This book is dedicated to my grandchildren: Jack, Teddy, Delancey, Wesley, Penelope, and Henry.
—M. A. M.
This book is dedicated to my children: Maeson and Aeden.
—A. M.
CHAPTER 1
The Ferry to Nowhere
We each have to do our part.
THIS WAS GOING TO BE the worst summer ever! Here I was, waiting for a ferry, forced to spend my entire summer vacation living with my grandma in the middle of nowhere.
Baaaaamp! Loud horn blasts from the ferryboat vibrated the long wooden dock. My stomach twisted at the sound.
“It’s time to board, Jake,” Mom said.
I could tell her smile was fake. I hadn’t seen a real smile on her face for weeks. But neither of us felt like smiling after the phone call about what happened to Dad.
A big sign over the dock read DEWEES ISLAND FERRY. A lot of people were waiting for the white double-decker, standing near their metal carts filled with groceries, suitcases, fishing poles, tackle boxes, even beach chairs. Two small dogs barked in excitement as they trotted past me on leash.
“Do I have to go?” I asked my mom in a last-ditch effort. “I want to stay with you. Please! I’ll be good. I promise.”
Mom’s shoulders slumped. “Jake, we’ve been over and over this. I don’t know how long I’ll be there, and I can’t leave you alone in a rental all day.”
I was trying to be strong. But her words made me explode.
“It’s not fair! You’re dumping me on that island! What kind of summer vacation is this?”
I knew I had crossed the line. Mom was a lieutenant colonel in the Air Force and flew those giant C-17 transport planes. She was all about duty and following orders. She stepped closer to me, lowering her voice.
“I know you don’t want to go,” she said. I saw a flash of sadness in her eyes. Then she straightened her shoulders and I heard the commander in her voice. “We have to do what’s best for your father now and put our personal wants aside. We don’t know how bad he’s been hurt or how long his recovery will be. This isn’t a vacation, Jake. We each have to do our part. For Dad.”
I lowered my head, ashamed. Still, it was hard hearing that my dad was hurt but not knowing how bad or what happened to him.
“It isn’t good for you to sit around in hospitals all summer. And,” she said, reaching out to lift my chin so I looked into her eyes, “your grandmother needs you. She’s worried about your dad too.”
“I know, but…” I paused to take a shaky breath in. “I want to see him.”
“I know you do. But remember, you’re helping your dad by helping Honey. He’ll feel better knowing you’re with her.”
I scrunched my face and nodded in understanding.
I met her eyes and she flashed a soft smile.
“You’re in charge now, Private.”
She got me there. My dad was an officer in the Army, and he always called me Private. I tugged at my Army ball cap to hide my eyes.
“Yeah,” was all I could muster through the lump in my throat.
“All aboard!” called out the ferry captain.
“Let’s go!” said Mom, trying to be cheerful. I felt her gently nudge my back.
We walked down a metal ramp to the waiting ferry. The mate greeted us and wheeled my cart of stuff on board with everyone else’s belongings.
“I’ll call you as soon as I know anything,” Mom said, and then leaned in to kiss my cheek. “You’ll love Dewees Island. There’s so much to do—the beach, the woods. You had the best time when you were there before.”
“I was six, Mom.”
“Well, you’re almost twelve now, so that means you’ll have twice as much fun.”
“Right. It’s going to be great stuck on an island with no cars allowed, or stores, or restaurants. Are there even people there, other than Honey?”
“Of course there are.”
“At least I can game online with Carlos and Nick.”
Mom’s face cringed. “Well…” She hesitated. “There isn’t any Wi-Fi.”
“What!” I couldn’t believe there was a place on earth without Wi-Fi.
“You mean I not only have to spend my summer away from my friends, I’m stuck alone on some faraway island with my grandma? And I have no internet?” My jaw hung wide open in disbelief. “Tell me you’re joking.”
Mom laughed. I hadn’t heard her laugh since the first phone call about Dad.
