Shadows on the Sea Page 11

  As soon as Jill got home she told Nana and Ida about her visit to Wendy’s.

  “She seemed to have become like Adrie,” Jill said. “You know … cold and … different. I don’t think Wendy will ever be my friend again.”

  “Ende … endings,” said Tante Ida sadly. “Life is full of endings. We have to accept this.”

  Jill went to her room and flung herself onto the bed. The wind whistled around the windows. The waves crashed against the rocks.

  Endings were hard to accept.

  The Clambake

  Saturday, July fourth, was clear and calm. “Are you going to the parade, Jill?” Nana asked.

  “No,” Jill answered. The very thought of seeing the Crystals waving and throwing kisses from their float made her feel ill. She knew the Crystals would be at the clambake, but at least there’d be lots of other people there too. She decided she would stick close to Quarry.

  She put on her new white clam diggers, halter top, and shoes. She brushed her hair and tied it with a red ribbon she found in Nana’s sewing box. Then she applied three coats of Tangee on her lips. If Nana noticed, she didn’t object. “You look so chic!” she said.

  Tante Ida agreed. “Du bist wie eine Blume. You are as lovely as a flower.”

  Nana pulled Jill’s navy blue sweater from the hall closet. “Take this along, honey. You’ll be glad to have it. It can get cold on the beach, especially toward evening.” She held up the sweater. “This is such a beautiful sweater with that cute sailor collar. Did your mother make it?”

  “Yes, she stayed up all night one night to finish it,” Jill said.

  “Your mother loves you a lot.” Nana handed Jill the sweater. “Oh, I meant to tell you that we won’t be here when you get home. We’ll be at Ida’s, and I probably won’t get back until eleven or later.” Nana pointed to the kitchen door. “I always leave a key out there under the doormat, Jill.”

  “Okay.” Jill kissed her grandmother good-bye. “Bye, Nana. Bye, Tante Ida.” She ran outside.

  “Wow, you look swell, all decked out,” Quarry said with a shy grin. He wore freshly pressed brown knee-length shorts and a tan shirt. His auburn hair was neatly combed, but wayward strands flipped into his eyes.

  He is quite handsome, Jill thought, blushing as she tucked her sweater into the bicycle basket.

  Quarry pushed off on his bicycle. “Let’s go!” Jill followed him down the dirt road. They both slowed as they passed Clayton Bishop’s. There were no signs of anyone, although his car was parked in the driveway.

  They headed through the town, where red, white, and blue streamers decorated every lamppost and building. The streets were littered with paper candy wrappers and other clutter from the morning’s parade.

  They took the road that led to the lighthouse, then turned off onto the dirt road to the beach. Cars were parked on both sides and people were carrying folding chairs and blankets down to the sand. In the distance, Jill could see streams of smoke.

  “They’ve already dug the pits and got the fires going,” Quarry explained. “Let’s leave our bikes here.” He pointed to a stand of pine trees where other bikes were stacked.

  Jill grabbed her sweater and Quarry took a plaid blanket from his bicycle basket.

  When they got close to the water, Quarry spread out the blanket on the sand. Jill found rocks and shells to hold down the corners. They put their shoes on the blanket and walked toward the smoky haze where the wood fires had burned. Men in white aprons were raking the hot ashes.

  “These pits are filled with wood and flat rocks,” Quarry explained. “They lit the fires early this morning, so the rocks could get white-hot. They must be ready ’cause they’re fillin’ the pits now.”

  A truck full of green vegetation pulled up to the smoking trenches. “What are they doing?” Jill asked. “That looks like seaweed!”

  “It is! They toss seaweed on top of each layer of food.”

  The fires hissed and a salty smell filled the air as the smoke billowed. Jill and Quarry watched while chicken, buckets of clams, green lobsters, and unhusked corn were layered into the smoldering pits. After a final mound of seaweed was added, the trenches were covered with canvas to keep the steam in.

  “Everything will smell and taste of the sea,” Quarry told her. “Let’s take a walk while it’s cookin’.”

