Voodoo Summer (LeGarde Mysteries Book 11) Page 3

  I walked back to Wee Castle with my father at my side and Shadow trotting just behind us.

  “Son? Is something wrong?”

  I glanced up at him. He knew me so well. “Um. Well…”

  He sat down on the top of the steps and patted a seat beside him. “Wanna talk about it?”

  I hesitated. It was hard to talk about girls and stuff with an adult. If I was honest, I had to admit it was hard to talk to anyone about it. I stroked Shadow’s ears when he settled down beside me. “I just don’t understand some people, Dad.”

  “Is that so?” He stretched out his legs and leaned back.

  “Well, yeah. Like William. He’s seventeen, and he’s always sniffing around all the girls. At home in school, and up here. All summer long.”

  “Boys his age like girls, son. It’s natural.”

  “I know, but he’s got no loyalties. He’ll kiss anyone.”

  “Really?” One eyebrow arched up. “Like who?”

  I blurted it out. “Betsy. He kissed her tonight on the glider.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. And he’s two years younger than her.”

  “Very true.”

  “And I think she’s engaged. Isn’t that a diamond she’s wearing on her finger?”

  My father frowned. “Hmm. I hadn’t noticed. You think she’s engaged to be married?”

  I sighed. “I have no idea. I just don’t like it.”

  “It seems wrong to you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Because of the age difference?”

  “Well, that, and I feel like William will take advantage of her. He might hurt her.”

  “You care for her, don’t you, son?”

  I felt my cheeks flush. “Yeah. Kinda.”

  “And you’d like to protect her? Keep her from getting hurt?”

  “Exactly, Dad.”

  “Well, I admire your character, my boy. But it’s a sad truth that we can’t protect everyone. Not all the time. Especially when they’re old enough to take care of themselves.”

  “I suppose,” I said. “But I still don’t like it.”

  My mother came to the screen door before he could respond. “Men? Aren’t you coming to bed? It’s been an awfully long day.”

  I yawned and stretched. “Of course, Mum. We were just coming inside.”

  We rose and ambled into the golden warmth of the cabin. I kissed both parents goodnight—since nobody was around to see me do it—and went into my little bedroom over the lake with Shadow.

  “Phew,” I said to him. “What a day, huh?”

  He jumped up onto the bed, circled three times, and laid his head on his front paws, eyes following me around the room as I undressed. I slid into my pajamas, flicked on the lamp on the nightstand, and turned off the overhead light.

  I’d only read one chapter in my Hardy Boys mystery before I fell into a deep sleep, dreaming of the girl in the blue canoe.

  Chapter 6

  The next morning, I stood at the deep stainless steel sink in my grandfather’s kitchen wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead with my shirtsleeve. The last of the soap bubbles had disappeared from the vat of water I’d used to wash dishes from what seemed like a thousand people’s bacon and eggs. I rinsed off the last bunch of silverware and set them in the dish drainer, then wrung out the dishcloth and hung it from the faucet spout. Drying my hands on a dishtowel, I stepped back, waving both hands in the air. “Yay! I’m done,” I said to no one in particular.

  Gramps wandered over to take a look at my work. “Nice job, son.” He lifted a hand to my shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”

  His praise felt like sunlight on my brow. I grinned up at him. “Thanks, Gramps.”

  Siegfried came in from the dining room with a push broom and dustpan. “All clean,” he said with a proud smile.

  “Almost done!” Over in the corner by the white and black enamel table, Elsbeth began to hurry. She and Betsy had been drying the last of the silverware with their white linen towels. She grabbed the last bunch of forks from the dish rack and vigorously scrubbed them dry.

  The three of us had been dying to go out on the boat since we got up that morning. Each time we passed one another during our work in the kitchen, we’d exchange furtive glances. Now it was after nine, and the anticipation was killing me. I wanted to meet the girl in the blue canoe, find out more about The Seven Whistles, and do some investigating around their property.

  My grandfather gave instructions to Betsy and the other two waitresses, who would now switch their jobs to housekeeping for the rest of the morning, cleaning cabins, washing linens, and later chopping and preparing food for lunch.

