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There was a time when folks traveled from all parts to ask my grandfather a question. Mostly it was women--girls really, and mostly it was the same question. They always brought corn bread.

My grandfather lived in a deep wide place way up in the mountains. It's a place where the stream opens into a real river for a while, deeper than it looks, with caves honeycombing the banks. It's a fairy tale place even above the waterline, but below, in the cool, still, dark is where the real magic is.

Good, sweet cornbread could always tempt my grandfather up to the surface. Uncle Carp, they'd begin, breaking it into pieces they thought fish-sized, Tell me if I should marry Billy McChester? Will he be my last chance, or am I intended for someone else?

Those little crumbs of cornbread bobbed on the surface just long enough for them to start to feel foolish, maybe a little spooked, then my grandfather would raise his head.

The girls, they've all heard he's a big fish, but they're never prepared for the truth of that. When they see him, they realize they could have cast the cornbread in whole. Then, they sometimes wonder how an old carp like that got so big. They start to wonder what else he eats, and if he's still hungry.

Some people are like that. They assume that beings that lack fingers and toes and thumbs also lack manners. Many of the girls run at the thought of ending up in the giant fish's gullet. A few remember why they came, stand their ground.

My grandfather is the color of a perfect pearl, save the splash of sky blue above his eyes. His beard is long, like silk fringe around his face, and his eyes are as dark and deep as his wide spot in the stream, and hold just as many secrets. He says to the girls, If you have asked me this question, then you have already thought of the answer.

He's never been pushy about his opinion, my grandfather. If he had been, perhaps things would have turned out differently.

Grandfather didn't always live in the streams in the mountains. Long ago he lived in a pool lined with blue tile that was the same blue as the mark on his head. This was in Japan, he told me, while he waited to become a dragon. He was not anxious. He grew to the size the pool would allow, and the lady of the house fed him from her hand every day. When they fell in love, he had to leave his pool, and cross the ocean instead of becoming a dragon.

When I was young and he told me this story, I never thought to ask how he made the journey here, how a woman fell in love with a fish.

My part of my grandfather's story really began this way, I suppose. There was cornbread bobbing on the surface, and Grandfather was waking from a nap on the shadowy floor of the stream. Stay near the bottom, child, he told me as he always did, as he ascended. For the first time in my life, I disobeyed.

I swam up in his wake. No one could notice me, ordinary brownish fish, when my grandfather broke the surface, his scales flashing in the sunlight. I darted forward to steal his morsels of cornbread, and he glared at me.

The woman who waited to ask her question was tall and delicate. She was pale skinned and dark hair cascaded down her back, as dark as our caves. "Please tell me what to do," she asked. "I've no one. Tell me what I should do."

I saw water spill from her eyes, and it stilled me. "Child," my grandfather called to her. "You know the answer to this question. A truer one is do you have the strength. And that, no one can answer but you."

"But, wait--"

But my grandfather slipped back underwater before she could finish. I lingered. She sank to her knees and covered her face with her hands.

"Stop," I called, raising myself up as far as I could. She didn't see me. I was large for a river fish, but not large enough to ease her distress. Still, I wanted to. I jumped, splashed. I ventured closer to shore. "Please," I tried again. This time I thrust myself up into the air as far as I could get.

Too far. Instead of splashing back down into the welcoming cool of the water, I smashed into the grass on the bank next to the woman.

"Oh no!" She jumped back. "No, hold still."

I panicked. The air choked me, my gills struggling against it. I jerked and flopped against the ground, the woman trying to get hold of me. "Hold still. I'll throw you back."

If only I could have, but I had lost control of my movements, my vision was gone, I couldn't breathe.

And then something happened. I felt as though I was being split down the middle. My gills changed. I took my first breath of air. I beheld my feet for the first time.

"Dear God." The woman gasped.

