Seven Tears into the Sea (17 page)

“Bubonic plague?” I asked, tying an apron over my shorts.

“Shoddy drying of the sterling,” she corrected. “They'll need repolishing straightaway. Like this.”

I got after it, soaping the pink sterling polish on an ornate knife with a firm, circular motion, just as Thelma had shown me.

She poured boiling water in each of three teapots, swirled it around, then dumped it into a spotless sink. She measured six teaspoons of three different teas into each.

“Slip into your dress while the tea steeps,” Thelma instructed when I'd finished polishing, and then, pouring hot water over the leaves, she lowered her voice and began muttering.

I passed pyramids of green linen napkins bound with
shell rings on my way to change. Nana had set out the cream-colored china.

As I breezed back into the kitchen, Thelma was still talking to herself. This time I caught a few words:

“…then will they offer bullocks upon the altar!” she said with a concluding nod.

“Are you reciting something?”

This wasn't the first time I'd noticed her doing it, just the first time I'd been bold enough to ask. It sounded like a Bible verse or Shakespeare, but I couldn't relate either one to brewing tea.

“Yes, and it would do you good to memorize it as well. Psalm 51 is precisely five minutes long, the time this tea needs to steep.”

“The things you learn,” I said as I carried the first tray into the parlor.

Sea Horse Inn had a younger crowd today. Five Tolkien fans from Portland, Oregon had come for the summer solstice. Three guys, two lanky and long-haired, the other a little pudgy, bespectacled, and paired with a girl who might have been his twin, and her sister.

From wisps of their conversation, I learned they'd pooled their money and were running this trip on a very tight budget.

The hungry eyes they cast on the tea table told me they planned to make dinner of the orange layer cake, the
chocolate candies fashioned to look like turtles, and the tiny triangle sandwiches made of crabmeat and Swiss cheese.

I refilled the sandwich tray twice to make sure they got their money's worth, and Thelma supported me.

“It's nice to have some young people visit,” Thelma said as I refilled the teapot. “This isn't Middle-earth, but the next best thing. Make sure they get more cake, too.”

As I poured tea, Nana told stories, gently separating strands of popular mythology from Celtic tales.

I also met the Whartons, an older couple who listened as intently as the college students.

They were all having a good time, looking forward to twilight on the widow's walk with more stories, and no one made a mess, so I was happy.

I had a quick supper with Nana and Thelma in the kitchen while we planned Midsummer festivities. Nana got out another of her notebooks, which listed everything we'd do, starting the day after tomorrow.

I felt a little fidgety as I listened. I couldn't believe I'd turned down an afternoon swim with Jesse. In fact, I'd made a mess of the whole encounter. I'd done well enough with Zack, I guess, but I wish I'd made a plan to meet with Jesse tonight.

Zack said that Jesse didn't sleep inside, and Jesse had agreed. I wondered if that was true. Not that it mattered.

All I wanted to do was swim with him tomorrow, and
then if there was time, see if he wanted to come along when I drove into Siena Bay to gas up the Bug.

“There'll be lots of decorating and some preparation for the shoreline games,” Nana said, drawing me back to the Sea Horse Inn.

“Tomorrow?” I asked, and Thelma's eyes flashed impatience.

“No dear, the day after tomorrow. Midsummer's Eve
day
.”

“Of course,” I said, and then tried to memorize my part in the celebration.

Besides decorating and cooking, I'd be called upon to dress in a Renaissance-style gown Nana had picked for me. If asked, I was supposed to embellish Celtic tales I knew for the guests or visitors strolling the beach.

“And then there'll be Dark Tea,” Thelma said, looking a page beyond Nana's lists for Midsummer's day.

“The days will be growing short again,” Nana explained. “So in honor—”

“In mourning,” Thelma put in.

“Of course we'll serve our richest foods—curries and casseroles, perhaps some kedgeree. What do you think, Gwennie?”

“I think it's tasty,” I admitted. Mom cooked up kedgeree on rainy weekends. Made of rice and fish, cream and saffron, it was delicious but not for the middle of June.

