The Magic Lighthouse

The Magic Lighthouse

Flora Church

Copyright 2010 by Flora Church

(dba L.F. Chiesa)

Smashwords Edition

. Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue

To all my boys, but especially Nick T.,

who once asked for a story with a pirate

Prologue

The old house creaked and groaned, and Sam paused with the refrigerator door half-opened, listening hard. If he’d awakened the twins or Harry, Mom and Dad would be bound to hear. No clattering of feet came down the stairs, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He grabbed two cheese sticks, an apple, and a juice pouch—no, make that two pouches, and headed back to his room. That should hold him until morning and breakfast.

At the top of the stairs, he stopped again. Had that been a rustle from Harry’s room? Sam waited a full minute before tiptoeing past to his room, grinning. His sister, Harry, slept like the dead. He didn’t know why he was so jumpy tonight.

***

The hollow tower caught up the wind and sent it whooshing and creaking and groaning in protest down through the tunneled body of the lighthouse. Round and round the wind went, howling and crying, flying out past the loosely caught door at the bottom, flinging the door against the wall with a clatter.

Harriet Jennifer Marie Winslow—Harry to family and friends alike—came wide awake, suddenly and completely. She lay in her bed and listened. Beyond the normal squeaks and settlings of the old house, beyond the steady quiet whir of the refrigerator downstairs and the ticking of the clock at her bedside, she heard the lonesome clack, clack, clack of a banging door—far away and yet ringing clearly in her head. Rising abruptly, she pushed back blanket and sheet. Two a.m.

Without hesitation, she made for the window of her room and peered out into the wide, clean darkness that was night. Leaves rustled slightly as a scattered, intermittent breeze gathered itself together and puffed gently once across the night air. No other wind stirred. Harry cast her glance farther afield, north towards the unseen lapping shoreline of Lake Erie and caught her breath. High above the tree line marking the wooded fields and marsh, a light shone brightly. A light that cast no shadows.

A beacon of yellow light marked the top of the Cedar Bay lighthouse, a lighthouse that had been closed for decades, kept tidy by the Coast Guard, but non-working, shuttered, quiet. Except, now, for the banging door and the bright, unblinking yellow light. For three nights in a row, she had been roused from her dreams by a light where no light should be, a sound where no wind blew.

Crazy dreams they were, too. Tonight she’d dreamed of a monstrous spider, wearing a pirate’s hat and chasing her and her older brother Sam and their cousin Henry down an endless road. Shivering, Harry crawled back into her bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin. Something was about to happen. She wondered sleepily if she should be frightened, but the thought came to her that Sam and Henry had been with her. She relaxed and let sleep come.

Chapter 1

Summer came with a sun so vibrant it woke you at six a.m., even on Saturdays. But the calendar held steady at the end of May and school was not yet over for the year. Sam Winslow, a seventh-grader at Cedar Bay Middle School, chewed that disappointing thought in silence as he cocked one eye at the brilliant wash of light flooding his room. Well, it was vacation of a sort.

Three whole days for Memorial Day weekend. He stretched, decided sleep was gone for good, then eased himself carefully from bed to avoid a squeaky floorboard, pulled on shorts and a tee shirt, and let himself out into the hall.

On his right the door to the twins’ room was ajar, four-year-olds Meghan and Christopher blissfully asleep within. Christopher, as always, was turned around in his bed, pillow on the floor, while Meghan’s towhead was barely visible above the sheet. To his left lay the bathroom the siblings shared, with its huge old claw-footed bathtub and wrap-around shower. The steam radiator, cool now, hissed comfortingly in the winter and warmed their towels. Harry had been known to curl up on it with a good book on those freezing, gloomy days of January.

His parents, Julia Seton Charles and Harry Samuel Winslow, had purchased the rambling 1870s house on the outskirts of Cedar Bay shortly after their marriage fifteen years earlier. Sam’s dad was a medical botanist at the International World Forest Survey, located in the sleepy little village of Cedar Bay, Ohio, on the western shore of Lake Erie. Here the scientists of the IWFS could carry on their work in relative obscurity. No one ever came to Cedar Bay except from May to October, when hordes of tourists descended on the area in search of Cedar Point Amusement Park in Sandusky, which lay just to the east of quiet Cedar Bay.

