It was one of the nicest vacations we’ve ever had. We spent the days on the beach and the weather was perfect, sunny, and as long as you stayed in the sun, quite warm, though chillish if you got out of it. One of the best things about it was that there wasn’t ever any rush. No one had to hurry to get anywhere. In the mornings we could all sleep as late as we liked, and so could Mother and Daddy. And when we heard them stirring we could go down and get into the enormous bed with them and talk and laugh and be comfortable. For lunches we usually had picnics, and then there were the dinners at the long table, sometimes just the family and sometimes with a friend or two of Grandfather’s. And then when we went up to bed there was the arm of light sweeping across our beds, and seeming, like the sea wind, to sweep everything clean and pure. And the sound of laughter coming up from below, and almost always, last of all, the sound of the guitar, and Mother singing.
When it came time for Mother and Daddy to go and it was half over for all of us it seemed as though we could hardly bear it. We wanted it to last forever just the way it was, but Grandfather said wonderful things couldn’t last forever, or they would be dulled by repetition and cease being wonderful.
On Mother and Daddy’s last night with us, we all drove down to the beach and sat in the shelter of Grandfather’s cove and watched the moon rise. I’d never realized how different the moon is rising over the mountains and rising over the sea. At first there was just a hint of light out over the horizon, and then the crust of the moon seemed to pull itself up right out of the water, and it was a deep, deep yellow, almost orange, and sort of flattened at the top. And it looked terribly old, and strange, and John said, “If our earth didn’t have any moon there wouldn’t be any tides, would there? I suppose the ocean would be quite different if there weren’t any tides.”
That was a spooky idea to me, having the familiar ocean be quite different, and sitting there, leaning against Daddy, I shivered.
But Daddy said, laughing, “Think of the planets that have more than one moon! Think how confused their oceans must get.”
Mother laughed, too, and said, “Just like me, with lots of children constantly pulling me this way and that!”
Rob started to chant, “I’m a little moon, I’m a little moon,” and then we were all laughing.
All in a moment the moon fairly seemed to leap up out of the ocean like a porpoise, and as it leaped up into the sky it lost its weird orangy look and grew round and clear and white. Rob said, “I see the man in the moon and he’s laughing at us!”
It really seemed that we could see an impish face up there laughing down at us!
Mother and Grandfather began singing,
“The man in the moon
Came down too soon
And asked the way to Norwich.
He went by the south
And burned his mouth
With eating cold plum porridge.”
“I just don’t get it,” Maggy said, as she always did when Mother sang that song. “How could he burn his mouth if it was cold plum porridge?”
“I want plum porridge for breakfast,” Rob said sleepily. “I never had any.”
Right after breakfast the next morning Mother and Daddy left. Daddy was going to go to a medical convention in New York as well as everything else, and it made a very good thing to tell the little ones, so they didn’t have to worry about Maggy’s fate being settled. Daddy warned John and me again that Mr. Ten Eyck was perfectly capable of thinking our open, country life wasn’t at all the thing he wanted for his granddaughter. He was strictly a city person and he could very easily think the way we lived was much too free and easy and that Maggy needed lots more polish than she would get with us. And when Daddy talked like that about it we didn’t feel as sure as we had about everything all that first beautiful week at the island.
We all stood outside the stable and waved and waved, long after the station wagon had disappeared around the bend in the road and we couldn’t see Mother and Daddy any longer, as though they’d be gone for much more than a week.
We all had various duties for the week we were to be there without Mother and Daddy. John and I were to do the cooking. I was really in charge, but John was to help me as much as he could and take care of the picnics. And he was to sweep the floors every morning before we went down to the beach or did whatever was planned for the day, while Suzy and Maggy and I did the breakfast dishes and made the beds. John’s sweeping was quite a job, because on an island lots of sea sand gets tracked in. Rob was to do anything Grandfather asked him to do, like going over to the neighbors’ with a basket for eggs. And, of course, John and I were strictly responsible for the younger ones at the beach, and they’d promised never to go wading or anything like that unless we were along.
