Shadows on the Sea Read online

  It had stopped raining. The platform of the station hovered in long shadows of the setting sun. Was Nana there? Jill hoped she wouldn’t have to hang around in the station of a strange town. Her purse tucked under her arm, Jill wrestled with her luggage. Outside, soot and ashes from the steam engine scattered in the wind. The conductor moved her bags to the station platform. “Thank you,” Jill said over the noise.

  “Jill! Jill!” There was Nana, waving and calling to her. Her blond hair, held back in a fashionable bun, was mixed with silver and shimmered even in the fading sunlight. She wore a white cotton dress and a mint-colored sweater.

  Jill bounded off the train. “Nana!” she shrieked, throwing herself into her grandmother’s embrace.

  “I’m so glad you’re here, safe and sound,” Nana said after covering Jill’s face with kisses. “We’ll have a wonderful time together. Look at how tall you’ve grown since I last saw you!” She eyed Jill’s slacks. “Do your mother and father know you’re wearing those pants?”

  Jill bit her lip. “Um, I bought them after they left,” she answered truthfully. “They’re very nice for traveling, Nana.”

  “I see.” Nana glanced over Jill’s shoulder. “Oh, there’s Wendy Taylor! I met her last year when she visited her aunt, Adrie Dekker. My, she’s turned into quite a young lady, too. Wendy!” she called. “Come meet my granddaughter, Jill.”

  Jill whirled around and found herself staring into the flushed face of Scarlett Jones.

  Embarrassing Moments

  Jill could feel her own face redden with humiliation, remembering the fantastic story she had just told Scarlett—or whatever her name was—about her mother being a spy.

  Then the embarrassment was replaced with confusion. Wait a minute. Jill wasn’t the only one telling lies. Was Scarlett’s father really in the film business? Was she an actress? Or were those all lies too?

  Nana took hold of the blond girl’s hand, pulling her closer. “Wendy,” she said, “don’t you remember me? Elizabeth Winters? I live out on the harbor road in Winter Haven, not far from your aunt’s inn.” She motioned to Jill. “This is my granddaughter.”

  “Wendy?” Jill asked, totally bewildered. “I thought your name was Scarlett.”

  Scarlett smiled weakly. “Er … my friends call me Scarlett. But my real name is Wendy.”

  Jill felt a surge of anger. “And I suppose your father is not in the film business.”

  “Yes, he is so in the film business!” Wendy retorted.

  “Wendy’s father runs a movie theater out in New York State,” Nana volunteered.

  “He runs a movie theater?” Jill’s voice rose. “He’s not a producer?”

  “Well, what about your mother?” Wendy snapped. “Where is she? Off doing some top-secret spy stuff?”

  Jill bit her lip, hoping Nana wasn’t paying close attention.

  Nana looked from one girl to the other. “Did you girls meet on the train?”

  “Oh, yes, we met,” said Jill, rolling her eyes.

  “Well, Jill, I think it’s wonderful that you have a new friend in Winter Haven,” said Nana. “Perhaps you’ll get together for the big Fourth of July clambake next Saturday. That should be fun.” Nana waited for a response, but when neither girl spoke, she asked, “Wendy, do you need a ride?”

  “Thank you, but Aunt Adrie should be here any minute to pick me up.”

  “Then we’ll be off.” Nana picked up Jill’s large bag. “Come on, honey. I know you’re tired. You girls can get together later.”

  Jill grabbed the smaller satchel and started after her grandmother. She glanced back over her shoulder. Wendy was standing there looking miserable—not a bit like the poised, sophisticated girl on the train.

  Jill stopped. Maybe … maybe Nana was right. Maybe she and Wendy could get together for the clambake. After all, there was probably no one to have any fun with in Winter Haven. And what Wendy did certainly wasn’t any worse than what Jill had done herself, right?

  “Wendy,” she called hesitantly, “maybe we can do something together sometime. I mean—well—I think we’re a lot alike. We were playing the very same game.” She smiled weakly. “Only you’re better at it than I am.”

  Wendy sighed. “I feel utterly stupid.”

  “Coming?” Nana called from the open door.

  “Bye,” said Jill, turning to leave.

