Shadows on the Sea Read online

  Jill recalled the three girls in town who had whispered about her. “Summercaters?”

  “Summer people. Folks from away who come down east to vacation,” Quarry explained. “The local folks don’t take kindly to summer people.” He looked sheepish. “But I ain’t like that.”

  “No, you don’t treat us that way,” said Wendy. “You know, many folks around here would be out of business if it weren’t for ‘summercaters’ like us.”

  “There’s another big formal dance that’s like a prom,” Quarry continued. “The Crystals and Rocks put it on up in Ellsworth every summer. They call it the Crystal Ball. But you gotta be invited to that. The most popular girls round here belong to the Crystals. The boys belong to the Rocks. They’re the big Herbs in town. They meet at the church a couple times a month.”

  “Can anyone join?” Jill asked.

  “No. First, someone has to sponsor you. Then you gotta show up at a special meetin’ where everyone sizes you up. If you pass inspection, they vote on whether they’ll let you join or not. They have a box with white and black balls. Each person votes by puttin’ in a white ball or a blackball. If there’s even one blackball in the box, you’re out. Nobody ever discovers who blackballed ’em.”

  “Have you been asked to join?” Wendy asked.

  Quarry shrugged. “Naw, they’d never invite me.”

  “Why not? They’re only country folk like you …” Wendy stopped and looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Quarry. There’s nothing wrong with being country folk. What I mean is … they’re not any better than you. They’re not rich, big-city socialites or anything.”

  “It makes ’em feel important, I guess,” Quarry answered. “I don’t want to join, anyhow.”

  “Neither do I,” said Jill.

  “What do they do in their club?” Wendy asked.

  “Oh, they have war bond drives. The Rocks collect cans and steel and wash cars. The girls make cookies to send to the troops. Some of them knit scarves and mittens for servicemen. They have their pictures in the local papers all the time.”

  “I’d like to belong to the Crystals. It might be fun, but I suppose we don’t have a chance.” Wendy sounded disappointed.

  “I guess that’s just the way people are around here. I can’t help but wonder why Nana ever chose to move away from all her friends in Boston to live in this faraway place,” Jill said.

  “Yep, until you came she was all stark alone in this big house,” Quarry agreed.

  “The landscape is beautiful here,” said Wendy. “She probably likes the peace and quiet.”

  “I’ve wondered why your aunt Adrie lives here,” said Quarry. “She’s so good-lookin’ and smart. Folks say she speaks several languages.”

  Wendy nodded. “Aunt Adrie speaks French, Spanish, and German. She has traveled all over Europe, but she was born in New York State, like my mother.”

  “It does seem strange that anyone as sophisticated as your aunt would want to live up here in the country,” said Jill.

  “She has a good business, especially in the summer,” Wendy replied. “She doesn’t seem to have many friends, though. I don’t know why.”

  “People in town think she’s icebound,” Quarry said. “She’s kind of a tiptoe Nancy.”

  Wendy drew herself up angrily. “What’s that supposed to mean!”

  “She ain’t too friendly,” Quarry said. “She puts on airs.”

  “They’re just jealous,” Wendy snapped.

  “Well, you asked why she ain’t got friends, so I told you.” Quarry turned his attention to Jill. “But your grandmother has her Sunday-night ladies, Jill. And did you know her pal Ida Wilmar is a German?” Quarry asked. “Most folks stay clear of Ida. They don’t like Germans these days.”

  “Just because she’s German doesn’t mean she’s a Nazi!” Jill declared.

  “I suppose so,” said Quarry, looking uncomfortable. “It’s just that—well, like I say, people talk round here, Jill.” Quarry grinned weakly. “Forget it. Let’s play a game.”

  “What game?” Wendy asked.

  “Um, how about Truth, Dare, Consequences, Promise, or Repeat?” Quarry suggested.

  “That’ll be fun,” Jill agreed.

  “I hosey to go first,” Quarry said.

  “Okay. Which will it be?” Wendy asked, “Truth, Dare, Consequences, Promise, or Repeat?”

  “I’ll start with repeat,” he answered. “It’s least dangerous.”

  “Repeat after me,” Wendy ordered. “I, Quarry MacDonald, think that Wendy and Jill are the prettiest girls in Winter Haven.”