  Jill and Quarry meandered along the beach where picnic tables had been set up. Some were makeshift plywood balanced on sawhorses. There were piles of newspapers, paper plates, and stacks of paper towels on each table, held down by rocks or shells.

  “A real clambake ain’t got linen tablecloths, ya know,” Quarry said. He nudged Jill. “Even the Rocks and Crystals eat off newspapers at a clambake.”

  Elaine, Betty, and Gloria were sitting on a table, laughing and chatting with a group of boys. They hushed when they caught sight of Jill.

  “Well, well,” Elaine said. “If it isn’t Jill Winters! So you’ve decided to honor us with your presence?” She turned to the boys. “This is Drew Winters’s daughter. She was invited to join the Crystals, but evidently we’re not good enough for her.”

  Gloria looked uncomfortable. “Don’t be so mean, Elaine.”

  “We even asked her to ride in the float this mornin’. But she never showed up,” Betty added.

  “Come on, Jill,” Quarry said, taking her hand and leading her away.

  “She’s a real snob,” Elaine whispered—loud enough for Jill to hear.

  Jill wheeled around. “You Crystals are the snobs. You’re mean and hateful—you and your vicious ballot box. I wouldn’t be a Crystal for a million dollars.”

  “Oh, she’s upset about Wendy,” Elaine said to the others.

  “Well, look who she came here with—Quarry! You know the old sayin’: Birds of a feather flock together!” said one of the boys with a sneer.

  The Rocks are as bad as the Crystals, Jill thought.

  Quarry hustled Jill away. “Come on, Jill. They ain’t worth it.”

  Jill was shaking. “They think they’re such good citizens with their benevolence committee!” she sputtered as they stomped back to their blanket. “Why, they’ve probably destroyed Wendy’s life—not to mention all the other girls they’ve blackballed!”

  “I hope they didn’t spoil the picnic for you,’ Quarry said as they sat down.

  “No, siree! It felt good to tell them off. Someone should have done it a long time ago.” She punched Quarry’s arm lightly. “Let’s have a great time today,” she said. “When do we eat?”

  Jill and Quarry had their plates piled high. Quarry showed Jill how to crack open her bright red lobster and how to lift the skin from the necks of the clams and dip the meat into melted butter.

  “Everything is delicious,” Jill said, biting into a steaming ear of corn. “I’m glad you invited me, Quarry.”

  Later, as the sun was beginning to set, a man played an accordion and another called dance steps though a megaphone. Several couples began to square-dance on the sand. “Come on,” Quarry said, pulling Jill into a square.

  “I don’t know how!”

  “We’ll show you,” the others said. “You’ll catch on.”

  Soon Jill was swinging and promenading with Quarry and the rest of her square. Before long, she was able to change corners and keep up with the others.

  “I’ve never had such fun!” she told Quarry breathlessly. “Not everyone from this town is a stuck-up snob like the Crystals. Too bad Wendy didn’t come, though. She would have had a good time.”

  Suddenly the music stopped. “May I have your attention,” the announcer said. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news.”

  Jill clutched Quarry’s arm.

  “I’ve just received tragic information. Paulie Binette, whom most of you have known all his life—Guy Binette’s only son—has been killed in action in the Pacific.” The man paused as the audience erupted with cries, then continued. “His father was informed this afternoon.”

  “Oh, no!
Poor Mr. Binette,” Jill murmured.

  “Paulie was all Guy had left,” said Quarry sadly.

  “I hope our community can pitch in and help Guy get through this sad time,” the announcer said.

  Silence settled on the once-happy crowd. Then a man yelled, “We should not be enjoyin’ ourselves, when our boys are being killed in this damned war!”

  “No more clambakes or parades for the duration,” someone else cried out.

  “Let’s go, Jill,” Quarry said. “I think I should be with Guy—or at least offer to help.”

  “Well ride to town together and then I’ll go on home by myself, Quarry. Don’t worry about me.”

  “I brought you here, Jill, and I should see you home,” Quarry insisted.

  “No, you’ve got to help Mr. Binette. It’s more important. I’ll be fine.”

