August Isle

by Ali Standish

  “On the island?” Sammy said. “On Keeper’s Island, you mean?”

  “That’s it,” the old woman agreed. Then she looked up, and her cloudy eyes met mine. She found one of my hands and sandwiched it between her own. “It was a crying shame what happened on that island. I don’t know how you ever survived it.”

  My heart thrashed like a fish caught on a line. What happened to my mother on Keeper’s Island?

  “What?” I gasped. “What did I survive?”

  But before she could answer, the door opened wider, and another woman appeared.

  “Betsy?” Sammy and I said in unison.

  “Girls!” she said, stepping out onto the porch. She was wearing jeans and gardening gloves. “What are you doing here? Has Mama been talking your ear off?”

  “Oh,” Sammy breathed. “You live here?”

  Betsy frowned, pushing a curly lock from her face. “Didn’t y’all come to see me?”

  “Yes,” I said. “We did. We wanted to see if your mom was feeling better. We were actually just talking about my mom and Sammy’s mom. And someone named Ben.”

  “Oh,” Betsy said, her frown deepening. “Well, Mama’s a tough old bird, but she does get confused sometimes. She probably needs a nap, don’t you, Mama?”

  The old woman blinked. “Can you take me home now?” she asked. “I still have all the children’s presents to wrap before I get started with the dinner.”

  “See what I mean?” Betsy asked. “We’d better be getting in now. You two be careful in this heat.”

  “Wait,” I said. “So did you know—”

  “Sorry, Miranda,” Betsy said. “I’ve got to get her in. But I’ll see you soon, okay?”

  Then she swept inside, shutting the door firmly behind her.

  37

  “Um, what just happened?” Sammy asked as we walked toward town to meet Caleb.

  “I don’t know,” I said. My stomach felt funny, like one of Aunt Clare’s pancakes being flipped up in the air.

  “So we still don’t know who Ben is,” she mused. “But we do know that something definitely happened to your mom here.”

  “Not here,” I said. “On Keeper’s Island. And it was something really, really bad.”

  I don’t know how you ever survived it. . . .

  “Something bad enough that your mom never came back?” Sammy asked. “Bad enough that neither of our moms has ever mentioned this Ben person?”

  “And bad enough that Betsy didn’t want us to know either. She couldn’t get us out of there fast enough.”

  “I noticed that, too. I guess Ben must have been their friend, huh? Or, like, a boyfriend or something?”

  “Maybe,” I said, wrinkling my nose. It was weird to think of Mom with a boyfriend. “But what could have happened between them that was so awful?”

  As soon as we turned onto Oak Street, we saw Caleb running in our direction, weaving in and out of groups of tourists. He stopped when he got to the August Oak, clutching his side as he slumped onto our usual bench.

  “You won’t believe what just happened to us,” Sammy said, as we sat down next to him.

  “Me first,” Caleb said, panting. “My dad found out who owns the island.”

  “And?” Sammy asked. “Who is it?”

  Caleb leaned in closer, glancing around like he was afraid of being overheard. “Are you ready for this?” he asked.

  “Just tell us, Caleb,” I said.

  “Okay. It’s Mr. Taylor. Mr. Taylor owns Keeper’s Island.”

  For just a moment, I forgot all about what Betsy’s mom had said.

  “Mr. Taylor?!” Sammy and I yelped. A couple of tourists glanced in our direction.

  “You’re sure?” I asked.

  “I’m positive.”

  “I guess it makes sense,” Sammy mused. “He must be pretty rich to have afforded that trip around the world.”

  “Well, I’ve been thinking about that,” Caleb said. “According to the records my dad found, he bought the island just over ten years ago. Right before he set sail on the world’s longest vacation.”

  “And?” Sammy prompted.

  “And I was wondering . . . where did he get all the money to pay for that boat? To buy an island?”

  “You think he found the treasure, don’t you?” I asked. “You think it’s real.”

