Page 61 of Summer of Salt

“What is it?” Mom asked.

“Maybe nothing,” I said.

She began paddling toward the house. Harrison and Prue were waiting on the porch, watching us. Harrison helped Mom out of the boat. I stepped onto the porch;Prue took my hand and touched the nest.

“Is that for the eggs?”

I nodded. “Will you take it to them?”

She took the nest from me and ran into the house.

“Excellent diving, Penelope,” Harrison told my mother.

“Thank you, Harrison. And thank you for helping my daughter.”

“Mom—can we borrow the rowboat?”

“Be my guest.” She put her hands on either side of my head and kissed my forehead. “It comes from here,” she said, and pointed to my belly. I felt a strange flutter where her fingers had touched but I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. I smiled and nodded, which was always the safest response.

She swayed a little. Harrison reached a hand out and steadied her.

The effects of the magic she’d done. Strong magic; she was completely sapped.

“I’ll just go lie down for a while,” she said with a weak smile. She went into the house, and Harrison climbed into the boat.

“She found a nest in the water?” he asked.

“It’s a long story.”

“Magicky?”

“Very magicky.”

We waited for Prue.

“All tucked in,” she said when she finally came back.

“Do you guys want to go on a little trip?” I asked, gesturing toward the rowboat.

“Where to?” Harrison asked.

“Well, first, I want to make sure Vira’s okay. Who knows how high the waters are down there. And after that... I think I need to go talk to Peter Elmhurst.”

“I’m in,” Prue said. She stepped gingerly into the boat. Harrison and I followed suit.

We started paddling for the town green.

The island was an unrecognizable, treacherous beast.

We passed a few people in boats (both actual boats and those of the makeshift variety: plastic storage containers, garbage cans, bathtubs, wooden wine barrels), but once they got close enough to see who we were (or whoIwas, more specifically) they paddled hurriedly in the other direction.

The entire first floor of the Montgomerys’ building, including the Ice Cream Parlor facade, was underwater.

We steered the rowboat around to the back of the building, and I pulled myself onto the metal staircase. I promised Harrison and Prue I wouldn’t take long, and then I knocked on Vira’s front door.

She appeared a moment later, threw the door open, and squeezed me into a hug.

“I’ve been worried sick,” she said. “It’s getting bad out there.”