  When they had their assignments and had hurried out the door, he turned to me. “Gus? Do your friends like cherries, like you do?” He winked at me and began to pack his pipe.

  I winked back at him. “I’ll have to ask.”

  He motioned toward the back room where a huge jar of maraschino cherries waited for me. “Use the ladle this time, Gus. We don’t want to get fined.”

  I laughed. Normally I just plunged my hand into the red nectar to grab a bunch of cherries when no one was looking. But with three kids shoving their hands into the jar, I figured it might not look too good to the health department. “Okay, Gramps.”

  I grabbed the ladle from a hook on the wall and unscrewed the lid. “You two want some?” I asked.

  Elsbeth had already opened her hand palm up with wiggling fingers.

  Siegfried’s eyes shone. “Ja, please.”

  I doled out five cherries each. We quickly popped the fruit and stems into our mouths and grinned at each other with syrupy red lips, rolling them around and sucking the stems to get every last bit of sweetness from them. I offered the wastebasket and they plopped their stems into it. We quickly rinsed off our hands in the sink. I put the jar back on the shelf, washed the ladle, and turned to them. “Ready to go trolling?”

  Gramps grinned. “Hey, kids. If you catch me some nice bass, I’ll fry them up for lunch.”

  “Deal,” I said, already running out the door with my friends.

  “Don't slam the—”

  It was too late. The screen door slammed behind me.

  As usual, I called over my shoulder. “Sorry, Gramps.” I turned to see him standing in the door puffing his pipe. He lifted a hand and smiled. “Have fun, kids. Don’t forget your life jackets.”

  I yelled back at him. “We won’t. Thanks.”

  We pounded down the hill, as always, jumping over the embedded logs. In five minutes we’d changed into our bathing suits, grabbed our poles and a bucket of bait, and met back at the dock where my grandfather’s StarCraft boat rocked invitingly in the gently swelling water.

  We piled into the boat, buckled our orange life jackets, and settled onto the seats. Elsbeth took the bow, Siegfried the middle, and I sat in my usual place in the stern with one hand on the Evinrude’s tiller. Slowly, I guided us out of the docks and into open water.

  There were a few fishing boats on the lake, but most of the early fishermen had come in hours ago with their catches. The best fishing was always at dawn and dusk. But it didn’t matter to us. We weren’t really serious about catching anything, we just wanted to meet the girl in the canoe.

  The boat slowly putt-putted in the direction of The Seven Whistles. I was dying to see the place after all the hullabaloo.

  Just past the first bend, I caught my first glimpse of the log cabin-style monstrosity. The place was huge. Our camp owned four docks, which stretched along a generous length of shore. But this place took up at least five times that. A massive central building that looked more like a ritzy hotel than a lodge stood tall at the water’s edge, with newly installed lawns sloping down to its manmade beach and surrounding docks. At the beach, dozens of kids swam in a lifeguard-protected circle surrounded by white bobbing plastic balls on a rope. Somebody was teaching an exercise class on the shore to a dozen women. Piano music came from the open windows of the
great hall that centered the resort. I recognized a Chopin nocturne. Eight docks stretched way out into the lake, much further than ours. And they were populated with over twenty boats of all kinds. Fishing boats, rowboats, and speedboats, you name it, The Seven Whistles had it all.

  I gawked at the place while slowly passing by. Siegfried and Elsbeth cast their lines half-heartedly. They got a few nibbles, but didn’t hook anything.

  The sun shone warm on my back, and the sound of the waves lapping against the hull was soothing. After a few hours of going slowly back and forth, I started to get bored. I saw plenty of people—there were probably a hundred guests—but no girl in a blue canoe.

  Yesterday we’d seen her in the late afternoon. I wondered if maybe she had chores to do that kept her busy until then.

  “I’m hungry, Gus.” Elsbeth looked at me for sympathy. “It’s lunchtime, isn’t it?”

  I checked my watch. “Yup. It’s about noon.”

