The Penderwicks at Point Mouette

by Jeanne Birdsall

  “It’s you she adores, not music. What about sit-ups? How many can you do?”

  Jeffrey shook his head, warning her. “Hundreds.”

  “I dare you,” she said, and got into position for a sit-up contest. “Ready?”

  Maybe Jeffrey could have done hundreds of sit-ups and maybe Skye could have kept up, but before they made it even to thirty, he was grabbing her arm and pointing to the woods on the other side of the lake. What they’d come for was happening—moose were arriving. First came a huge cow moose, pushing her way out of the trees and sauntering casually to the water, dipping her head to drink. A great big brown beast, she was treat enough, but what came next made Skye catch her breath—two young calves, wobbly on their still-spindly legs and playfully bumping each other as they rushed to catch up with their mother.

  “Twins?” she asked in a whisper, although the moose were much too far away to hear.

  “Yes. Alec told me that we might see twins.”

  They sat quietly for a long time, watching the family below go about its morning business. Skye had a pang of regret that Batty wasn’t there to see them, too, especially when the calves teamed up on one of the golf flag poles and head-butted it until it broke in half. Batty would have loved that. It was just a brief pang, though, and Skye figured she wouldn’t have had it at all if she weren’t getting hungry for breakfast.

  When the moose finally wandered back into the trees, Jeffrey had one last thing to say before leaving for Birches.

  “It’s just that sometimes I wish we lived closer to each other, Skye. I sometimes sort of miss you. Sometimes.”

  “I do, too.” She cleared her throat. “Sometimes.”

  Batty was on the little beach, up to her ankles in frigid water. It wasn’t enough this morning to just dip her feet into the ocean. No, she needed to keep them there for a long time, trying as hard as she could to be close to Rosalind.

  “I wish I could swim,” she told Hound. “I’d swim to New Jersey to see her.”

  Thinking this a terrible idea, Hound grabbed hold of Batty’s orange life preserver.

  Batty went on. “Rosalind would never go see a moose and her babies without me.”

  It didn’t matter to her that Skye and Jeffrey hadn’t been positive they’d find a moose. They shouldn’t have even gone looking without her, and once they saw the moose, they should have come to get her, and now she would never see a baby moose in her whole life, let alone two at a time. Hound let go of Batty’s life preserver to lick away her tears, but they kept coming, and soon her face was as wet and salty as her feet, though not as cold.

  Batty only stopped crying when she noticed the seagulls floating on the water not far from her. They were the same ones that Hoover had chased away the other day—Batty was certain about that—and she was glad they were back and not worried about being eaten by a dog. But, oh, how she wished Ben were there to see the seagulls with her. She missed him terribly and had so much to tell him. Bad things, like not seeing the moose, and good things, too, like how she’d decided to be a musician when she grew up.

  She pulled her harmonica out of her pocket and played a few notes of one of the songs Jeffrey had played the night before. The notes sounded good, but not as good as they had on the piano. But that was all right, because Batty had also decided that she wanted her own piano. She would keep it in her bedroom at home, and Ben could sit on the bench beside her and listen while she played.

  Hound, who had been patient until now, decided that Batty had been in the freezing water long enough, and he dragged her to higher ground. She submitted because her feet really were awfully cold, and because playing the harmonica had made her feel better. But she felt worse all over again when she looked up at the deck, where Jane was supposed to be watching over Batty, making sure she didn’t drown. This is what Jane had promised she would do before Skye and Jeffrey had left for Moose Market.

  Not only was Jane paying no attention at all to Batty, she was talking to two people Batty had never seen. She was pretty sure she knew who they were, though, because Jane had described them to her. The boy in the skateboard helmet was Dominic, the one who’d made Jane fall down and hurt her nose, and the girl with him was his sister, Mercedes. Jane had said that maybe Mercedes and Batty could be friends. This had sounded interesting at the time, but with Mercedes right there on the deck, Batty felt that making a new friend was too scary, especially if she had to also meet the new friend’s older brother.

