Sea Scope

by Debbie De Louise

  “There. Isn't that better?” He sat next to her. “You know, you're as pretty as your mom.” She hated the way he was looking at her, studying her as Glen studied insects through his microscope.

  “Thank you.” Her voice cracked a bit.

  “What's wrong? Are you afraid of me?”

  “No.” The word came out weak, too weak.

  “Why don't we lie down a minute? I think I hear the rain. We're safe in here.” He guided her down against the pillow.

  “Mr. Brewster, I really should go back to Mama now.”

  “Shhhh.” He put his rough finger to his lips as he lay down beside her.

  “This won't take long and then I promise I'll take you right back.”

  Her heart started beating fast again. What did he want with her? Why was he looking at her that way?

  “Make yourself comfortable, sweetie. No one needs to know you were out in the woods tonight.”

  Panic shot through her as she watched him remove his shirt, throw it to the floor and then lower the zipper of his pants. She tried to get up, but he restrained her. “Don't go anywhere. You'll enjoy this one day. Your mother does and so does Michael. Jennifer doesn't care for it much, but that's how it is when you're married.”

  She began to struggle as he pinned her down. She wanted to scream for help, but she knew no one would hear her this deep in the woods. As his body came down on hers, and she gagged on the alcohol on his breath, she tried to close her mind to the terror of what was happening. She knew she should never have left her mother's side.

  “This is going to be our secret,” he whispered as he panted. “If you tell your mother, you'll both be out in the street and she'll be forced to sell her body like she did before my sister gave her a job.”

  His chest covered hers and muffled her scream of pain as he entered her and the world went black.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Sea Scope: Present day

  “No. It was … it was your father.”

  “Oh, my God!” Mother said.

  Wendy turned off the recording. “That's right, Mrs. Brewster. Your husband had a fancy for little girls as well as young men. No need to listen to the rest, although there is a bit more that would interest both of you, particularly what happened to Michael. I can fill you in on that before I shoot you.”

  I felt the nausea rise up in me but fought to keep the bile down. I had to be strong for the sake of my mother and the baby I carried.

  “Wendy, please put down the gun,” Mother pleaded. “I was Martin's victim, too. Don't you see that? And, Sarah, she's innocent. She has nothing to do with any of this.”

  “Only that she snooped up here. I was saving the lighthouse crayon clue for last, the one that would lead her to your dead body. Now she's ruined the fun, so I might as well kill the two of you.” She aimed the gun at us and cocked back the trigger.

  “Wait! You promised you'd tell us about Michael.” Mother still held my hand, and I could feel the sweat from our palms mingling with the rain washing over us.

  For a moment, I thought Wendy would ignore the request. Her eyes were wary as if she realized we were stalling for time. The rain pounded down drenching us, but getting wet was the least of our problems.

  “Alright. You deserve to know, but, after I tell you, there's no more avoiding your fates.” It was so hard to believe that the vengeful woman threatening us was the shy girl with whom I'd shared part of my childhood and who'd claimed my brother's heart.

  From the Notes of Michael Gamboski

  (Argand Lamps, Wikimedia Commons)

  Originally lighthouses were lit merely with open fires, only later progressing through candles, lanterns and electric lights. Whale oil was frequently used in lanterns as fuel.

  The Argand lamp, invented in 1782 by the Swiss scientist, Aimé Argand, revolutionized lighthouse illumination with its steady smokeless flame. Early models used ground glass which was sometimes tinted around the wick.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Sea Scope: Twenty years ago

  After her mother left, Wendy sat at the desk she'd occupied every Saturday since vacation Bible school began in June. The classroom was in her elementary school. There were ten children attending religious lessons with her. She recognized a few from her fifth-grade class last year, but no one ever spoke to her. She wished Glen and Sarah went to Bible school so at least she'd have someone to talk to.

  Miss Taylor was already at the front of the room which meant Wendy had made it in time for the class to start. The teacher reminded her a bit of her mother. She was probably around the same age and had a lovely voice. On Sundays, she sang in the choir at their church.