The first breath you take in a new world, well, that's something you don't forget. My body now worked in ways I didn't understand. I was aware of the air around me, the grass beneath me, but didn't feel surrounded by it, like water. It was an odd, lonely feeling. I stared down at myself, stretched out my fingers and toes. All at once I understood how my grandfather had made his journey here from Japan, and especially how a woman could fall in love with a fish.

"Oh no." I put a hand to my throat, startled by the breathy sound of my voice.

"It's . . . It's all right." The woman crouched down beside me. "It's okay. Nobody will hurt you. What's your name?"

"Shizue is what my grandfather calls me."

She smiled, taking my hands. Her skin was dry, scaleless but soft. "That's pretty."

I looked into her eyes, fascinated by the color that matched the blue of the sky. Or of the spot on my grandfather's scales.

I moved closer to the bank, staring into the still water.

I saw nothing in its smooth surface but a girl, gazing up at me. She looked like all the other girls that had come here, poised to ask her question. That stopped me. Surely he wouldn't tell his own granddaughter that she already knew the answer. "Grandfather," I called. "Why didn't you warn me? How do I come back?"

There was not a ripple in answer, no movement beneath my reflection. I felt the soft hand of the woman on my back. "Come away from the edge," she said in a voice just as soft. "That carp would swallow you whole."

"He's my grandfather. I'm not . . . you saw me before I became this."

My new throat tightened. She took off the long shawl she wore and wrapped it around me. "Yes, but Shizue, how can you know if he would recognize you? Besides, there's no cornbread left. We'll have to make more and come back."

Back, I thought. I've never been away from this part of the stream. How far would I have to go? As far as Japan? How far was that?

"C'mon. It's okay." She took my hands and looked into my eyes. "My name's Cassie."

I repeated it, liking how it felt in my mouth. Then she pulled me to my new feet. The breath caught in my throat, but I didn't stumble or falter. I took to walking as though I was born to this world.

"This is my truck," Cassie explained when we reached a break in the woods. She helped me in and shut the door. "It's loud, but it goes fast."

She was right about the noise, but I wasn't impressed with the speed. I was thinking of the spill of water through rapids. I was thinking of my grandfather.

"Don't be sad." Cassie spoke over the roar. "Maybe this was what was supposed to happen."

I didn't answer. I was feeling the wind on my face and through my hair. I stole a glance at Cassie's arms, slender and white. Mine were brown. If I looked closely, I could catch a shimmer just under the skin, like my scales were there, just covered.

But what if Cassie was right? What if the stream wasn't all there was?

Christ, I don't need this, Cassie thought, but just feeling the other woman's presence made her smile. This doesn't happen. There's no such thing as love at first sight.

So what? Carp don't get to be the size of Chevettes or talk either. And fish sure as hell don't turn into women.

She figured love at first sight was the least of her problems. Shizue seemed captivated by the scenery. Cassie wanted to turn that face back in her direction so she said, "I gather this doesn't happen to you all the time."

"Never. I've always lived in the stream with my grandfather. It's all I ever imagined. This is . . . " She waved one hand around helplessly. "I have to go back."

Cassie's heart sank, but she didn't let it show. "Why did you jump?"

"I saw you crying, and I wanted to . . . " Shizue paused. "What did you ask my grandfather?"

"Oh." Cassie felt the clutch of darkness at the pit of her stomach tighten. "I guess I wanted . . . I guess it's a little complicated."

Shizue cocked her head to the side, the gesture so human it was unnerving. "What do you mean?"

Cassie let out her breath. Would a fish-girl understand? How could she? "Do you know what it's like to have your heart broken?"

Her face changed, her expression faltered. "I do now."

Her grandfather, the stream. The life she had before. Cassie shook her head. It didn't matter that Shizue hadn't been human her whole life. She was human now. She could understand misery. "I was asking permission. That's the thing. I knew I could kill myself, but I didn't expect anybody to tell me to go ahead and do it." She laughed. "That's stupid. I didn't expect a talking fish at all."