  Now Jane was pointing down toward the beach, but before Mercedes or Dominic could turn to look, Batty dropped to all fours and crawled over to the seawall, where she would be out of sight of the deck. She hoped that Jane would decide she’d drowned and tell Mercedes to go be friends with someone else. But what Batty hoped the most was that Dominic wouldn’t come down to the beach. If he did, maybe she could pretend that she had drowned and was too dead to meet anyone. While she was wondering what a drowned person looked like—closing her eyes seemed like a good start—someone said hello to her.

  Batty cautiously opened her eyes and saw only one set of feet in front of her. And the feet had on purple sneakers with pink laces, which made Batty think they probably belonged to Mercedes and not Dominic. She looked higher and saw that she was right.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Hello. I brought you a present,” Mercedes said, and when Batty stood up, handed her a small wooden box. “You can keep stuff in it.”

  Batty had never seen anything like it. Its wood was golden brown, and there were words carved in the lid. She loved it immensely, and loved it even more when she opened it and found that it smelled of faraway forests. “I don’t have a present for you.”

  “That’s okay. I’m older than you, and anyway I have lots of these. My grandmother sells them in the gift shop at the inn.” She pointed to the lid of the box. “See? ‘Mouette Inn.’ ”

  Hound had to sniff the box, too, and then he had to sniff Mercedes all over and make sure she was safe enough to be Batty’s friend.

  “He’s Hound,” explained Batty. “I have a cat, too, and also a little brother.”

  “I wish I had a little brother. I only have Dominic and two more brothers older than him even. They stayed home in California because they have summer jobs.”

  “If they have jobs, they must be really old.”

  “They are.”

  Batty was proud and pleased to have made a friend. Soon Mercedes was showing Batty the treasures of the beach. The small, smooth rocks that were dull gray until dipped into the water, when they turned all sorts of lush blues and greens. There were shells, too, tear-shaped and dark—Batty put one of these into her new box. Best of all were the teeny-weeny snails, each no bigger than a pea, who lived under the seaweed. The girls watched them crawl, oh so slowly, and gave them names. One was Mickey and one was Trish, and Batty loved them dearly. When Mickey and Trish, finally tired of being stared at, retreated into their shells and refused to come out, Batty told Mercedes all about Rosalind and how much she missed her, and about how everyone else was in England, and finally Batty told about her great disappointment over the moose and her babies.

  “Maybe the moose are at the lake now,” said Mercedes.

  “Do you think so?”

  “Why not?”

  Why not indeed? Batty had visions of the moose and her babies standing in the lake, waiting and waiting for Batty to arrive.

  “We could go look for them,” said Mercedes. “I know the way.”

  “I’m not allowed to go by myself. My sisters worry that I’ll get lost or drown.” She left out blowing up, because it was too confusing to discuss with a brand-new friend.

  “Dominic never worries about me. He hardly notices me at all.”

  This was a strange idea for Batty. She thought that older sisters and brothers taking care of their younger sisters and brothers was a rule, like brushing your teeth. “I’ll worry about you, Mercedes, if you want me to.”

  “Thank you.” Mercedes
stood on one foot, then the other, to show her appreciation. “I fall off my bike a lot.”

  Batty took hold of Mercedes’s hand, worrying as hard as she could about falling off bikes, then remembered about the moose. She looked up to the deck, where Jane was again alone, staring off into space, her blue notebook open in her lap.

  “Come on,” Batty told Mercedes. “Maybe Jane will take us to see the moose babies.”

  So they went up to the deck to see Jane, who was very complimentary about Batty’s new box. But when they asked her to take them to the golf course, she said that the moose probably hid during the day to avoid all the golfers. “Besides, I’m working.”

  “She’s writing a book,” Batty explained to Mercedes. “A real book like Ivy + Bean, but about love.”

  “I love Ivy + Bean!” Mercedes gazed at Jane with ever-growing respect. “Can I read yours?”

  “Well, actually, I’m still trying to get started on this one,” answered Jane, too gratified not to tell the truth. “I might have writer’s block.”

  “Wow,” said Mercedes, impressed but puzzled. “Is that what’s wrong with your nose?”

  Jane’s hand flew to the bandage across her nose. “No, I hit—I mean, Dominic was—oh, never mind. Let’s go look for moose.”

