Sea Scope

by Debbie De Louise

  Russell opened the armoire. I half expected to see my mother's hidden stash of liquor inside, but it was empty.

  “Maybe your aunt was putting the final touches on this room for your mother tomorrow,” he suggested as we both left the room.

  I didn't believe that explanation, but I nodded as if I was considering it.

  “Let's go see what's happening in your room then, shall we?”

  I nodded again still feeling anxious.

  As I stepped through the door with Russ behind me, something brushed against my leg. I stifled a scream as I jumped.

  “It's only the cat,” Russ said as Al scooted down the hall. “You must've closed him in when you left.”

  “No. He was down the hall when I closed the door.” I distinctly recalled seeing Al head toward my aunt's room.

  Russell followed me inside. “Show me your phone and the note.”

  I went to the bedside table to disconnect my phone that I'd left charging there and to retrieve the crayoned message from the drawer underneath. The charging cable hung limply against the bed, and the drawer was empty.

  “They're gone,” I exclaimed panic causing my voice to rise.

  “Are you sure, Sarah? Maybe you left your phone elsewhere. Look around.”

  “I had it charging right there.” I indicated the loose wire. “I'm also sure I left the note in that drawer.”

  Russell picked up the phone cord and went around me to check the drawer. When he looked back at me, his face was serious. “This isn't good, Sarah. Do you have a tracking app on your phone?”

  “I do, but I think I shut it down.”

  “If you didn't, there might be a way to find it.” His eyes met mine. “Does your husband have the app on his? Maybe you can call him and see if he can check it.”

  I hesitated. The last thing I wanted was to speak to Derek again. “I don't think it would work from this distance, and I don't want to bother Derek. It's after eleven. He's probably asleep.”

  “I'm sure he wouldn't mind. He's probably wide awake thinking of you.” A grin touched the sides of his mouth. A sudden memory returned of the first kiss I'd shared with him when I was ten.

  “Sarah,” he continued, snapping me back to the present. “Even if you don't want to call your husband, I think we should wake your aunt and tell her what's going on.”

  “She's picking my mother up early at the airport in the morning. I'd hate to upset her at this hour.”

  He gave me an exasperated look. “Okay. Let's do this. I'm in the Lighthouse Room. It's the first room on the opposite side of the hall.”

  “I remember the room, Russ.” How could I forget it? It had been Michael's room. Glen, Wendy, and I had often been invited in there to talk with him, browse his history books about lighthouses and South Carolina, and look out his window at the lighthouse and the ships sailing across the water.

  “Good. If anything else happens tonight, don't worry about waking me. I'll help you look for your phone tomorrow, but you need to tell your aunt everything you shared with me. If Wanda is up to this, she needs to be confronted.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “Thanks, Russ.”

  He gave me a wary look as he left the room. I worried he might wake Aunt Julie and tell her, but I hoped he'd wait for me to do it in the morning as he'd promised.

  After I'd locked the door behind him, it was impossible to sleep. I kept thinking about Al rushing out of my room after he'd been closed in by whoever had taken my phone and removed the note from the drawer. I also thought of Derek. Was he sleeping alone or with his young mistress? I turned those painful thoughts away and walked to my bookshelf. I was relieved to find my diary still there. I knew reading another chapter probably wouldn't help me fall asleep, but I had to admit I was curious about how I'd described my first kiss with Russell all those years ago. I flipped open the pages to July 4th, two weeks before Michael allegedly threw himself off the lighthouse tower.

  From the Notes of Michael Gamboski

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Wikimedia Commons)

  Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same

  Year after year, through all the silent night

  Burns on forevermore, that quenchless flame,

  Shines on that inextinguishable light!

  (from “The Lighthouse” by Longfellow)

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sea Scope: Twenty years ago

  Sarah and Wendy helped Aunt Julie pack snacks in a picnic basket for the viewing of the fireworks. She asked Glen and Russ to help carry fold-up chairs for the adults to sit on and a large blanket for the kids to share. Glen asked his father if he could bring his binoculars along, and his dad agreed. Ms. Wilson suggested they also bring sweaters in case it got chilly. She'd thrown a white lace wrap around her shoulders.

