SandPeople: An Across Time Mystery Read online

  SandPeople

  By

  Cheryl Kerr

  Comments for SandPeople

  “Superb Writing.”

  “SandPeople is a poignant book.”

  “This could be a beach anywhere in the world. I love it.”

  SandPeople

  A Novel

  Cheryl Kerr

  Chanter Press Austin, Texas

  SandPeople is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locals is entirely incidental.

  2020 Copyright Chanter Press

  Originally published in ebook and paperback Print on Demand

  ISBN 978-0-9883560-1-6

  Cover illustration and design

  Lynn Williams thebookcoverdesigner/designers/divine-designs/

  Chanter Press

  www.ChanterPress.com

  Prologue

  The wooden ship seemed impossibly fragile as it crashed heavily into the trough between the waves. Greta laid her palm against the wall behind her bunk and was startled to feel it damp and chill. The lines of caulk felt soft and her heart dropped at the thought of the ocean coming in. She wound her fingers tightly into the loops of her hammock and held on.

  She closed her eyes and imagined her small bed tucked tight against the eaves of their house on the main road in Oldeburg. She thought of the view out the small window at the foot of her bed, that looked out on the road that curved away between the low green hills, where Papa walked each day to the plot of family land he farmed.

  In Alsace, it would now be spring. Pale sunlight would be warming dark brick corners for the first time since the harvest. New plantings would be set out in neat rows behind the cottage, unfolding new pale-green leaves opening toward the gentle sun.

  She squeezed her eyes tighter. Home. She wished so much to be there. Baby Anna would be stretching her tiny pink fingers toward the clouds. Greta's heart squeezed as she thought how good now that Anna had been too small for the voyage.

  Chapter 1

  A seagull cried as Lea wrote the last seven on her final math homework for the year, 1998. Almost the next century. The class had talked today about how much older that made the 1800s seem.

  She smiled as she put her name on the paper, folded it, and slid it into her book on the corner of the desk. Maybe the gull's cry was an omen, she thought. Her class at Harper's Ridge Junior High had been reading about maritime superstition and sea stories. She reached up and snapped off the bright lamp she used for studying. Without its glow, the only light came from the window just over her desk. Her room was a big corner one that faced east. The sun setting behind the house cast a perfect shadow of the house on the wide, smooth grass. Even the big square windows showed up with light coming through them. The edges of the shadow house were sharp, as though someone had laid them down with a pencil and ruler. She heard a door slam somewhere downstairs and felt her stomach tighten. In the shadow house, there were no sounds.

  She pushed her long brown hair behind her ears, then gathered it into a ponytail and rested her arms on the oak desktop, and looked out. Just beyond her window grew the biggest oak tree in their yard. The sea wind had blown against the trunk for hundreds of years so that it grew at an angle almost like a set of stairs. The fattest branch grew so close to the house that she could step from one branch to the windowsill with ease. The shadow of the tree leaned into the house at one end, except for the top whose leaves rustled in the evening breeze. She and Laura Evert, her best friend, thought of it as their secret way in and out of her room without her brother, T.J., seeing them.

  She thought of Laura. Ever since the Everts had moved in when the girls were little, Laura and Lea had been together so much that their friends ran their names together as one. At twelve, they had been friends for a decade, “Double-digit friends”.

  Through the leaves and branches, she could see the beach and the ocean beyond. The evening light was soft and blue in the warm May air. Summer was almost here. She thought of all the things she and Laura had planned; canoeing, sleepovers, hunting along the morning tideline for things left by the sea.

  Slam! A second door banged and, a moment later, Lea watched her father stride across the backyard to the trashcans located by the back gate. She sighed; her parents seemed to be fighting all the time this year. She looked around her room. She had especially grown to love its quiet this year. She tried not to hear the silence downstairs and turned her thoughts to what she would do on the first day of summer vacation. She loved the first morning of vacation best; when all the weeks stretched ahead of her. She heard the clatter of the trashcan lid as Dad finished his errand. He turned and walked slowly back toward the house.