“—we'll draw the curtains, use candlelight—”

“Why do something so depressing?” I asked Nana. “It's like we're rushing through summer. I mean, I've only been out of school for two weeks!”

“Well, it is a centuries-old tradition,” Nana said.

“I'm just thinking, if it's a nice day. I mean, it's sort of like with your garden. You work
with
nature and get better results, right? So why act like it's autumn before it is?”

Could I have been less articulate? It was embarrassing, the way I was mixing everything together. I was thinking of Jesse's
seize the day
pitch and my garden cards, and, well, I guess I'd just had too much time to think, being up in Cook's Cottage alone.

“Would you mind some company walking home?” Nana asked.

Oh my gosh, did Nana think I was going psycho? But Nana wasn't the lecturing type, so maybe I'd be able to explain my outburst.

“I'd like to walk along the shore for a minute,” Nana said once we got outside. She was striding right along, so her leg must not have been bothering her. I guess it was possible my help really had done her some good. “The footrace will be here.” She glanced up and down the shore and then stopped, smiling. “Look.”

A cluster of rocks, furred with moss, held a single tide pool, and the moon's reflection shone there.

“The moon caught in a tide pool,” I said.

“Or she's tired of all that vastness,” Nana said, hand sweeping toward the black, star-strewn sky, “and wanted her own little spot.”

I looked intently into the pool. I saw my own reflection amid the stars and rocks and silver dimpled moon.

Then for a single instant, I saw Jesse's face.

I turned with a gasp, but no one was there.

The Sea Horse Inn sat white-washed and prim behind us, but that was all.

“I thought I saw someone—” I said.

Nana waited patiently.

“Not in the tide pool looking back at me,” I joked, “but reflected.”

I pointed at the space between my ear and shoulder to show her where I'd seen him standing behind me.

“At Midsummer there are all sorts of fairies and elves about,” Nana said. “Perhaps their invisibility is outwitted by water.”

“Maybe,” I said, shaking my head. “Or maybe I'm just seeing things.”

Nana gave my shoulders a squeeze, then she stepped away from the beach, back toward the path. “I'm so glad you're here this summer, Gwennie. I don't worry about you being in Cook's Cottage alone, not even with that boy Jesse around.”

That sounded a little bit like she meant the opposite.
Or that she wasn't worried about my security, but she was worried about sex.

“I trust you,” Nana insisted, and there was so much conviction in her voice, I wasn't sure I deserved it. “I used to fret over your soft heart, but you've toughened it up. A bit too much, if you ask me. But it all comes with your concern over looking—”

“Crazy,” I finished for her.

“You were never crazy.” Nana stumbled a bit and grabbed my arm, but she didn't lose her train of thought. “Now with a little solitude, you're finding some balance.”

I laughed. That was just the opposite of what I'd been thinking. Then after we'd walked a way in silence, I asked what she knew about Jesse.

It just went to show that what I told my parents was true. If they left me alone, I'd come to them when I needed help.

“Is he homeless?” I asked. He'd said he lived offshore; that could mean anything.

“I've asked around,” Nana told me. “And he is a wanderer. It's natural people are suspicious, not knowing his family, but there's some admiration for him, too. Sadie”—she glanced over, checking to be sure I remembered my former teacher, so I nodded—“told me Jesse had a talk with a bookstore customer who'd left a dog locked in a hot car.

“Red says he's seen Jesse turn away from Zack and his lot when they're about to cause trouble. He's an upright kid, cordial unless others give him a reason not to be. And,” Nana lowered her voice to a chuckle, “I hear Shawn McCracken's quite leery of him.”

It took a second for that to sink in.

“Zack's dad?”

“Oh yes,” she said.

I thought of the “disciplining” remark Jesse had made and the weird relationship he had with Zack. Jesse had no tolerance for cruelty. Zack seemed to revel in it. But it sounded as if Jesse had faced down Zack's dad when he was about to beat Zack. If that was true, I was really confused.

Our conversation had taken us within sight of the cottage, and I still had another question to ask.

“Nana, that night—”

“Yes, Gwennie?”

