“Justin! Don’t be so infuriating! What about the artifact?” Benita’s lower lip curled out as she apparently tried for a cute pout. She missed.
“You’ll see it tonight,” the judge said. “A jewel as beautiful as the one I am going to display for you needs the proper setting.”
“Oh, bother!” Benita snapped. “You’re playing games with us.”
Madelyn quickly said, “We asked for an itinerary, and Justin gave us one. Since the opportunity presents itself, I am going to take a leisurely nap.”
“A nap?” Benita stared at Madelyn unbelievingly.
“A good idea,” Aldo said. “I may follow it. The sea air has made me sleepy.”
“I’ll be in my room too,” Norton grumbled. “As long as I have free time, I’ll use it to go over some papers I brought along.”
Benita looked from one face to another, then said, “Oh. Well, I may just read—in my room of course. If anyone wants me, that’s where I’ll be.”
I wondered who they thought they were fooling. The judge better have a hideaway or he’d find them all descending upon him at once.
The judge turned to me. “Do you have plans, Andrea?”
It was the first time he had admitted that I existed. I was so surprised that I stammered, “I—I’m going swimming.”
“Be very careful,” he said. “There are no undercurrents to worry about, but there are plantlike sea animals that can sting and burn your feet painfully if you step on them.”
“I know,” I said. “I learned about them at our science museum.”
“Maybe someone should go with you.” Madelyn sounded a bit concerned.
No one spoke up. I hadn’t expected anyone to. I said, “I’m a very good swimmer, and I plan to stay close to shore because I’m going to snorkel. You don’t have to worry about me, Aunt Madelyn.”
Ellison appeared in the open doorway. “Come along now with me,” he said.
Like first-graders off on a field trip, we followed him across the entry hall and up the stairs in a neat and tidy line.
I was surprised that my room faced the ocean. Considering how the judge felt about me as an unwanted guest, I had halfway expected to be stuck in a closet. But after Ellison opened the shuttered doors that led to the veranda, spilling a shock of brightness over what had been dim outlines and shapes, I put down my bag and took a careful look at my surroundings. The walls had been painted a flat, glaring white, but there were smudges of mildew where they met the ceiling. And even though a breeze had begun to sift through the warm summer air, it couldn’t completely dispel the musty, stale smell of a room that had been closed tightly for too long.
A white woven cotton spread and two plump pillows covered the bed, which had an ornate headboard of white-painted wrought iron. An old-fashioned chest of drawers stood at one side of the bed, a comfortable wicker chair with a blue cushion at the other. There were three doors in the room. One led to a small closet, one to the outside hall, and one to a narrow bathroom with a cramped shower stall just large enough to be called adequate if you didn’t care how clean you got your elbows.
I stepped out on the second-story veranda and, from the corners of my eyes, saw someone pop quickly back into one of the rooms. Okay. I wasn’t looking for company either. I closed the shutters and put on my bathing suit, quickly hanging up the few clothes I had brought with me.
With the shutters closed the room smelled even more musty, so I opened the outside doors wide. I wasn’t worried about burglars or snoopers. I was probably the only one on this island with nothing worth stealing and nothing to hide.
Maybe all those nappers and resters had meant what they said. The house was suspiciously quiet as I went down the stairs two at a time to search out Ellison.
The rooms I looked into were dim, with ugly, out-of-date, overstuffed furniture. They would never have made it into Architectural Digest. Then it dawned on me that, since the judge owned them, they were probably valuable antiques. On one side of the entry hall was a smallish room with lots of bookshelves stuffed with books across one side. The air was so warm and damp that I could actually smell the mustiness that infected the books. Beyond this library was a large office with windows on two sides, but the shutters over the windows were closed. Obviously I wasn’t going to find Ellison around here.
I strolled back the way I had come, poking my head into what seemed to be a living room on the opposite side of the entry hall. It wasn’t an inviting place. There were groupings of sofas, mismatched tables of all sizes, and clustered chairs. There was a wide louvered door at the far end, but the louvers had been pushed to each side, showing a large dining room.