Shizue was silent. Cassie sighed. "I thought seeing something magical would save me."

And you have, she thought, blushing. She pulled into a dirt driveway that ended alongside the rickety old farm house she co-owned with a woman that no longer loved her. She turned off the truck and shoved all that aside. What could it matter when she had something so magical sitting next to her?

"C'mon." She got out and went around to open the passenger's side. "Let's go in and get you some clothes."

The girl seemed not to question it as Cassie led her up the steps to the sagging porch. She made no excuses for the place's shabbiness. There was a lot of work to do still, and now it was just her to do it.

Before Erica had left her, they had managed to finish the upstairs. It was one big airy room, still smelling faintly of saw dust. Cassie loved the leaf-filtered light that filled the space, but now she slept downstairs on the sofa.

Shizue filled the room with another kind of light. Cassie couldn't help smiling as she rummaged through one of the closets to come up with a loose-fitting green dress.

"Here." She lay the garment on the bed and turned to help Shizue with the shawl. She tried to do it without looking, but that made it even more awkward. The girl's skin was a shimmery copper/brown. Cassie jumped back when her fingers brushed against Shizue's breast. "Sorry."

"It's okay." The girl reached for the dress. "How do I . . . ?"

"Oh." Cassie shook herself. "It just goes over your head. Here. Put your arms up."

She distracted herself from the cling of the soft material against Shizue's skin by gazing into her rust-colored eyes.

If Shizue stayed with her tonight Cassie knew she would leave the razor blades be at least till dawn.

Cassie touched me and I felt a spark, a warmth that eased the ache of the walking world. But she moved back and the distance filled the ache up again. When she dressed me, the smooth fabric over my skin made me remember the touch of water. It made me smile. And Cassie smiled too. She turned me toward our reflection.

Somehow, we looked complete, standing there in the glass. She brushed my hair back from my shoulders.

"Wow. You're beautiful."

"I . . ." I didn't know the words yet. I thought about her broken heart and knew that I had come out of the water to mend it. Maybe my grandfather knew it too. Maybe that was why he kept his secrets from me.

Or maybe I'd never know. But it didn't stop me. I kissed Cassie and it was like diving into a still deep pool and finding a secret country there along the bottom, waiting just for me.

After that we weren't strangers to each other. Cassie became my reason to stay above the water. I thought of my grandfather often, but I didn't go back to the stream. When I was with Cassie, I was sure I never could. When I was alone, I wondered.
But mostly I was too happy with my present life to think about it.

Then one morning as I sat on the porch listening to the rain on the roof, waiting for Cassie to come back it happened. My grandfather came up the path.

Magic is tricky. I was a larger woman than I was a fish, and it was opposite for my grandfather. He was a small, wrinkled old man with pale white skin, a splash of blue over his eyes, and a long fringe of a beard. His face crinkled when he smiled at me.

"I have missed you, Shizue," my grandfather said. "More, perhaps than you have missed me?"

"You know that's untrue." I rose and descended the steps to meet him. As I put my arms around him, he felt frail, small. "Why didn't you tell me this would happen?"

"Would the knowing have helped you?" he asked. He took my hand in his as we walked the path around the house to the sliver of stream that ran behind. "Would you have wanted to avoid this?"

I shook my head. "But, I thought . . . I thought a fish was all I was."

He laughed softly. "Is that so little?"

"I miss it."

"You may go back." He shrugged. "I did."

"I couldn't. This is where Cassie is. I couldn't leave her." I stopped to look at him, no less magical in this form. "You did not love . . . the woman?"

Again he laughed. "As the moon loves the sun, child. More than that, since the moon does not give up his night for day."

"But why?"

"Shizue, a happy ending isn't always the end." He closed his hand around mine. "I came out of my pool to be with your grandmother, just as you left our stream for Cassie. Can you imagine living in this walking world without her?"

I shook my head. "But, tell me what happened."