“Why did Thelma say she saw me up on the Point, when I was down on Little Beach? You know that's where they found me.”

It was quiet for a moment. Waves broke, wind whispered through the sea grass, and I was so close to telling Nana what Jesse had told me.

“It's a mystery, Gwen.” Nana's voice was as resolute as it had been when she said she trusted me.

“Haven't you ever asked her?”

“That would mean disbelieving one of you. Maybe you were one place, then sleepwalked to the other. Maybe she thought she saw you on the Point, and it was a wisp of fog. In any case, you didn't drown.” Nana smiled.

“Jesse says he's the boy I saw that night.”

“Ah!”

It would have been an exclamation, simply half of “aha!” except that Nana grabbed at her chest when she said it.

“Are you all right?” I closed around her, supporting her arms with mine.

“For heaven's sake, yes,” Nana said, shaking me off.

As she did I felt eyes watching us. I didn't hear a footstep. Nothing couched beside my hedge, up ahead. And the moon was nearly full. I would have seen a lurker. But there was a dark feeling on the beach.

“It's a surprise, is all,” Nana said. Then a few steps later she added, “But he's not like other boys, that's for certain. I would like to meet him if he intends to keep you company.”

“I think he'd like to meet you, too.”

We'd made it through my hedge, into my yard.
Sleep tight, little spider,
I thought as I looked ahead to my own cottage, snug and safe.

“Want to come in and say hi to Gumbo? I think she's bored with my company.”

“I'd love it.”

Nana sat down and, to my surprise, turned on the television. The reception wasn't very good, but together, we watched a scratchy transmission of the San Francisco news and gave Gumbo lots of attention.

It wasn't until Nana got up to leave that she mentioned the shell that Jesse had left sitting on my coffee table.

“It's lovely,” she said. “Not from this coast, I don't believe.”

“Jesse gave it to me,” I said. “We're going swimming in the morning.”

“May I hold it just a moment?”

“Sure,” I said.

I should have known better, because suddenly Nana had that half smile on her lips, as if she were scrying.

“It's a lovely time, Gwennie. Just the two of you, gazing into each others' eyes, seeing all the best of each other, making one world …”

“Nana! I hardly know him. We're not making anything!”

“A lovely time,” she repeated as if I hadn't yelped. “Don't let others break it apart, but don't risk too much either.”

“Okay, but you've got me confused.”

Nana handed me the shell. Then she scratched Gumbo behind her ears and dismissed her words. “I'm just a sleepy old woman who had best be walking home.”

“Do you want me to drive you?” I asked, thinking of her stumble on the path.

“Pooh, by the time we get down to your car, I'd be halfway home,” Nana said, and then she was hustling out the door.

Still holding the shell, I watched Nana from the window. She turned back once and gave me a wave.

I watched her walk out of sight, then considered the shell again, studying the delicate hinge between its two halves.

Anything could break it apart, because really, what was holding it together?

I set it down lightly, back on the coffee table, and went up to bed.

My morning with Jesse dawned perfect blue and gold. As soon as I opened my eyes I pictured him waiting for me at Little Beach.

I tied on my red two-piece, put my hair in a braid, and gathered what I'd need for work into my backpack. Just in case I was running too late to come back to the cottage to change.

I reached the crest of the last sand dune in time to see him swim around the rocks between the cove and Little Beach.

Graceful, quick, and natural, he was absolutely the best swimmer I'd ever watched.

I ran for the beach, dropped my towel, shucked off my jersey, and hurried out into the water.

I knew I was skipping my mother's shark-defense checklist, but I couldn't wait.

“Cold, cold, cold,” I whimpered to myself, trying to get the goose bumps and flailing out of the way before he saw me. “Go!” I made a quick shallow dive and stroked out to him.

He waited, treading water, rising with each wave as it came up behind him. His black hair was slicked back, looking silver because it was so shiny. And I couldn't deny the way his face brightened because he was glad to see me.

I'd opened my mouth to say “hi” when his arms swung me around. Grabbing for balance, I held his shoulders, and he kept spinning us.