A soft voice behind me made me jump at least three inches into the air. “Is there something you were looking for, miss?”
“Ellison!” I said, staggering into a quick turn and leaning against the doorframe. “I was looking for you. The judge said something about some snorkel stuff. Do you know where I can find it?”
He nodded solemnly. “We’ll get you a mask, a tube, and flippers. Come with me now.”
“Sure,” I said, and trotted to keep up with him. “Have you worked here long?”
“Yes, miss,” he said.
“How many people work here?”
“I work here. That’s enough.”
“Oh,” I said. “I thought maybe the judge had a cook.”
“I do the cooking.”
“Oh.” It was very hard to think of anything else to say, so I gave up.
Ellison opened a cupboard, rummaged through it, and brought out some really neat equipment. I tried on some fins that turned out to be too big, but Ellison was able to tuck them back on the shelf and come up with a pair just the right size.
“There’re many, many poisonous plant animals in the sea,” he said. His eyes, behind those thick lenses, shimmered as though they were underwater.
“Yes. I know about them. I’ll watch out,” I said.
“Use the ladder at the end of the dock when you go in the water.”
“Okay, I will.”
“Don’t swim too far,” he told me.
“I won’t.” I put the mask on the back of my head, scooped up the fins and tube, and hurried out of the house and down to the beach, eager to get away from Ellison—from all of them.
The sand slipped between my toes like warm silk. I stooped to pick up a small, curved shell, then threw it away. Lots of time left for shell hunting. Maybe I’d even be able to dive for the big pink-pearl-lined conch. The wooden deck burned the soles of my feet, so I ran to the end and climbed on the ladder, slipping on the fins and dropping into the surprisingly warm water. I swished the mask through the water and put it on, making sure it was snug. Then out I swam over a scene of flashing, weaving color so intricate and lovely, I could hardly bear not to share it with someone else.
I wished I could share it with Rick.
It hurt to know that I couldn’t. My throat was so tight, it was hard to swallow. I ached so hard for Rick that I wondered if he could somehow sense it. I wanted to pretend that he was beside me, that soon he’d reach out, touching my arm, pointing at a bright-blue fish he wanted me to see.
“Grow up, Andy,” he had said.
Maybe Rick was right. Maybe I was too dramatic and stubborn about causes. I could change. I could try to be the way he wanted me to be.
Tears suddenly blinded me. I shook my head, almost choking on a mouthful of salt water. Tearing off my mask, gasping and choking, I finally managed to breathe normally again. That’s what I got for not paying attention to what I was doing.
I treaded water, glancing around me. The house and beach were nowhere in sight. I had somehow entered a small cove where palms, broad-leafed shrubs, and some kind of red-flowering trees crowded right down to the edge of the water. Below me, through the crystal water, was an equally brilliant garden, dotted with the large, curved shells of the conch. A promontory of bare limestone rock jutted out into the sea ahead of me. Water had worn large ho
les in the rock, and I could see through one of them to another cove beyond.
Curious, I swam ahead, my fins giving me an extra speed, and discovered that the rock arched just under the waterline. Below the arch was an entrance to the other cove, and to the left of the cove was an opening—only partly covered with water—to a cave.
I had to see the cave. There was no way I could pass up a cave. Pulling my mask into place and taking an extra-deep breath, I dived under the arch, made a right turn, and swam into a cavern so dark and still, I knew I had made a mistake. I had no right to be there.
