Shadows on the Sea Read online

  “You’ll be safe here,” she whispered as she placed the box on a workbench. She found some birdseed in a canvas satchel and sprinkled it in the box. Then she brought a dish of water from the house. “I’ll check on you every day,” she promised the shivering bird. “And I’ll make sure the doors are shut so Sarge can’t get in.”

  Jill closed the garage, then sat on the porch steps and opened up the capsule again. Sonnabend iv. Perhaps the bird was part of a racing team. Homing pigeon races were a popular sport.

  Still, there was a war going on. Weren’t carrier pigeons used during wars to carry secret messages? Maybe she should tell someone. She shook her head. No. Certainly no one in Winter Haven would know anything about secret messages. This was probably a racing bird.

  Yet the word Sonnabend wasn’t English. Could it be a German word? Could someone in Winter Haven be a German sympathizer? Wait a second! What if someone knew Jill had found the message? And what about all the rumors Quarry had told her about Nana? If anyone even suspected a carrier pigeon had come here, there would be even more talk. No, she wouldn’t tell anyone. Not even Nana. Not yet, anyway. She’d just say that Sarge had hurt a pigeon and she put it in the garage to see if it would live.

  At that very moment, Nana’s car came up the driveway. “Sarge caught a bird. It’s hurt, so I put it in a box in the garage,” Jill explained through the driver’s-side window. “That’s why the door is shut.”

  “So the great hunter has struck again. What kind of bird this time?”

  “A pigeon.”

  “Poor thing!” Nana got out of the car, carrying a small parcel. “Surprise for Miss Jill Winters!” she said, handing the package to Jill. “This came special delivery. I saw Joe Downs, the mailman, on his route and he stopped to give it to me. I think it’s from your father.”

  Jill smiled as she recognized her father’s neat handwriting. The return address was the Balboa Hotel in Los Angeles. Dad sent her a gift all the way from California! She ripped off the brown wrapping paper to reveal a narrow white jewelry box. Jill held her breath as she opened it. A gold bracelet shimmered in the sunlight. “Look, Nana! It’s a charm bracelet with—three monkeys!”

  “There’s a card,” Nana said.

  Jill read it out loud. “‘I know what a little worry-wart you can be, so I’m sending you the three wise monkeys! They know just what to do about worries. Love, Daddy.’ What does he mean, Nana?”

  Nana held up the bracelet. “See? This monkey is covering its eyes with its hands. That means ‘see no evil.’ This one’s covering its ears. That means ‘hear no evil.’ And the third one here is covering his mouth ‘speak no evil.’” Nana fastened the bracelet around Jill’s wrist. “These monkeys are wise. They’ll remind you not to listen to gossip or repeat rumors or imagine things that might worry you.”

  The monkeys jingled on Jill’s wrist. She was glad she’d decided to say nothing about the pigeon’s curious message that was tucked deep down in her pocket. She wouldn’t repeat her own uncertainties. Speak no evil.

  Back in the kitchen, Jill cleared the table and poured hot water into the dishpan. Nana wiped the dishes as Jill washed. “Nana, did you ever hear of the Crystals? Wendy wants to join.”

  “It’s part of a social club. I believe some parents started it several years ago. They wanted their children to mingle with the better families.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, they’re probably the bankers and the doctors and lawyers in the area. I don’t believe the children of farmers or fishermen are included. It’s rather snobbish, in my opinion. Are you sure you want to join?”

  “No,but Wendy does.”

  Nana wiped off the counter. “I hope she doesn’t get turned down. She might be hurt.”

  “She wants me to try to get into the Crystals first.” Jill folded the dish cloth and hung it on a rack. “Wendy said they’ll let me join because my dad is Drew Winters.”

  Nana sat down at the table. “When I first moved here I was asked to join the local women’s club, but not until they found out Drew Winters is my son.”

  “Did you join?”

  “No, and I’m sure that I insulted them. They’ve never been too friendly since then. But I don’t care to spend time with those ladies and their functions. I’d rather just be here and paint the beautiful scenery and …”

  “And meet on Sundays with your friends,” Jill finished.

