“Oh, Mom,” cried Anna. She leaned forward, but Mom held out her hand and shook her head slightly.
“It’s okay,” she said. Her voice was hoarse and very low. She grew silent again.
“Mom?” I said.
She seemed to be coming back from far away. Then she leaned forward and began to take things out of the box.
“His bathrobe,” she murmured. She stroked it, put it on her lap, held it there. “Oh, Jon. I never washed it, you know. It was hanging on the back of the door when I came home from the hospital after he … died. I put it on. I slept in it every night for weeks. But then I realized that no matter how much I slept, I’d always wake up and it wouldn’t be a bad dream. It would be real.
“And I realized I had two children. Our two children. So I put the robe away. I went around our room that morning just sweeping things into this box. And I took it to the attic and left it there. The next day I brought home more boxes. I threw away everything that was his. I didn’t want to be reminded.
“It made me remember. And I was afraid remembering would make me weak.”
“Did you cry?” asked Anna.
“Yes.” Mom lifted out the glasses. “I took these to the hospital with me. I thought he might need them. I didn’t know how — how bad it was.”
I reached past her and pulled out the envelope. A sudden smile lit up Mom’s sad face. “Your father,” she said, “was at Woodstock. The first Woodstock … I wonder what he would have thought of the second one.” She held up the ticket. “It’s probably a collector’s item now. He did always say he was probably one of the few people on earth who had actually bought and paid for a ticket to what turned out to be one of the most famous free concerts of all time. And that shirt. I tried to get him to throw it away. But he wouldn’t.”
I had lifted the watch out of the box. “He wasn’t wearing his watch when the accident happened?”
She shook her head. “He’d been looking for it for two days. I found it in the drain cup in the sink that morning after he left for work.”
Holding the harmonica, Mom said, “That’s where your ear for music comes from, Anna. You remember him playing this?”
Anna nodded. “Of course I do.”
“He’d be so proud of you both. Two is better than twice as much. That’s what he said when he saw you, right after you were born. He could mix words around so that even if they didn’t make sense, they sounded as if they did. The way you do, Abby. You both remind me of him so much sometimes, in different ways.”
Her voice trailed off again. She stroked the soft worn flannel of the robe.
“You never talked about him after you told us he had died,” said Anna. “I never knew why.”
“I couldn’t. I always meant to. But it hurt. And then when it stopped hurting quite so much, I was afraid I would start to hurt all over again if I did talk about him. It was like being in the dark in that tunnel and not being sure I was going to make it out again. And then I was so glad …
“But I didn’t forget. Not one single day have I forgotten. I might have forgotten about that carton, maybe even deliberately.
“But never about Jonathan.”
Mom looked down at the box. “It’s time these things had new homes.”
For one awful moment, I thought Mom was going to give away our father’s things.
She saw my face and reached out and patted my hand. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to throw anything away. In fact …” She lifted up the watch and slid it over my wrist. It was big and clunky and heavy and old fashioned. I loved it.
“Thanks, Mom,” I said.
She turned to Anna. “I expect someday you will write a symphony for violin and harmonica,” she said, handing Anna the harmonica.
Anna clutched the harmonica, her eyes shining.
“We’re a family,” Mom said. “And don’t you forget it, you hear? We support each other, we stick together. We talk.”
Anna and I nodded.
Mom held up the bathrobe. “I have a place on the back of my bedroom door where this will hang nicely. And the picture can go on the piano in the living room.”
She set the glasses aside. “The old rolltop desk,” she murmured.
Then she held up the Woodstock T-shirt and the ticket stub. “Hmm,” she said. “I see this in a frame. A sort of collage …”
She gave Anna and me a mischievous look. “Art. I see this as art. What do you girls think?”
We burst out laughing. Shaky, good laughter.
I thought Dad would be pleased.
“Hey, is this meeting coming to order or what?” I asked, cramming a handful of potato chips in my mouth. Since the cupcake weekend, I’d sworn off sweets, at least for a while. But not junk food.
Kristy, who was lowering herself into the director’s chair in Claudia’s room, gave me an outraged look.
“What’s the matter, Kristy? Getting a little behind in the job?” I asked. I pointed to the seat of the chair, which had just connected with the seat of her jeans, and burst out laughing at my own humor.
Kristy’s mouth dropped open. Then Mary Anne snorted and a spray of potato chips flew out of her mouth.
That did it. Everyone started laughing. We were still laughing a few moments later when Mal rushed in saying, “I’m sorry I’m late, I —”
“It’s okay,” said Jessi. “We all get a little behind.”
That set us off again, until the phone rang.
Instantly Kristy was all business. We stifled our laughter and Jessi leaned over to whisper something to Mal.
But Kristy had no sooner taken down the information and hung up, then Mal said to me, “That’s a terrible joke. I’ll have to tell the triplets.”
We assigned the job and then Mal said, “Guess what. The carnival raised enough money to fund the arts programs in the Stoneybrook public schools for an entire year.”
Claudia jumped up and did a little dance on her bed. Jessi applauded. Kristy let out a whistle between her teeth.