It was his mother who had first seen the neglected house for sale. Built by Captain John Nathanial Fincham, the house had reminded her of her native New England seacoast with its widow’s walk, white clapboard siding, black shutters, and wide porches. Big enough with four bedrooms upstairs, two more in the converted attic, and a music room, sunporch, and library downstairs, plus a cavernous eat-in kitchen, it hadn’t taken much persuasion to convince her husband it was the home they wanted. A small barn now served as garage and dual offices for his parents.

Truth to tell, Harry Winslow had been equally glad to take the house, for the property sat on the edge of town, and his sister, Mary Shane, and her husband Aspen Henry Thompson, were settled nearby. Their older children, Josh, sixteen, and Kara, fifteen, were artistic like their mother and just as sensible and practical with their talents. Only their youngest, eleven-year-old Henry, showed the dreamy, eccentric nature of Uncle Aspen.

Cautiously Sam tread past Harry’s firmly closed door. Harry was eleven years’ old, two years younger than Sam, but nearly as tall, as lanky, and with a head full of brown curls when all of her siblings were as towheaded as their father had once been. Harry might sleep late on a holiday, if she weren’t already awake with a book on her pillow, and if she didn’t catch the sound of Sam’s soft footfalls as he moved past the master bedroom where his parents slept and headed downstairs.

Snatching up the binoculars from the top of the piano, he paused long enough in the kitchen to grab a bowl of granola, before he let himself out the back door and headed for a huge, spreading maple at the rear of the yard. Up the steps he climbed, into the treehouse built years ago by his dad.

Here the morning air still carried a hint of coolness. Sam raked the woods with the binoculars and waited expectantly. Nothing stirred. Sighing, he ate his granola, occasionally pausing for a brief survey of the sky and wooded slope below.

Quickly, Sam swept the woods with his lenses. Yes! His heart lifted. A bald eagle skimmed the tree line, a silver bass clutched in its talons and glinting in the early morning sun. Wildlife biologists had achieved considerable success in rebuilding the population of those majestic birds along the coast of Lake Erie. The eagles were Sam’s passion; he wanted to become a biologist himself—if he could just do better in science.

He winced, remembering his teacher’s comments on his final research paper. A C+. ‘Good data, but pay attention to the instructions…blah blah blah….’ What with Harry being so sick and him having to look after the twins while his parents struggled to care for his sister, it was a wonder he’d had time to do any research!

But Harry was better now and soon school would be over for the year. He would have plenty of time between chores to study the eagles this summer. With a last sweep of the skyline, he picked up his bowl and headed back to the house.

G’morning, Sam, his mother looked up from her coffee and the local paper. From the depths of the refrigerator, his father emerged with a pitcher of juice and a gallon of milk. The sounds of running feet, loud on the stairs, preceded the arrival of Meghan and Christopher. Two impish grins made Sam’s mouth quirk slightly.

G’morning, Sam, in unison they echoed their mother, before burying their faces in glasses of milk.

Any success? his dad asked as he slathered margarine and strawberry jam on toast.

A big male, Dad, flying in from the lake with a bass.

Great! His dad passed a slice of toast to Meghan, took a bite of his piece of toast, chewed, swallowed, looked at Sam. I have to run over to the IWFS for a couple of hours this morning. That new guy, Dr. Williams, is moving in his office. I thought I’d take Meghan and Christopher with me so your mother can finish her book review.

Thank you, darling, Julia replied, casting a mock-severe glance at her youngest children.

Two angelic faces met her gaze, twin pairs of blue eyes filled with innocence, before Christopher spoiled the effect by giggling. His mother reached over to ruffle his hair lightly. You two be good and please don’t bother the Bo’sun.

’Don’t bother the Bo’sun,’ they echoed their mother and giggled at each other, kicking their heels against their chairs.

