Sea Scope

by Debbie De Louise

  I shook my head.

  “Since we know it's one of us, there's no reason to call the police,” my aunt said firmly. Wanda looked on quietly, her lips pursed. I wondered if her silence was evidence of guilt.

  “There's been a robbery, and these notes might be construed as threats. If you don't call the cops, I will.” Russ took his cell phone from his pocket.

  “No, wait.” Wanda finally spoke. “I think I know who's doing this.”

  She turned off the pan and faced us. “Please sit down, and I'll explain. It's a long story.”

  From the Notes of Michael Gamboski

  McGulpin Lighthouse (Wikimedia Commons)

  An early love come again, abides within

  Uses every crevice of time long gone.

  In memory still agile

  For open, iron-tower steps.

  Tower-wind certain as a song –

  Once known and loved in decades past,

  The memories are pure joy –

  They last, and last…

  (from Love Letter to a Light by Thelma Shaw—age 98—owner of the McGulpin Lighthouse from 1937 to mid-1970s. The McGulpin Lighthouse is located on upper Lake Michigan near Mackinaw City.)

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Sea Scope: Twenty years ago

  Sarah, Glen, Russ, and Wendy were in Michael's room. He'd checked into the inn the week before hefting a backpack filled with books, clothes, binoculars, and a camera. He'd told Aunt Julie he was studying history at Cape Bretton University and was doing research about lighthouses over the summer. He thought Sea Scope would be an ideal spot for him to spend a few weeks, so he could study the nearby lighthouse. He'd arrived a day after another college student had quit suddenly after working part-time as a bell hop at the inn all spring. Sarah's father had been angry about that, but it worked out for Sarah and Glen because they got their jobs back of bringing up suitcases to the guest rooms.

  Glen took a special interest in Michael, and all of them were delighted when the young man invited them into his room. The Lighthouse Room was their favorite because it had a clear view of the lighthouse.

  Glen, in true detective mode, was examining the objects Michael displayed on his bureau. There was a photo of him with his parents, a middle-aged couple standing next to him in his graduation robe; a large seashell Michael used as a paperweight; a table-sized, illustrated book of lighthouse photos, and a key on a red lanyard the town had given him to open the gate.

  “My dad has written about lighthouses, too,” Russ said, sitting on the nautical quilt on the bed. “It's part of the history books he writes about South Carolina.” Russ was very proud of his father.

  Michael smiled and pushed his glasses back up his nose. “Your dad offered to help me, and I'm very thankful about that, Russell. I'll probably interview him next week.”

  Sarah and Wendy were gazing out the window. “This view is the best in the whole inn,” Sarah said.

  “Yes, I couldn't have asked for a better room. How long has your family owned this place, Sarah?”

  “Forever,” she replied. “It used to be our grandparents' before they moved to that old person's place down in Florida.”

  “It's called assisted living,” Glen corrected. He turned to Michael on the other side of the bed. “After our grandparents moved, Dad and Aunt Julie took over, but our mom doesn't like it here much.”

  “Really?” Michael quirked a light eyebrow. “Why is that?”

  “Mom has these moods. I don't think she'd be happy anywhere.”

  “Glen,” Sarah cautioned. “Don't talk about Mother like that.”

  “Well, it's true.”

  “How much of your report have you written?” Russell asked, changing the subject.

  “I'm on a first draft, but it's slow going. I've already written about several other lighthouses along the East Coast, but this is the first one I have an opportunity to explore firsthand.” Michael mentioned details about his work that everyone except Wendy was interested in. As the three children gathered around him on the bed, he opened the Eastern Seaboard lighthouse book he'd taken from his bureau and showed them the photos. Wendy stayed at the window holding her corn-husk doll and looking at the waves splashing over the rocks in front of the lighthouse. A few sailboats drifted by. She remembered her mother said her father had been a fisherman, or was it a sailor? The story changed each time she asked.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Sea Scope: Twenty years ago

  After the whispering and questioning died down, Sea Scope fell silent, but it was a silence that echoed through the halls and out onto the grounds. Glen told Sarah that the scientific term for something under the surface ready to explode was dormant. That's how the inn felt to Sarah a week after Michael's death as she walked through the garden with Wendy. Ms. Wilson wasn't feeling well, so Aunt Julie asked the girls to pick fresh flowers to replace the dead ones in some of the rooms. It wouldn't be such a difficult task because most of the guests had already checked out after having been released from questioning by the police.