“Come on, Jake. You’ve endured far worse. There’s Wi-Fi on the island, just not at Honey’s house. She doesn’t think she needs the internet.” Her voice lowered. “Your grandmother can have strong opinions about things.”
“Or she’s just weird,” I muttered. I had thought things couldn’t get any worse, but they just did.
“Ready!” called out the captain, opening wide the passenger door. He was urging us to go.
“Time to move,” Mom said, trying to sound cheery.
I puffed out my breath. Being a military family, we moved around a lot. I was always the new kid and making friends. I was used to saying goodbye to my parents.
But it never got easier.
“Bye,” I said, looking down.
Mom gave me a quick final hug. I didn’t want to return it. My arms hung limp at my sides.
She stepped off the ferry back onto the deck. I looked over my shoulder to see her walking down the dock, shoulders slumped.
“Mom!” I called out.
She stopped and turned as I ran toward her. She opened her arms, and I ran into them and hugged her with all my might.
“I’ll miss you, Mom,” I said, my face muffled in her chest.
I felt her arms tighten around me. “I’ll miss you too.” She kissed my cheek and I could see the tears in her eyes, just like mine.
“I’ll call you!” she said.
“I love you, Mom,” I called out as I ran back to the boat. The captain waved me inside and shut the door behind me.
Inside, the benches were filling up. I raced up the stairs to the top deck of the ferry. The sun glared hot in the sky, making the metal railing warm to the touch as I leaned over to wave goodbye to Mom.
But she was already gone.
CHAPTER 2
Welcome to the Island
It’s a Huck Finn life.
IN A BLAST OF BUBBLY growls, the ferry’s big engines fired up. The boat moved as slow as a turtle through the Intracoastal Waterway, past Isle of Palms where big white motorboats and Jet Skis waited at docks in front of enormous mansions.
The farther we got from all the docks, the farther away I felt from the world I knew. I wondered what my friends in New Jersey were doing right now on their first day of summer break. I pulled out my phone and texted: Hey guys, what’s up? Check out this selfie of me heading out to no-man’s-land.
I backed out of the text screen and looked at the surrounding landscape. I sure wasn’t in New Jersey anymore. All around me, the blue water spread out as far as I could see. Acres of bright green marsh grass waved in the breeze along the shore. I spied a long line of brown pelicans flying low over the marsh in tight formation, their six-foot wingspans almost touching the water. My dad called them “bombardiers on patrol.”
The clanging of footsteps on the metal stairs caught my attention. Turning my head, I saw a boy standing at the top of the stairs. He looked like he was my age, with short cropped hair and brown skin. I felt a shot of hope that there were other kids on the island. The boy was wearing gold-colored wireless headphones and blue Nikes. My parents would never buy me shoes that expensive. I wiggled my toes inside my sneakers, an old gray pair I’d had since Christmas.
I caught his eye and nodded at him, but the boy acted like he didn’t see me as he walked to the
bench farthest away from me, gripping the boat railing.
Suddenly the captain went full throttle. The big engine churned and the boat took off so fast, my ball cap lifted off my head. I lurched after it. My phone slipped from my hand to the floor. I watched, frozen in horror, as it slid across the deck and disappeared over the edge into the white-capped waves that churned below.
“Noooooo!” I yelled.
I gripped the railing and leaned over, staring in shock and disbelief as sprinkles of salty water splashed my face. A white, foamy boat trail faded away into the deep blue. My last connection to home was gone. I swallowed hard and glanced over at the other kid. His hands were locked on the railing like his life depended on it. He cast me a quick glance and shrugged in commiseration.
I plopped down on the bench, my elbows on my knees, my hands feeling empty. The next fifteen minutes were a blur as we raced across the waterway.
When the ferry engines slowed to a gurgle, I looked up. We were approaching the island. I saw a dome of dense green trees and shrubs, like the island was a lost world, shrouded in mystery. I almost expected to see a dinosaur rush out. I stood and returned to the railing and watched as the ferry approached a long wooden dock.