  “That’s right. I choose to be with friends who like me for who I am—not because my son is a well-known entertainer.” Nana got up and looked out the window. “The light is beautiful now—all diffused and golden. This is why I love it here.”

  Jill joined her and gazed out at the distant point. The lighthouse had caught the morning sun and reminded her of a silent angel guarding the harbor. At night it became a white candle that cast a comforting glow.

  “I think I’ll set up my easel out on the rocks and do some painting. The lighthouse is a perfect subject. Would you like to give it a try?”

  “No thank you, Nana. I’m not so good at painting. I’ll write a letter to Dad to thank him for the bracelet.”

  Nana gathered the easel and folding chair which she kept near the porch door. “Jill, would you carry the portfolio and paints for me?” She pointed to a leather satchel. Together they headed across the damp grass to the point. A soft breeze played with the waves and the sea glittered as if bits of mirrors had been scattered across the surface.

  After setting up the easel and chair for Nana, Jill was heading back to the house when she heard her name.

  “Hey, Jill!” Quarry was riding up the driveway.

  “What are you doing here?” Jill felt a little guilty when she saw Quarry’s smile fade. After all, he did apologize last night. She ran to the driveway. “Want to come in?”

  Quarry grinned again and nodded, then leaned his bicycle against the side of the garage.

  Once inside the kitchen Quarry said, “Jill, I wanted to say”—he shifted from one foot to the other—“I’m awful sorry I aggravated you last night. Those rumors I repeated are just a lotta chalk and water.”

  “I’m sorry I got so mad,” Jill said. “Come on out to the sunporch.”

  They sat on the window seat facing each other. “I just got a job,” Quarry told her. “I’m gonna be workin’ at Guy Binette’s grocery store every mornin’ until noon—startin’ tomorrow. He needs help and I can use the money.”

  “I met him yesterday. He had just put up a flag with the single star in the window.”

  “Guy worries a lot about Paulie. He says it cheers him up to have me there.” Quarry cleared his throat. “So are you goin’ to the clambake on Saturday?”

  “Yes. I wouldn’t miss a real Maine clambake.”

  Quarry shifted in his seat. “Jill, would you like to go to the clambake with me?”

  Jill was taken by surprise. She thought Quarry liked Wendy. “You mean … on a date?”

  “Well, sort of. We’d ride our bikes to the clambake together and stick with each other while we’re there. Then we’d come home together.”

  “Um. Okay, I guess so. I had planned to go with Wendy …” Jill noticed a look of disappointment cross Quarry’s face. “I’ll just tell her we’ll meet her there,” she said quickly. “Thanks for inviting me, Quarry. I’ve got a problem, though. My bike has a flat.”

  “I’ll fix it for you right now,” said Quarry, standing up. “Is it in the garage?”

  “Yes, come on.” Jill led Quarry into the garage through the side door.

  “By Godfrey! Wha—what’s that?” he yelled as the pigeon fluttered erratically over their heads.

  Jill laughed. “I forgot to warn you about the pigeon.” The bird flopped onto the workbench. “Close the door.” Quarry looked puzzled but did as Jill asked. “Sarge caught the pigeon this morning. I thought I’d keep him in here until he’s well enough to fly.” She pointed to the bicycle. “There it is, flat tire and all.”

  Quarr
y gathered some tools and a tube of tire patches that he found on the workbench. “Let’s take the bike outside where it’s light,” he said, handing the tools to Jill. “I’ll get the bike and you hold the door so your bird don’t fly away.”

  He sat on the grass by the driveway and removed the bicycle wheel, then pulled the deflated tube from the tire. “Have you heard from your mother yet?”

  “No, but I’m trying not to worry.”

  Quarry nodded, concentrating on the patched-up tube. After a moment, he looked at Jill. “I hear a lot about what’s goin’ on out there on the sea ’cause of Pa keepin’ the light and all.” He looked apologetic. “My pa’d make a touse if he knew I was listenin’ to his calls. And he’d be even madder if he knew I told anyone.”

  Jill fingered the charms on her bracelet. “Have you heard something about ships in Newfoundland?”

  “Oh, no!” Quarry said hastily. “See? I always say the wrong thing. I just wanted you to know why words pop from my mouth like they do.”