CHAPTER
5
The ceiling to the cave was high, rough, and deeply curved, the walls about fifteen feet apart. It was like the inside of a bubble, with only its entrance to break the roundness and let in light. It was dark toward the back of the cave, so I couldn’t tell how deep it might be. My first thought was to wonder if something might be hiding in the dark water. An octopus? Large, scuttling crabs? But I wasn’t afraid. Anything that lived in this cave would be as withdrawn and secret as the cave itself. A ledge lay to my left, so I hoisted myself up, careful not to scratch myself on the rough stone and the clusters of barnacles that were plastered to it. I rested there for a moment between two small tidal pools and gently poked the end of my snorkel tube into the center of a flowering sea anemone, which quickly closed its spidery arms around the tube.
Discoloration on the walls of the cave, damp though they were, showed me how high the sea would rise. It came up only a few feet; there were bleached and dried ledges and nooks and hollows in the porous limestone walls far above the waterline.
What a good hiding place, I thought, and my mind flicked at the possibilities of a lovely adventure with pirates and plunder before I smiled to myself, put my mask back on, and swam out of the cave.
I twisted to swim through the arch and propelled myself—a little faster now—in the direction of the judge’s dock. The sun was much lower, casting a deep orange glow that glimmered on the surface of the water. A dark shadow slipped past me as I neared the dock, and I picked up my pace, recognizing the thin, mean lines of a barracuda and eager to stay out of its way.
Once on the ladder I could pull off the fins and scramble up to the surface of the dock. I tugged off my mask and shook water from my hair as though I were a pup. Smoothing it back from my forehead, enjoying the feel of the sun on my wet body, I was once again aware of being watched. The prying eyes irritated me, but I wouldn’t let the watcher know it. Slowly I walked across the dock and up the path toward the house.
Aunt Madelyn, dressed in dark blue silk, which set off her long strand of pearls, stepped out on the lower veranda and called, “Andrea! You haven’t allowed yourself much time to dress for dinner!” As I climbed the steps to join her she murmured with concern, “Dinner will be served in less than half an hour. Are you going to be able to do anything with that dripping wet hair?”
“Don’t worry.” I shook my hair again. “I wouldn’t go anywhere without my trusty hair dryer.”
I expected her to relax, but she looked even more concerned and said, “Let’s hope the generator can handle it.”
“Generator?” It suddenly occurred to me that the island wouldn’t be magically supplied with electricity. The judge would have to manufacture his own. “I’ll hurry,” I told her, and I did, banging my elbows only twice while I showered. I dressed in a red, loose-knit cotton sweater and full poplin skirt in matching red, which I liked because between the two pieces there were six deep pockets. I found a stick of gum in one pocket and two quarters in another, which was a nice surprise. Brush in hand, I plugged in my hair dryer. It started, then just as suddenly it stopped.
There were quick footsteps on the stairs and down the hallway. “Andrea!” Madelyn called from outside my door. “You’ve blown out the generator. Don’t use your hair dryer again!”
I opened the door. “I’m sorry.” My stomach rumbled, and I realized how hungry I was. “I ruined dinner, didn’t I?”
“No. The stove is fueled with butane gas,” she said. “But dinner will be served promptly at seven, and you have only five minutes left. You must not be late!”
“What about the generator?”
She sighed elaborately. “No doubt we’ll eat by candlelight. Ellison will probably work on the generator between courses.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t waste time making apologies. Hurry!”
“I’ll hurry!” I said. “I’ll be downstairs on time!”
And I was, my still-damp hair slicked back and twisted into a tight knot at the back of my neck. The one, lone barrette that I found in the bottom of a third pocket had the great responsibility of holding the knot in place. I hoped it would stay put, at least until after dessert.
I jogged down the stairs, across the wide entry hall, and into the living room. The appearance of the room had been changed, not all of it due to a cluster of lit candles on a table near the dining-room entrance. There was a more interesting table—a narrow, high table with spindly legs, which I had seen earlier beside one of the sofas. It was performing a special duty of its own. It had been moved to one side of the room and draped with a black velvet cloth. Behind the table was a chair, equally ugly and probably equally valuable as an antique. Next to the table stood a modern spotlight type of floor lamp, its spot aimed at the middle of the table. The cone-shaped shade and stand were covered with a silvery chrome, dingy and scraped in places. It seemed completely out of place.