  “When we're done, Sarah, can we head down to the lighthouse?” Wendy asked as she clipped marigolds with the clipper her mother had given her. Sarah only had a scissor and found it difficult to cut through the tough stems. She was surprised by Wendy's question. Everyone at Sea Scope avoided the lighthouse, and Detective Marshall told Aunt Julie they were keeping the gate locked and not allowing tours until further notice.

  “Why do you want to go there? Did you ask your mother?”

  Wendy shook her head, and the light wind tousled her braids. “No. She's sick in bed with a bad headache. She said it's a migraine. I'm not supposed to disturb her.”

  Sarah snipped a few petunias pressing hard on the scissor handles to snap them off their stems. “I don't think they'd let us go to the lighthouse without an adult anymore. I could ask my aunt or mother. Dad isn't home.”

  Wendy walked over to her, holding the flowers she'd gathered. “No,” she whispered looking around behind her as if someone was listening. “I want to go with you alone.”

  “Why? What's the big secret?” Sarah didn't understand. Wendy was a quiet type who usually kept to herself even when she accompanied Sarah, Glen, and Russell. While they'd never been exactly friends, Wendy had started to hang around more with Sarah since the lighthouse incident. Sarah couldn't figure out why, but there were rumors that Ms. Wilson was looking for a place in town and that she and her daughter would be leaving Sea Scope by August.

  “I want to go,” Wendy implored, her brown eyes large and pleading. “Please, Sarah. You owe me. I mopped up the kitchen last night when Aunt Julie punished you for asking Detective Marshall if he was her new boyfriend.”

  Sarah recalled the incident with embarrassment. It was the first night the detective had come to the inn by personal invitation. Aunt Julie had worn a silky lilac dress with her hair pinned up. Even when Russell's dad had come to dinner, her aunt hadn't dressed so nicely. Mr. Donovan was no longer a regular visitor at the inn, and Sarah had to admit she missed Russell. While Wendy's new offer of friendship may not have been sincere and would probably be short-lived, Sarah wanted to consider it.

  “Okay,” she relented, “even though we won't be able to get very close to the lighthouse.” She was curious to see the place again with the new signs and the added locks. It was a fearful kind of curiosity similar to those who stopped to stare at car accidents along the road.

  Wendy gave Sarah her gap-toothed smile showing two missing teeth on the top row of her mouth. “Thanks. Let's go put these inside.” She indicated the flowers and, taking short skips, she hopped to the back door, her braids swinging behind her.

  “I don't understand why you want to go to the lighthouse and why you need me to come with you,” Sarah said as they walked toward the beach. “You could've sneaked out on your own.”

  “I was afraid to go by myself. I've been having nightmares about the lighthouse.”

  “I don't blame you. It's s
pooky now. Michael died there.”

  They were at the gate, and Sarah saw the new padlock and the large sign that read, “No Trespassing. Lighthouse Closed to the Public Until Further Notice.”

  “We can't get in, anyway.”

  “Yes, we can.”

  Sarah watched in dismay as Wendy began to scale the fence.

  “Wendy, no. Get down. We'll get in trouble.” Sarah had seen the police patrolling the area throughout the past week. She was surprised no one was around, but she was sure one of Detective Marshall's men would be back on watch soon.

  Wendy ignored her. “Follow me. Hurry. This won't take long. I need to look for something.”

  Against Sarah's better judgment, she put her sneakered feet through the notches in the fence and hoisted herself over, landing a few feet away from Wendy. Standing up and dusting grass mixed with sand from her jeans, she said, “Is that what this is all about? What did you lose?”

