The Penderwicks at Point Mouette by Jeanne Birdsall Page A

curious about this happiness of his. When he turned left instead of right on the road, she almost balked. There was nothing in that direction but the pinewood, and she saw no reason to explore it so early in themorning. But Jeffrey took her hand and pulled her to the end of Ocean Boulevard and on into the trees. It was another world in there—dark, with the thick branches blocking the faint light of dawn, the ground slippery with fallen needles, and the heady smell of a thousand Christmas trees. Skye couldn’t see at all, but Jeffrey led her safely past tree after tree after tree until they spotted a glimmer of light up ahead. A moment later, they were out of the wood and on the edge of yet another world altogether. To their left were the same rocks and ocean they’d left behind, but in front of them and to their right was a great expanse of short grass, broken only by the occasional tree, big patch of sand, or small pole with a numbered flag on it. One of these flags was only yards from where Jeffrey and Skye stood—number twelve.
    “It’s a golf course.” Skye couldn’t believe it. “Why are we here? We hate golf. Besides, your clubs are back at the house.”
    “We’re not going to play golf. Alec told me that sometimes if you’re out here early enough, you can see moose.”
    “You dragged me out of bed at dawn to
maybe
see a moose?” But the truth was that she was already hooked. She’d never seen a real moose, only pictures, and of course that statue in front of Moose Market.
    So once again she followed Jeffrey. Heading away from the ocean, they kept to the edge of the pine trees and found themselves gradually climbing. They’d seenseveral of the flags—and Skye had long been warm enough to forget about shivering—when Jeffrey stopped at a large boulder jutting out of the pines. Here the golf course sloped down away from them, and at the bottom was a small lake rimmed with tall marsh grass.
    “Alec said that the lake is the best place for moose. We’ll wait.” Jeffrey sat down and leaned against the rock. “Admit you’re glad to be here.”
    “I won’t give you that satisfaction.”
    “Then I won’t tell you why I’m so happy.”
    “Okay, don’t.” She knew he would anyway.
    “Because of last night and the music. Alec played the sax—Skye, he’s so good—and Turron played the drums, of course, and they were fooling around with some jazz, which I know nothing about, but Alec told me to listen and drop in with the piano whenever I could, and I didn’t think I’d be able to, but after a bit it started to make sense, and I could follow along a little. Then Alec told me that once I understood the melody, I could work out some chord progressions, and that was hard until all of a sudden it was easy.” Jeffrey stopped his rush of words. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
    “Nope.” She yawned and stretched out on the ground. She enjoyed listening to Jeffrey, especially when he didn’t care whether or not she understood him. And when he didn’t expect her to respond with long speeches about what she herself was thinking. Or feeling—feeling was the worst.
    “Never mind about that part, then, but listen to this. The red house belongs to Alec’s family—he’s been coming here for summers most of his life. His real home is in Boston, though, not very far from my school, and he already said that I could visit him there. And Turron lives in New York City, but he plays in Boston sometimes, so maybe I’ll see him, too. Skye, I could learn so much just from hanging around them.”
    “I know.”
    “You actually were listening to me, then?”
    “Sort of.” She grinned up at him. “Want to arm-wrestle?”
    “Skye!”
    “Oh, come on. The moose isn’t here or anything.”
    With a show of reluctance, Jeffrey lay down opposite Skye and grasped her right hand with his. After a brief struggle, Skye’s arm was flat on the ground.
    She protested. “You’re stronger than