The house was a beehive of activity! The floors and the furniture were polished to a high lustre. In the kitchen, the oven had been going almost constantly for two days, as preparations were under way for the much anticipated Fourth of July weekend.
“What time do you think Daddy will be here?” Janelle kept running to the door to look.
“They could arrive any time now, honey.” Mrs. Baxter gave the curly head a pat as it danced by. “Kristen says that Marla is bringing some kind of surprise for you. Any idea what that might be?”
“No. She just said it was a present. Don’t tell Daddy about the picture I’m painting. I’m saving that for his birthday.”
Kristen came into the kitchen through the back door, her arms filled with summer flowers. “I’ll make the centerpiece for the table, and this time I know better than to cut the sea oats.” Sensing Janelle’s nervous impatience, Kristen tried to distract her. “Let’s take a walk on the beach. Your father is going to be proud when we tell him about our new project.”
“And what would that be?” Mr. Baxter came in the back door, carrying his toolbox. “What are you two up to this time?”
“We’ve resolved to be good environmentalists. We found some books in the crow’s nest that tell us things we can do to preserve and beautify our beaches.”
“You mean like not disturbing the native vegetation?” Mr. Baxter gave her a good-natured wink.
“That too. We’re keeping watch over the turtles’ nests to scare away raccoons or other animals that might like turtle eggs. And we’ve been picking up trash from the beach. It’s unbelievable that people will drop candy wrappers or drink cans on the beach, when garbage bins are provided.”
“Yes,” Janelle added. “We even picked up an old shoe that washed in on the tide.”
“Well, that’s great. If you find two of them, see if they’re big enough for me.” Mr. Baxter’s eyes twinkled like Santa Claus’s.
“We’ll be on the lookout for something in your size,” they promised him.
Since most island residents were conscientious about keeping their beaches clean, there was surprisingly little wayward trash to be collected, except what floated in on the tide, but Kristen liked to encourage Janelle’s awareness, so they perused the area daily.
Barefoot, and dressed in their oldest shorts, they combed the beach, their eyes sweeping the area for debris.
“Look, Janelle. There’s an old plastic jug floating in the water. Someone was very irresponsible to dispose of it like that. It’s not biodegradable, either.” She waded out to retrieve it. “It’s an old bleach bottle.” She grabbed it by the handle and turned back toward shore.
“Give it to me, Kristen. I’ll put it in the trash bin.” Janelle was eager to help.
“I can’t bring it in. There’s a string attached, and it seems to be caught on a rock or something.”
Janelle splashed out to where Kristen stood knee deep in the water. “I’ll help.” She put out her little hand and tugged, squealing as an incoming wave caught the bottom of her cotton shorts.
“Never mind, Janelle. I’ve found a sharp shell. I’ll just cut it loose. I hate to leave the string, but at least it won’t be visible. We don’t want an unsightly plastic bottle spoiling our pretty beach today, with company coming.”
Kristen waded as far as she could without soaking her shorts, and severed the nylon fishing cord. Janelle took the bleach bottle and ran up the beach to deposit it in a trash bin.
“It looks like that’s about it for today, Janelle. We’d better start back. Maybe we can get our clothes changed before our guests arrive.”
“Daddy’s not a guest, Kristen. Only Marla.”
“Of course you’re right. My mistake.”
Far up the beach, Kristen spotted him. Her heart lurched, and she watched Janelle fly to meet him. Hand in hand, they waited for her. She willed her knees to stop shaking as she walked toward them.
His arm reached out and encircled Kristen with a friendly hug. “I thought I’d find you out here somewhere.”
Janelle was ecstatic. “We’ve been cleaning the beach. We’re eek—eek—”
“Ecologists,” Kristen prompted.
“That’s wonderful. I want to hear all about it.”
As they approached the house, they could see Marla sitting on the porch, holding a large, festively wrapped package.
“This is for you, Janelle.” She held the box out toward the little girl. “It’s the present I’ve been promising you.”
“Thank you, Marla.” Even in her excitement, Janelle remembered to use her best company manners the way Kristen had urged her to.
“Go ahead. Open it.”