  “Good morning, children. Please take out your Bibles. Today's lesson is about sin and the value of telling the truth when we've done a wrong.”

  Wendy took the pocket-sized Bible from the drawer under her desk where Dottie sat on the edge and placed the book in front of her. Miss Taylor didn't mind that she kept the doll there, although she wasn't allowed to in regular school. Wendy was teased occasionally by the kids for still having a doll at ten years old.

  As Miss Taylor began the lesson, Wendy became fidgety. She didn't want to hear the Bible stories about sin and truth. She'd lied about going out in the woods last week and had paid for it dearly. She hadn't told her mother what happened nor the terrible dreams she'd started to have since the incident. She avoided Mr. Brewster whenever he entered a room. Instead of leaving, she looked away, so he couldn't give her a false smile. Once, she ran into him in the hall, and he'd whispered to her, “You haven't said anything to your mother, have you?” Fear would rise in her stomach, but she'd gulp it down and shake her head. “Good girl,” he replied, “that's our little secret. My sister would be quite upset to lose her best housekeeper.”

  Wendy tried to keep her attention on Miss Taylor, but she couldn't. There was no air conditioning in the school and it was already close to ninety degrees that morning. She began to feel the hot air in the small room close in on her and knew she had to escape. She raised her hand and asked to be excused to the bathroom. Out in the quiet hall, she took a deep breath and, instead of entering the girl's room, she slipped out the back door and gulped in the muggy air. She decided a short walk would help. There was still more than a half hour left to the class, and her mother said she might be late picking her up. Wendy could even make it to the lighthouse and back before the class ended. If Miss Taylor asked why she'd been away so long, Wendy could say she had a stomach ache.

  Holding Dottie, she skipped across the field toward the beach. The farther she went, the freer she felt. She didn't know exactly what drew her to the lighthouse. Her steps led her there. She spent a few minutes down by the water where it was cooler. Looking out at the calm waves, she felt the stress of the last week ease away. She was going to be okay. Her life had changed dramatically, but she was strong like her mother. She promised herself she'd forget about what happened, lock it away in her mind, and pretend to be the innocent and happy girl she used to be.

  Feeling confident in her decision, she was about to make her way back to school when she heard a scream and a loud noise as if something heavy hit the ground. Then she saw a figure emerge from the lighthouse. When she realized who it was, she hid herself behind a bush and waited until the person was gone in the direction of the inn. She then raced away but stopped when she saw Michael's body on the ground below the lighthouse, his broken eyeglasses lying a few feet next to him. She considered going to get help, but she wasn't supposed to be away from school, and she knew no one could survive a fall from the tower's height.

  It was only when she was back in her seat in the classroom that she realized she'd dropped Dottie.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Sea Scope: Present day

  “Is that how you lost your doll?” I asked, hoping the question would slow Wendy down and give us more time to plan an escape. When she didn't answer, I said, “My friend, Carolyn found Dottie under a log when she
, Russell, and I were out by the lighthouse recently. I have her in the glove box of my car. I can give her to you if you'd like.” Maybe, if I spoke kindly to her, she'd reconsider killing us.

  A boom of thunder signaled another wave of rain. My mother and I jumped back as it assaulted us, but Wendy stood there taking the onslaught. “What do I want with a doll now? Your father took my childhood away from me. He ruined my marriage. When I finally found a man who understood my fears, he took him away, too.”

  “Glen had an accident, Wendy. It wasn't anyone's fault.”

  “He was drinking. Aunt Julie told me she saw the bottles by the bed when she went up to talk to him. If only I'd stayed with him that night, but I couldn't face him after he'd heard what his father had done to me.”

  I'd thrown her off track which was good. I wiped the water from my eyes and moved closer to my mother. Maybe the two of us could jump her, but there was a chance the gun would go off and hit one of us. Our best bet was to keep her talking and pray someone would come to our rescue.