Everything started out all smoothly and beautifully. We all did our jobs without squawking—even Maggy; I guess Grandfather and the island had a good influence on her, too.
Then there came a Day.
It scares me to think of it even now.
It was the hottest day we’d had, and the little ones kept begging to go swimming, but John and I said no, only wading, and they weren’t to get their clothes wet, either.
We cooked hot dogs out on the beach for lunch and then right after lunch John went back to the stable to work on a summer book report; and after a while Suzy went on back, because she was still hungry and she wanted to make herself a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich. Rob and Maggy and I were building a sand castle for the tide to come into, and when that was finished Rob and Maggy went off to collect shells. I had more shells than I knew what to do with already, so I climbed up on a rock and started reading a book I’d brought down in the picnic basket. It was low tide, which is the best time for finding good shells, and Maggy and Rob kept coming back and dumping shells at my feet, some of them quite pretty, but most of them just plain shells like the boxes and baskets of shells they already had up in the loft. In Grandfather’s cove there is a long spit of land that goes like a path out into the ocean. It’s covered when the tide is high, but when it’s low tide you can always find the best shells of all on it. So Rob and Maggy kept running up and down the path of sand and shrieking with delight each time they saw a special shell.
After a while I heard my name being called, and then there was Suzy peering around the rocks.
“Vicky,” she said anxiously, “something’s the matter with Colette, and she just yips and snaps when I try to go near her.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I don’t know; she won’t let me look. She keeps batting at her face with her paw, and then she rubs her face on the floor, and she’s whining and whimpering. John said I’d better get you.”
“You mean she won’t bite the hand that feeds her?” I asked. One of my jobs is feeding Colette and Rochester, so Colette does have a special feeling for me. “Okay, I’ll come. C’mon, Maggy and Rob.”
“Oh, leave them,” Suzy said impatiently. “We don’t want a lot of people hovering around Colette, especially if … Vicky, you don’t think she could have hydrophobia, do you?”
“No, I don’t,” I said; but the idea had crossed my mind. I thought hard for a minute.
Maggy and Rob were having a wonderful time, and they didn’t want to leave and climb up the path to the stable, so I finally told them I was going back up for just a few minutes. “But stay in Grandfather’s cove,” I warned them, “and don’t do any more wading till John or I come back. Why don’t you build another sand castle? The tide’s starting to come in. Or you can look for more shells. Or—”
“Come on, Vic,” Suzy urged.
“Okay, I’ll be back down in just a little while,” I told them, and followed Suzy up the cliff.
When we got back up to the stable Colette was in the kitchen with John watching her, looking very upset. And she was certainly acting very peculiarly. She had her head down on the floor and she was moaning, and then she flopped down and rubbed at her jaws with both paws. It would have be
en funny if it hadn’t been pathetic, and sort of scary, too. Then she started running around in circles, and I got really frightened, because I’d read in a book about a mad dog running around in circles. I went to the sink and filled Colette’s water bowl.
“What are you doing that for?” John asked.
“I want to see if she’s thirsty,” I said. I didn’t explain that I’d just remembered that hydrophobia means fear of water. I put the bowl down by Colette and she sniffed at it but wouldn’t drink any, and then she began batting at her face again.
I sat down on the floor by her and talked to her softly. “Colly, Colette, c’mere, Colly, come to Vicky.” She did come to me, though I hadn’t really expected her to, moaning piteously. Tentatively I put my hand to her jaws, but she jerked away, then came back to me again. She did this two or three times, but she didn’t really go away from me or start to run around in circles again. She rubbed her head hard against my knee, and finally I took my courage in both hands and held her tight and stuck my fingers in her mouth. She gave an awful yelp and sort of snapped at me, but I’d discovered what was wrong.