  Caleb nodded. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? He goes to the island and finds this treasure. But maybe he only finds some of it. So he buys the island and puts up Keep Out signs to make sure no one else will beat him to the rest. He cashes in what’s left of the treasure to pay for his boat and all his travels. And then, when the money runs out—”

  “—he comes back here,” I breathed. “And he starts looking for the rest of it.”

  “It all fits,” said Sammy. “That’s why he didn’t just tell us he owned it when I was asking him about the island. What he’s doing is probably illegal, huh? Shouldn’t treasure like that be in a museum or something? And if he found it before he bought the island, it definitely didn’t belong to him.”

  My head had begun to spin. It was all too much. But what Caleb was saying didn’t feel right.

  “You guys,” I said, “this is Mr. Taylor we’re talking about. I mean, he’s just a really nice old man. Isn’t he? He could have gotten us in a lot of trouble, but he didn’t. I don’t think he would do something that was against the law. He wouldn’t steal.”

  Even as I said it, a tiny part of me began to wonder. All those beautiful things he’d brought back—had he been honest with us about where he’d gotten them? What if he’d stolen them like he’d stolen treasure from Keeper’s Island?

  “If there’s one thing you learn as a journalist,” Sammy said sagely, “it’s that people are capable of anything. Even the ones you think you know.”

  “Do you have a better theory?” Caleb asked me. “I mean, if he didn’t have anything to hide, why wouldn’t he just tell us that he owned the island? Why is he making secret trips out there at night?”

  “If it is him out there,” I said.

  “Come on.” Sammy stood up. “We need to grab our stuff from the beach and get home before Mom comes out to check on us.”

  We filled Caleb in about Betsy’s mom as we walked. We must have been late, because Jai was already gone from the tower, his shift over. We grabbed our towels and strode faster.

  “What did Betsy’s mom mean about Keeper’s Island?” Caleb asked as we walked up Sammy’s porch steps.

  “I’m not sure,” Sammy said, flopping into a hammock. “But if Betsy hadn’t shown up right then, we might know by now.”

  “We were so close,” I murmured.

  “Mr. Taylor, Betsy, Keeper’s Island, Miranda’s family, Ben, and my mom,” Sammy mused, “they’re all connected.”

  “But no one will tell us the truth about them,” Caleb said, sitting down in one of the rocking chairs.

  “The only person willing to tell the truth has probably already forgotten it again,” I said bitterly. “And I’m leaving in just a few days.”

  “Which is why we can’t waste any more time,” Sammy said.

  “What do you mean?” asked Caleb.

  “I mean we have to find out what happened to Miranda’s mom on that island. And if no one will tell us what it was, then we’re just going to have to go there and find out for ourselves.”

  “Are you serious?” I asked.

  Caleb nodded solemnly. “I’m in.”

  “But how? When?”

  “Tomorrow,” Sammy said. “It’s perfect. Everyone will be at the park for the festival. They’ll be distracted. Nobody will notice if we slip away for a few hours. We’ll get to the harbor, borrow a boat, and sail it out to the island.”

  “Even if we did all that,” I protested, “what are we expecting to find when we get there?”

  “Answers,” said Caleb simply.

  “Maybe there will be some clues,” Sammy said. “Something that will help us figure out w
hat happened to your mom.” She paused. “But it’s really up to you, Miranda. It’s your family. And we know you don’t like water, so if you don’t think you can handle it, it’s okay.”

  “I—” I started.

  Before I could say anything, we all turned at the sound of a floorboard creaking.

  Jai stood in the doorway. His eyebrows cast dark shadows over his face.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Couldn’t help but overhear.”

  38

  Sammy jumped up like she’d been bitten by something. “Jai!” she yelped.

  Jai’s eyes fell on me for a moment, and his frown deepened. “You’re late. Lucky for you Mom’s not home yet.”

  “Well, this is none of your business,” Sammy said. “So just go text one of your girlfriends or something.”

  “Funny story,” he said. “One of them did text me. Something about you and Miranda knocking on people’s doors and asking about someone named Ben. You said you were helping Caleb and his dad. You lied to me.”