  She turned back to putting her books together to go into her backpack for tomorrow morning.

  Thwock! Something hit Lea on the back of the head with a smack. She swung around to see her brother peering owlishly at her from behind the door, only one eye visible.

  "Ow! T.J., stop it. Mom!" Lea bellowed.

  "I'm already finished," he said. T.J. was very smart, way ahead of his grade-level at school. He spent most of his time teasing Lea or following her and Laura around.

  Mom and Dad were both in the room in the next minute.

  "That settles it, they can't both go to Grandma's for the summer," Mom said to Dad.

  "We need to talk to you about that. Both of you. Come on then, there's a family meeting downstairs." Mom put an arm around T.J. and they vanished towards the stairs, talking softly.

  Dad looked at Lea. " Are you finished with your homework?"

  She nodded. "Yes. I didn't hear you come back to the house," she said and then stopped. She hadn't meant for him to know she had seen him in the yard.

  "But you heard us fighting?" he asked her, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.

  She nodded. "I didn't hear very much," she hurried to say.

  "It's okay." He crossed the room and touched her hair. She cut it only when it needed a trim and now it reached her waist, long and curly.

  "Come on." He went down the stairs.

  Downstairs Lea's mother waited on the couch with T.J. beside her. Lea chose the overstuffed footstool next to the fireplace and sank cross-legged into its softness. Dad went and sat at the far end of the couch from Mom. Both of them looked at Lea solemnly. Lea's stomach felt funny. Sort of like being worried about a test, only worse, she thought.

  "Lea," Dad started and then stopped. He looked at Mom. "You better do this," he said. He got up and walked to the windows and stood looking out with his hands in his pockets. Mom looked after him and sighed, shaking her dark-blond head.

  "Lea, how would you like to go somewhere this summer?" Mom's voice was brittle-bright. It always got that way when she was trying to convince Lea that something was good for her.

  "All of us together?" Lea asked and eyed her parents. It seemed like a funny time to be planning a trip. Neither of them seemed to be in a very happy mood. They both looked at her and the silence stretched out. Lea squeezed her hands hard between her knees.

  "No-o." Mom drew the word out. Her voice was high like it got when she wanted Lea to see her point when they disagreed. "Just us, you and me. To Texas at first, to your Aunt Meg’s. Dad and T.J. are going to go to Grandma and Grandpa's." She took a deep breath and then didn’t say more. Lea hated when Mom did that, it meant there was something bigger to be heard.

  "Texas?" Lea asked, puzzled. "We don't know anyone in Texas."

  "Your Aunt Meg has a cabin there, on the Gulf of Mexico, for the summer," Mom said.

  "Oh," Lea said,
still not understanding. Aunt Meg was Mom's younger sister. She was an artist who spent part of each year traveling. Lea didn't know her very well.

  "Why?" Lea asked. Summers had always been bike rides on dirt roads, clamming, and long, slow evenings watching sailboats on the horizon.

  Mom looked at Dad and hesitated.

  "Why?" Lea repeated, a lump in her stomach.

  "Well, you're going to stay with her this summer," Mom said. "We both have things that we need to do this summer."

  "We're not going to be together," Mom said. "For a while."

  Dad took a deep breath then and turned back to face the room. "Lea. T.J. We're separating, your mom and I."

  Lea looked from one to the other. Her stomach did a flipflop. At the same time, she wasn’t surprised; things hadn’t felt right for months now.

  Both of them looked sad, but also kind of relieved.

  "Did I do something?"

  They both rushed to tell her, no, both of them talking at once. When they’d finished, Lea felt all strange inside, like she was watching them talk from outside herself. T.J. never said a word, he just seemed to shrink into himself. By the end, Lea didn't know where to look. Her eyes settled on the wall clock by the stairs. It said 7:16. Not a very long time, Lea thought, it had seemed like an hour, at least. Out loud she said, "I'd like to go up to my room now."