  They left Hound behind, not trusting his reaction to either moose or golfers, then followed the path that Skye and Jeffrey had taken earlier that morning, through the pinewood and up the hill toward the lake. Along the way they saw lots of golfers in brightly colored trousers, but they didn’t see moose, not by the lake or anywhere else. It wasn’t a wasted trip, though, because of the golf balls. Mercedes found the first one nestled next to a pinecone. As soon as she showed it to Batty, Batty found another ball half buried under a fallen branch.

  “Can we keep them?” Batty asked Jane.

  “I think so.” Jane found another. “They’ve been lost and abandoned, poor things.”

  Once the three girls started looking, they found golf balls everywhere. They walked up and down the pinewood until all pockets were full to overflowing. Then Jane discovered that balls stuffed down Batty’s life preserver stayed there if Batty didn’t wriggle too much, and they walked more and found more. When even the life preserver was full, and it was time to head back to the house, one last ball suddenly appeared, rolling right up to Batty. She and Mercedes crouched down to look but didn’t touch, because maybe a golfer was following along behind it. And a few minutes later, one did arrive, wearing a green skirt and a worried expression.

  “Oh, is that my ball?” she cried when she saw them. “Is it a Dunlop?”

  There was a word on the golf ball. Mercedes spelled it out for the lady. “D-U-N-L-O-P.”

  “Yes, Dunlop! Thank you so much. It’s my first day and I’ve already lost four balls. My husband is getting annoyed.”

  Batty didn’t care about the lady’s husband, but when Jane started emptying her pockets, Mercedes did, too, and then Batty was shamed into generosity, so she wriggled and wriggled until another fifteen golf balls fell out of her life preserver. Quite pleased, the woman found four more Dunlops.

  “How much do I owe you?” she asked, pulling a slim wallet out of a green pocket.

  “We don’t need money,” said Jane. “They’re just balls we found.”

  “No, no, you must take something. You saved me.” The lady handed a five-dollar bill to Batty, and hurried back to the course and her husband before Jane could insist on returning the money.

  The sudden acquisition of money can startle, and for a while none of the girls knew what to say. Then Batty, remembering that she’d already had one gift that day, gave the money to Mercedes, who, horrified at the idea of taking it for herself, handed it to Jane. Though Jane was tempted—five dollars would buy her a new blue notebook—she was embarrassed to be more grasping than the others, so she gave it back to Batty.

  “Keep it in your new wooden box,” she said. “We’ll figure out what to do with it later.”

  Batty would still have preferred the golf balls. “Maybe we can look for more another day.”

  “Sure,” said Jane, gathering up the scattered balls and stuffing them back into pockets and the life preserver. “Jeffrey will help.”

  “So will I,” added Mercedes. “I’ll help you, Batty, and you can keep them all.”

  “Thank you, and maybe Alec and Turron will help, too.” Batty didn’t think there could be too many people finding golf balls for her. She imagined piles and piles of them. It would be her own collection to take home and share with Ben, who would enjoy golf balls as much as she did—she just knew it.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Burning Wishes

  JANE STILL HADN’T BEGUN her Sabrina Starr book. She had, however, written a new sentence in her blue notebook, just after Dominic stopped by and while Batty and Mercedes were looking for tiny snails. I will meet Dominic in French Park after lunch. Jane thought it an enthralling sentence, brimming with possibilities. That it was a true sentence—written down because Dominic himself had told her to meet him—made it even better, though until now Jane had never been as interested in true stories as in made-up ones.

  Because Dominic had told her where the park was—on Ocean Boulevard, just past the road that led to Moose Market—getting there would be no problem, but Jane wasn’t so sure about the after lunch. When she’d asked Dominic what time that meant exactly, he’d brushed her off, as though exact times weren’t of any importance. This had seemed impressively sophisticated to Jane, but later, while she was eating lunch, she wished she’d pushed harder for details. She didn’t want to be late and miss him.

  “Why are you eating so fast?” asked Skye.

  “I’m not,” said Jane, though her whole sandwich was gone and everyone else was still on their first half. “Jeffrey, can I switch cleanup with you? I’ll do dinner if you do lunch.”

  “Sure. Are you going to eat those potato chips?”

