The Curse of Sunderwood

Chapter 1

The morning sun filled the air with energy and the ocean spat salt into the wind that blew into my parents' veranda. I stretched my feet out on the railing as I looked across the beach, nursing a glass of white wine.

"Margaret, would you like some sweet tea?" my mother called through the screen door.

"No thank you."

She walked out holding a large drink filled to the brim with ice. "My, my," she said as she dragged a chair next to mine, making the whole veranda vibrate, "Wine so early in the morning?"

"It sounded better than a glass of diabetes."

"I was thinking about the dinner tonight. Why don't you wear that dress I bought you? Oh, and wear your hair up? I know it's long, but I have some pins that would..."
"Mother," I interrupted, "Why are we here?"

"I'm sorry?"

I stared out into the ocean, watching the waves build and break against the sand. "Why are we at this house, on this weekend?"

She took a long drink of her tea. "It's your father's birthday."

"Is that all it is? We have to celebrate father's birthday at the same place your daughter drowned?"

"Is it too much for a mother to ask her only remaining daughter to spend a weekend with her parents?"

I set my glass on the table beside me. "I came. I'm here. Let's talk."

"Would you rather talk in Europe? Or South America? Or wherever you think it's more important to be?"

"Mother, what is it you want from me?"

"Forget it," she snapped with a quiver at the end of her voice.

Slamming my feet on the floor, I stood so forcefully the chair fell backwards. "If you want to know, I left because there was nothing left for me here. You were never there for me or Jeanette, always sending us to some school."

"Margaret!"

"I left because that's where you wanted me! I don't know why I keep coming back." As I stormed off the veranda to the beach, I relished the fact I had given my mother a taste of her own medicine. I lectured her and refused to let her get a word in edgewise. My body was shaking, and I wasn't sure why. I said words to my mother I had rehearsed over and over again to myself for the last five years. They were gone, and a weight was lifted from me, but at the same time a pit settled in my stomach. Something was wrong. I knew my reaction resembled that of a child, but I couldn't stand her like this. If it was wrong, I didn't want to admit it or care.

Sitting down in the sand, I remembered that day. When I lost sight of Jean in the surf, she was lost to this world. Everything was fine, and she was there... and then she wasn't.

I squinted at the sea and made out a silhouette. Perhaps I was seeing things – projecting my memory into real life. As I tried to calm myself and leaned back in the sand, the silhouette remained. There was a spark of panic in my gut when I realized I wasn't imagining it.

Jolting upright, I cupped a hand over my forehead to see clearer.

Someone was out there.

I heard a distant voice that could have been the wind, but if the silhouette was real, so might the voice. There was no way I would let anyone drown the way Jean did. That thought was all it took to send me diving into the water.

The water was rough and the current was strong, but thankfully those years of surfing and paddling paid off.

Once I was close enough, I yelled to it. Through the spray of the sea I could make out a brown head. It turned toward me and hollered back. The voice was bright and feminine.