  “Stay where you are.” Wendy noticed we'd moved together closer to her. “I'm going to finish the story now, and I don't want any further interruptions. I'm not answering any questions. If either of you open your mouth, I'll shoot the other.”

  Mother gripped my hand like a lifeline. We were dripping wet, our hair flattened against our faces.

  Wendy smiled, and I felt nausea build up in my stomach again, but I fought the impulse to retch. “You want to know who killed Michael? I think it's obvious. He even left a suicide note, didn't he?” She looked at my mother who'd let out a gasp. “I forgot you can't answer me. You didn't show it to anyone, did you? I suppose you wonder how I know about it? You can nod your head if you want.”

  Mother nodded, and I could see the fear building up in her. There was no bottle for her to grab up here, only my hand, and her grip became so fierce I was afraid she'd break it.

  “I heard you tell the story at dinner. I was at the house that night but not hiding in one of the rooms that Donald Marshall checked. I dropped by to see what the topic of conversation would be and if it would include me. Anyway, I didn't stay for dessert. I went back to the lighthouse. Sarah,” She turned to me. “did you happen to see the paper and crayons with my backpack downstairs? Sorry, don't answer. I'm almost done with my story. After the villain is uncovered, it's rather quick to the end, isn't it?”

  While Wendy was rambling, I caught sight of something I could use as a weapon. It was folded up against the wall next to me. At first, I didn't realize what it was, but then it came to me. It was the tripod camera stand Wanda gave Michael all those years ago for his birthday. I let my mother's hand drop. In one motion, I grabbed the end of the tripod and ran toward Wendy fearing for my baby's life if my movement triggered a shot but knowing I had no choice. As I rammed into her, Wendy dropped the gun. It slid toward my mother who picked it up.

  “No!” Wendy screamed as the tip of the tripod hit her arm. I heard a crack. It was either bone or the lightning that illuminated our struggle. We both went down, rolling across the slick floor.

  “I have the gun!” Mother screamed above us.

  Wendy kicked and scratched me. I barely avoided a kick in the stomach, but her long nails dug into my arms. I yelled in pain as my blood mingled with the rainwater.

  “Let go of Sarah or I'll shoot,” Mother commanded. I didn't think Wendy heard her. It felt like she was battling me to the death. Was she thinking of my father and how she hadn't been able to protect herself all those years ago?

  It was obvious I was losing. Wendy was so quick I found it hard to get in even the lightest punches. I finally managed to grab hold of the end of her braid and yanked. She responded with a yowl and rolled off me. Mother had her in clear aim, but her hand shook around the gun. I knew she'd never fired one before.

  I got to my feet and ran to her. “It's alright, Mom. We have her now.”

  “Sarah, are you okay?” I wondered if I looked as badly injured as I felt.

  “Shoot me,” Wendy dared standing up against the railing and facing us. “Go ahead. Shoot me or I'll jump. My life isn't worth anything anymore.”

  Mother lowered the gun. “Yes, it is, Wendy. Think of your mother. She loves you. There are people who can help you.”

  “Like Glen?” She started to cry. “I don't need to be hypnotized again. I remember it all. Every awful detail.”

  “There are other therapies. Other doctors.” Mother was trying to reason with her, but I knew she wasn't listening.

  As Wendy turned her back to us, I heard voices below shouting above the storm. “I think someone's upstairs. There are clothes and crayons over here.” It was Derek. Relief flooded through me.

  “We should've looked here earlier,” Donald replied.

  Wendy heard them, too, and it hastened her decision. “Tell Mama I loved her, and I'm sorry for all the lies.”

  Wendy was poised against the railing about to jump as Derek and Donald appeared at the top of the stairway.

  There was a shot. I wasn't sure from where it came, but it hit Wendy in the leg and she fell backward screaming with pain and surprise.

  Mother stood with the gun pointing downward. “I had to save her,” she said. “I couldn't save Michael.”