Sam grinned. He knew it would not be long after their arrival before the Bo’sun, the IWFS’ longtime security guard, had a contented audience for his seafaring tales.

Dr. Williams has a daughter—Nala—about your age, Sam. You want to come along and give her a tour of the IWFS? His father, finishing his coffee, gave Sam a ‘come-on-it-would-be-good-for-you’ look.

Inwardly, Sam groaned, but gave his dad a quick, negative shake. What? Have some goofy kid foisted upon him? Or worse yet, somebody who’d treat him like everyone else—invisible. No, thanks!

His mother folded her newspaper.

Keep an eye on Harry this morning, will you, Sam? She’s not up yet, and you know Harry! Her mouth twisted for a moment. That is, if you don’t have plans with your friends?

When Sam shrugged in response, she opened her mouth, closed it on whatever she might have said, and instead told him, If you need me, I’ll be in the study.

Harry might have been awake for hours, Sam knew, reading in bed, but the family had a standing joke that Harry rarely missed or was late for a meal. Her prodigious appetite put even Sam to shame, although she was reed thin and burned her food like liquid energy.

He caught the note of worry beneath his mother’s light tone. Would they ever stop worrying about Harry? The doctor had said the mysterious fever had run its course. Whatever it was, it had nearly killed Harry and left her mother flinching at every sneeze or sniffle since. But as far as Sam could tell, Harry had rebounded with her usual energy. Sam nodded at his mother.

Okay, Mom. I’ll check on her after I finish my chores.

That’s my Sam. His mother’s brown curls bobbed as she smiled. I won’t be long in the study this morning. Aspen and Mary Shane are coming for lunch.

All right! That meant Henry would probably come. Maybe he would spend the night.

Come on, guys, his father finished his coffee and cast a tolerant eye at Meghan. She was always the last of the Winslow’s to finish a meal. Not because her appetite matched Harry’s, but because nothing missed her watchful gaze. She would become so absorbed by the conversations around her that she had to be reminded to eat.

Evading Christopher’s headlong rush for the door, Sam sidestepped Meghan and ducked down the basement stairs. His chores this morning included bringing up the laundry baskets and delivering these to everyone’s rooms. He was responsible for putting his own things away and those of the twins. And if Harry really was sick, he’d get stuck doing her chore, which was taking the dirty laundry downstairs and sorting it.

Guiltily he bit back that thought; she’d been really sick this winter. It hadn’t been her fault that he got stuck with half the chores and babysitting the twins. After lunch, he was required to fill the dishwasher and run it if it was fully loaded. Then he and Henry could go outside.

Sam glanced out the window at the bright day and sighed as he trudged upstairs with a stack of laundry baskets. He wished his mom would just shut up about his friends. Truth was, he didn’t have any friends at Cedar Bay Middle School. Nick Keller, Kyle Pritchard, and Doug Franklin had been his best friends ever since they’d attended story time at the local library together—even before preschool.

Nick had moved away at the start of the school year, and Kyle—Sam kicked his bedroom door open with unnecessary force. Kyle was a big jerk. Kyle had gone out for football, had been picked for quarterback when none of the other players stepped forward for the position, and had led his team to a tie for second place in the league—the first time Cedar Bay Middle School had ever done so well.

Now Kyle hung out exclusively with the other jocks and cheerleaders, and his favorite pastime had become mocking Sam as a geek. Sam’s face flushed. Like he cared what Kyle thought. But Doug, well, Doug had decided that whatever Kyle thought was cool. Good riddance, Sam thought angrily, as he pushed open the door to the twins’ room. He’d had enough to worry about this year with his sister so sick and his grades slipping.

Tucking the now empty laundry basket into the twins’ closet, Sam paused and knocked on Harry’s door. No answer. He pushed the door open carefully and set his sister’s basket of fresh laundry just inside the room. As he straightened, he saw Harry in her nightshirt sitting on the windowseat which covered her radiator. Staring out the window, she gave no sign that she’d heard him.

Harry, you okay? he called. She neither moved nor answered him. Anxious now,