  Siegfried reeled in his line. “We can go for a walk up the dirt road after lunch. I’m hungry, too.”

  I agreed wholeheartedly, turned the boat around, and headed back to Loon Harbor.

  Chapter 7

  Gramps had thankfully asked us to work only the breakfast and dinner shifts instead of all three meals today, so we parted at the dock to eat lunch at our cabins. I finished my bologna and mustard on Wonder Bread early, and wandered down to the water to sit on a boulder under the white birches to wait for them. With both feet in the warm water, I ran my hands along the rough surface of the lichen growing on the rock. A speedboat passed with a water skier in tow, causing waves to rhythmically lap my legs. I watched the water skier show off, hanging on one-handed and flipping three hundred sixty degrees in midair to land securely back on his feet in the right direction. I wondered if he were some kind of fancy instructor that The Seven Whistles had hired to teach guests to water ski. He sure didn’t seem like your average, run-of-the-mill skier from our lake.

  He passed me four times, getting more and more daring, skiing backwards, on one ski, and doing loops in the air. I watched with fascination, wondering when my parents would let me water ski. Every year they’d said it was too dangerous, I was too young, and more excuses. Maybe this year they’d let me try it.

  A blue canoe nosed around the bend, rocking violently in the wake of the speedboat that had just circled around and passed again. This time the speedboat was way too close to the shore.

  There she was, the girl I’d been dying to meet. Her expression was tense with fear. I watched helplessly as the speedboat came closer. His huge wake rippled toward her, and before I could shout a warning, she flipped over, not twenty feet from my dock.

  I jumped up, scrambled to the dock, and raced to the end, calling to her. “Are you okay?”

  Her head popped up and she swam toward her flipped canoe. She just nodded, but didn’t say a word.

  The paddle floated toward me, and before I could think twice I jumped into the lake to grab it for her. “Hey. I’ve got your paddle.”

  I swam out toward her. “Let’s get this to shore so we can turn it right side up.”

  She glanced sideways at me with a cute smile. “Merci.”

  With a start, I realized she had a soft accent that hinted of France. But it wasn’t quite like my French teacher in school sounded, it was different.

  I grabbed one end of the canoe and helped her float it toward the shore. We swam in silence, and then I helped tug the craft toward the dock where there was an empty boat berth.

  “Let me get out first,” I said. “I’ll climb up on the dock and tie you up.”

  I secured her still upside-down canoe to a big silver ring on the dock and reached a hand toward her. “Come on up.”

  She grabbed my hand and easily climbed up the ladder. “Merci beaucoup.”

  “Are you hurt?” I asked, wondering if she was from Canada or even if she spoke English.

  “Je ne sais pas,” she said, quickly explaining with, “I don’t think so.” She flexed her hands and bounced on her toes. “I was just very surprised, I guess.”

  I had my answer. Her English was perfect, with the same soft French-sounding accent. “That jerk. He shouldn’t have been going so fast. And he shouldn’t have driven so close to shore.”

  “I know. He is a real showoff. Thinks he runs The Seven Whistles. He’s the owner’s son.”

  I nodded. “Sounds like he isn’t too bright.”

  She laughed easily, and I noticed at that moment that her eyes weren’t brown; they were deep indigo, almost violet. Against her caramel-colored skin they glowed, full of humor and light.

  “I’m Gus.” I held out my hand. “This is my grandparents’ place. We’re here, in Wee Castle.” I pointed over my shoulder to the cabin behind us.

  “Très bon,” she said, shaking my hand firmly. “I’m Willy DuPont, short for Wilhelmina. My aunt and brother work for the LaFontaine family at The Seven Whistles, just over there. We’re up for the summer from Baton Rouge. Our family has worked for the LaFontaines for generations.”

  “Wow. What about your folks? Are they up for the summer, too?” As soon as I asked the question, I felt bad, because her face fell.

  “My mother died giving birth to me. I never knew her.” She sighed and her face fell. “And my father was killed in an accident around the same time. I never knew him, either.”

  “Oh, gosh. I’m so sorry for asking.” I felt like an idiot.

