The Whiskey Sea Read Online Free PDF Page B

awakened early as usual. Rolling over to the sounds of Bea moving about the room, Frieda creaked open her eyes. Bea, donned in one of her two school dresses, was packing textbooks, pencils, and composition books into her satchel.
    “What are you doing?” Frieda asked.
    Bea turned around and set that clear-blue gaze on her sister. “I’m meeting with my study group.”
    Frieda sat up and rubbed fists into her eyes. “Funny. I thought school was out.”
    “Of course it is,” Bea said. “But I’ve made plans with some friends of mine to meet three times a week to read and keep up our study habits over the summer.”
    Falling back on the bed, Frieda said, “Such devotion . . .”
    Bea aimed for the door. “See you later.”
    Frieda quickly sat up and pushed back the covers. “Wait! I’ll help you find something to take for lunch. Give me a minute.”
    “Please. I can take care of myself. Besides, Charlotte Larson’s mother is making us sandwiches. Lindsay Cooper is bringing cookies. Hazel Rogers and John LeRoy are coming, too.” She paused. “I have no idea what they’re bringing.” Bea shrugged. “Guess it doesn’t matter. We’ll have plenty to eat.”
    After swinging her feet to the floor, Frieda raked her fingers through her hanging snarls of hair. “You shouldn’t show up empty-handed.” Bea was studious and smart, but not practical. It worried Frieda.
    Bea passed a hand through the air as she opened the bedroom door. “Don’t be silly. These are my friends.”
    A few minutes later the front door whisked open and the screen door whacked shut.
    Frieda plopped back down. She stared at the cracked ceiling, where water stains blossomed like clouds. Could those clouds rain some kindness on her today? Please? Could some answers please come popping out of those cracks?
    Nothing. Just bleakness.
    After Frieda got up, she dressed and went to look for Silver. Normally he’d be up before dawn and out over the shoals by sunrise on his boat. But with the Wren in Hicks’s hands, what would he be doing now?
    In the kitchen she found him filling his Thermos with black coffee.
    “Where are you going?” she asked.
    He smiled and scratched his thatch of hair. “Well, hello to you, too. Good morning, Frieda.”
    “Good morning,” she forced.
    He slipped a sweater over his head, but it took him longer than usual. Frieda could see that his shoulders were bothering him. She did worry about his health, his strength, but he’d always seemed so rugged and capable to her, despite his age. Maybe she should’ve offered to rub some salve into his sore shoulders, but that kindness sat just an inch or so beyond her reach today. She sighed. “So where are you heading?”
    “You probably don’t want to know.”
    “Since we don’t own a boat any longer, I thought you were going to take it easy.”
    “I’m aiming to help Hicks with some repairs on the Wren . Want to join us?”
    Frieda rolled her eyes. “No, thanks. Why would you work on a boat you no longer own? It makes no sense.”
    Silver sighed. “It’s called being helpful. Friendly-like. You know . . .”
    “No. I don’t know.”
    “Right,” he said, and headed for the door. “You enjoy yourself, ye hear?”
    Frieda crossed her arms and turned away as he, too, left the house.
    Then she was alone.
    She made herself a mug of coffee with a little milk and sugar. She straightened up the place, then cooked herself an egg and buttered a piece of bread. Sitting on the porch in Silver’s chair, she watched the sun rise high into the sky until it threatened to burn her eyes. A yellow butterfly landed on the porch rail. Birds flitted over the street in front of her, sails in the bay filled taut in the blows, gulls cried, and rigging chimed against masts down at the dock. She made herself some lunch, although she was hardly hungry.
    A walk—she would take a walk. She went down to the small sand beach, where little waves broke and left lacy foam on the sand.