  Jill laughed as she watched a flush creep over Quarry’s face. “I, Quarry MacDonald, think that Wendy and Jill are the prettiest girls in Winter Haven,” he repeated.

  “Now it’s your turn, Wendy,” said Jill. “What’ll it be? Truth, Dare, Consequences, Promise, or Repeat?”

  Wendy hesitated. “Truth,” she said.

  Jill thought for a moment, then asked, “Do your friends back home really call you Scarlett?”

  Wendy looked embarrassed. “No,” she admitted. “I just … like to pretend it’s my name.”

  “And what about your aunt Adrie?” Quarry asked. “How do you feel about her? Remember, you’ve gotta tell the truth.”

  Wendy frowned. “I thought I would get only one question.”

  “Okay, fair enough,” said Quarry. “Now it’s your turn, Jill. Which is it? Truth, Dare, Consequences, Promise, or Repeat?”

  “Promise,” Jill said.

  “Promise this,” said Quarry. “I will be a faithful friend to Wendy and Quarry.”

  Jill put up her right hand, as if taking an oath. “I promise to be a faithful friend to Wendy and Quarry.”

  “No matter what,” Wendy added.

  “No matter what,” Jill promised.

  Quarry leaned back. “This ain’t excitin’ enough. Let’s do a dare. Who’ll go first?”

  “I will!” Jill said eagerly. “I love a dare.”

  Wendy waved her hands. “I have the perfect dare for Jill. I dare you to get us into the Crystals!”

  “That’s not fair,” Jill grumbled. “You said we didn’t stand a chance. We’re summer people. They won’t let us in.”

  “They will—when they learn that your father is the famous Drew Winters!” Wendy insisted. “They’ll beg you to join. And you’ll get them to invite me, too.” She turned to Quarry. “You’ll have to introduce us to those snobby girls, Quarry. Then it’s up to Jill.”

  Jill sank back in her chair. “I didn’t think you’d give me anything so tough. Besides, I’m not sure I want to join the Crystals.”

  “You said you loved a dare,” Quarry reminded her.

  “Okay,” Jill said with a resigned sigh. “I’ll try.”

  “I’ll introduce you to Betty Whitfield, Elaine O’Brien, and Gloria Brandt. They’re the big three that run everything,” said Quarry. “Elaine is the ‘honorable counselor of the Crystals.’” He rolled his eyes. “And she don’t let anyone forget it, neither. They’ll be at Youth Fellowship at the church next Sunday afternoon. Betty’s the president.” Quarry paused. “Do you go to church, Jill? I know your grandmother doesn’t.”

  “There you go again! I can’t believe that you keep such close watch on my grandmother!” Jill got up, nearly knocking over her chair. “You want to know what she does on Sunday nights. You repeat gossip about her friends. You wonder why she doesn’t go to church. Is there anything else you want to know?”

  “Quarry didn’t mean to make you mad,” Wendy said soothingly.

  “That’s right. Don’t get all in a lather, Jill,” Quarry begged. “I’m right sorry.”

  “You should be!” Jill declared angrily. Car lights glimmered in the kitchen window. “Nana’s home. Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

  The kitchen door opened and Nana bustled in. “What a beautiful moon out there!” She stopped and looked from Jill to Wendy to Quarry. “Is everything all right?”

&
nbsp; “Yes,” Jill answered. She smiled, but sent daggers in her glare at Quarry. “Quarry is just going home.”

  “Do you want a ride?” Nana asked.

  “No, thanks, Mrs. Winters. I have my bike.”

  “Well, be careful out there in the dark,” Nana cautioned.

  “I will.” Quarry stood by the door, shifting from one foot to the other. “Good night.”

  Wendy and Nana each said “Good night” but Jill was silent. Quarry shot one final, pleading glance at her, then went out the door.

  Sonnabend IV

  After Quarry left, Jill asked, “Nana, can Wendy stay over?”

  “Certainly,” Nana responded. “But do get permission from her aunt first.”

  “Aunt Adrie said it’s fine with her,” Wendy said, after making the phone call.

  “Let’s sleep on the porch,” Jill suggested. “We can each have a couch by the windows and look out at the moon.”

  Nana agreed and brought soft flannel blankets and down pillows onto the porch, that overlooked the channel. “Don’t turn on the lights if you want to watch the moon,” she reminded them. “We must pull down the shades if the lights are turned on.”