I squinted in the glare of the sunlight and spotted my grandmother standing beneath a wooden sign that said DEWEES ISLAND, SC. WELCOME. Honey was smiling and waving both hands above her head like she’d been shipwrecked and I was coming to save her.
At last the boat stopped. In a whir, the boy in the Nike shoes raced past me down the stairs. I hoisted my backpack and followed him off the ferry and up the dock, our footsteps pounding the wood.
“Jake! My boy!” Honey cried as she wrapped her arms around me in a tight embrace. “Child, look at how you’ve grown. You might be taller than me now.”
“That’s not hard to do. Everyone’s taller than you, Honey,” I said.
It had been almost a year since I last saw Honey. She came to stay with me when both of my parents were away on missions. But she looked much older. Her usually tan skin was pale, with a lot more wrinkles on her face than I remembered.
“Let’s get you to the house. You must be starving after that long trip. My cart is parked just over there,” she said, pointing to the long line of golf carts parked near the dock. There were no cars on the island, so everyone drove a golf cart.
The boat captain pushed a cart with my duffel bag to our side and greeted my grandmother.
“Ms. Helen, aren’t you a sight to see! Sure is nice to see your bright smile out and about again.”
“I have the best reason to be out today. My grandson arrived. He’ll be staying all summer,” she said. “Come along, Jake. Let’s get you to the house.”
I followed Honey down the walkway to her golf cart. There were some nice ones all decked out. There were plain ones, mostly tan or gray. Then there was Honey’s cart. It looked like it was the oldest one in the lot, and worse, it was covered in sand and dirt. A small green flag with the words TURTLE TEAM was duct-taped to the back corner of the cart’s roof.
“Hop on.” Honey slipped on sunglasses.
I tossed my duffel bag and backpack onto the back seat of the cart and climbed in next to Honey. The sound of an approaching boat caught my attention. I swung my head around and did a double take. The driver of the single-engine motorboat was a girl. She was about my age—and she was alone.
“Honey, there’s a kid driving a boat. By herself!”
Honey looked over her shoulder. “Oh, that’s Lovie Legare.” She didn’t seem the least bit surprised.
“But… how can she drive a boat… by herself? I can’t even drive a golf cart.”
Honey chuckled. “Actually, I can get you permission to drive a golf cart on the island. You just got to pass my driving test. As for the boat, you can learn to do that, too.”
My mouth slipped open. I turned to watch in awe as Lovie tied up her boat and leaped onto the dock with the ease of a sailor. She had a long blond braid that hung down her back like the rope in her hands. When she lifted her gaze toward us, I quickly looked away.
The cart made a high beeping sound as Honey backed out of her parking spot. She stopped and turned the wheel.
“Lovie comes to Dewees from the Isle of Palms almost every day during the summer to stay with her Aunt Sissy while her mama’s at work.” She flipped a switch from reverse to forward. Before she turned her gaze back to the road, she told me, “Close your mouth, son. You’ll catch flies.”
As Honey sent the cart lurching forward, I shut my mouth in a big grin. “Can I really learn to drive a cart this summer? Even a boat?”
“Why not?” she asked as she drove out of the parking lot. We headed into the deep shade of the trees. Honey glanced at me appraisingly. “You’re not a little tyke any longer. You’re old enough to operate a cart. Even a boat. Course, you’ll need to pass a boater safety class.”
“I could do that,” I said, and imagined myself driving a boat on the water—fast.
Honey turned right onto a dirt road and took off in the golf cart. As we bumped along the shady path, the breeze ruffled my hair and cooled the sweat from my brow. The air smelled sweet, like flowers.
“Child, look around you,” Honey said, extending her arm. “Dewees is a very special place. There aren’t too many folks who live here. Mostly animals and birds and trees and all kind of wild.” She smiled. “The whole island is yours to explore.”
“Really?”
“Yep,” Honey said, and turned her head to wink at me. “It’s a Huck Finn life on the island.”
Suddenly I felt the first spark of happiness breaking through the gray of this terrible, dreadful day. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst summer ever after all.