“Yes,” Wes encouraged. “I’m anxious myself to see what it is. Marla wouldn’t even give me a hint.”
Carefully, Janelle removed the enormous red bow, and unfolded the bright foil wrapping paper. As she lifted the lid of the big box, everyone crowded around to see. Smothered in white tissue, the object inside remained a mystery, as Janelle took her time in revealing the contents. Finally, she reached in and pulled out a big, brown bear. He was dressed all in red, from his little knit cap and coat, to his shiny leather boots. It was a beautiful toy.
The room was filled with silence, as all eyes watched the expressionless little face. Janelle turned the furry body this way and that, examining his face, his body, his clothes. Then, carefully, she replaced the bear inside his box, folded the tissue over the top, and replaced the lid. “Thank you, Marla. It’s very nice,” she said.
If only Marla had let it drop right there. But she persisted, “I thought it was time for a new bear, Janelle. When I saw how disreputable your old one looked, I thought it was time for a change.”
Janelle’s usually angelic face was suddenly contorted with rage. “No! I won’t. . .”
Quickly, Kristen interrupted the tantrum by bending to hug the distraught child. “I have a better idea, Janelle. Now Timmy can have a friend. He’s been looking a little lonely lately. Why don’t you take the new bear up to meet him. Two bears will be twice as much fun.”
Janelle’s little body was quivering from shock, but she didn’t protest as Kristen picked up the box with one hand, and gently led her up the steps with the other. Halfway up the stairs, she could still hear Marla’s voice.
“She’s a strange child, Wes. I think you should seriously consider my suggestion.”
All through dinner, Janelle was quiet and withdrawn. She had appeared at the table with Timmy clutched to her body, and no more mention was made of the new bear. If Wes noticed the tension in the air, he didn’t acknowledge it, as he steered the conversation toward the Baxters.
“Well, have you been letting Jake Beardsley win a few checker games, Bax?”
“Oh, he wins in his own right sometimes. But this afternoon he cancelled our usual weekly game. He was too upset to play.”
“What was his problem? Is he sick?”
“Oh, you know how he loves boiled crab. Well, it seems he went out to pull in his trap, and someone had removed his marker.”
“Probably came loose and floated away,” Wes said. “I can’t believe anyone would deliberately take away his marker.”
“Well, you know how he always thinks the worst of people. He thinks someone did it for spite.”
“He does seem to have a way of making enemies,” Kristen said. “But surely no one around here would be that mean.”
“That’s what I told him. But he said he had tied it on real tight, and now he’s lost not just the crabs, but his biggest trap.” He turned to his wife. “Martha, he wants you to save him another bleach bottle so he can mark his new trap when it’s finished.”
“Bleach bottle?” Kristen and Janelle spoke in unison, as their eyes met across the table in horrified realization.
Pale and contrite, Kristen related the story of how, in their cleanup efforts, they had retrieved the bleach bottle and put it in the trash bin. The mystery of the crab trap was solved.
“I’ll go over right now and make my apologies to that crotchety old man.” She was trembling with dread, but she knew what she had to do.
“Not alone, you won’t!” Wes rose to his feet. “First I’ll go look for his crab trap. Then, whether or not I find it, I’ll go with you to explain how an honest mistake was made. There are plenty of crabs left in the gulf. It’s not the end of the world.”
Kristen started to protest his generous offer but, as relief washed over her, she managed a grateful smile and rose to join him.
“First I’ll change into my bathing trunks,” he said. “The tide is out now, so maybe I can spot the trap easily. Do you remember about where you first saw the marker?”
“Yes, it was just this side of the point where we made the bonfire last time you were here. It’s not far from the house.”
“It was right out from that first trash bin,” Janelle offered. It was one of the few times she had spoken during the entire evening.
“Don’t let this interrupt your dessert. You all just go right ahead with your pie and coffee, and we’ll get this job over as soon as possible and come back for ours.”
As Kristen and Wes left the table, Marla’s eyes followed them. Her look was anything but genial, but she offered no comment.
Together they walked along the surf’s edge. The recently set sun still cast an incandescent glow on the western horizon, edging the low white clouds with a neon border.