  Mrs. Brewster stood in the door waving as the group departed. Russell's father and Aunt Julie walked in front leading the group toward the lighthouse. Michael was already there setting up the tripod Ms. Wilson gave him to take photos of the event.

  As they joined him on the wide lawn in front of the lighthouse, Glen ran up to him and asked if he could help him take pictures when everything started. Michael smiled. “Sure. I can use a helper. I'll show you how to adjust the camera's light settings, so we can capture the fireworks in the night sky.”

  Glen's face lit up. For the last week, he'd been spending time at the library asking the librarian to find information for him about fireworks—not only what they were but how they were made and the science behind them. He could quote from the books and also the websites the librarian brought up on the library's reference PC in answer to his questions. He told Sarah fireworks were invented by the Chinese a long time ago and were used during festivals to scare away evil spirits and bring good luck. Fireworks were used early in America's history and were even part of the first Independence Day. Different color fireworks are made with different metals. Glen loved the red ones created by lithium, while Sarah liked the blue copper ones. Both of them enjoyed the sparkler effects made by aluminum. Sarah cautioned Glen that even though he now knew about the black powder, mortar, stars, shells, bursting charge, and fuses that were part of fireworks, he shouldn't think about making them because they were very dangerous. Glen promised he wouldn't do that, but he said he wished he had his own computer at home to look up other science facts. Their dad promised he'd get one for his ninth birthday.

  Sarah and Wendy laid out the plaid picnic blanket. It was thin and not very soft, but it was wide enough for all four children. From past experience, Sarah knew Glen wouldn't be sitting there. He preferred to stand and drive the adults crazy repeating what he'd learned about fireworks. While she was sick of hearing Glen's science speeches, she found the opposite was true when Russ talked about history. He didn't show off his knowledge and brag about the facts he knew but threw in details she found interesting. He'd picked up things from his father who Michael idolized because he'd been so helpful with part of Michael's research.

  While Glen boasted that the fireworks display was taking place at their lighthouse, Sarah corrected him by pointing out that the town owned the lighthouse. It was on a separate piece of land than the inn, and the show wasn't private to them as was clear by the growing crowd of townspeople and those who'd even travelled from other parts of South Carolina to view it. Sarah was happy her father had insisted they leave early because they were able to stake out a good view of the lighthouse and the fireworks that would soon fill the sky around it.

  When the festivities finally began, the excitement as well as the noise level rose. Sarah watched her brother still standing by Michael in a small group that included her father and Wanda on one side and Russell's dad and Aunt Julie on the other. She'd been lying on her back gazing up at the stars that Glen would've happily named if he wasn't too busy playing with Michael's camera. Wendy had been picking dandelions and other weeds from the grass. Sarah worried that their sleepover that night would be boring because Ms. Wilson's daughter wasn't much o
f a talker.

  “We'd better get up,” Sarah prompted her. “We won't see much lying on the blanket.”

  Wendy was preoccupied picking off and blowing the fuzzy petals of a weed as she whispered some words.

  Sarah urged her again. “Hurry up. We'll miss the show.”

  Wendy finally stood up to join her in time for the first explosion of light, a burst of red streamer over the top of the lighthouse. “I was making a wish,” she said.

  “Shhh, it's starting,” Sarah silenced her as everyone turned their eyes forward and Michael clicked the camera.

  The rest of the night was full of color, sound, exclamations of awe, and laughter. Against the darkened sky, the fireworks shone in beautiful detail. The loud pops covered the accompanying music that was being played from a CD player. As Sarah kept her eyes on the sky, she also scanned the crowd, observing her family and the other inn guests who were watching the show. Michael had allowed Glen to take photos, and her brother's eyes were still wild with excitement. Ms. Wilson was dancing to the music as she stood by Michael and Sarah's father. At some point, she tried to persuade them to join her, but neither accepted. Sarah noticed that Aunt Julie eyed Ms. Wilson with displeasure even though she was sitting close to Russell's dad and had her hands interlocked with his.