  “Here, Jill, take my flashlight. It might be dark by the time you get to your road.” Quarry placed the flashlight in her bicycle basket. “I’ll ring you when I get back home.”

  Jill and Quarry rode silently to town.

  After Quarry left, Jill pedaled toward the harbor road. Mr. Binette would be replacing the blue star with a gold one on the flag in his shop-window, signifying that the serviceman in his house had been killed. Paulie had died in the Pacific front, which meant he was killed by the Japanese, not the Germans. That was on the other side of the world. Was there anyplace on earth that wasn’t fighting? Even here in Winter Haven people like the Crystals were cruel and full of hate. Jill turned onto Harbor Road and stopped to pull a tissue from her pocket, when suddenly she saw a car rounding the corner from Main Street.

  Could it be Nana? No, it was too early. It must be someone going to Clayton Bishop’s house. Quickly Jill hopped on her bicycle and steered into the cluster of pines where she had hidden before.

  The car barreled up the road, turned into Clayton’s driveway, then made its way between the house and the garage and into the backyard. Adrie’s car! Jill stayed in the pine trees and watched as Adrie went into the house. What was going on?

  Monster from the Sea

  Jill watched and waited from her secluded spot among the trees. She pulled her sweater from the bike basket and tied it around her waist. It was big and dark enough to cover most of her white pants.

  Adrie and Clayton suddenly came out of the house and went into the backyard.

  Were they going for a drive? There was no sound of an engine starting. What were they doing? They seemed to have disappeared.

  Jill pedaled to the overgrown path she had passed so many times. She could see nothing through the dark tunnel of trees but she was certain that Adrie and Clayton were ahead of her on this pathway leading to Frenchman’s Cove.

  Jill hesitated. Should she follow them? Should she ride home and ring for the police? What could she tell them? She had no proof of anything. And she no longer had the pigeon and its suspicious German message as evidence.

  Quarry had said German submarines were torpedoing many ships on the East Coast. Could there be a submarine hiding somewhere nearby? No, that was totally unreasonable. The U.S. Navy had a radio interception station a short way up the road. They were supposed to know if submarines were in this area, weren’t they? She turned to head home, then stopped.

  Suppose that Adrie and Clayton really were involved in helping the Germans. Wasn’t it her patriotic duty to find out and report them? She should follow them. If she discovered something was wrong, then she’d sneak back and ring the sheriff.

  Jill pedaled a little way down the pathway, but the muddy ground was rough. She’d have to follow them on foot. She hid the bicycle in the bushes, leaving Quarry’s flashlight in the basket. Then she crept down the path into the darkening woods.

  She passed the other trail—the one that led off to the right to Clayton’s backyard. There was no one in sight. But straight ahead in the distance she could see the flicker of a flashlight and, cautiously, she followed. Her rope-soled shoes were quiet on the thick carpet of pine needles.

  The path led deeper and deeper into the woods, twisting and winding, until Jill lost her sense of direction. Tree limbs snagged her hair and clothing. A hundred yards or more ahead, Clayton and Adrie seemed unaware of Jill’s presence.

  After a while, a freshening breeze carried the sound of ocean waves and the smell of the sea. Emerging from the woods, Jill found herself atop a cliff overlooking the water. In the dusk the shadowy figures in front of her were descending a steep path that snaked its way down to a desolate cove.

  Jill did not dare get any closer. She crouched behind a cleft in the rocks. Clayton and Adrie were standing on the rocky beach, looking out to sea. They flashed their lights on and off. Were they signaling someone? Who? Jill couldn’t see any boats nearby.

  Suddenly the water in the cove became turbulent and the surface of the sea ripped apart. A dark shape arose from the depths. Breakers lifted and crested around it, as if some monstrous seacreature had been aroused from sleep. A German submarine! On its side was a number: U-1230.

  Waves heaved as the gigantic ship settled. Water cascaded from its turret. Within seconds, figures appeared on the deck of the U-boat and a rubber raft was dropped into the water. Jill strained her eyes against the deepening darkness. Three men rowed swiftly to the shore where Adrie and Clayton waited.