“It was right about here,” Kristen said, pointing toward the water.
Wes waded out in a big arc, sweeping his powerful hands through the water. Kristen’s worried eyes followed his every movement. Back and forth he went, swimming when the water deepened, and walking when his long legs could touch the bottom. He kept his eyes fastened to the blue water lapping around him in small waves.
Just when Kristen was about to admit defeat, he called, “Hey, I think I’ve found it!”
He dragged the old wooden trap toward the shore, and as he came into the shallower water, Kristen reached out to help him pull it in. It looked like an old weather-beaten crate.
“Oh, Wes. I’m so glad. Not just because you’ve saved my hide, but because I really did feel sorry for poor Mr. Beardsley. He seems like such a sad, lonely person.”
Wes looked down on her with wonder and frank admiration. “Kristen, you’re a special person, so kind and forgiving. You don’t have a selfish bone in your body.”
Kristen flushed, amazed to receive such an unexpected compliment, especially since she seemed to cause him so much trouble every time he came.
Together they dragged the crab trap right up to Mr. Beardsley’s door. It was the first time that Kristen had crossed his little homemade string barrier since the day he scolded her and frightened Janelle.
A knock on the door brought the sound of slow footsteps, and then a small crack appeared at the opening. “Who is it, and what do you want?”
“We’ve come to bring you your crab trap, Mr. Beardsley.” Wes’s warm, friendly voice allowed the door to open all the way, as he continued the explanation of what had happened.
“I might have known she had something to do with it,” the little man retorted angrily. “I ought to have you put in jail, girl!”
“I know I’ve been a lot of trouble for you, Mr. Beardsley, and I’m truly sorry. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
“How much longer are you going to be around here, aggravating me?” he asked.
“I’ll only be here a few more weeks,” she responded sadly. “I had hoped we could get to be friends.” Perhaps that was an exaggeration, but it seemed the right thing to say.
He wanted to remain angry, but he was unaccustomed to such kindness, and seemed to be groping for a suitable response. He turned his eyes to the crab trap on the porch. The satisfying noise of scratching claws assured him that he would have boiled crab for supper, and his expression mellowed slightly. “Well, just stay on your side of the yard, girl, and don’t mess with my crab trap again.”
“Good night, Mr. Beardsley. God bless you.”
“Humph!” He lapsed into an artificial bout of coughing as he closed the front door.
Wes smiled broadly as he looked down at Kristen. “You charmed him. You have a way of doing that to people. I don’t know what kind of mystical power you possess, lady, but you seem to cast your magical spell on everyone around you.”
It was dark when they reached the Spinnaker. Marla sat on the front porch alone. Wes and Kristen were almost giddy with the success of their mission, and as they retold the events, their happy laughter sounded through the house.
Janelle came out to join them. “Did you really go up on his porch and talk to him, Kristen?” Her big eyes were wide with wonder.
“She certainly did,” her father interjected. “She completely subdued him!”
“How nice,” Marla commented dryly.
“Why is he always so grouchy, Daddy? Is it because he’s so old?”
Wes gave his daughter a thoughtful stare. “Is Mr. Baxter grouchy? Is Mrs. Baxter?”
“No–o, but—”
“They’re all about the same age, Janelle. Age has nothing to do with it.”
“You mean he was born grouchy?”
They all laughed at that, even Marla.
“Probably not, Punkin. I guess he’s just reacting to some of his life’s experiences.”
“What does that mean, Daddy?”
“It means that he probably had some very bad times in his life.” He studied the little girl’s expression as he continued soberly. “Most people do, you know. When that happens, some people just give up and quit trying, and then they begin to forget how to laugh and love, and they grow grouchy and unhappy. Other people work to overcome the bad times, and they’re the survivors, Janelle. They learn to find happiness for themselves and to share it with others.”
“I think I understand about that, Daddy. It’s like the way love remembers the beautiful things, isn’t it?”
The look on Wes’s face was pure astonishment. “Where did you learn that?”
“From Kristen. She explains things like that to me. She told me I’m like an apple seed that’s left to grow into something beautiful, even after the apple is gone.”
