Megan's Island Read Free Page B

straighter. In spite of her anxiety, she was hungry, too, and she looked forward to seeing Grandpa Davis and the lake up close.
    â€œWatch for a red mailbox,” her mother instructed, and then, “There it is! We turn here!”
    Sandy glanced over his shoulder. “It’s quite a ways from town, isn’t it?”
    â€œSix miles,” his mother confirmed. “Too far to walk, but Grandpa goes in once a week for groceries and supplies.”
    There wasn’t much of anything else to go to town for, Megan thought. She hadn’t seen a movie theater or a bowling alley, or anything like that for entertainment. She wondered if there were any other kids living on the lake. A friend like Annie would be wonderful, but Annie probably would never forgive her. Not unless she could come up with a powerful excuse for having simply disappeared overnight.
    The trees around them thinned, and they saw the lake again.
    Now the sun was red in the eastern sky, and it tinted the surface of the water a shifting pink; on the far side, the forest remained black and seemingly impenetrable.
    â€œThe second driveway, Dad said. Ah, there it is.” The car swung to the right, and they went a short distance before coming to a small clearing.
    The cottage was nothing special, just a frame building with peeling white paint and dark red shutters. If there hadn’t been an old car in the yard, Megan would have thought it was deserted. Beyond it, there was a narrow strip of pale, sandy beach with several outcroppings of dark rock, and beyond that, black on the pink-tinged water, an island.
    Megan’s heartbeat quickened. An island? It was only a little one, but it was so close to land that surely she could get out there. She wondered if Grandpa had a boat. There was something mysterious and special about an island.
    Mrs. Collier let the car roll almost to the screened porch that ran the entire length of the cottage, then turned off the ignition. In the silence they heard a frog croaking, and far out on the lake, an outboard motor.
    â€œWell, we’re here. We might as well get out,” Mrs. Collier said, and Megan wondered if she imagined the quaver in her mother’s voice.

Chapter Three
    Megan’s uneasiness deepened as they got out of the car. The early-morning air was chilly and out across the lake something gave a wild, sad cry. A loon? Hadn’t one of Grandpa’s letters said something about the loons?
    Obviously Grandpa Davis wasn’t expecting them. If he’d known they were coming, he’d have come out to meet them by this time, for he would surely have heard the car.
    Mom was uneasy as well as exhausted, Megan thought. That’s why she was acting so oddly—fumbling with her seat belt, groping for her purse, and then having difficulty in finding the key for the trunk so they could take out their luggage.
    Sandy looked around with interest. “This is a neat place,” he said. “Megan, did you see the islands?”
    â€œIs there more than one?” She turned to stare out over the slate-colored water, which was already losing its pink tinge as the sun rose higher in the sky.
    â€œYeah. There’s the one right off that way, and then there’re a couple more farther on down the lake. One of them’s so little maybe it’s only a big rock. Gosh, I’m starved! Where’s Grandpa?”
    â€œMaybe you’d better carry one of these bags over to the porch, and knock on the door,” Mrs. Collier suggested. Her voice didn’t sound quite right, either.
    Sandy had his fist raised toward the cottage door when it suddenly opened and Grandpa Davis stood there in a pair of old flannel pajamas, his graying hair standing in uncombed wisps. He blinked, and his jaw sagged momentarily. “Well, I’ll be darned! I didn’t expect you folks for another couple of weeks!”
    Megan glanced at her mother. Though she was smiling, it wasn’t her