The judge wasn’t in the room. Neither was Kurt. Madelyn and Norton had their heads together, and Benita stood aside with Aldo, the two of them studying the setting with silent suspicion.
Ellison appeared at the entrance to the dining room and formally apologized because dinner would be delayed half an hour. Then he announced that drinks would be served on the veranda.
The judge presided, but not very graciously. He was downright grumpy and glared at me, once mumbling, “Persona non grata.” I didn’t have to ask for a translation. I quickly glanced around, my face hot with embarrassment, desperately hoping that no one else had heard him. It was horrible to be an unwanted guest.
As Madelyn and Benita gave their orders I decided that everyone would be more comfortable if I weren’t in sight, so I stepped back through the open terrace doors into the living room. As I did someone slipped from the room and disappeared into the entry hall. It was just a flash of movement. I didn’t see who it was. It would have to be Ellison. Everyone else was out on the veranda. Right?
But I heard a sound from the opposite direction—the dining room—and turned to see Ellison puttering with something on the dining-room table.
Curious, I stepped to the open veranda doors and began to count noses. Madelyn was talking to the judge. Benita sat in a nearby wicker rocker, sipping on her drink. At the far end of the veranda, opposite the library, Norton leaned against the porch rail and seemed to be staring through the darkness, studying what little could be seen of the sea.
The person who had left the room in such a hurry must have been Aldo. I shrugged. I could practically hear Mom telling me not to be dramatic. As though to emphasize her point, I could hear footsteps down the stairs and across the entry hall. I leaned in to see Aldo striding across the living room toward me. He smiled and said something about being glad he’d had time to go back to his room. He’d realized he was missing a cuff link, and there it had been—lying on the bed. I was glad he didn’t know how suspicious I’d been, and for no good reason. That strange, black-covered table had ignited my imagination.
Aldo stepped onto the veranda, and I followed. Norton, Benita, and Madelyn were clustered around the judge.
Aunt Madelyn put a hand on my shoulder and drew me into the group. “Did you have a lovely swim, Andrea?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. “The sea flowers are beautiful.”
The judge looked up. “Some of those beautiful ‘flowers’ can be deadly. Things are not always what they s
eem.”
I thought about Rick and sighed. “People, too,” I said.
The judge gave such an odd laugh that everyone looked at him. “An astute remark, my dear,” he said. “Especially in this group.”
I was puzzled. Was he making fun of me? “I don’t understand,” I told him. “Do you mean that someone here isn’t for real?”
“There’s an old nautical term,” he said. “ ‘Sailing under false colors.’ ”
I could feel Madelyn tense. No one responded. I got the feeling that the judge didn’t expect anyone to.
To my relief, Ellison appeared just then and announced dinner.
“Please go ahead without me,” Aldo said. “I’ll join you in a few minutes.”
“What’s the problem?” the judge asked.
“A slight sinus headache,” Aldo said. “I have some aspirin in my room. Please. I insist. Don’t wait for me.”
“Very well,” the judge said. We followed him into the dining room.
The meal, which was served by candlelight, was boring. Ellison wasn’t the greatest cook in the world. It was hard to see everything I was eating, which was probably for the best. I sat at the end of the table next to Kurt, who, when he wasn’t substituting for Ellison in bringing more rolls or water, tried to relate to me by reminiscing about his high school football career.
“I bet you dated the head cheerleader too,” I said.
His expression became a little wistful, and he held his knife and fork at rest for a few moments. “I was really somebody in high school,” he said. “Everybody wanted to be my friend. I never had to worry about a girl turning me down when I asked for a date, and yeah, I did date the head cheerleader. We even fell in love—for a while.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just looked at him and hoped I’d think of something. But he shoveled a large bite of steak into his mouth and said around it, “It was never the same after high school.”
The Island of Dangerous Dreams Page 4
