The Penderwicks at Point Mouette by Jeanne Birdsall Read Free Book Online Page B

If this morning was any indication, she wasn’t going to get much writing done in Maine.
    “You were right,” said Skye. “Batty does have a harmonica. She says that Jeffrey gave it to her in the middle of the night, that he’s teaching her to play, and from what I can tell, he’s teaching her to play ‘Taps.’ Aunt Claire’s in there with her, looking very patient.Do you think there could have been a rule against musical instruments on my list?”
    Jane listened to the notes still being played in the house. Yes, they did sound like the beginning of “Taps.”
    “If not, there should have been,” she said.
    “I agree,” said Skye. Crouching, she tossed a shoe under the bamboo room divider. She must have aimed well, because now there came a series of snorts, and finally Jeffrey’s indignant voice.
    “Why did you do that?”
    “ ‘Taps’? On a harmonica?”
    The bamboo screen was shoved aside and Jeffrey’s head came through. “It was the easiest song I could come up with,” he said. “And I think she sounds pretty good.”
    When Skye picked up another shoe to throw, Jane scooted down under her blanket. A second line had just come to her, and she didn’t want to lose it.
Sabrina told herself that she didn’t long for love, but this was a lie
. No, that wasn’t right at all! Rats! Maybe it would help to choose a name for Sabrina’s love. Arnold, Akbar. No. Aidan? No. Bartholomew. Ha. Crispin, no, Carl, no, no, no. Go on to D. But to Jane’s annoyance, her brain got stuck on Dexter, and that of course was out of the question.
    “What’s wrong with me?” she moaned. “Am I washed up as a writer already?”
    No one answered, not a helpful muse or even a sister. Jane peeked out from under her blanket. Skye was gone, and Jeffrey’s shoes, his hat, and a golf club were on this side of the bamboo curtain. There must have been an exhilarating battle while Jane had gotten exactly nothing done. She twisted her blanket in frustration.
    But now Skye was bursting back onto the porch, full of energy and plans. Aunt Claire was sending the two of them and Jeffrey on a walk to that market with the moose in front. For groceries, and also to keep Skye from breaking Batty’s harmonica in two and throwing it into the ocean. And also to work on soccer skills. Skye loved working on soccer skills. Jane would have preferred to stay in bed and think—Eamon? Felipe?—but Skye was waving around three fat slices of Churchie’s gingerbread, and suddenly Jane was too hungry to worry about Sabrina Starr’s love life.
    Skye didn’t hand over the gingerbread until they were all dressed and outside. It was a gorgeous morning, bright with sunshine while still fresh and cool, and with traces of dew glittering on the grass. Across the street a broad meadow was dotted with wildflowers and, in the middle, one giant oak lording it over all. The pinewood to their left was as dark and secretive as a pinewood should be, and to their right was a long stretch of privacy, broken only by Alec’s red house, and that was half hidden by the birches.
    “I like it here,” said Jeffrey, cramming the last of his gingerbread into his mouth.
    “It’s idyllic,” agreed Jane.
    “Enough chatter. Get ready for soccer drills,” said Skye. “Taps” had been only a temporary setback. The combination of Jeffrey, gingerbread, and the invigorating ocean air had her nearly giddy with happiness. “Dribble pattern Isosceles.”
    Isosceles was one of Skye’s favorite drills. It needed three people—positioned at the three points of a triangle—and consisted of a complicated pattern of passing, receiving, and switching places in the triangle, while all the time running forward, even when passing backward. Jeffrey and Jane groaned—weren’t they on vacation after all?—but Skye was already tossing out two balls, so off they went down Ocean Boulevard. They passed Alec’s house and the stretch of rocky coast that separated it and Birches from the