  “I guess words pop out of my mouth too,” Jill said. “I’m sorry I get upset so easily, but I do worry about my mother, my dad, and my sick uncle, too. I wish I knew how he is, and I wish I could speak to my mother.”

  “It’s hard when you don’t know what’s goin’ on,” Quarry admitted. “Don’t believe everything you hear. Most war rumors are a little noth o’ noth …”

  “Noth o’ noth?” Jill interrupted.

  “You know. There ain’t nothin’ north of north,” Quarry explained. “Means you shouldn’t pay any ’tention.”

  Jill wondered if Quarry had heard anything about carrier pigeons. Should she tell him about the bird and the message? Quarry knew a lot. But he talked a lot too.

  Quarry was watching her. “What is it?”

  “Nothing … er … I was just thinking about … carrier pigeons. Do you know anything about them?”

  “I know they’re used by the government to carry messages where they can’t get through any other way.”

  “Has your dad ever mentioned them? I mean … are there any around here?”

  “Not that I know of.” Quarry looked at her warily. “Why? Is that bird in there a carrier pigeon?”

  “Quarry, it had a message attached to its leg.” Jill blurted out her secret.

  “Good Godfrey!” He stood up. “Are you kiddin’ me?”

  “No. It’s the truth.”

  “What did the message say? Where is it?”

  “In my pocket.” Jill’s face felt suddenly hot. What was she doing?

  “Show me!”

  It was too late to unsay the words. Now she had to trust Quarry. “If I show it to you, you must swear you won’t tell anyone. Not your dad. Not anyone. You’ve got to promise!”

  “But, Jill, this might have to do with war secrets or spies or somethin’. I can’t make that promise.”

  “I don’t mean you can’t tell ever. I don’t want to tell anyone yet. This bird came to our house and you know all the stupid talk about Nana and Ida Wilmar. I want to find out more myself, first,” Jill pleaded. “Besides, who can we trust? If this is a secret message we might get in trouble. Then what?”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.” Quarry looked troubled. “Okay, Jill. You’re probably right. We’ve gotta be real careful. Now, show me the message that the bird was carryin’.”

  “Not until you swear you’ll keep this a secret.”

  Quarry put up his hand, the same way Jill had the night before. “I swear, Jill. I won’t tell anyone. I’ll die first!”

  Jill pulled the tiny container from her pocket, clicked it open, and handed Quarry the scrap of paper. “Here, read it.”

  “Sonnabend iv.” He scratched his head. “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know. Do you suppose it’s a German word?” Jill’s voice rose. “I’m scared. I probably shouldn’t have opened the capsule.”

  “Of course you had to open it. Don’t worry, Jill, we’ll find out what it’s all about.” He looked at Jill’s bracelet. “Hey, what’s this?”

  “My dad sent it to me.” She pointed to each of the monkeys. “See no evil; hear no evil; speak no evil.”

  “That’s right cunnin’. Yep, it’s somethin’ for me to remember too.” Quarry took a deep breath. “Okay, first of all, we need to find out what the word Sonnabend means. Wendy’s aunt speaks lots of different languages. Maybe she could help.”

  “No, we can’t tell anyone! Not Wendy. Not Adrie. Not anyone! You promised!”

  “Okay, Jill. Okay. We’ll find some other way.”

  They were both silent for a few moments, then Jill remembered something. “Quarry, how stupid of me! My grandmother doesn’t keep pigeons! So the bird wasn’t heading home to this house. But that Clayton Bishop up the street has a pigeon coop!”

  “That’s right! Homin’ pigeons only go home!” Quarry slapped his head. “What a buffle brain! I didn’t think o’ that neither.”

  “We can’t trace who sent it, but once the bird is well, we can let it go from the widow’s walk. We’ll watch where it goes. It should fly right to the person who was intended to get this message!”

  Made in Germany

  “Clayton Bishop raises pigeons, but he says they’re for food. Do you know anyone else in town who has pigeons?” Jill asked Quarry.

  “No. I didn’t even know Clayton Bishop had ’em. He’s new around these heah parts.”