I looked up at John and Suzy in relief. “It’s one of those lamb-chop bones I gave her last night. She’s got a piece of it wedged up in the roof of her mouth. Hold her tight for me so she can’t wiggle away.” John and Suzy held Colette, and I managed to reach in and dislodge the chop bone. And then Colette was all over me, licking my face to thank me, and she stood up on her hind paws and waved her front paws and begged.
“Give her a biscuit,” Suzy said.
“A biscuit’s so hard,” I said, “and I’m sure the roof of her mouth is sore.” What Colette loves more than anything in the world is buttered toast, so I told John and Suzy I was going to make her some, and they decided to have some, too. As a matter of fact, we were hungry again. Colette danced about, delighted at having got rid of the chop bone, and ate pieces of all our buttered toast. Then we had some tea, and Colette had several saucersful, with lots of milk.
After a while John said, “I hope Rob and Maggy are okay.”
“Well, of course they are!” Suzy said impatiently. “Maggy’s old enough to look after Rob for a few minutes.”
“I hope you told them not to go wading,” John said anxiously, like a mother hen.
“What do you think I am!” I said indignantly. “I’ve got some sense of responsibility.”
“Sure, Vic,” John said, “but I’ll just feel better if you’ll go down and check on them.”
I thought I’d feel better, too, so I slithered down the cliff path to Grandfather’s cove. And they weren’t there. There was the sand castle they had been building, and there were two more big piles of shells, but no sign of either of them. “I told them not to go out of Grandfather’s cove!” I said aloud.
I wasn’t very worried yet, though, and I clambered around the rocks to the bigger cove where we sometimes go but they weren’t there, either. I went back to Grandfather’s cove. Make them be there, I half thought, half prayed, and I really thought I’d see them squatting by the sand castle or playing with their shells. But they weren’t there. The picnic basket was there, and the thermos jug of lemonade, and my book, but no Rob or Maggy. I called and called but nobody answered except a gull. The tide was well on its way in now, and a good half of the spit of land where they’d been trotting up and down getting shells was already underwater. I began to feel panicky. I put the book in the picnic basket, carried the basket in one hand and the heavy thermos jug in the other, and clambered back up the cliff-side to the stable.
In the stable all was peace and quiet. Grandfather was writing at his desk with Colette sleeping peacefully at his feet, and he looked so happy and busy that I hated to disturb him, especially with something worrying, so I climbed the ladder to the loft, but nobody was there. Then I heard a noise in the kitchen, so I hurried down.
Please make Rob and Maggy be there. Make them have come home without my knowing it.
But just John and Suzy were there, both of them eating more toast and marmalade.
“Where’re Rob and Maggy?” John asked.
“They aren’t there,” I said flatly. “They aren’t in Grandfather’s cove or anywhere around. I called and called and they didn’t answer.”
“Where could they be?” Suzy asked blankly.
John looked at me and said, “Mother and Daddy said we were never to leave the little ones at the beach without one of us being there.”
“John, don’t!” I cried. “Help me find them!”
“All right,” John said. “The first thing is not to get panicky. They’re undoubtedly perfectly all right. We’ve just got to figure out where they’re likely to be. Just where did you leave them, Vicky?”
“In Grandfather’s cove,” I said again. “I told them to stay right there till I came back for them and they weren’t to go near the water.”
“And she really wasn’t gone very long,” Suzy said in my defense. “Just while she took the chop bone out of Colette’s mouth and made the tea and toast. And if they didn’t want to stay down at the beach I don’t see why they didn’t come back up to the stable.”
“I don’t think Rob would go off and do anything cockeyed by himself,” John said. “I’m sure of Rob, and I thought I was sure of Maggy, but now that it comes to the point, I’m not quite so sure. I’m trying to think, well, what would Maggy, being Maggy, be most likely to do, and I don’t know.”
“Could they have gone to the post office?” Suzy suggested.
“But you remember, we all walked to the post office this morning.”