"Time passes differently for us than it does for them. I left Japan two hundred years ago. Your grandmother's life was too brief. I would have been done with all of it, but there was your mother to think of."

I frowned. I had only known my grandfather, my whole life. When I was a fish, I'd never considered the world to be bigger than he and I. "My mother?"

"She was too much a woman, I'm afraid. And you were more fish than she when you were born. She left us, I'm sorry to say. That is when I took us back to the water." His smile turned faraway.

"I didn't tell you any of this before because I am a selfish old fish, I suppose." He focused on my face again. "You were my only interest, my only tie with the world, and I didn't want to lose you. I am too old for change. I wished to ignore it."

"But, Grandfather." I shook my head. "I still . . . I don't want to lose you either. Why can't you stay here, with us?"

"Because it is past time for me to be a man, Shizue." He touched my face with a pale thin hand. "It is even past time for me to be a fish."

As I watched, he seemed to be growing. His features elongated, eyes shifting to the sides of his face and rolling over a solid black. The hand that cupped my cheek grew to engulf my head, fingers branching into long gnarled talons. His body melted into a narrow coiled form with flashing white scales.

Cassie returned with groceries. She noticed as she climbed out of the truck that Shizue was no where to be found. At the back of Cassie's brain, an alarm sounded, but she ignored it. She laughed at herself instead. This was the real world. Not a fairy tale where your heart's desire can disappear in a puff of smoke when you're not looking.

"Why is it that you think I would ever leave you?" Shizue had asked her once when she admitted her fear. "Don't you know how much I love you?"

More than anyone ever had and Cassie knew it too. But still, what guarantee did they have that the magic would stay? How did the Frog Prince stay a Frog Prince? How did a fish stay a woman? Cassie couldn't take any of it for granted.

When she tried to explain, Shizue brushed Cassie's cheek with the backs of her fingers and smiled. "Our story doesn't end like that."

How does it end, then? Cassie wondered, climbing the steps to the front door. She called Shizue's name as she entered and the empty house answered her. She shook her head.

She caught a flash of white and blue as she headed out back. And then she fell into a fairy tale.

Christ, no, Cassie thought, her knees buckling at the impossible sight of the woman she loved caught in the embrace of a dragon. A kind of panic froze her there for a second, unable to gather the breath to scream. Then the monster opened its mouth.

"Granddaughter." It spoke in a laughing, singing voice that sounded like water over stones. "Live well."

As it reared away from Shizue the terror melted from Cassie and she ran across the grass. The dragon leaped airborne as she reached Shizue and kissed her.

Time passed. We finished the house. I never saw Grandfather again, though I knew I'd seen the flash of white scales through the trees in the woods. I left cornbread at the bank of our old wide spot, which always disappeared when my back was turned. Cassie and I lived happily ever after, just as my grandfather and grandmother had. And, just as with them, happily ever after was not the end. Age rested more heavily on Cassie, but I barely noticed. I was in love.

Her hair turned from dark to white and her hands, still soft, were cold and thin as paper. One morning, as I lay watching the dawn play out across her skin, she opened her eyes and touched my face. "I'm too old for you now, aren't I?"

"Never."

She laughed at me and I kissed her, tasting that secret country, just below the surface of her, waiting for me.

"Promise me something." She pulled back solemnly.

"Of course."

"Before I die."

"Cassie, please," I gasped.

"Before I die," she repeated. "I need to see the dragon. Let that be how the story ends for me."

I turned away, tears stinging my eyes. I was more like my grandfather than I had expected. I wanted to hang onto what we had till the last moment. I didn't want to think about the end. But, like my grandfather, it was catching up with me.

They hadn't ever talked of the dragon before. Not of the one who had called Shizue Granddaughter, not of the one she would become. But Cassie knew. She knew it was there, coiling and uncoiling under the surface. She felt its scales press against Shizue's skin when she touched her.

Cassie knew Shizue held it back, for her, but Cassie dreamed of it more and more. The flashing copper scales of her dragon.