Sudden silence enveloped the room like a winter morning fog, so that even the rhythmic, persistent ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner sounded noisy and obtrusive. Finally, Wes was the first to speak.
“Well. Is everyone ready for a big day tomorrow?” He tried to sound casual, but traces of emotion still groveled his voice. “We’ll need to get an early start.”
Wes began to outline the plans for the day ahead. “I talked to Jeff, and he’s going to meet us at the pier over there. He’s already reserved bicycles, because the demand is so great for them on holidays.”
“Bicycles?” Marla’s eyebrows raised like the waves in the gulf.
“Yes, Buena Vista has some of the most interesting bicycle trails in the country. They lead all the way to the lighthouse on the tip of the island. And that historic old lighthouse is well worth all the effort to get there!”
Looking out over the water toward the end of the neighboring island, they could see the sweeping beams of the lighthouse from the porch where they sat.
“Light from that point over there has been guiding wayward sailors for over a hundred years. Jeff will take us inside the lighthouse, and you can see how it works.”
“Will we take a picnic?” Janelle asked hopefully. Her obsession with picnics was almost comical.
“No, not this time. I’ve made reservations at the Pink Shell. After that bike ride, we’ll all be glad to sit down in air-conditioned comfort and enjoy a nice lunch.”
“Oh, Daddy, aren’t we ever going to have a picnic?” But Janelle’s disappointment was short-lived when her father assured her, “We’ll have a real picnic on Sunday; I promise.”
Sitting on the porch, planning the day ahead, a peaceful contentment settled over them like a blanket. The stars were out in profusion, and Kristen looked wistfully at the waxing moon. It was a romantic evening. Perhaps she should take Janelle upstairs and give Wes some time alone with Marla. “If we are going to get up early, Janelle, perhaps we should go upstairs and get ready for bed.”
“Don’t go just yet,” Wes pleaded. “Let’s all go down to the beach and see if the water’s firing.”
“Firing?” Marla asked. “What do you mean by that?”
“Let’s go down there, and if we’re lucky, I can show you.”
Kristen didn’t need a second invitation. He actually wanted her to stay! But of course it was Janelle’s company he wanted to savor, and she was just lucky enough to be included.
The evening tide had begun to rise. Standing close to the water, Wes pointed toward the waves. “See the sparks?”
“Oh, yes.” Kristen wondered why she had not noticed it before. Lights sparkled just beneath the surface, and danced on the ripples like miniature Christmas lights. “What causes that, Wes?”
“Phosphorus in the water. It’s a chemical reaction called ‘bioluminescence.’ Sometimes it’s more prevalent than at other times. It’s great tonight. I thought it might be, and I wanted all of you to see it.”
“Interesting,” Marla commented, as she kicked the gritty shells from her shoe.
“Watch this,” he said, as he reached down and raked his fingers through the water. Green, neonlike streaks followed the path of his hand. Janelle ran through the lapping waves, kicking the water up into sparkling showers.
“It isn’t always present,” Wes explained, “And we can’t predict just when it will occur, but it happens mostly in the summer.”
“Perhaps it’s some of Gaspar’s jewels washing ashore,” Kristen quipped.
Wes looked at her. “This island is not such an unlikely spot to discover a great treasure.” Was there a hidden meaning in those words?
As the three of them walked ahead, Kristen lingered be-hind, lost in her own thoughts, and lulled by the shimmering waves.
His voice broke into her reverie. “Hey, come on. Some big fish might mistake you for a mermaid and sweep you off your feet.”
Together the four of them walked back to the house.
Kristen and Janelle were the first to retire, but Kristen was surprised to hear Marla returning to the guest room a short time later. Although her own door to the bathroom was closed, Kristen could hear Marla preparing for bed. She seemed to be making an unnecessary amount of noise, slamming things around as though she were angry.
Kristen could tell that Marla didn’t share her love of the island, but it wouldn’t matter in the end. After all, this was only a vacation house to Wes. He probably fit well into the glitzy city life that Marla seemed to crave.
If Marla was irritated about something when she retired, she must have forgotten it by morning, because she was up and dressed when Kristen entered the dining room.