“Oh. Well, they wouldn’t have gone there.”
“I want to look for them,” I said nervously. “I don’t want to sit here and talk about it.”
“The point is,” John said, “we have to figure out where to look. There’s no point going off half cocked to the post office if they’ve gone in the other direction. You really looked thoroughly on the beach, Vic?”
“Of course.”
“Do you think we ought to tell Grandfather?” Suzy asked.
“Not yet.” John shook his head. “Okay, Vic, it’s not that I don’t trust you, but I’m going to look down on the beach again.”
“But I did—” I started to protest.
“I know, but they might have wandered off and come back,” John said. “You go look over by the lighthouse. Suzy, you stay here, and if they come back you tell us as fast as you can. Vicky and I’ll be as quick as possible and we’ll meet right back here.”
I half ran, half walked, along the narrow cliff road. Above me the sea gulls had evidently sighted some fish or something that excited them, because they kept diving and swooping and crying, and I kept thinking it was Rob or Maggy, crying or frightened or hurt. When I got to the yellow frame building across the road from the lighthouse where Mr. Henreys, the lighthouse keeper, and his wife lived, I went in and asked if they had seen Rob or Maggy anywhere that afternoon, and they hadn’t. So I turned around and hurried back to the stable again. The thing that kept bothering me, the thing that for some reason I kept seeing in my mind, was Rob and Maggy walking out on that spit of land hunting for shells, and knowing now that the spit of land was rapidly being covered with water from the incoming tide; and Rob is too young to swim much and I didn’t even know whether Maggy could swim or not.
Suzy was waiting for me in the kitchen. She said she’d just gone up to the loft to look out; she’d seen me on my way back from the lighthouse, and John starting up the cliff path, and she could see all along the beach, but there was no sign of Rob or Maggy.
“But I couldn’t have seen them, of course,” she said, “if they’d been around the corner of a cove or behind a rock.”
“It’s my fault,” I said. “I told them I’d be right back.”
“There isn’t any point in blaming anybody,” Suzy said. “If it comes to blame, we told them to stay right where they were, and they didn’t.”
John came in then. “They ar
en’t down at the beach and that’s that.” He looked at me and I looked at him and neither of us said what we were thinking.
“The tide’s coming in,” Suzy said. “If they went into some of the littler coves they couldn’t get back to Grandfather’s cove until the tide goes out again. Rob’s too little to climb up the cliff except by the path.”
“Well, maybe we’d better not just go on looking by ourselves,” John said, sort of tentatively. “Maybe we’d better tell Grandfather.”
“Tell Grandfather what?” a voice asked, and Maggy came strolling into the kitchen.
“Maggy!” We all pounced on her, the three of us shouting at once, where had she been, why hadn’t they stayed in Grandfather’s cove the way I told them to, why had they worried us that way, and then, all of a sudden, “Where’s Rob?”
Maggy looked blank. “Rob? Isn’t he with you?”
“He was with you!” I said fiercely. “I left you with him in Grandfather’s cove and you knew you should have stayed there till I got back. You’re six years older than Rob! You knew you were in charge of him!”
“You didn’t tell me I was,” Maggy said.
At that point I would gladly have seen Maggy thrown to the lions.
“She didn’t have to tell you,” John said coldly. “Where have you been and why did you leave Rob?”
Maggy looked around from one to the other of us, her vague look slowly being replaced by a wary one; if there was anything Maggy hated, it was acknowledging she’d done wrong in any way—hated it even more than the rest of us. Finally she said, “Well, Rob told me to go away, so I went.”
“No, Maggy, that won’t do,” John said.
“Well, what really happened,” Maggy started again, “was that we were playing hide-and-seek and it was my turn to hide and, well … and … and I waited and waited and when Rob didn’t come look for me I … well … I thought he’d come back to the stable, so I came along to see if he was here. I was … I was looking for him.”
Meet the Austins Page 17
