Sea Scope

by Debbie De Louise

  It turned out the museum was open but only for limited hours. Glen insisted on going in, even though he and Sarah didn't have much money because their father hadn't yet paid them their weekly allowance.

  “Don't worry,” the man at the check-in desk said when Glen explained. He knew them as regular customers and waved them inside.

  “We don't have much time,” Sarah reminded her brother. “Aunt Julie wants us home early, so you can do chores before the fireworks show.”

  “The museum's only open until noon today,” Glen pointed out. “If you and the others want to do something else while I look around, that's fine with me.”

  “I think we should stay together,” Sarah said. “Mom always tells us to do that.”

  “I agree,” Russell added, walking over to a display of fossils in the first room they entered. “See, Glen, science does involve history. These are thousands of years old. Read the tags.”

  Glen joined him. “That looks like stuff we pick up on the beach. I'd rather be in the lab or the space room.”

  “Even those areas are related to history,” Russell said. Glen walked past him into the next room. Wendy followed behind without saying a word. Sarah was alone with Russell for a few minutes as he continued to look at the fossil display.

  “You'd better be careful when you sleep in Glen's room tonight,” she said, walking around a glass case that contained a crab-like object. “He made slime this morning. I had him clean it off his floor, but he's always doing messy experiments. I wouldn't be surprised if you found something creepy in your bed.” She knew that Aunt Julie had a few cots in the house for when the children slept over. She planned to move two of them into Glen and Sarah's rooms before they went into town at 9 p.m.

  Russell flashed her a smile, and her heart started to flutter. Sarah had never had a boyfriend before, although a few of the boys in her fifth-grade class had a crush on her. She was turning eleven in a few months and was curious as to how it would be to kiss a boy. When Russell smiled at her like that, she had an urge to find out, but she turned away instead. One of her girlfriends at school, Carmen, who looked a bit like Wendy, told her that it was best you played hard to get with boys. She told Sarah she'd already kissed Jordan Palmer, one of the cutest boys in their class but not half as handsome as Russell.

  “Don't worry, Sarah,” Russell said, following her to the next exhibit. “I can handle your little brother.”

  A sudden noise from the laboratory section of the museum startled them. Sarah ran to find Glen. Russell raced along with her into the next room.

  “Glen, what have you done?” Sarah was horrified. A table, over which a sign hung reading, “Do Not Touch,” had toppled onto the floor spilling its contents.

  “I didn't mean to knock it down,” Glen whined. “I got too close, and it fell over.”

  “Is that what happened?” Sarah asked Wendy.

  Wendy's eyes were so wide the whites showed around the dark pupils. “I didn't really see, Sarah.”

  “It doesn't matter,” Russell said as a museum guard entered the room. “We're all in trouble now.”

  The guard looked at the four of them huddled together and then down at the floor. Broken glass from the beakers was scattered across the area and a variety of liquids mingled in a large, muddy puddle on the tan tile. “I'll get someone to clean that up. Don't go near the glass, kids. Did any of you get hurt when it fell?”

  Sarah sighed with relief. The guard wasn't blaming anyone but was concerned with their safety. They all shook their heads, thankful their parents weren't being notified or charged with the museum's loss.

  As the guard spoke into his phone requesting a janitor, Glen said, “I think we should go to the beach now.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Sea Scope: Present day

  The door creaked open, another sign of Sea Scope's age. I exhaled the breath I didn't realize I was holding as my aunt answered. She hadn't changed much, but it had only been two years since I saw her last at Glen's funeral. For a woman on the verge of seventy, she looked years younger. Her red hair flowed around her face but was becoming on her, unlike the shorter styles older women usually wore. It didn't have a touch of gray or white. I supposed she frequently colored her hair or had it done at the beauty parlor. She smiled at me and made the long trip worthwhile.

  “Sarah. Come in. I can't believe it's still pouring out there. And you must be Carolyn.” She held the door wide as we entered.

  A flash of memory hit me as I stepped into the entryway. It suddenly felt like yesterday that Glen and I raced through these halls, glided down the staircase bannister, and made jokes about the guests.