  From the Notes of Michael Gamboski

  (Nantucket Station, Wikimedia Commons)

  Lightships were employed where the water was too deep to construct a lighthouse or it was impractical. The first lightships were located in the lower Chesapeake Bay (1820) and the most stations were in 1915 when there were 72 lightships manning 55 stations. The extra ships were used for relief. Lightships displayed lights at the tops of their mast(s) and in foggy areas sounded a bell or other fog signal such as a whistle, siren or horn. In 1921, lightships began being equipped with radio beacons. The last lightship was removed from the Nantucket Station in 1984.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Sea Scope: Twenty years ago

  Jennifer dragged herself out of bed. Even though her body ached from the heavy crying she'd done the night before, she felt amazingly light, as if a weight had been lifted off her. It was over. The years of hiding, protecting Glen and Sarah, drowning herself in self-pity were gone. She showered and dressed quickly. She hoped she hadn't missed Michael. She wanted to say goodbye to him. He was the reason for her new freedom.

  Breakfast was almost over by the time she arrived. Julie was at the sink doing dishes. She wondered where Wanda was and then remembered the housekeeper must've taken her daughter to Bible school.

  “Good morning, Julie. Is everyone gone? Did Michael leave already?”

  “Hi, Jennifer.” Her sister-in-law looked surprised to see her. She normally didn't make it down to breakfast on weekends. “There's still hot food and coffee on if you'd like. Michael left about a half hour ago. Glen and Sarah went back to Glen's room. I think Glen wanted to show Sarah a new science experiment. They mentioned wanting to go to the beach later. Wanda and Wendy should be back from Bible school soon. I'm going up to paint in the studio now.”

  “I'm not that hungry. I'll take a glass of orange juice out to the patio. I'm sorry I missed Michael. I didn't have a chance to say goodbye to him.”

  Jennifer went out on the porch with her juice. Before she could sit down to drink it, she saw Michael and Martin talking by Michael's old blue Dodge and strained her good ear to hear what they were saying. She left her drink and quietly walked toward the parking lot where she waited behind an oak, listening before she made her appearance.

  “Thanks for helping me load my car, Martin. I'm heading up to the lighthouse to check if I left anything there. I think my tripod might be up in the tower.”

  “Can I come along and give you a hand?”

  “I don't want to drag this out, Martin. I already told you it's over. I'm going back to my parents and then the university. If I were you, I would patch things up with your wife. Your kids are growing up fast. They're bright and sweet.”


  “I love my kids, but my leaving might be the best thing that could happen to them. Let me come with you to the lighthouse.”

  Jennifer had to suppress her laugh at his pleading tone. She agreed that Martin's going would benefit them all, but now it looked like Michael was turning Martin down. She hated the part of her that felt happy to hear this news. She decided to follow them to the lighthouse to see what would transpire there.

  Jennifer watched Martin and Michael enter the lighthouse. Michael used his key to open the door, and she assumed he wouldn't lock it behind him. Since they were headed for the tower, she realized she couldn't wait outside. She gave them a few minutes to walk up the stairs and then made her way inside. She didn't visit the lighthouse often. She recalled with a jolt to her heart the first time she'd been there with Martin when he first brought her to Sea Scope. He'd led her upstairs where they'd looked out over the town. She was able to see the inn to the south and the beach to the east. As they gazed below, he'd put his arm around her. She'd turned to him, and they'd kissed. If only she knew the changes in him that were about to occur. If only he'd moved with her to Long Island in their own home away from bell boys, housekeepers, and young male guests of questionable sexual orientation. She closed her eyes to listen, but the men were speaking too low. She climbed higher pausing at each landing, quiet on her padded moccasins.

  When she was on the final landing, she began to hear their words.

  “Michael, are you sure about this? I have money saved. I'm planning to make a new life. I'd like you in it.”

  “I gave you my answer, Marty. Please accept it, so we can remain friends. I never wanted to disrupt your family.”

  Martin gave a wry laugh. “My family was disrupted way before we met. You don't know what it's like having an alcoholic for a wife.”