  “Jill!” Wendy called after her. “Please come see me at the Tearoom Inn. I really do have a job there.”

  “Okay, I will.” Jill paused, then said, “Wendy, my dad really is Drew Winters.”

  “Dreamy!” Wendy responded in awe.

  The Widow’s Walk

  Jill awoke the next morning with sunlight and the salty scent of the sea drifting through the open window at the side of her bed. She had fallen asleep in the car on the way to Winter Haven and barely remembered climbing the stairs, undressing, and flopping onto the down quilt.

  She rolled over and was startled to see a huge brown-and-black-striped cat curled up at her feet. It stretched out its front legs, yawned, and gazed at Jill through half-closed yellow eyes. “My goodness! Who are you?” Jill asked. “You look more like a raccoon than a cat!” The cat yawned and purred, then rubbed its long silky body against Jill’s outstretched hand.

  Taking a deep breath of sea air, Jill got up on her knees and looked through the window. Beyond the rocky coast the Atlantic Ocean sparkled in the sunlight and its colors shifted from deep sapphire blue to smoky shades of green and gray.

  Jill unpacked her suitcases. The clothes she brought looked lost in the large closet and bureau. Maybe she and Nana would go shopping in nearby Bayswater someday soon.

  She pulled on her slacks, which she had tossed on the chair the night before. After dressing, she headed down the stairs to the kitchen. The cat jumped off the bed and ran ahead of her, holding its bushy tail straight up.

  “I see you’ve met Sarge. He’s a real Maine coon cat,” Nana explained. “Folks used to think these cats were half raccoon.”

  “He sure looks like it.” Jill bent to stroke the cat, who rubbed against her legs. “He slept with me.”

  “He’s a love, but he’s a tough guy,” Nana told her. “That’s why I named him Sarge. Other cats don’t dare to tangle with him, let me tell. And don’t be surprised at what he may drag in from outside. He’s quite the hunter.” Nana set out a folded newspaper on the floor by the sink and put some chicken scraps onto it. Sarge burrowed his face into the meat, pausing now and then to lick his whiskers.

  “Nana, Mom said she’d send a telegram when she got to Newfoundland.”

  “It may be difficult for her. Where she’s going there aren’t any telephones or electricity.”

  “When do you get the mail?”

  “In the mornings. But it’s still early yet.”

  Jill nodded. “I suppose she hasn’t had time to write, anyway.”

  “Regular mail will be very slow, Jill. Everything coming into the country must be opened and read by censors. Besides, if anything had happened to the Caribou, we’d have heard by now. I’m sure she made it across the Gulf safely. Try not to worry.”

  Jill wasn’t only concerned about the Gulf and the U-boats, she wanted to know that Mom wasn’t upset with her—that she forgave her for acting so mean. And Jill also wanted Mom to know that she had forgiven her for leaving without her.

  “Your dad called late last night to be sure you got here safely,” Nana said cheerfully. “There’s a three-hour difference between here and California. Since the war started, servicemen and military bases have priority to use phones for long distance calls, so civilians must wait their turn. By the time he finally got through, I didn’t want to wake you. He sent his love and said he’d try to call sometime next week.” Nana put her hand on Jill’s shoulder. “But now, you have a surprise.”

  “I do?”

  “Look what I found on the porch this morning.” Nana pointed to a small table by the window. In the center was a terr
a-cotta vase containing a bouquet of bright summer flowers.

  “Oh my goodness,” Jill said. “Just look at all the roses, snapdragons, and daisies—and those little white things.”

  “Baby’s breath.” Nana laughed. “There’s a card attached. I didn’t open it, but I did see that it’s addressed to Miss Jill Winters.”

  The message on the card was written in green ink. Jill read it out loud. “‘Welcome to Winter Haven, Jill. Have a happy vacation.’” Jill looked at her grandmother. “Who do you suppose they’re from?”

  “I can’t imagine.”

  “They’re beautiful.” Jill sniffed the flowers.

  Nana placed a box of Cheerioats on the large oak table. “I thought you’d like to try this new cereal, if you haven’t had them yet.” She handed Jill a plate of toast with honey. “Since real butter is rationed, I only use it for Sunday dinners.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like that oleomargarine stuff. Even with the orange food coloring they give you to whip into it, it reminds me of lard.”