  Aunt Julie embraced me. Not one for showing emotion, I was surprised by the strength of her hug. “It's so good to have you back, Sarah.” I noted her use of the word “back” instead of “here,” implying I was moving in and not just visiting for the summer.

  After a moment, she let me go and turned to Carolyn. She extended her hand. “It's so nice to meet you, Carolyn, or would you prefer I call you Ms. Grant?”

  “Carolyn is fine.” She shook my aunt's hand. “It's also a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Brewster. Thank you for inviting me. Your house is beautiful.”

  A slight pink entered my aunt's cheeks. “If I call you Carolyn, you must call me Julie, and I'll give you the grand tour tomorrow. For now, you must be tired from traveling. I assume you left your bags in the car, and I don't blame you. We'll fetch them in the morning.”

  “Are any other guests here?” I asked as we followed her into the living room.

  “Everyone except your mother. I'm picking her up at the airport tomorrow. Her flight was delayed.”

  “Mom?” I was shocked. The last time I'd spoken to my mother she'd mentioned nothing about coming to Sea Scope. If I'd known, we could've driven down together. Why the secrecy?

  “Jennifer was a little hesitant about coming,” my aunt continued. “I didn't actually ask her until a few days ago when I sent her the airline ticket. I figured she wouldn't refuse knowing I'd spent the money. I told her not to say anything to you. At that point, I thought you were still coming with Derek. When you called and explained that you were driving down with a friend, I knew I'd made the right decision. Jennifer wouldn't have made your ride comfortable.” She raised her eyebrows, and I understood what she meant.

  “Have a seat, both of you. I'll put on tea unless you'd like coffee. It's a little late for that.”

  Carolyn and I sat next to one another on the tapestry-covered couch. A black cat entered the room and came purring and rubbed against my ankle.

  “Oh, there's Al,” Aunt Julie said, and I remembered she'd talked about having a cat at the inn. “I see he likes you.”

  “Isn't it bad luck for a black cat to cross one's path?” Carolyn asked. I knew she was partial to dogs, although she didn't currently have any pets.

  My aunt laughed. “That's a crazy superstition. In parts of the world, such as England and Japan, people believe black cats bring good luck.”

  “Can you at least give us a hint as to who else is here?” I asked changing the subject. “I assume they're already in their rooms?”

  My aunt nodded, an amused look in her eyes. “It is nearly ten p.m., but you'll meet them soon, although you already know them. Let me go put on the tea, and we can spend a few minutes chatting. As I told you, I've given you the Violet Room again, and Carolyn will be right next door.” She didn't add “in Glen's room,” and I was thankful for that.

  After she left us, Carolyn said, “Your aunt likes surprises. I hope the weather is better tomorrow. I'd love to see the lighthouse up close.”

  “I'm sure that will be part of the grand tour,” I told her, leaning down and petting Al who was still circling my legs.

  “I'd be glad to show you the lighthouse, Ma'am,” came a voice from the stairway. I blinked as a tall man entered the room, and Al scooted away. Bart Donovan. No, it was his son Russell twenty years older.

  “Go
od to see you again, Sarah,” he said. “I believe Julie said your name was Carolyn.” His deep blue eyes looked toward my friend.

  “Yes.” Her voice sounded strange as she answered him. She stuttered. In all the time I'd known her, I'd never heard her sound flustered, but Russ had grown into a handsome man, and I also found myself reacting to his attractive grin.

  “Pleased to meet you.” He came to the couch and held out his hand. Carolyn stood and shook it. She looked as though she were in shock, unusual for her because nothing short of major disasters cracked her composure. He then turned to me. I got up and extended my hand, as well. Instead of shaking it, he kissed it and then embraced me and gave me another light kiss on the cheek. A jolt of memory hit me.

  “Welcome back to Sea Scope, Sarah Brewster. I must say you've grown into a beautiful woman.” I felt a blush heat my face as I acknowledged that he had also used the word “back” when referring to my visit. He'd also called me by my maiden name.

  “It's Sarah Collins now,” I corrected.

  “My apologies. Mr. Collins is a lucky man.”