  They nodded and Lea went upstairs slowly. T.J. came along silently behind her.

  At the door to her room, she asked T.J. curiously, "Aren't you upset?"

  He cocked his head and looked at her. "Well, yes and no," he said in the grownup way he sometimes talked, the one that didn't fit on such a small, messy boy. "They'll both always be our parents."

  Lea stared at him. "I give up," she said. "You are so, so academic." She went into her room and shut the door.

  She crossed the room and crawled into her favorite corner of the window seat, pulled her old stuffed bear, and sat looking out at the dark space of the bay. Inside, part of her said, summers are cold blue surf and windy days and nights that smell of pine trees. But, she thought next, I've known my parents weren't happy. Divorced. The word rang inside her head again and again, like a bell tolling. Lots of her friends' parents were divorced, she told herself, it's not so bad. And way down inside, she didn't feel surprised.

  A soft knock sometime later and Mom walked into the room.

  "How are you doing?" She stroked Lea's hair and sat down on the end of her bed and waited. In the soft evening light, she looked tired. Her eyes, grey like Lea's, had smudges under them.

  "I grew up here," Lea said finally. How would she live anywhere else? Even for a little while.

  "Yes, but it won't work this year. We've not been happy for a while," Mom said softly. "Sometimes people grow to want different things. Lea," Mom's voice caught. "I've taken a new job. But it means traveling this summer, and I can't do that and be here with you, too. Your dad's work as an archeologist keeps him away too much for him to keep you here this summer."

  "I don't know why you and Dad are splitting up after so long," Lea said, softly. "Dad travels, to whatever dig he is working on, but you and T.J. and I always spend summers here. Won't that work this year? I mean, you won't be together, really, if he's gone?"

  "No, things are different this year," Mom said.

  "I don't want things to be different," Lea said miserably.

  "I know, but I hoped you'd understand." Mom stood up. "I have some packing to do." She went out the door and, a moment later, Lea heard her footsteps on the stairs.

  "I don't!" Lea yelled through the door after her. "I don't understand." No one answered her. After a while, she padded to the phone in the hall and dialed the Everts' number. Mrs. Evert answered on the first ring.

  "Lea, I thought it might be you. Just a moment, here's Laura."

  "Hey, what should we do tomorrow night?" She tried to make her voice cheerful and excited.

  "Let's sleep over," Laura said.

  "Okay," Lea answered her.

  "We'll have a slumber party," Laura said. "But let's do it over here. You can just come home with me after school, okay?"

  "Sure, that sounds good," Lea answered. She hung up thinking that it might be a long time before she and Laura got to do this again.

  She felt her throat grow tight, as though the words wouldn't come. Hot tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.

  "You sound funny," Laura said.

  "I'll see you tomorrow morning, okay?" Lea said and hung up.

  She saved a seat for Laura on the bus the next morning. Its whole yellow length was full of yelling and giggling kids excited by the last day of school. Laura climbed on and stopped, looking at Lea with her lower lip caught between her teeth.

  "C'mon, Evert, move!" the boy behind her yelled. Usually, Laura made a beeline for the seat next to Lea. Now she moved forward and dropped into the empty seat.

  "Hi," she said to Lea, busily scrabbling in her bag.

  "Hi," Lea answered. "Forget something?"

  Laura finally looked up and said, "Yes," and then started talking about their math homework.

  The last class day flew by. Lea climbed off the bus and waved, just like usual, to all the kids and the driver, Cliff. The bus dropped them at the end of the driveway, laden with papers and things sent home at the end of the year.

  "The last day's always more like a party than a school day." Laura shifted her books and hitched her backpack to her shoulder. Lea watched her. All-day Laura had chattered about nonsense. Now she set off, walking fast, as though she didn't want to talk. Lea hurried to catch up.