“Be sure to eat a good breakfast,” Wes urged them. “You’ll get mighty hungry by the time we ride to the lighthouse and back.”
Mrs. Baxter brought in a basket of warm blueberry muffins for the buffet. “Will you and Mr. Baxter be coming to the parade?” Kristen asked her.
“No, dear, we’ve seen a-many of them, so we’re just going to share the day with some friends down the island, and watch the festivities on TV. But we’ll be able to see the fireworks from the beach.”
By boat, it was only a short hop to the next island. Kristen recognized the Pelican as they rode by. People were already seated on the deck having their breakfasts, and they waved to the passing boaters.
Wes moved his boat smoothly into a slip at the Buena Vista Municipal Pier, and Jeff walked up to help him secure it.
At the local bicycle shop, they were each fitted with a bike of appropriate size, Kristen declining Jeff’s suggestion that they use a bicycle-built-for-two. “I want to maintain my independence,” she declared.
Marla handled her bicycle awkwardly at first. It was plain that she had not ridden one lately, but after a few unsuccessful attempts, she pushed off and caught up with the rest of them.
As they approached the main intersection of the small town, they saw that all through traffic was blocked in deference to the annual Independence Day parade. Excited children stood on the curb and waved little flags, and street vendors hawked their wares—everything from balloons to T-shirts. Wes bought Janelle a shirt with a picture of the lighthouse on the front and “Buena Vista” spelled out in large letters across the back.
They found a shady spot near the end of the parade route where they could stand and watch it pass. The parade marshal marched to the beat of the local high school band, as cute majorettes twirled their batons. Clowns threw candy to the crowd, and Jeff and Wes were able to catch several pieces for the ladies. When the local Coast Guard unit filed past, Kristen was sure they all recognized Jeff, even though their expressions remained solemn and their eyes fixed straight ahead.
Colorful floats glided by, each more elaborate and ornate than the last. Girls in billowing antebellum gowns graced the decorative floats and demurely smiled and waved white- gloved hands to the cheering onlookers.
Next came the impressive float bearing an impostor of Jose Gaspar himself. Surrounded by swashbuckling buccaneers and beautiful maidens restrained by strong, thick chains, he stood tall and arrogant beside his open chest of jewels. He flung strings of beads and pearls to the ladies lining the curbside, and Kristen caught a shimmering strand of emerald-colored glass beads for Janelle. To the men, he brandished his shining saber in a menacing manner. The crowd roared and clapped in appreciation.
“It was a lovely parade,” Kristen enthused, when the last float rolled by. Red, white, and blue were the colors of the day.
“Okay, let’s hit the road.” Jeff had assumed the role of tour guide, and Kristen followed his lead. Janelle, Marla, and Wes moved in behind them.
The bicycle path led beside the main road, and passersby shouted greetings from their cars, some decorated with crepe paper and banners. The music from the bands still filled the air. Royal palm trees lined their path, and hibiscus bushes bloomed in profusion at every turn.
“What beautiful homes.” Marla gazed at them in admiration. “This island seems so much more progressive than Gaspar. I suppose that’s because of the bridge.”
“It makes a big difference,” Wes admitted.
At a city park, they stopped by a water fountain to refresh. Janelle ran to the swing set, but the adults were happy to sit on the benches and rest their legs. Marla slipped off her shoes and massaged her bare feet. After a brief rest, they remounted their bikes and continued toward the lighthouse.
Nearly an hour later, they reached their destination. The lighthouse keeper was expecting them. “Come in, friends. Anna here has just made a fresh pot of coffee. And there’s milk for the wee one.” He patted Janelle’s curly head. They trooped into the welcome cool of the quaint little cottage behind the lighthouse, and gratefully accepted the couple’s hospitality.
Sipping their coffee, they listened to the story of the historic lighthouse, built on this point in 1890.
“Why, it’s over a hundred years old,” Kristen marveled.
“Let’s climb to the top and see what the island looks like from there.” Wes looked at Marla and held out his hand.
“After that bicycle ride? No, thanks. I’m sure it’s beautiful, but you’ll have to count me out on that one. I’m saving my legs for the ride back.” Marla leaned back in her comfortable chair and savored her coffee.
