So far, Heddy has discovered a German citizen living on the island, and she has made friends with a boy, Lester, about her age. Lester knows about Artie, the German, but promises to keep it a secret. Heddy has found out her brother will be coming home from the war within a week.

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I hear the music playing from downstairs long after I go to bed. There is a nice breeze blowing through the window and the moon has laid a soft silvery blanket across the bottom of my bed. It's a perfect night. Nights like this don't come often. I close my eyes listening to the ocean as it laps the darkened shore.

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I wake before anybody else in the house. It's a different kind of quiet when everyone is asleep. I can hear the snores of Daddy and the creaking of their bed as one of them rolls over. The sun isn't awake either. I push off my covers and rub the sleep from the corners of my eyes before venturing to the window.

The sky is purple, like the darkest bloom of the iris. Gold is threading its way up from the horizon. Nonni used to say that God was an artist. He painted the sky every morning. Each time it was a little different. I remember one afternoon it was just raining buckets. I was bored and Momma was busy cleaning, so I stomped out on the front porch. I was mad because God had all week to rain, while I was in school, but He picked a Saturday. Saturdays are for being outside, going adventuring or just playing on the beach. Nonni came out and sat on the porch swing. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

I shook my head. "No. It's stupid. Stupid rain."

"Well, I'll bet the birds would disagree. Just think about how happy the deer are to have a drink of fresh clean water. Listen, do you hear those bull frogs?"

I concentrate, listening with both ears instead of just one. "What are they saying?"

Nonni pats the seat beside her. "Sounds like they are saying thank you, at least that's what it sounds like to me."

"Just sounds like an old bull frog to me."

Nonni runs her hand across my back and I feel my anger melting away. "But, it's Saturday, Nonni."

"It sure is. Just cause it's raining doesn't mean you can't play on the porch. Look how many different grays He used for the clouds. I see some pink and even some yellow in the clouds," she says, leaning over to look up at the sky. "Now, you stop being so crabby and enjoy this much needed rain."

She sits with me for a few more minutes before going inside to help my momma. I stick my hand out and catch the drips that come off the overhang of the porch roof. Before long, I see some Carolina Wrens and a black bird landing into some small puddles. They were splashing around, washing their dusty old feathers off.

This morning there are no gray clouds. It's going to be clear skies. The perfect day to play on the beach.

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I'm on the beach, lining up the shells I've collected to spell my name when I hear a familiar voice calling out my name. I wave at Lester as he starts kicking off his shoes and socks to make the mad dash to the water's edge where I am.

"I didn't know you were coming over today," I say, unable to hide my happiness. "Your aunt didn't want you to work?"

"I worked extra hard yesterday, so, she let me come over today. Besides, she thinks I'm snooping around. I told her that her counter was needing a good polishing and I could probably get my arm in the back to clean it. She didn't like that idea, and she told me I was working too hard for a young boy and I needed to come spend some time with you."

We exchange smiles. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wrinkled envelope. After he smooths it against his thigh, he looks at me seriously. "I think this belongs to that guy."

I watch as his eyes travel down the beach to where we saw Artie. "What makes you think that?"

"Aunt Nancy said there used to be a German fellow who lived over by the sound, but people started to let him know he wasn't welcome. One morning he was gone. Aunt Nancy thinks he hopped a ferry and run off."

"Maybe it was another German?"

"She said he had reddish hair. Was real tall. It was him, Heddy. Why didn't he leave? What is he still doing around here?"

"Let's go ask him. You think he's a spy or something, don't you? Well, he isn't. He just don't want to hurt anybody. Come on, let's go give him his letter."

Lester looks back towards the house. "Shouldn't we tell your mom we're going off? I don't want her to think we drowned."

I reach over and grab his arm. "Come on, scaredy cat."

I pull him along, as he drags his feet. After a few minutes he wrenches free and takes hold of my hand. He isn't dragging anymore. He doesn't seem to mind the feel of my sandy fingers.
It feels good but odd. I've never held anyone's hand except for my momma, Daddy or Nonni. My heart beats fast, but not from fear. At least, I don't think it's fear. It's that fast beat after winning a foot race, or spelling a word right in front of the class.

"Thought you could only hold Lucille's hand," I say, pulling us to a stop just before the bend.

"Lucille is pretty, don't get me wrong. But I can be myself around you, Heddy. That's a lot nicer than having to pretend all day."

His words make me smile and I look away. "That's all nice and everything, but don't go thinking I'm gonna let you sneak a kiss."

"You gonna punch me if I try?" he asks, studying me to see if I'm serious.

The truth is, I don't know what I'd do. I might not like it, but, then again, I just might.

Without waiting for my answer, Lester pulls me along as we continue to where Artie is hiding. "Come on, let's see if this belongs to him."