  “I’d love to set the bird free right now to see where it goes,” Jill said. “It’s probably well enough to fly. But I’d like to be sure it’s healthy, so I think we should wait a few days.”

  “What’ll we do with the message when we set it free?” Quarry asked. “If we attach the capsule to the bird, we may be helpin’ the wrong guys. If we don’t send the message back with the bird, someone will know the pigeon was intercepted.”

  “We won’t do anything yet,” Jill said. “In the meantime, we can find a German dictionary and look up that word.”

  “I got an idea,” Quarry said. “How ’bout us sneakin’ into Clayton’s yard and seein’ if any of those pigeons have bands on ’em.”

  Jill frowned. “No Quarry, if he’s involved and finds us snooping around, who knows what he might do. Besides, I didn’t notice any bands on the birds when I was there.”

  “You can go up to the widow’s walk every day and watch where he’s goin’ and who goes to his house,” Quarry suggested.

  “I can spy on everyone from up there! If anyone is up to something bad in this town we’ll flush them out.”

  “Jill, this could be dangerous.”

  “I know. I can understand if you’re scared, Quarry.”

  “I ain’t scared. But we might be stirrin’ up a hornet’s nest …”

  “Well, I am frightened. But I intend to find out what’s going on even if I have to do it by myself! It’s my patriotic duty! Now, are you going to help me or not?”

  Quarry gritted his teeth. “Okay. I’ll come over afternoons when I’m done at the grocery.” Pa owns some mighty strong binoculars. You can spot a flea on a field mouse with ’em. He’ll loan me a pair.”

  “Don’t you dare tell him why,” Jill cautioned. “Remember your promise.”

  I’ll tell him we’re bird-watchin’. And that’s the truth!”

  “Who’s bird-watching?” Nana had come back from painting.

  How much had she heard? “We thought it might be fun to watch birds from the widow’s walk,” Jill said quickly. “Do you think we could see those cute little birds that look like clowns?”

  “Oh, you mean puffins? You might be able to spot them on the sides of cliffs if you have strong binoculars. I may have some good field glasses in the house somewhere.”

  “That’s swell, Nana! It’ll be such fun to list all the birds we can spot. Oh, by the way, Quarry is taking me to the clambake on Saturday.”

  “Sounds to me like you’ve made a lot of plans.” Nana smiled at Quarry. “Now you go on up to the widow’s
walk while I search for those glasses.”

  After Nana went into the house, Quarry picked up the inner tube and put it into his bicycle basket. “This inner tube ain’t no good. Too many patches. I’ll try to get one at Guy’s store tomorrow. They’re hard to find with the rubber shortage and all.”

  “Thanks, Quarry.”

  “Do you want to go up to the lookout now?”

  Jill nodded. “Let’s go.”

  Inside the house, Nana was at a desk in the parlor. “I found the binoculars,” she said, handing them to Jill. “Take those folding chairs up with you, Quarry.” She pointed to wooden chairs with striped canvas seats, next to the closet door.

  “Your grandmother’s nice,” Quarry said as they settled themselves in the chairs on the widow’s walk.

  Jill put the binoculars to her eyes and adjusted them. “These are swell! I can see right into Mr. Binette’s grocery store!”

  “You can watch me workin’ every mornin’ when you’re up here. Let me try ’em.” Quarry took the binoculars and gazed out to sea through the heavy lenses. “Aha!” he said dramatically. “Hey, there’s a fillieloo flyin’ around.”

  “A what?”

  “Don’t get to see many fillieloos in these heah parts,” Quarry said.

  “Let me see!” Jill reached for the glasses but stopped when Quarry laughed. “What is a fillieloo? You’re poking fun at me.”

  Quarry grinned and nodded. “A fillieloo’s a make-believe bird that flies backwards to keep the wind out of his face. We tell the summercater bird-watchers to be sure to watch for the fillieloo.” He handed the binoculars back to Jill, who looked them over.

  “Hey, look.” Jill pointed to some engraved words on the barrel. “‘Zeiss. Made in Germany.’” Where did Nana get these field glasses?

  “Zeiss binoculars are probably the best in the world. You can’t get ’em anywhere since the war. German products are off the markets.”