  “He was a war hero, a Marine.” Her eyes filled and her lower lip trembled. “I’m very proud of his service.”

  “Cool. He must’ve been really smart and strong. They only take a small percent of the applicants, so my friend William says.” I talked fast, explaining about William. “He’s a camp boy here, lives near us in New York. He wants to be a Marine in the worst way.”

  She pushed her wet hair back over her shoulders. “Well. I’d better get this upright again, n’est-ce pas?”

  “Sure. Let’s tow it up to the shore, then we can flip it easier.”

  “D’accord.”

  While I untied the knot, I noticed her long, slim legs and tiny waist. She was almost as tall as I was and when she smiled, it gave me a thrill deep inside. It was a beautiful smile.

  “My friends are dying to meet you,” I said. “Especially Elsbeth. She wants a girl to play with this summer. She’s twelve. And her twin, Siegfried, is the same age.”

  “Are they from Germany?” she asked. “Those sound like German names.”

  “Yeah. Their family escaped the Iron Curtain way back when they were little. They moved into the farmhouse near us when I was five.” I straightened and dragged the boat up onto a low section of the shore. “I’m thirteen. My birthday’s in March.”

  She helped me bring the canoe up on shore, and we flipped it over and wiggled it from side to side to be sure all the water drained out of it.

  “I am, too. I just had my birthday last week.”

  “Neat,” I said. “Happy belated birthday.” I suddenly felt tongue-tied. “Um. Can you come back sometime to meet my friends? We’re working meals in the dining room for my grandfather. But we’re free the rest of the time.”

  “Sure. I help my aunt with her jobs, too. She cleans the rooms and does laundry.”

  “All by herself? In that giant place?”

  A laugh trilled from her curvy lips. “Mon Dieu, no. There are many more members of our staff who cook, clean, and wait tables. At least fifteen.”

  “Wow, really?”

  “Oui. It’s a busy place.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Alors. How about I come back around three today? Will you be free?”

  I grinned, knowing in advance how happy Elsbeth would be at the turn of events. “Sure. We could go for a ride in my grandfather’s boat, if you want.”

  “Sounds nice. I’ll see you then.” She slid the canoe into the water and climbed inside.

  I handed her the paddle. “See you later, Willy.”
<
br />   “D’accord, Gus. It was nice to meet you.”

  I smiled and watched her expertly paddle away.

  Chapter 8

  When Willy’s canoe disappeared around the bend, I settled back on the boulder to wait for the twins.

  Willy. What a cool name for a girl.

  And that accent. I couldn’t get it out of my head. So soft and exotic and— Wait. What’s wrong with me? Am I turning into William? I can’t like three girls at the same time. I just can’t.

  I realized I was probably just intrigued with the novelty of Willy. Sure, she was really pretty. And cute. And she seemed funny. But I didn’t know her at all, not the real person inside.

  So why did I feel this bubbling, excited feeling when I was close to her?

  I shrugged, casting my eyes along the shore when a mallard duck and her six babies swam past me.

  Something caught my eye in the rocks under my room. Something white.

  I stepped into the water, padding along in the soft, rippled sand, and waded toward the space beneath my room. Ducking low past one of the pillars that supported the corners of my bedroom, I reached for whatever was wedged in the rocks, and pulled it out to inspect it.

  It was a doll. Made of homespun cloth, it sported yellow yarn for hair, button eyes, and a red hand-stitched mouth. Seven pins stuck into the doll’s heart. They were long pins, like the ones my mother used to keep her Easter hat in place, with little black balls on the ends.

  “What’s that, Gus?”

  Elsbeth’s voice startled me. I jumped, nearly lost hold of the dripping doll, and headed for the shore. “I think Willy dropped it.”

  Siegfried joined us seconds later, crouching down to inspect it. “Who’s Willy?”

  I glanced up at them. “Oh. I just met our canoe girl.” I filled them in quickly.

  Elsbeth’s eyes shone. “Oh my goodness, Gus. This is so exciting. I might have a girlfriend to hang out with this summer.”