter's head as he glanced at Ms. Peterson. "I guess an ambulance is out of the picture, eh," he said wryly. Who do you call to pick up a mermaid?

"She has a nasty bump on her head. I think we should take her back to the house."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

His baby girl tugged on his hand. "Can we keep her, please?"

"Shouldn't we put her back in the water?" he asked. That seemed like the more logical choice. When they both glared at him, he put up his hands in surrender. "We don't even know if she can survive out of the water."

"I found her. She's mine," Jessa said, stomping her feet.

Ryan kneeled beside his daughter. "She belongs in the ocean, sweetheart."

Tears filled her eyes. "But she's hurt."

"She's right, Ryan. There is a nasty bump on her head that needs attention." Dorothy said, placing a hand on his arm.

Blood caked the side of the mermaid's head, next to her ear. But the slow rise and fall of her chest told him she was alive. "Fine," he said, relenting to their pestering. "Jessa, honey, run into the house and lay some towels down on the guest bed?"

His daughter gave him a bright, missing-one-tooth, smile before scampering towards the house. Dropping to one knee beside the mermaid, he went to lift her into his arms, but she weighed a ton.

"You're going to have to help me, Dorothy. She is heavier than she looks."