  When the small boat reached the beach, Clayton pulled it onto the sand and two of the men climbed from the raft. The group spoke to each other for a few moments, then Clayton shoved the raft out and the third man paddled back toward the submarine, where he was hoisted onto the deck. There were no lights on the ship and the flashlights on the shore had been extinguished.

  The U-boat lay silently on the surface of the fjord, like an apparition. This must have been one of the ships that had torpedoed so many vessels along the coast.

  Jill wanted to see if the U-boat would submerge again, but then she realized with a start that Adrie, Clayton, and the other two men were halfway up the path, headed in her direction!

  Jill had to get out of there! If she ran ahead of them, they would surely see her. She moved around to the other side of the boulder and flattened herself into a crevasse. She held her breath as their footsteps came closer. She could hear them whispering but she didn’t understand their language.

  What would they do if they found her? Jill realized that neither Adrie nor Clayton would show her any mercy. If she were caught, they’d probably dump her body into the ocean and no one would ever know what happened. If only she had gone home, instead of putting herself in such danger. She huddled perfectly still as the group passed on the other side of the boulder. At the top of the cliff, they turned down the path that led back to Harbor Road.

  Jill waited until they had gone far ahead and turned on their flashlights. She could see where they were and paced herself accordingly.

  It was pitch-black in the woods now. Although the air was cold, Jill’s face was sweaty and her hair hung in limp strands. She brushed it back from her forehead, then gasped. Where was her ribbon? It had been tied to her hair when she left the clambake. Oh no! It must be snagged in a tree somewhere!

  She paused to pull out a stick that was caught in her rope sole. When she looked up, she saw the group ahead of her flashing their lights on something. Her ribbon? She slipped behind a tree just as the men looked in her direction. Did they suspect someone had followed them? Did they see her?

  After a moment, the lights ahead began to bob—they were walking again. The flickering lights turned left and disappeared. They were heading for Clayton’s backyard.

  As soon as Jill had safely passed the trail to Clayton’s she raced to her bike, climbed on, and rode out of the woods—just as Adrie’s car roared down the street toward her! The half-blacked-out headlights beamed directly on Jill. The car screeched to a stop and backed up.

  Adrie shrieked, “Kriege siel!” to Clayton, who was standing in the driveway.

  “Ich gehe schnell!” Clayton responded. Adrie the
n took off down the road toward town.

  Jill heard a car door slam and an engine starting. She pedaled frantically up the road and around the bend. There was no place to hide. Nana’s house was just a little farther. Could she make it? The house was still dark. Nana wasn’t home yet. Jill pushed the pedals with all her might when, BANG! The front tire burst and the handlebars twisted in her hands, throwing Jill to the ground.

  She untangled herself from the bicycle as Clayton’s car came around the curve. Her arm was bleeding and her leg hurt. She grabbed Quarry’s flashlight from the basket. If Clayton caught her, the heavy flashlight would be her weapon. She limped up the driveway as fast as she could, onto the porch, where she lifted the doormat and found the key. Fumbling, she put it into the lock with shaking hands. The door burst open. Jill flew inside and bolted it behind her.

  Clayton’s car was idling in the driveway now. Jill raced up to the stairway that led to the widow’s walk. She heard a window breaking somewhere in the house and scrambled up the flight of stairs. Her left leg throbbed as she tried to climb and hold on to the flashlight. Jill groped around the frame of the hatch door for the bolt. She heard footsteps on the hall stairs. She nearly dropped the flashlight, but finally her fingers circled the handle and she released the lock. Jill rammed her arms and shoulders against the heavy door until it lifted. Then she clambered onto the roof and silently lowered the trapdoor. After fastening a bolt, she huddled on the floor.

  Please, God, don’t let him find me, she prayed.

  Trapped

  Jill lay shaking on the floor of the widow’s walk. Clayton Bishop was searching the house. She could hear him in the stairwell below and feel the vibrations as he came up the stairs. Clayton was just beneath the hatch door, banging and trying to push his way onto the roof. What would he do to Jill if he found her?