  "Wait, I have something to tell you," she said. "My parents are, um..." Her throat got all hot and tight feeling and her voice trailed away. She swallowed hard and got ready to try again when Laura turned to her, her own eyes full of tears.

  Lea stopped and waited for her to say something.

  "I'm sorry," she said. Lea stared at her.

  "For what?" she asked. Then it hit her; Laura was upset for her, Lea.

  "You already knew," she said in amazement. "You knew before I did."

  Laura nodded. "Your mom called my mom. I promised I wouldn't tell you."

  "That's not fair," said Lea furiously. "It's my family. I should have known first." Her eyes filled with angry tears. She glared at Laura. Laura looked back at her unhappily.

  "I'm sorry," Laura said. "Maybe I should have told you. I don't know what I should have done." She looked miserable.

  They went on to the Everts' house in silence and spent the evening eating pizza and drinking coke.

  "You can go home if you want to," Laura eventually said in a small voice. "You don't have to stay on account of me."

  Lea shrugged carelessly. "Here's as good as home."

  Laura didn't say anything after that, just rolled over to face the wall. Lea loved Laura’s room with the wide deep window seat and the white curtains that blew when the wind was right. Laura’s mother looked in, bothered by the silence, usually, they chattered late into the night.

  “Good night, Lea,” she said gently. “It always seems like all my girls are home when you’re here. We’ve missed you.”

  She disappeared from the doorway and Lea felt the tears slide down her cheeks. She fell asleep with her back to Laura, more alone than she had felt at home.

  The next morning Lea woke to watch the first gray fingers of light creep in among the leaves of the tree. In a moment maybe she'd wake up, that was it. She was having a bad dream.

  She poked Laura awake. "Come on." Laura followed her sleepily to the kitchen. Then they slipped out the door and onto their bikes without anyone noticing. In a house as full of kids as the Everts', no one noticed much. Lea pedaled her bike furiously down the soft dirt road toward town. Beside her, Laura huffed and puffed to keep up, long hair streaming out behind her in the wind.

  At the crest of the hill, the thick pine trees gave way suddenly to the small town of Harper's Ridge. Lea sat up straight and coasted down
the road into town. Businesses were just opening as the Virginia sun peeked above the trees. She rode the length of Main Street to the new shopping center built next to the highway at the far end of town.

  "Where are you going?" Laura finally caught up with her. She braked to a stop next to Lea, looking puzzled.

  "I'm going to get my hair cut," Lea announced.

  "But you just got it cut a couple of weeks ago. And you don't go to this beauty shop anyway," Laura protested.

  Lea turned and smiled, a smile with no fun.

  "Now you can keep my secret," she said.

  Laura looked at her unhappily. "Okay," she said.

  "If I go to the other one they're going to ask me questions," Lea pointed out as she pushed open the door.

  "Morning, girls, you're up early. I'm Sophie," a short blond woman said as she met them and put the doorstop in place.

  "I want to get my hair cut, please," Lea said.

  "How short?" Sophie motioned Lea into a chair and moved behind her. She lifted Lea's thick hair and let it fall gently back into place. Lea looked at the pictures lining the walls. She knew she better answer fast or the woman would know she hadn't thought this out very well. Over the chair nearest her was a photo of a woman with a tumble of curls that only reached her shoulders. It looked easy and carefree.

  "Like that." She pointed.

  Beside her, Laura coughed. Lea avoided looking at her. She didn't look in the mirror, either, as the scissors snipped and cut, and her hair that she'd grown all her life fell on the floor underneath the chair.

  At last, the woman said, "Okay," and wheeled Lea's chair round to face the mirror. Lea opened her eyes. A different person gazed back at her. Her eyes looked bigger and her cheekbones stuck out more.

  "Wow, you look older," Laura said. Lea thanked the woman and paid her. As they left, Laura cast one last look at Lea's hair on the floor. Lea didn't look and, a moment later, they were outside on the sidewalk. Lea stopped. The day had gotten hot but a strong breeze blew in off of the water.