  Jane passed Jeffrey her potato chips. “May I be excused, Aunt Claire? I’m taking a walk.”

  “Sure, honey.”

  Feeling a twinge of conscience, Jane told the whole truth. “That is, I’m taking a walk to meet Dominic. He invited me when he was here this morning.”

  “Yes, I saw him when he was talking to you on the deck,” said Aunt Claire. “He looks like a nice boy.”

  “Nicely dull,” said Skye. “Not worthy of a Penderwick. Certainly not worthy of a Penderwick almost breaking her nose.”

  “You barely know him, Skye,” protested Jane. “I believe he has hidden depths.”

  Jeffrey stuffed a potato chip into Skye’s mouth to keep her from commenting on Dominic’s depths.

  “I could go with you, Jane,” he said.

  “If Jeffrey goes, I will, too,” said Batty.

  Skye swallowed her potato chip. “I will go, because I am the OAP.”

  A crowd at the park was not what Jane had imagined, especially a crowd of people—mainly Skye—who didn’t much like Dominic. Aunt Claire must have agreed.

  “Noble though everyone’s sentiments be,” she said, “because only Jane was invited by Dominic, only she should go.”

  “Thank you, Aunt Claire,” said Jane.

  She gratefully left the table and headed for the bathroom for a new bandage, though it managed to do nothing more than the old bandage to hide the scratched and swollen mess of her nose. For a moment, Jane considered adding another bandage, or three or four, but she talked herself out of such vanity. Her poor nose had been on full display for Dominic that morning. There was no reason to try to hide it now.

  So Jane grabbed her blue notebook and set off, wondering why Dominic wanted to meet her at the park. He hadn’t explained—he’d said only two sentences altogether. “Meet me in French Park after lunch” was one sentence. “It’s on Ocean Boulevard, past the road to Moose Market” was the other one. Though Jane would have liked him to say more, she was pleased with the mysteriousness of him saying less. This was what she�
�d meant by hidden depths. Jane had occasionally tried to develop her own hidden depths, but she never could decide what to hide and how far down.

  If she didn’t know why Dominic wanted to meet her, Jane certainly knew why she wanted to meet Dominic. She was going to ask him questions from her Love Survey. If he gave her intriguing answers, maybe she would finally get started on her Sabrina Starr book. The answers from Alec and Turron the night before had been very … grown-up. And not especially interesting, except perhaps for Alec’s brief and terrible early marriage. Jane would love to hear more about that someday, but not for this book. This book was to be about exciting true love, not heartbreak.

  Then there was also Dominic’s smile, which Jane very much wanted to see again. When she’d met him the first time, he was so serious, and he’d been the same again that morning until right after he told her to meet him at the park. That was when he’d smiled, and after all that seriousness, his smile was a revelation, like a rainbow after a storm, like spring after winter, like dawn after the darkest night.

  She stopped, opened her notebook, and wrote that down.

  His smile was a revelation, like a rainbow after a storm, like spring after winter, like dawn after the darkest night. She read it out loud as she wrote. “I like that. I’ll use it to describe the smile of Sabrina’s true love.”

  Closing her notebook, Jane set off again and soon found French Park, where Dominic had said she would, though she would have found it anyway by following the now-familiar sound of skateboard wheels on asphalt. The park was not a large one—just a simple square of grass with a bench, several rosebushes, a memorial plaque, and a path that went around and through it all in a kind of figure eight. It was this path that Dominic was traveling along noisily, and with such great concentration that he didn’t seem to notice Jane’s arrival, not even when she enthusiastically waved at him.

  Undeterred, Jane looked first at the rosebushes, which were in bloom and smelled like heaven, then at the plaque. It dedicated the park to CAPTAIN ATHERTON W. FRENCH, WHO WASHED FROM THE WRECK OF THE SCHOONER MARY ALICE IN 1869. Feeling very bad for Captain French, and even worse for his sorrowing family, who’d had to think about him being washed from his wreck, Jane went back to the roses to cheer up again. After that, she sat on the bench and watched Dominic while he skateboarded, and though it was nice to watch him, she thought it even nicer when he stopped and came over to sit next to her on the bench. Now the conversation would begin.