“How about you, Kristen. Care for a look?”
She was hoping for the chance. It would be even higher than the crow’s nest. The seemingly endless steps were steep and winding, but even though the muscles in her legs protested, Kristen was determined to get to the top.
When she did, she knew it had been worth all the effort. What a view! Up until this moment, she had been certain that the “crow’s nest” at the Spinnaker displayed the world’s most spectacular panorama, but now she knew that here was the epitome. Wes stood looking over her shoulder. “It takes the breath away, doesn’t it?”
“I’d love to capture this on canvas, but I’m not talented enough to do it justice.”
“You have so many talents, Kristen. You are a most unusual lady.”
“We’d better go down and join the others,” she said. She avoided his eyes lest her feelings should show, as they had to Jeff.
Going down was easier, but it still took a lot of effort. They were both ready to sit down for a few minutes before starting back.
The friendly lighthouse keeper and his wife were glad for the company, and were more than happy to entertain them with tales of the historic landmark.
“She’s over one hundred feet tall,” he proclaimed proudly. “She’s been faithfully guiding lost ships and warning them of the dangerous reefs for over a hundred years, and even though she’s had her glass shattered by hurricane winds a few times, she’s never failed yet.”
“What happens when the electricity goes off?” Janelle’s intelligent curiosity amused Kristen. She knew that Janelle was remembering the many times recently that sudden summer electrical storms had plunged their island home into temporary darkness.
“We have an emergency diesel generator that comes on when that happens. The first lights were powered by mineral oil, but we’ve had electricity for as long as I’ve been here.”
Jeff stood and looked at his watch. “I hate to interrupt this interesting visit, but we have a long ride ahead of us.”
His audience moaned in mock protest as he got them onto their feet. After thanking their host and hostess, they said their good-byes and mounted their bicycles.
The path seemed much longer on the return journey, but they pedaled steadily in stoic silence.
“Are you okay, Janelle?” Wes finally asked.
She only nodded in reply. Her face was red from the sun and from exertion, but she pedaled on without complaint.
At last they reached the main part of town.
“Let’s return our bikes,” Jeff suggested, “so that we don’t have to worry about parking them while we have lunch.”
Seated in the cool restaurant, sipping tall glasses of iced tea, their energy returned. After a salad lunch and huge pieces of Key lime pie, they walked across the street to the pier.
Holiday crowds hopefully dangled their fishing lines into the cobalt-blue water, or simply enjoyed the beautiful day.
“Ride back with me, Kristen,” Jeff suggested, as the two men untied their boats. “Wes always gets the girls, and alas, I sail alone!”
Kristen laughed as she jumped aboard his boat. “Fair damsel here, to your rescue.”
Janelle stayed to ride with her father and Marla. Janelle frowned when Kristen left with Jeff. She would much rather she had stayed to ride with them.
Around the dinner table that night, they related every detail of the day’s adventures to the Baxters.
“We always used to see the parade,” Martha Baxter reminisced. “Now, we just settle for the fireworks. I think they’re better seen from here than over there, where the noise is so loud.”
Kristen agreed. She thought it would be much nicer viewed from their own beach.
After the sun had gone down, they sat on blankets in the moonlight. Kristen and Jeff shared a blanket with the Baxters, and on another blanket, Janelle snuggled close in her father’s lap next to Marla. “How much longer before they start, Daddy?”
As if on signal, her words seemed to call up the first brilliant lights across the water. While the lighthouse turned its steady beam toward the sea, the spectacular Roman candles filled the air with shooting streams of color. Sprays of sparks spiraled into the sky, arched and rained their fire into the gulf water below, and each colorful eruption was greeted with “oohs and aahs” from spectators gathered along the beach.
When the grand finale finally exploded, red, white, and blue filled the sky, and everyone clapped and cheered. Groups along the beach slowly began to disperse, and Kristen suddenly realized how tired she had become.
Mrs. Baxter led Janelle back to the house, while Jeff and Kristen said their good-byes on the steps. Wes and Marla seemed to be in serious conversation, and hardly looked up when Kristen passed on her way inside and up the stairs to bed.