  Jill loaned Wendy a pair of pajamas. “They’re not fancy,” she said apologetically. “I need more clothes. I just didn’t want to bring too much on the train.”

  “I would have thought you’d have scads of clothes, having a dad who’s a famous entertainer,” said Wendy.

  “We’re just ordinary people,” Jill said defensively. “My dad sings for a living. He makes records and sings on the radio and at nightclubs. It’s his job, Wendy. Besides, I do have nice clothes. I just didn’t bring my whole wardrobe!”

  Wendy looked flustered, then nodded. “I’m sorry, Jill. Actually, I don’t have a lot of clothes myself. Maybe I’ll shop at Bayswater too. My aunt Adrie will give me the money. She loves to buy me things.”

  Jill didn’t answer. Wendy must have a steamer trunk to carry all the clothes she brought, she thought.

  After the girls had changed and snuggled down under their blankets, Wendy asked, “So, what do you think of Quarry?”

  “He repeats too much stupid gossip.”

  “He has such a funny way of talking. Did you hear what he called my aunt Adrie? A tiptoe Nancy? What a nerve!”

  “They all talk that way up heah!” Jill said. Both girls burst into giggles. “People tease me about my Boston accent,” Jill continued. “But what makes me really mad is to hear Quarry repeat rumors about Nana.”

  “What about Quarry?” Nana came out to the porch and sat in a wicker rocking chair. “He seemed a bit upset when he left.”

  “Quarry says dumb things,” Jill blurted. She pulled herself up onto one elbow. “Nana, Quarry says you and your Sunday-night group keep your get-togethers a secret and that has everyone wondering what’s going on.”

  “It’s no one’s business,” Wendy piped up.

  “That’s true,” said Nana. “Well, to satisfy you girls I’ll tell you this much. There are four of us: Jessie Tompson, Bertha Judge, Ida Wilmar, and me. We usually meet at Ida’s house, but sometimes we meet at Jessie’s. Jessie has a wonderful garden and greenhouse where we often have tea. You see, none of us are really Maine people. We’re from away, as they say. If you’re not a native, it’s hard to become part of the community.”

  “Quarry said Mrs. Wilmar is German,” Wendy told her.

  “Oh dear, nothing gets by Quarry or anyone else in this town.” Nana sighed. “Ida is German, and because of that some folks are suspicious of her. She’s a lovely, quiet woman who came to this country with her husband many years ago. They were teachers in the Boston area. During the First World War, they taught people in our government—probably intelligence people—how to speak German.”

  “You mean they actually taught secret agents?” Wendy asked.

  “Yes, and if the United States Government hired Ida to teach government officials, there’s no reason in the world anyone should feel she’s some sort of national threat. It’s ridiculous!” Nana rocked harder in the chair.

  “Where is Mrs. Wilmar’s husband?” Jill asked.

  “Now that is a mystery, and probably adds to the gossip. A while back, Mr. Wilmar’s brother died. Mr. Wilmar went back to Germany to bring his brother’s family over here. When this war broke out in Europe, though, the German government wouldn’t let him come back. He’s an elderly man now and Ida worries about him. She never hears from him anymore.”

  “That’s terrible,” said Jill.

  “You’d think people would be kind to her, instead of being so cold,” Nana said crossly. “Of course, not everyone in town is unkind. But it only takes a few to cause trouble.”

  “Lots of bad things are happening because of the war,” Wendy said. “C’est la guerre. It’s the war, as they say.”

  Nana got up. “Now, don’t you girls believe all the stories you’ll be hearing around town.” She started for the living room. “Oh, and don’t be too hard on Quarry. He’s a good boy.”

  “He talks too much,” said Jill.

  “He puts both his big feet in his mouth,” Wendy added.

  Nana chuckled. “Good night, girls.”

  As Jill and Wendy discussed what they would wear to the clambake on Saturday, the full moon drifted behind gathering clouds. The western summer breeze shifted to a stiffening easterly wind that rattled the shutters. Soon a driving rain splattered against the windows of the porch.

  “I hope it doesn’t rain on Saturday,” Jill whispered sleepily.

  “Saturday is six days away,” Wendy said. “Don’t forget your dare, Jill, about getting us into the Crystals. I’m sure those girls will be at the clambake. We’ll get Quarry to introduce us to them then.”