  Russell, who'd left the small inner group to join Sarah and Wanda, whispered in Sarah's ear, “That's why I'm staying with your brother tonight.” He, too, was watching his father and Aunt Julie.

  Sarah, having recalled her growing-up talk with Aunt Julie, nodded in understanding.

  Wendy, who'd overheard Russell's words despite the fact her attention was focused on the fireworks, said, “I'm in Sarah's room because my mama will be with her boyfriend.”

  Sarah looked back at Ms. Wilson shimmying next to Michael and her dad, but both of them seemed immune to her charms.

  “I didn't know your mom had a boyfriend,” Russell said.

  Wendy smiled knowingly and shook her braids giving an affirmative reply.

  “Who is he?” Russell probed.

  “I'm not telling.”

  “You're not telling because you don't know. If your mom had a boyfriend, why doesn't he ever come to the inn and take her out? It's like your imaginary father.” As much as Sarah liked Russell, she knew he could be cruel at times like other boys in her classes at school.

  “I'm not telling because it's a secret. Mama doesn't even know I know about him, but I saw them kissing. I hope she marries him, but I don't think she can.”

  Sarah's heart began to race as she looked over at Ms. Wilson smiling at her father and Michael, laughing at the things they were telling her but what she couldn't hear over the fireworks. Aunt Julie would call that flirting. Sarah wondered if the reason Wendy's mother couldn't marry her boyfriend was because he was already married to Sarah's mother.

  As the fireworks show ended with a finale of multi-colored rockets that Glen and Michael rushed to film, Russell asked Wendy again, “So, who is your mother's boyfriend? If you don't tell me, I'll tickle you.”

  “Russell, no,” Sarah said. “Leave her alone, or I'll tell my aunt.” Wendy's mouth was pursed in a similar way as her mother's when she wanted to hold back her words.

  Everyone started packing up. Glen folded the tripod following Michael's instructions after he handed him the camera. Sarah's father was helping Ms. Wilson put her lace wrap over her shoulders that she'd removed while dancing. Aunt Julie called over to Sarah and Wendy for them to help her clear the trash their group had made. Russell joined his father who was chatting with Michael. Sarah hoped he wouldn't bring up the conversation he'd had with Wendy.

  As Sarah added the last piece of litter to a can one of the organizers had left on the grounds, Russell called to her, “Wait, Sarah.”

  Wendy eyed him cautiously, stepping back as he approached.

  “If you're all done helping Ms. Brewster, I wanted to show you something before we go back to the inn. It's up by the lighthouse.”

  Ms. Wilson, Glen, Michael, and Russell's father were calling and waving to them to join them on the walk back. Without the firecrackers lighting the sky, the night had darkened. There weren't any stars out either, which Sarah was a bit thankful for because Glen would be reciting a bunch of astronomy facts all the way to Sea Scope's door if there had been.

  Russell ran back to his father. “Dad, is it okay if I take Sarah back after you all go? We won't be long.”

  Mr. Donovan nodded. “That's fine with me, son, but check with Ms. Brewster, too.”

  Sarah's aunt was already at Mr. Donovan's side. “It's okay with me, Russell, but be careful. It's gotten very dark out here. And, remember, you're staying with Glen when you get back.”

  The others began walking down the hill. Russell returned to Sarah as Wendy ran to her mother and slipped behind her next to Glen. Ms. Wilson didn't notice. She was walking between Sarah's father and Michael, still smiling as she talked to them. As she walked, her hips wiggled. Was she still flirting?

  Sarah also saw that her aunt and Mr. Donovan were holding hands as they followed the others. She and Russell wouldn't be missed even if they stayed out the whole night.

  “What do you want to show me?” Sarah asked as Russell led her to the lighthouse. As they came closer, the smell of smoke left from the firecrackers grew stronger, and she began to cough. “I hope you make this quick. It smells around here.”