* * *
There were no paved roads on the island, only dirt paths with shells, pebbles, and ruts that we bounced across. Tall trees loomed over us, shading the road like a tunnel. I felt like I was in a jungle. To my right was a dense thicket of trees and shrubs and maybe a peek at a house far back, hidden from the road. To the left I saw a shimmering lagoon surrounded by tall marsh grass and more trees arching over the water like bony, long fingers.
Everywhere I looked were birds. Little ones flitting about in the trees, big white ones standing in the mudflats, and wading in the shallows of a lagoon were several bright pink birds. They looked like flamingos. I sure wasn’t in New Jersey anymore.
“What kind of birds are those?”
Honey turned her head, but she’d already zoomed past the lagoon. She pointed to a circular wooden building up high on stilts.
“That’s the Nature Center,” said Honey. “Remember it?”
“No.”
“I guess it was a few years back. That’s where you can learn all about what birds you spot here. Animals, too. They’ve got all sorts of information in there. You used to like to go there.”
“That was a long time ago,” I said.
Honey was silent as she drove. “True enough,” she said. “You know, Jake, I wanted you to come visit here every year. I asked over and over. But with your mama and daddy’s work schedules, and your school and sports schedule, it was hard to find a time that y’all could come visit me. Such a shame, because you used to love it here.” She sighed heavily. “Just like your daddy.”
I swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
“Well, you’re here now. Right?” She tried to sound cheerful and turned her head to smile at me.
Honey’s driving had me clinging for my life to the cart. I gripped the windshield frame with one hand and the back of our seat with the other as she plowed through a deep puddle.
“Oops, I didn’t see that one,” she said with a giggle. Honey’s short, gray, curly hair was puffed up from the breeze. I saw lots more gray in it than I remembered.
I couldn’t figure out if Honey could or could not see the puddles, because she seemed to splash through more than she dodged. And I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be scared.
“What
happens if a golf cart flips over?” I asked.
“Good question. What do you think you should do?” Honey asked.
“Uh… pray?”
“Nope. Island rule number one: If you start to fall off a golf cart, just let go.”
“You mean, fall off?”
“Yep.”
“Are we going to flip?”
“Well, I don’t plan on it. But whoever does?”
I gripped the cart tighter as we drove a little farther down the road. Honey suddenly brought the cart to a stop. I jerked forward in the seat.
Honey pointed to a lagoon in the distance. “This lagoon here’s where Big Al likes to hang out. Here’s island rule number two: We all leave Big Al alone.”
“Who’s Big Al?”
“Just the biggest, baddest alligator on the island. We have several alligators on Dewees, but Al is the biggest bull of them all. You won’t mistake him.” She pointed to the platform floating in the middle of the lagoon. “That’s his favorite spot. Did you know when a gator is sunning, it’s actually digesting its food?”
I shook my head, feeling a little scared that I was on an island with a bunch of gators.
“If you’re driving the golf cart and come across Big Al sunning himself on the road, put the golf cart in reverse and go the other way. No one messes with Big Al.”
Before I could respond, she tapped the steering wheel and said, “So, want to take a lesson?”
I was still imagining just how big Big Al really was—and where he was hiding—but her question quickly pushed that out of my mind.
“A driving lesson?” I asked. “Now?”
“Of course. You must learn to drive the golf cart. Else how are you going to get your chores done? You ready?”
“Uh, sure.” I couldn’t believe my luck.
Honey slid from the driver’s seat and patted the cushion. “Well, come on.”
I was getting the sense that Honey didn’t fool around. When she said something, she meant it. I scooted over on the front seat and took hold of the wheel. I was excited she was going to let me drive.
“First thing to learn is that this isn’t a toy,” Honey began in a teacher voice. “It’s a powerful machine and deserves respect. Follow the rules and you shouldn’t get hurt. But start acting like some fool race car driver and you’ll not only get hurt”—she paused to give me the stink eye—“I’d find out before you could park the cart back at my house. That would mean the end of your driving privileges. Got it?”
The Islanders Page 1