  Jill was still wondering who sent the flowers as she opened the box of Cheerioats and emptied it along with some milk into a bowl. “What time does the Tearoom Inn open?”

  “The tearoom opens at two,” said Nana. “Wendy’s aunt Adrie will probably have vacationers staying there soon. Although, with the war, I’m not so sure she’ll get too many guests.”

  “Who would be coming way up here to vacation?”

  “Folks are saving up their gas stamps for vacations. Others are taking trains, as you did. The town tries to keep things as normal as possible. They were thinking of canceling the annual Fourth of July clambake for the duration but decided to have it after all.”

  “That’s next Saturday! I can hardly wait. I’ve never been to a real clambake.” Jill spooned cereal into her mouth, then stopped. Nana was reaching across the table for her hand.

  “We need to remember we’re at war, even though we are in a beautiful, peaceful place. If we put your parents in the Lord’s hands each morning, you won’t need to worry so much.”

  Embarrassed, Jill swallowed her mouthful of cereal, then bowed her head.

  “Lord, please watch over our loved ones in this time of war. Please bring our dear Kate home safely to us. Keep my son, Drew, in the palm of your hand as he shares his gift of song around our country. We pray for peace in our world and love for one another. Amen.” Nana squeezed Jill’s hand, then let go.

  Jill didn’t speak during breakfast. Nana’s prayer brought a sense of solemnity and even Sarge, who sat on another chair, seemed subdued, his golden eyes half-closed. Nana had put Mom and Dad in the Lord’s hands and maybe Jill could let go of her worries for today, like Nana said.

  After breakfast, Nana took Jill through the house. “I love this place,” she said proudly. “But you haven’t seen the best part. Come with me.” Jill followed her grandmother upstairs and down a hallway. Sarge trotted along behind them. “Wait until you see this!” Nana opened a door, revealing a steep stairway. “Come on!” Nana climbed to the top, then unlatched and shoved open a heavy trapdoor. Cool sea air swept through the passageway and Sarge darted ahead to the opening above them.

  Nana climbed out and Jill scrambled after her onto an open porch that was encircled with a balustrade. “What a beautiful view!” Jill exclaimed.

  The ocean glimmered to the east. To the south was a channel from the sea to the safe harbor of Winter Haven. On the other side of the channel a rocky point jutted out even farther into the ocean and on its easternmost cliff stood a majestic white lighthouse. To the west, Jill could see a winding road, a church steeple, and the houses in town. Ocean swells flung white foam against the northern rocky cliffs that were fringed with pine trees. Pine trees were everywhere and at times their fragrance overpowered the scent of the sea. No wonder Maine was called the Pine Tree State.

  “In olden days, the wives of ships’ captains would come up to these roofs and watch for their husbands’ return from sea.” Nana spoke loudly over the sound of the wind. “Many times wives waited and watched and the ship never returned. That’s why it’s called a widow’s walk. And then, of course, the wives would watch from these balconies for the kelpies.”

  “What are kelpies?”

  “You don’t know? A Scottish legend tells that a kelpie is a black horse with blazing red eyes. It would arise from the ocean and warn sailors’ wives of disasters at sea.”

  “That’s scary,” Jill said.

  “But just imagine their joy when the boats came home safely,” Nana said. “I can envision the captains and sailors watching through telescopes for the sight of their wives or sweethearts waving scarves from these rooftops.”

  “Did anyone ever really see a kelpie?”

  “Not anyone I know.”

  “There’s a boat over there!” Jill pointed to a small fishing vessel that rose and dipped in the high waves. She turned to her grandmother. “Can I come up here whenever I want?”

  “Of course you can,” Nana said. “But this wind is chilly. Let’s go down now.”

  Holding Sarge in her arms, Jill carefully descended the steep stairway, while Nana bolted the trapdoor tightly. “We have to keep it sealed, or it will rain in,” she explained.