  I felt a need to explain my husband's absence. “Derek's a professor. He's teaching a summer class at the university where we live on Long Island.”

  As we looked into one another's eyes, a familiar voice said, “My word. We're all together again.” I turned to see Ms. Wilson carrying in a tray of cookies. “Your aunt's getting the tea, but she asked me to bring these. It's so good to see you, Sarah.” At least she hadn't said “back,” too.

  “Ms. Wilson.” I left Russell and walked over to her. “You look like you haven't aged a day.”

  A bit of color rose in her cheeks, lightening them. “I'm middle-aged now. I was a kid, not much older than Russell and your brother, when I worked here.”

  She'd been even closer in age to Michael. I remembered us celebrating his twenty-first birthday when he'd stayed with us. Ms. Wilson must've been twenty-six at the time.

  She laid the tray on my aunt's oval table that was decorated with a vase of fresh flowers. Ms. Wilson always loved to place floral arrangements around the inn and in the guest rooms. The table was polished to gleaming. I assumed she'd given my aunt a hand sprucing up the place as soon as she'd arrived.

  “Help yourselves.” She glanced over at Carolyn and Russ. “Please stop calling me 'Ms. Wilson.' It makes me feel old. My name is Wanda.”

  My aunt returned at that moment carrying another tray with tea. I noticed it held five mugs. She must've anticipated the others joining us.

  Setting the tray down next to the cookie platter, she smiled. “I'm so glad you've all met one another or re-met as the case may be.” She looked in my direction.

  “I haven't met Sarah's friend,” Wanda said.

  Carolyn, still standing, walked over to her. “I'm Carolyn Grant.”

  Wanda shook her hand. “Wanda Wilson. I worked here twenty years ago when Julie and Martin ran the inn.

  “How is your daughter?” I interrupted. “Is Wendy visiting with us, also?”

  She shook her head. “I'm afraid not. I know she would've loved to see everyone again, but she hasn't been up to socializing much since she went through a divorce a few years ago. She told me to send her regards, but she preferred to stay home.”

  “I'm sorry to hear about her divorce.”

  Wanda nodded. “Yes, but sometimes it's for the best. They hadn't been married long, and there were no children involved.”

  Her words caused my stomach to knot as I remembered my situation and how I had to call Derek when I got to my room.

  “It's very interesting,” Russell said taking a seat on the other side of Carolyn, “Everyone except Sarah's friend here was around that summer.”

  I sat back down in the spot I'd previously occupied while Wanda and my aunt took the two armchairs across from us.

  “That's true,” Aunt Julie confirmed. “I hope you'll all have a much more pleasant stay this time.”

  I understood her meaning. She, Wanda, Russell, and I, as well as my mother who would be arriving the next day, were at the inn that fateful July before it closed. Was that a coincidence, or were we part of an intentional guest list my aunt had prepared?

  From the notes of Michael Gamboski

  Lighthouse illustration (Creative Commons, OpenClipart Vectors)

  A lighthouse is a tower, building, or other type of structure designed to emit light from a system of lamps and lenses, and to serve as a navigational aid for maritime pilots at sea or on inland waterways.

  Lighthouses mark dangerous coastlines, hazardous shoals, reefs, and safe entries to harbors, and can assist in aerial navigation. Once widely used, the number of operational lighthouses has declined due to the expense of maintenance and use of electronic navigational systems.

  (Wikipedia)

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sea Scope: Twenty years ago

  After the incident in the museum, the rest of the morning passed uneventfully as the children enjoyed swimming under the watchful eye of the lifeguard, a man around Michael's age. He wasn't on duty alone. A blonde girl in a bikini sat next to him on the lookout station drinking through a straw in a tall plastic cup.

  “Hi Adam. Hi Sandy,” Glen waved at them. He, Sarah, and Wendy knew them well. Russell hadn't been to the beach with them that summer until now.

  Adam waved back as he picked up a can of Budweiser and took a sip. Sarah had started learning about alcohol in school the past year and wondered if the lifeguard drank as much as her mother, although her mother wasn't a beer drinker. She recalled the bottles of scotch and gin that she'd once seen sealed behind the doors of her mother's armoire, hidden by her long dresses and the evening gowns she'd never worn.

