Eleven year old Heddy is an imaginative girl who tries to keep her island safe from pirates and Germans. She can see and talk to her late grandmother, Nonni. Heddy meets a mysterious man who is staying in Dr. Monroe's abandoned house.

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The house smells terrible. I pull the neck of my shirt up over my nose as I walk in.

"Don't be smart, Miss. You know your daddy loves his greens."

"Can I eat lunch on the back porch. Please?" I beg.

"Yes. But you're going to take a bath before your daddy gets home. So, no running off to play."

A bath before dinner is one of the worst things to happen. It means I can't go outside again. I don't like being cooped up, not when there is a half a day left.

"I'm going to freshen up, but you're next. Oh, and, we're washing your hair. It's gonna take most of the afternoon to brush those tangles out."

I stomp my foot on the step as I sit down. My daddy doesn't care if I have tangles. He tells me I'm cuter than a ladybug. Momma is just being all prissy.

I pull a bit of the crust off my peanut butter sandwich and toss it into the yard. A black bird swoops down from the tree. It snatches the bread then looks towards me, waiting patiently.

"Go on, bird. Don't be greedy."

The pitch black wings flutter and the sun casts a rainbow across its feathers. He hops around, pecking at the ground, in case he might have missed a crumb.

"You gonna give that poor thing another bite?" Nonni asks, settling on the step beside me.

"Sure." I pull another piece free and toss it out into the yard. "Momma says we shouldn't feed wild animals. She says they stop hunting for food on their own."

Nonni shrugs. "An occasional treat won't hurt. I saw you heading round the bend. You weren't going back to Dr. Monroe's, were you?"

I take a bite of my sandwich. Chewing while I think about my answer. "I was looking for pretty shells for the garden."

"Well, did you see him?"

"Who?"

"The man with the copper hair?"

I nod. "He's nice. His name is Artie."

"And, did you ask him what he was doing there?"

I pull more crust free and toss it out. The bird hops around eating as quick as he can.

"He's figuring things out. He said it a different way, but I can't remember the word he used."

Nonni smiles as the black bird hops around in front of us. "What color is that bird, Heddy?"

"Black."

"I don't know. I see a lot of different colors. Purple, blue, even yellow."

I see it too. "How does it do that?"

"The oils on their feathers reflect the light. You remember that crystal bowl I had? Remember how when the sun would hit it just right? Remember how it looked like all sorts of colors would shine across the table?"

I remember how Nonni would sometimes put wrapped up candy in it.

Momma's voice comes from inside the house. "Heddy, finish up and come inside. I'm starting your bath."

I make a face. Nonni cups my chin and smiles at me. "Heddy, don't be like that. Be a good girl and let your momma wash your hair. This is important to her."

I brush the crumbs off of my lap and kiss Nonni before going inside.

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Daddy stops just inside the threshold of the front door and rubs his eyes. "Who is that pretty little girl? Why, I thought it was Heddy, at first, but, I've never seen her look so beautiful before."

I grin. Momma curled my hair by twisting it and putting the pins to secure it. She let me sit in front of her vanity and smell her perfumes.

"Daddy," I giggle. "It is me."

"My goodness, it even sounds like her. But, until I see my little ladybug, I guess I'll have to eat this chocolate by myself."

The mention of the chocolate sends me running across the floor and into his arms. He hugs me tight, so tight, it'd probably hurt other people, but it doesn't hurt me.

"Here you go," he says, reaching into his jacket pocket for the treat. He places the foil covered candy in my waiting hand and kisses the top of my head.

"And, this is for you, Sweetheart." He pulls a letter from his pocket and hands it to my mother. "I figure this is better than candy."

Momma makes this strange noise and holds it to her chest. She closes her eyes and draws in a quick ragged breath. "He wrote. He finally wrote."

Together we walk to the table. Momma takes her brass letter opener and slices through the envelope. She unfolds the paper. Her eyes dart across the page and her happy expression turns dark.

"What is it, what's wrong?" Daddy asks.

"He's been injured. He's in a hospital in Belgium."

"It must not be that bad, he was able to write the letter."

Momma turns the paper around. It isn't Willis's handwriting. Someone else wrote the letter for him.

"Let me see it," Daddy says, as my momma starts dabbing at her eyes.

"How bad is he hurt?" I ask.

Neither bother to answer my question. Daddy let's the letter fall on the table and takes Momma in his arms as she cries.