  “Just go away,” Sammy demanded.

  “I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you three. Especially not to that island.”

  Sammy stomped her foot. “You don’t understand anything, Jai! We have to. Please just go inside and pretend you didn’t hear.”

  To my surprise, Jai didn’t get mad or say something mean. Instead he just shook his head and sighed. He glanced at me again. “I’m sorry,” he said. “No can do.”

  Sammy’s chin began to dimple. “Are you going to tell Mom?”

  He hesitated. “No,” he said. “But I’ll be watching you three tomorrow. And if you take so much as a step toward the harbor, then I will tell. And she’ll ground you for life. No more sailing lessons, no more school paper. She’ll never let you out of the house again. Got it?”

  Sammy’s face had screwed up into a furious knot. “Fine,” she said. “But I’m never, ever going to forgive you.”

  Jai shrugged. “That’s up to you.”

  He disappeared back into the house, and a few seconds later we heard him plucking out a song on his guitar.

  “So are we going to listen to him?” Caleb said.

  “No way,” Sammy replied. “We’re going. I don’t know how, but—”

  “No,” I said flatly. “We’re not.”

  They stared at me.

  “I can’t let you guys get in trouble for me,” I said, my voice shaking. “I know how important the school paper is to you, Sammy. I can’t let you get grounded from it. You’ll find another story to write. And your family has been so nice to me this whole summer. I don’t want you lying to them for me anymore.”

  “But—” Sammy started.

  “Look, didn’t you ever think maybe there’s a reason nobody wants me to know the truth? Maybe it’s just too terrible. Maybe I’m better off not knowing.”

  I had promised myself not to run from Mom’s secret, but that was before we’d talked to Betsy’s mom. I kept seeing her in my head, watching the smile falling from her face to reveal a dark shadow underneath.

  I don’t know how you ever survived it. . . .

  And then there was that strange feeling I had gotten the first time I ever looked at Keeper’s Island. A creeping dread. Maybe it had been a warning.

  “Miranda—” Caleb tried.

  I stood up. “I’m going in. I need to get started on my piecrust for the festival tomorrow.”

  And before either of them could object, I whisked through the door, letting it slam shut behind me.

  39

  The next morning, I woke up with a churning stomach and a bad headache. I had barely slept at all the night before. Every time I almost fell asleep, a new voice would shake me awake.

  It was a crying shame what happened on that island. . . .

  Oftentimes the past is the best place to look when we need help understanding something in our present. . . .

  I do think she’s saddled us with quite a big burden here.

  Please don’t forget me.

  Please come home.

  When I finally did fall asleep, it was just to wake up again, gasping for air. My drowning dream had come back.

  MOMMY!

  Daylight burned through the windows. I threw my blanket off and looked over at Sammy’s bed. It was empty. We didn’t have sailing lessons that day since it was festival day, so nobody had woken me up. The clock on Sammy’s bedside table said it was 10:03.

  When I stumbled downstairs, the Grovers were sitting around the table eating waffles. For a moment, I stood on the landing above and watched them. Uncle Amar was reading the paper while Aunt Clare rubbed the back of his head. She was talking to Sammy about the festival while Jai poured half a bottle of syrup onto his waffle stack. Sammy said something that made Aunt Clare laugh, and suddenly I almost wished I had never come to August Isle in the first place.

  It wasn’t fair to know that families as great as the Grovers existed when you weren’t actually a part of one.

  The weight of dread that had been growing in my stomach felt like an iron anchor, threatening to drag me down, down, down.

  Uncle Amar spotted me as he turned the page of his paper. “Ah,” he said, “there she is! The lady of the hour!”

  “Oh, good!” Aunt Clare said. “I was going to send Sammy up for you soon. You better get those pies in the oven so we can head over to the festival as soon as they’re ready. Come have some breakfast first.”

  “Actually, I’m not really hungry,” I said.

  “You don’t feel well?” she asked.

  I shook my head.