“What will happen when the year is up and the money runs out?” demanded Stacey.
Claudia stopped bouncing. “I guess we will have to hold another carnival.”
“Piece of cake,” said Jessi, smiling at me.
I groaned. “Not till next year!”
Mal took a call and Mary Anne flipped open the book. “The Papadakises for next Saturday night. Hmmmm. Kristy, you or Abby?”
I unconsciously tensed. Did Kristy still think I didn’t have what it took to be a baby-sitter? I found myself staring at her, trying to read her thoughts.
But Kristy didn’t even hesitate. “Abby can handle it. I have something to do.”
“Kristy has a date,” Stacey whispered very loudly.
I didn’t hear Kristy’s quick retort or join in the round of gentle laughter that followed. I was busy feeling good. I was off probation with Kristy.
And feeling at home with my friends in the BSC.
Just as Kristy was about to end the meeting, the phone rang. She picked it up. A grin spread across her face.
“Dawn!” she cried.
Everyone passed the phone around to say hello and tell Dawn about the carnival. When Mary Anne was finished, she handed the phone to me.
I was so surprised that I just sat there.
“Say hello to Dawn,” Mary Anne prompted me. “You know about each other. So you might as well talk.”
I held the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Hello!” Dawn’s voice was friendly. I liked the sound of it immediately. We talked for a minute and then I said, “I’ve got to go. But I want you to know that I’m glad I’m the one who got to join the BSC.”
“It’s great, isn’t it?” said Dawn cheerfully. “Good luck!”
I handed the phone back to Mary Anne so she could say good-bye.
Somehow, I felt that talking to Dawn had made me an official member of the BSC. I might not have a best friend in Stoneybrook, I might be a fast-moving, wisecracking sort of
inexplicable blur to the others, but however I might seem, however different I might be, I belonged.
Not bad. Not bad at all.
* * *
That night, Anna and I had a domestic attack and decided to make dinner. From a recipe, not from a can or a box, okay?
“Let’s make something that will keep till Mom gets home,” Anna said.
“And something that will make the house smell good,” I added, thinking of the nice smell of cupcakes baking. And the faint smell of old cologne.
We looked through Mom’s cookbooks until we found a recipe that didn’t seem too hard — turkey loaf.
“With peas,” I said happily. I read from the suggested menu in the old cookbook, “ ‘In a nest of mashed potatoes.’”
“Toffuti splits for dessert,” said Anna.
Anna and I talked while we made dinner. I told her about the BSC and about Kristy’s deciding I’d Passed the Test.
“She had a date on Saturday night, I think,” I concluded.
Anna ducked her head. “I’ve met a guy in the orchestra that I kind of like,” she said.
I looked at my sister. My eyes opened wide. “Really? Seriously?”
“Not seriously!” said Anna. “Just as friends. I like him, but I don’t like like him.”
“Hmmm,” I murmured.
The phone rang as we were putting the turkey in the oven.
“I’m calling from the station in the city,” Mom said. “I just wanted to let you know I’m on my way home. I’ll be there in a couple of hours.”
I lifted my arm and pushed back my sleeve. I checked the heavy old watch on my wrist. “We’ve made dinner,” I told Mom. “Whenever you get here, you’ll be right on time.”
I hung up the phone, smiling.
* * *
Dear Reader,
After Dawn returned to California, I was very happy to be able to create a new member of the Baby-sitters Club. The last new member I created was Jessi, and that was back in book number fourteen! There were so many things to decide — the character’s personality, where she came from, what her family was like. And I wanted a character who was different from the other girls in the Baby-sitters Club. Many readers had asked for a character who is a twin. Many others had asked for a character who is Jewish. So we took these and other things into consideration, and created Abby and Anna Stevenson, whom you have just read about in Abby’s very first book, Welcome to the BSC, Abby. And all you Dawn fans, take heart. Abby may be the new BSC member, but Dawn will always be a part of the Baby-sitters Club.
Happy reading,
* * *
The author gratefully acknowledges
Nola Thacker
for her help in
preparing this manuscript.
About the Author
ANN MATTHEWS MARTIN was born on August 12, 1955. She grew up in Princeton, New Jersey, with her parents and her younger sister, Jane.
There are currently over 176 million copies of The Baby-sitters Club in print. (If you stacked all of these books up, the pile would be 21,245 miles high.) In addition to The Baby-sitters Club, Ann is the author of two other series, Main Street and Family Tree. Her novels include Belle Teal, A Corner of the Universe (a Newbery Honor book), Here Today, A Dog’s Life, On Christmas Eve, Everything for a Dog, Ten Rules for Living with My Sister, and Ten Good and Bad Things About My Life (So Far). She is also the coauthor, with Laura Godwin, of the Doll People series.
Ann lives in upstate New York with her dog and her cats.
Copyright © 1995 by Ann M. Martin
Cover art by Hodges Soileau
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc. SCHOLASTIC, THE BABY-SITTERS CLUB, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
First edition, October 1995
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
e-ISBN 978-0-545-79196-0
Welcome to the BSC, Abby Page 8