  Jill rolled over and buried her head in the down pillow. “Oh, all right,” she groaned, just before falling asleep.

  Although the rain had stopped on Monday morning, a bleak sea fog shrouded everything and a foghorn moaned cheerlessly over the still air.

  “I can’t even see the ocean,” Jill said peering through the windowpane. “We’re fogged in.”

  “It will burn off,” Wendy said with a yawn.

  The aroma of bacon drifted from the kitchen.

  “Breakfast is almost ready!” Nana called.

  The girls dressed quickly and went to the kitchen, where Nana had set the table with a bright red tablecloth and Fiesta dishes of every color.

  “This looks so cheery,” Wendy exclaimed. “And bacon! You’re wasting your meat coupons on me!”

  “It’s not wasted,” Nana chided her. “It’s a treat for us to have you with us for breakfast.” She reached for the girls’ hands and bowed her head. Wendy looked a little startled, then bowed her head too.

  After saying grace, Nana said, “Help yourself, girls,” and handed Wendy a yellow platter of fresh eggs and bacon.

  “Thank you so much,” said Wendy, scooping food onto her plate.

  After they finished breakfast, Jill looked out the window. “The fog is lifting. Everything has a golden, misty look.” The sea was picking up flickers of sun. Jill could now make out the shape of the lighthouse across the channel.

  “I should probably get back to help Aunt Adrie,” said Wendy. “She said guests may start coming any day now for the holiday.”

  “I’ll take you back over to home now. That’s how they say it up here.” Nana laughed and took her car keys from a hook over the sink. “Do you want to come, Jill?”

  “No, I’ll wait heah,” Jill answered with a grin at Wendy.

  “Jill, you’ll be a native in no time ’tall.” Nana headed out the back door. “Wendy, get your things together, dear, and come out to the garage. I’ll be waiting in the car.”

  “I’ll see you soon,” said Wendy before she left. “Don’t forget your dare! We’re going to get into the Crystals somehow, someway.”

  “I don’t know why it’s so important to you.”

  “Come on, Jill
,” Wendy coaxed. “It would be nice to be included with the girls here. After all, we’ll be in Winter Haven all summer.”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll try.”

  Nana was backing out of the garage. “Bye,” Wendy called as she headed toward the car. “Buzz me.”

  “I will.” Jill waved good-bye from the door and watched the car disappear down the road and around the bend.

  She was clearing the table when she heard scuffling sounds. “What’s that racket?” She went to the back door and peered out. “Oh my goodness! Sarge! No!”

  Sarge was sprawled on the floor of the porch. In his clutch was a shivering bundle of brown-and-white feathers.

  Jill ran out. “Shoo, bad cat!” she yelled. “Sarge! Let go of that bird!” Sarge’s ears went flat and he clamped a paw even tighter across the wriggling bird. “Oh, it’s a pigeon! The poor thing!” As she approached Sarge, he tried to drag the bird away. “Scat!” Jill yelled.

  Sarge reluctantly let go of his prize and slunk off the porch.

  “Oh, you poor little thing,” Jill crooned as she bent over the wounded pigeon and smoothed its feathers. “What’s this?” A tiny metal cylinder was attached to the bird’s right leg. Jill gasped in surprise. This was a carrier pigeon! Where did it come from? And where was it going?

  Jill could feel the bird’s heart beating rapidly as she picked it up and carried it into the kitchen. She lay the bird on a tea towel. Then, taking a pair of pliers, she gently pried off the leg band.

  The bird wriggled and fluttered as Jill pulled at the canister latches with her thumbnail and popped open the minuscule container.

  A tiny slip of paper was rolled up inside. Jill pulled it out and opened it carefully.

  Scribbled in ink were the words Sonnabend iv.

  The Three Wise Monkeys

  Jill rolled the scrap of paper, stuffed it back into the cylinder, then tucked it in her pocket. What do the words Sonnabend iv mean? she wondered. And why had the bird come here?

  The bird struggled to fly but only seemed able to flutter. Jill couldn’t find a broken wing or any blood. “You’re not hurt badly,” she said. “I think you’re just stunned.” She found an empty carton in the pantry, held the pigeon in it with one hand, and carried the box out to the garage.