What Lies Beneath by Marissa Doyle

Author:Marissa Doyle [Doyle, Marissa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: young adult fantasy, Fiction - YA, Fantasy, Kids, Love and Romance, Fantasy and Magic, Teen
ISBN: 9781636320021
Google: _XkjEAAAQBAJ
Publisher: Book View Cafe
Published: 2021-09-14T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Emma

June 19, 1917

Dearest Dad,

I hope the peanut brittle arrived in time for Father’s Day on Sunday. Your last letter sounded so forlorn that if I could have fit myself in the box with the candy, I would have. Alas, I’m sure the postage would have been outrageous. I miss you too—so very much. But I’m glad you’re doing such important work for our country. I wish I could too.

Well, summer is well and truly here—or at least the thermometer says so, even if the calendar insists it won’t be here for a few more days. It’s been warm enough for me to have been swimming several times now. Not that cold water has ever stopped me from swimming—do you remember Lake Umbagog, where that man said I must be part penguin? Anyway, I continue to take lessons with Malcolm Galbraith from the Ocean Hotel and am doing my teacher proud, I think. Though honestly, I thought I was a pretty good swimmer to begin with. Our usual audience of the local seals seems to appreciate my efforts, at any rate—they’re always on hand (or on flipper) to cheer me on. I do like seeing them here—they make the ocean seem much friendlier.

We also see them when Malcolm takes me rowing. They like to follow his boat for some reason. Malcolm says they’re quite intelligent, which I’m inclined to believe as they tend not to come to watch us swim when Helen is with us. I think they sense she doesn’t care for them. How she doesn’t adore them as I do is a complete mystery to me!

What Helen does adore, I think (and please keep this a deep, dark secret, although on reflection I can’t think of anyone you might accidentally tell it to!) is our acquaintance George Osborn, whom I think I’ve mentioned before. Perhaps “adore” is too strong a word, but she’s certainly always ready to let him take her driving in his smart little roadster! All joking aside, I do hope “something” comes of it all. Maybe I was naïve to expect it, but things haven’t gone exactly as I’d hoped between me and Helen. Maybe it’s the age difference—there seems to be a big gap between my seventeen and her twenty. Or maybe it’s just that we’re different people. But I don’t want her to feel that she’s wasted her summer, and falling in love with an estimable young man would go some way toward that. And now I feel like a grandmotherly old matchmaker, wearing a pince-nez and lace shawl and consulting my little notebook. Don’t you think the role suits me?

Also in my grandmotherly role, I’ve been giving dancing lessons to Malcolm Galbraith’s little sister, Maggie. She’s a funny girl; she’s always waiting for me on our Thursday morning classes at the hotel gates, perched on one of the pillars and doing gargoyle imitations. Were those pillars here when you visited the island? It’s funny to remember that you’ve been here too, of course, and not just me.

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