  Wendy cleaned off her jumper and faced Sarah. “I want to find Dottie.” Dottie was the name Wendy had given her corn-husk doll. Sarah noticed Wendy wasn't carrying the doll around lately, but she wasn't aware it was missing.

  “When did you lose her?”

  “I don't know. I don't remember.”

  “Why do you think she'd be here? You haven't been to the lighthouse in a long time.” The last time Sarah had been to the lighthouse was with Glen when they'd found Michael. Wendy hadn't been with them that day. Sarah tried to recall when she'd last seen Wendy with Dottie, but the past week had been so crazy her mind hadn't been on little things like dolls.

  “I figured I had to check just in case. I've looked all over the inn and even asked at Bible school.” Tears suddenly formed in Wendy's eyes. “Mama promised to get me another doll, but it won't be the same.”

  Sarah knew what it was like to be attached to a toy. Never one to fancy dolls, she had a stuffed Minnie Mouse she'd brought home from Disney World when she and her parents had vacationed there when she was six. She'd outgrown sleeping with and carrying Minnie around years ago, but the mouse still occupied a favorite spot atop her bedroom bureau.

  “Okay. Let's take a look, but we need to do it fast.”

  Wendy wiped her eyes. “Thanks, Sarah.”

  The girls scanned the area around the lighthouse with no luck. Sarah gave up the search first. “I don't see your doll, Wendy, and one of the officers who keeps checking this place for trespassers might be here any minute, not to mention Aunt Julie, once she notices us missing.”

  Wendy was still walking in circles keeping her eyes on the ground for sight of the corn-husk doll with yarn braids. When Wendy headed back toward the fence, she stopped in her tracks. “Wait, Sarah. There's one more place we need to search.”

  Sarah sighed. “We've covered the whole area. Where else can we look?”

  “The lighthouse.” Wendy pointed to the looming structure. With gray clouds hovering around it on the muggy July day, it looked ominous to Sarah.

  “I told you we can't get in there. The doors are locked.”

  “I think I know one that isn't,” Wendy said. “It's the secret entrance Glen showed us. Remember?”

  Sarah hesitated. When the four of them visited the lighthouse, they usually went in the main door, but Glen had once found a back door covered with rust and slightly hidden by overgrown bushes.

  “Alright, Wendy. We'll check it, but if it's open, we just take a quick look.”

  Wendy nodded, running around to the back of the lighthouse, her braids bobbing as Sarah tried to catch up.

  The interior of the lighthouse was dark and damp. Sarah felt a chill crawl up her spine despite the hot air that flattened her hair against her head. When they reached the staircase, she nearly chickened out, but she couldn't abandon Wendy who was already climbing up.

  “Don't you want to look around down here first?” she asked.

  “We can do that on the way out.”

  Sarah nearly fell over her own feet as she rushed after Wendy. She tried not to recall the last time she and Glen had followed this same path to the lighthouse tower.

  When they were at the very top, Wendy stood looking down over the guardrail as Glen had the week before. Seven days had changed so much in their lives.

  Sarah hesitated to join Wendy, afraid she might see another shattered body on the rocks below.

  “Aren't you looking for Dottie?” Sarah reminded her friend.

  “She's not here,” Wendy said, her voice cracking as if she was about to burst into tears again.

  “We haven't really checked.” Sarah took a few steps forward.

  “I looked around already.” Wendy turned. Her face held a strange expression. A thin smile spread across her lips, but Sarah couldn't tell if she was happy or sad.

  “Then let's get out of here,” Sarah coaxed her. The last thing she wanted was to be in this place where tragedy had struck. “Aunt Julie may have already called the police to search for us.”

  Wendy laughed. “If she called Detective Marshall, she'll be having tea with him and flirting. He's all she thinks about now.”

  Sarah wanted to defend her aunt, but she knew what Wendy said was true. She was also aware that Aunt Julie's attraction to the detective was why Mr. Donovan and Russell were no longer visiting Sea Scope.

  “We still need to go home.”

  “Your home, not mine.” Wendy had her back to the guardrail, and Sarah had a fleeting image of her turning and jumping over as she had the fence a few minutes ago.