  Back in the kitchen, Nana made a pot of tea then served it on the closed-in sunporch. Windows with flowered chintz curtains and matching window seats stretched along three walls. “I could sit here and look out at the ocean all day long,” Nana said. “But at night we need to close all the draperies on our windows that face the sea.” She reached up under the valences and pulled a cord. A thick black curtain unfolded and descended from under the valance the full length of one of the windows. “It’s the law. Any houses on the ocean must either keep their lights out or cover the windows completely.”

  “Why? Can they see our lights in Germany?” Jill asked, trying to be silly.

  “No, but German submarines could be patrolling these waters, Jill. We don’t want to give them any help in identifying landmarks.”

  “What about the lighthouse? I thought they’d turned the lighthouses off for the duration of the war.

  “Some have been turned off, but not all. Ours is one of the few lighthouses that’s still working,” Nana explained. “They’re markers not just for ships, but for airplanes, too. We’re so far from big cities or anything important that it’s been allowed to stay on, although it’s dimmer now.”

  After tea, Jill helped clean the kitchen, then said, “I’m going to take a walk into town to see Wendy.”

  “There’s a bicycle in the garage, if you’d like to use it”

  “A bike! Thanks, Nana.” Jill dropped the dish towel on the counter and headed for the side door, which opened to the backyard.

  “I hope the tires are okay,” Nana said. “I had them patched and pumped up when I heard you were coming. We can’t get new tires because of the rubber shortage.” Nana stood in the doorway with Sarge rubbing against her legs as Jill walked toward the garage. “Sometimes you can see the whales breaching from here,” she said, pointing to the east.

  Jill shaded her eyes and gazed at the ocean.

  “Usually you’ll see them later in the season,” Nana said, “but keep on the watch for them. It’s a beautiful sight.” She went outside to a water pump and filled a watering can. “Sarge and I plan to do some work in our victory garden this morning.” Families everywhere were planting victory gardens to help supplement food that was going to the troops. “See? I’ve planted peas and tomatoes over there.” She pointed, spattering Sarge with the watering can. He shook himself and raced off.

  Jill laughed and dashed for the garage. It was a great day for a bike ride! She found the bicycle—a girl’s blue Columbia—pulled it out, and checked the tires. She rolled up the legs of her pants a bit, so they wouldn’t get caught in the chain.

  “Just follow this road to the four corners at Main Street and turn left,” Nana called.

  Jill hopped on the bicycle. “See
you later!” She waved and headed down the dirt road.

  She pedaled to town under a cloudless sky. The freshening southerly breeze played with the frothy waves in the harbor. Gulls soared and called to each other. The war seemed far, far away.

  The Bird Man

  Jill found her way into town easily. Except for a path through heavily wooded trees off to the right, there was only one road. At the end of the harbor road, Jill came to a fork. A faded sign showed the words Main Street, with a finger pointing to the left. An official-looking government sign indicated that a U.S. Naval Base was a few miles up the road to the right.

  Jill took the road to the left and after about a mile found herself on the main street of Winter Haven. Houses and stores lined one side, while across the street were the town docks and the harbor. Wooden fishing boats creaked against the waves and the stiffening breeze; others dotted the water as fishermen were already returning with their morning catch. The scent of salt water and fish drifted in the wind.

  She passed the gray fieldstone library. Three girls about Jill’s age were coming down the stairs, giggling to one another. As she rode by, Jill smiled tentatively at them. They stopped and stared. Jill could see one of them put her hand to her mouth to whisper something to the others.

  Jill kept pedaling down the sidewalk. Outside Guy Binette’s grocery store, a man in a white butcher’s apron was checking a sign in the window. He backed up, not noticing Jill, and she stopped quickly, her bicycle tottering.

  “Whoa! Careful, there!” the man exclaimed, reaching out to help her.

  “I’m sorry,” Jill apologized. “I probably should be riding in the street.”

  “Naw, it’s safer for you on the sidewalk. But be careful for old-timers like me.”

  Jill noticed a square flag hanging in the shop window. It was bordered in red with a gold fringe along the bottom. In the center was one blue star on a white field. “I’ve seen a lot of those flags lately,” she said, pointing.

  “That there star’s fer my son,” the grocer said. “My boy Paulie’s a soldier. I ain’t even sure where he is right now.”