  “I hope you aren’t coming down with something,” Aunt Clare said, pushing back her chair and getting up. As I shuffled down the rest of the stairs, she reached out to feel my forehead. I closed my eyes as her cool hand pressed reassuringly against my skin.

  “No fever,” she said.

  “There is something going around the isle,” Uncle Amar said. “A bad cold.”

  Sammy was shooting me a meaningful look. She knew why I felt so horrible, and that it had nothing to do with a cold.

  “Well, you don’t have to make the pies if you don’t feel up to it,” Aunt Clare said.

  I was supposed to make two pies: one for the competition and one for us to eat ourselves afterward. I would rather have gone back to bed and pulled the covers up over my head. But I could hear the disappointment in Aunt Clare’s voice, and I thought of all the time she had spent helping me practice. I couldn’t let her down now.

  “No,” I said, “it’s okay. I want to. But maybe—could I stay home instead of going with you to the festival?”

  Jai’s head whipped around toward me. Sammy’s eyebrows shot up in a question, but I gave my head the tiniest shake. They both probably thought I was planning some kind of escape to Keeper’s Island. Really, I just didn’t want to spend the day watching all the happy families go on carnival rides and eat hot dogs and play silly games together. I couldn’t bear the Grovers being so nice to me, treating me like I belonged with them, when I was just going to leave in two days.

  It was better to pretend I was already gone.

  “Well, I suppose,” Aunt Clare said uncertainly. “Amar can stay with you if you don’t want to come.”

  “No,” I protested. “I’ll be fine. Really.”

  “Are you kidding?” Uncle Amar said. “An excuse to stay home and put my feet up instead of going to that circus? You’re an angel, Miranda.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Aunt Clare said. “Amar will be here if you start feeling any worse. Sammy and I will take your pie and enter it for you. Won’t we, Sammy?”

  I set to work on my pies, rolling out the thoroughly chilled crusts and making the lemon curds.

  It was actually a relief how quiet my head got while I worked. Almost peaceful. As I put the pies into the oven, I promised myself that I was going to keep baking when I got home. I would teach myself to make cakes next. They would be easy after learning pies. I would make pound cakes and layer
cakes and cheesecakes and cupcakes. At least that way I could hold on to one tiny bit of my summer here.

  When the pies were cooling, Sammy and I went back upstairs, where she was supposed to be getting ready for the festival. Instead she grabbed Bluey and cuddled him between her arms.

  “I want to stay here with you,” she said, pouting. “The festival won’t be any fun on my own.”

  Bluey’s one eye looked at me accusingly.

  “You won’t be on your own,” I said. “Caleb will be there.”

  “I know you aren’t sick. You’re just sad. That’s why I should stay with you.”

  “Honestly, Sammy,” I said, “I really just want to be alone. I need to—”

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” I muttered, biting my lip. I had been about to say I need to get used to it again. But I didn’t want to make Sammy feel worse for me than she already did.

  A few minutes later, Jai appeared in the doorway.

  “What are you doing here, creep?” Sammy snapped, glaring at him.

  “I want to talk to Miranda,” he said.

  “I’m not trying to get to Keeper’s Island, Jai,” I said.

  He crossed his arms over his chest and shot me a searching look. Sammy might be mad at him, but I wasn’t. I could see he wasn’t being a jerk. He just didn’t want his little sister sailing out in the ocean on her own. Deep down, he really cared about Sammy.

  “Do you promise?” he asked.

  “Promise.”

  Uncle Amar forced me to eat some lunch, and then Aunt Clare, Sammy, and Jai finally left. I waved goodbye, then went back upstairs to lie down. I must have been pretty tired from the night before, because the next thing I knew, I was waking up to the sound of my phone bleeping.

  It was a message from Dad.

  Good luck at the festival today, kiddo!

  Still nothing from Mom.

  Sitting up and looking around Sammy’s room for something to do, I decided that even though I wasn’t leaving for another two days, I might as well start packing. My stuff had gotten strewn all over the place, and besides, I knew it would make Sammy sad to see me pack.