  “Is it true you and your mom are moving into town?” It was the first time Sarah had asked for a direct answer regarding the rumor.

  “Yes, by August I think, and your dad is talking about moving you all back to Long Island.” There was a hitch in Wendy's voice, and the smile that had touched her face was now replaced by pursed lips.

  Sarah suspected Wendy was right. The other night, Glen told her he'd overheard their parents talking. He told her their mother was asking their father to consider moving to Long Island where she'd lived before she met him. Glen added that their mother was asking for a new start, promising to lay off the bottle and enter an AA program. Their father was agreeing that he would work harder to keep the family together.

  “Sarah, can I ask you something?” Wendy still hadn't moved from the guardrail.

  “Sure, but we can talk outside.” Sarah was beginning to feel lightheaded. She felt dizzy in high spaces, and Aunt Julie said she might be acquiring a fear of heights.

  Wendy paused, and Sarah worried that she would insist on staying, but she finally gave up her spot and walked next to Sarah to the staircase. “Okay. We'll go down. It's creepy up here. It's making me remember my dream.”

  Sarah was relieved that Wendy felt the same way she did. She followed her downstairs and out the back door. When they were in the fresh yet humid air, Sarah said, “What did you want to ask me?”

  Wendy pushed back her damp braids. Sarah noticed one of the yellow ribbons tying them was coming loose. “Have you ever kept any secrets from your mom?” she asked.

  Sarah thought it was an unusual question. She couldn't recall any particular secret she kept from her mother because they didn't talk often. Mostly, she kept secrets from Glen, but she knew he kept more from her. “Maybe, but I can't think of any. Why?”

  “No reason. Just curious.” Wendy was checking the ground as she walked away from the lighthouse.

  Sarah, looking ahead toward the inn, spotted a police car parked out front. “Wendy, look over there. We need to get out of here fast.”

  Wendy raised her head and followed Sarah's waving hand. She ran to the gate and jumped over, Sarah at her heels. Running across the field toward Sea Scope, the girls breathed heavily. They needn't have rushed because as they entered the inn, they heard Aunt Julie speaking to Detective Marshall. They were seated at the kitchen table having tea and biscuits as Wendy had predicted.

  From the Notes of Michael Gamboski

  (photo courtesy of Wikime
dia Commons)

  At the foot of the bare brown cliffs,

  Half hid in the drifted sand,

  With the rack of the sea for a winding sheet

  And the moan of the waves on the strand

  Sobbing a dirge o'er the resting place

  Of a secret of wreck and woe,

  Lies a broken mast and a few poor timbers

  By which like sentinels guarding a city

  The sea gulls come and go.

  (From the poem, “Secret of the Sea” by H.A.)

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Sea Scope: Present day

  Even though Wanda had asked everyone to sit, the group, except for Mother who sat at the table, remained standing in a circle. Carolyn moved close to Russell. Aunt Julie stood next to Wanda as if to support her.

  Wanda took a breath and began. “It's about my daughter Wendy.”

  The room was silent except for Mother's quiet sobs. She'd grabbed a napkin from one of the place settings and was dabbing at her eyes.

  “What about Wendy?” Russ probed when the silence grew too long. “I haven't seen her in years. Even though I knew you two still lived in Cape Bretton, I never thought about dropping by to see you. I guess I wanted to erase the bad memories of that summer.”

  Wanda nodded. “We all wanted to do that. I thought Wendy had, but after Sarah and her folks moved away and Julie closed the inn, Wendy began having terrible nightmares. She woke up screaming but couldn't remember the dreams. I took her to several doctors including a psychiatrist, but they couldn't find anything wrong with her. They diagnosed it as growing pains, but I always believed it had to do with Michael's accident.” She took another deep breath and tossed her long braid behind her back. “As she grew older, the dreams lessened, so I convinced myself the doctors may have had a point, but part of me still felt the problem came back to Sea Scope.”

  “What does this have to do with what's happening now?” Russell asked. I noticed Carolyn had inched even closer to him while I had moved nearer to my mother's chair. She was no longer crying but listening intently to Wanda's words.