Seven Tears into the Sea Read Online Free Page A

it. But one part of the reading really stuck with me.
    I think it would have anyway, but Mom guaranteed it when she yelped, “Why on earth would you say something like that to a
child
?”
    Nana had stared at the copper circle cupped in her palm, and though she was seated right next to me, her eyes saw things far beyond the kitchen table.
    â€œThe power which commands the waves, will pull you back,” she whispered. “Back to a reunion no mortal can imagine and no female can resist.”
    To forget words like those, you’d have to be brain-dead.

CHAPTER TWO

    A bird’s nest hung between the door hinge and the eaves of Cook’s Cottage. I noticed it just as Mandi started to jerk open the screen door.
    â€œWait!” I said, and though the little mud pellets, all stuck together to make a gourd-shaped nest, shuddered, they didn’t fall apart.
    â€œIt’s a wasp’s nest,” Jill said. “There must be something around here we can knock it down with.”
    â€œIt’s not a wasp’s nest, is it, Dad?” I turned to my father as Jill crossed her arms.
    Jill isn’t as softhearted over animals as I am. Even though her landlord allows small pets, she doesn’t have one. She says she has enough trouble feeding herself.
    â€œCliff swallows,” Dad said. He pushed his glassesup his nose and stood listening to the nest.
    â€œCan you see inside?” I asked. “Are there any eggs?”
    â€œI don’t want to look in with my giant face and scare them.” Dad shook his head and backed away, lowering his voice as if he’d wake the occupants. “I didn’t see anybody fly away, but we used to have them every year.”
    â€œIf they’re
cliff
swallows, wouldn’t it be for their own good to—” Mandi made a sweeping gesture over her head, then shifted her weight toward Jill. “I bet they’d be happier down by the cliffs.”
    The nest did look like someone had just slung a clump of mud on the cottage wall. And it would be in danger each time my front door opened. And Gumbo’s hunting hum was already coming from her cage. I could picture her with head cocked at the door, alert for the sounds of nestlings taking wing for the first time. Still, I wanted to leave the nest right where it was.
    â€œHaven’t you heard of the famous swallows of San Juan Capistrano?”
    I hated it when Dad asked my friends questions like that. Of course they hadn’t. This time he recognized my frustration, because he went on as if they’d answered.
    â€œThey’ve been coming back to a mission for generations, since, oh, I don’t know, the 1800s, I think. It’s swallows’ nature to find a home and stick with it.”
    Jill, Mandi, and Dad watched me for a decision.
    â€œThey stay,” I told them, and the zing of possessiveness felt good.
    Then I held my screen door wide, while Dad reached through to unlock the wooden door and ease inside.
    â€œI’ve never seen the Nature Girl side of you, Gwen,” Jill said.
    â€œIt’s going to look like crap until it dries up and falls off,” Mandi warned.
    But she followed Jill, eager as I was to see inside Cook’s Cottage, and it occurred to me that they both might be just a little bit jealous.
    Inside, the cottage seemed smaller than I remembered. I suppose that was because I’d been pretty little when I lived here.
    â€œI love this place,” Jill said. “It’s so light.”
    Jill’s studio sat in a hive of identical apartments shadowed by a freeway overpass, so I understood her admiration, but the truth was, the cottage was much brighter than I recalled.
    The curtains were pushed back from each window. June light streamed across the plank floors of golden oak. Except where they were covered by sea grass rugs, they were smooth and glossy.
    The cottage had four rooms. Downstairs, there was the living room, a kitchen, and