  The children spent a few hours swimming, walking along the sand searching for seashells, and enjoying the warm sun on their bodies as they built sandcastles. Sarah was never any good at it, but Glen and Russell, working together, had built one that stood tall and didn't sink down into the sand. Glen had found the most seashells and put a bunch in his backpack. Sarah made him promise not to hide them in any guest rooms.

  Russell and Wendy had gone ahead to the ice cream shop while Sarah and Glen were gathering up their stuff. Glen turned to her suddenly when she mentioned his latest crayon clue caper. “I forgot to mention that something strange happened when I got the paper from under Michael's door,” he said.

  She paused, shaking out the beach blanket that was full of sand from when the four of them had lain on it. “What did you see?” she asked her brother, prepared for one of his dramatic stories. She always humored him when he talked about ghosts and other sightings at the inn.

  “It wasn't what I saw. It was what I heard.” He spoke in a whisper even though no one was around except the seagulls swooping down on the sand and the young lifeguards who were deep in conversation with one another and not listening to them.

  “Okay. What did you hear? Do you mind helping me fold this while you tell me?” She threw the end of the blanket toward him. He grabbed it as he replied. “There were these strange sounds coming from inside Michael's room. They scared me a little.”

  Sarah pulled her ends together. “Maybe there was a monster in there,” she teased. “I wonder how Michael slept through the whole thing.”

  Glen brought the other end of the blanket up to meet Sarah's side. “It wasn't a noise a monster would make.”

  Sarah took the folded blanket and stuffed it inside her backpack. “What did it sound like? Could Michael have been snoring?”

  “No.” Glen shook his head. “It sounded more like those weird noises that come from some of the guest rooms late at night when I sneak around the hall. I hear it a lot from the honeymoon room.”

  Sarah raised her eyebrows. Aunt Julie had spoken to her last month about what she called “the birds and the bees” even though it had to do with men and women. She said she thought Sarah was old enough to know these things and that her mother was wrong in wanting to wait until Sarah turned
fifteen.

  After explaining to her about menstrual periods, something Sarah was not looking forward to starting, Aunt Julie had described what couples did behind closed doors to make babies and show their love for one another. Sarah had thought the facts were a bit gross, but Aunt Julie had laughed and said, “You won't feel that way in a few years, honey, believe me. Now don't tell your mother we had this talk. She might be upset with me. If she ever does come around to speaking about it, pretend it's the first time you've been told.” Then she'd winked at Sarah and made her feel like she was in on a special secret.

  “You deserved getting spooked,” Sarah told her brother returning to the present. “Maybe it'll teach you a lesson to stop snooping near people's doors. Now let's go catch up with the others and have ice cream.” As she raced Glen toward the Scoopery and their two friends, she was curious about what he'd said. Michael was staying at the inn alone and, as far as she knew, he'd never brought a girlfriend to visit, not even at his birthday party the week before.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sea Scope: Present day

  We spent an hour chatting and briefly reacquainting ourselves over tea and cookies. The discussion about Michael and the summer of 1996 took a back seat as my aunt led the conversation to her plans for the grand opening of the inn that fall.

  “How come you're waiting until fall?” Carolyn asked. “Isn't summer the busy season here?”

  “That may be true, but autumn is beautiful in Cape Bretton, and there are many weekenders. Besides, I'm not totally prepared yet.”

  Wanda, quiet up until then, gave my aunt a strange look and said, “I imagine you aren't prepared yet because you aren't ready to run this place yourself.”

  It was then that I let out a yawn I'd been trying to stifle for the last twenty minutes. It gave Aunt Julie an opportunity to wrap up the evening and avoid replying to Wanda's comment.

  “It's getting late, and Sarah sounds tired. Why don't we all get some sleep and continue to catch up on things at breakfast. I have to leave early to pick up Jennifer. Her flight is arriving at nine, but I don't want to be late since it's a bit of a drive out to Charleston. Would you all mind coming down to breakfast around seven? I know that's early for a weekend morning. If you'd rather sleep in, I can make us all a lunch or brunch when I return.”