  They were alone except for two of the firecracker maintenance people who were still cleaning up, their orange jackets displaying “Town of Cape Bretton.”

  She was surprised neither of the men said a word to them as they cut through the bushes that grew along the path leading up to the stone structure. The gate in front of the lighthouse was locked because the lighthouse was only open during the day, although Michael had permission to visit it after hours with a special grounds pass and key.

  “I guess we have to go back,” Sarah told Russell.

  She couldn't read his face in the darkness and wondered why he'd moved closer to her. “That's all right. We don't have to go any further.”

  Behind the bushes, they were hidden from the cleaning men, alone with only the glowing beacon of the lighthouse casting off and on flashes.

  “I thought you wanted to show me something in the lighthouse.”

  Russ shrugged. “It's not necessary. I only wanted to talk to you away from everybody.”

  Sarah was curious. “What about?”

  “Come here.” Russ ambled down the sand toward the beach and went over to one of the large rocks scattered there. Sitting on one, he turned his back to her a minute to look out at the sea.

  She followed him still wondering what he had to say. Was it about her father and Ms. Wilson?

  “I know why Michael loves this place so much,” he said as she joined him on the rock. “I think he comes here to be away from people even more than doing research.”

  It was growing chilly. Sarah didn't want to talk about Michael. She wanted to go home. Maybe she could get more out of Wendy about Ms. Wilson's boyfriend if she talked to the girl privately.

  “Are you going to tell me already, Russ, or are we staying here until morning?”

  Russ laughed, and there was a slight echo. She could still smell the fireworks, but the scent was lighter, overpowered by the salt air from the ocean.

  “Sorry, Sarah, but this isn't easy.” He gulped, and she realized he was shaking. She thought he was as cold as she was, but then realized it was because he was nervous.

  “Is there anything wrong, Russ?” She knew her father asked that when her mother was in one of her non-sober moods.

  Russell looked down at the ground and then met her eyes, his blue gaze serious. “No, Sarah. It's all this talk about boyfriends and girlfriends. I've never even kissed a girl, and I really want to find out what it's like.” In the darkness, she could see the blush that colored his cheeks. “Would it be okay if I tried with you?”

  Sarah recalled what her
aunt said about what she should and shouldn't let boys do with her. Kissing was okay, but it often led to that other gross activity that could make a baby.

  “I guess so.” Her heart beat a little as Russell brought his face close to hers. She closed her eyes.

  Their lips touched briefly. It was like the flutter of a moth's wings, the soft sweetness of peach skin.

  “That was nice,” Russell said as he moved away looking a little dazed.

  Sarah nodded. She wished it had lasted longer.

  The night sounds around them were deepening, and a mosquito buzzed nearby. “Yes, I liked it. It was my first one, too.”

  “The bugs are starting to come out. Let's go back to the house.” She noticed he was still a bit red.

  As they got off the rock, Sarah said, “I don't think we should tell anyone about this.”

  “No, please don't. Dad might punish me.”

  “I doubt he'd do that. Do you know if he's going to marry my aunt?”

  They were standing in front of the rock facing the lighthouse.

  “I'm not sure. I would love to have her as my new mother.”

  “Do you remember your old one?” Sarah knew Mr. Donovan's wife had died young.

  “Not too well.”

  They started walking back. When they were within sight of the inn, Sarah stopped.

  “What's the matter, Sarah?”

  “Russ, do you have any idea who Ms. Wilson's boyfriend could be?”

  “If I did, I wouldn't have asked Wendy.” He grinned. “Besides, I'm not around here all that often.”

  Sarah considered. If her aunt and Russell's dad got married, Russ would live with them at the inn. The thought made butterflies jump in her stomach.

  Chapter Twenty

  Sea Scope: Present day

  I woke to insistent tapping on my door. At first, I didn't realize where I was but quickly remembered I was in my old room at Sea Scope. My diary lay spread on the floor open to a page I'd been reading when I'd fallen asleep. I picked it up and went to answer the door.