The Penderwicks at Point Mouette

by Jeanne Birdsall

  “You!” Frantically Jane tried to remember what revengeful curses she’d rained down upon the pillow, out on the porch the day before. Had she somehow drawn Dexter out of Massachusetts and up to Point Mouette?

  “Hello, Skye,” he said.

  She watched him narrowly. This was disturbing behavior. Not the part about him calling her Skye—he never had figured out which sister was which—but that he was acting polite. He’d never been polite before.

  “How did you get here?” she asked. “That is, have you come of your own volition?”

  “I drove, if that’s what you mean.” He rubbed his face and yawned. “All night—I drove all night. You don’t happen to have any coffee, do you?”

  “No.” Aunt Claire was a tea drinker.

  “Figures.” Now he sat down uninvited, which Jane didn’t think was polite. This was more like the Dexter she knew.

  “Mrs. T-D isn’t with you? That is, of course you think of her as Mrs. Dupree. She’s in good health?” Now all of Jane’s threats to the pillow were coming back to her. “Not having problems with mysterious outside influences or anything?”

  “No, she was too upset to make the trip.” He glowered at Jane. “Don’t pretend you don’t know why she’s upset. Yesterday some friend of your family shows up out of nowhere claiming to be Jeffrey’s father—”

  Jane interrupted. “Alec is Jeffrey’s father. And he’s not out of nowhere. He’s next door.”

  “Great. That figures, too. And after he left, my wife cries for hours until I promise I’ll drive to Maine and get Jeffrey for her.” Dexter stopped, embarrassed at having been so open with a despised Penderwick. “So, if you could go tell the kid to pack, we’ll be on our way.”

  Much was now clear, so clear that Jane was ashamed of herself for wasting time thinking about that pillow. Of course Dexter had come to take Jeffrey away. That was what he and Jeffrey’s mother were best at—taking Jeffrey away. They’d managed to steal him from the Penderwicks early one morning the summer before, but this time would be different. Jane was determined not to let go of Jeffrey until he had the chance to make up with Alec. But to keep Jeffrey safe, she had to plan carefully. First thing was to keep him away from Dexter for as long as possible. Second thing was to keep Aunt Claire out of it, since as a responsible adult, she might have to let Dexter talk to Jeffrey. After all, a stepfather, even an awful one, probably had more rights than the aunt of a friend. But did a newly found father that the son wouldn’t talk to have more rights than either of those? For a moment, Jane wished that she’d spent less time writing about Sabrina Starr and more time studying law, but after a quick glance at Dexter—he was getting impatient—she pushed legal questions out of the way and went back to thinking things through.

  What she needed was Skye. Jane had no illusions when it came to bravery—Skye was by far the most courageous of the sisters and the best at confronting wicked grown-ups, and she would have no problem in subduing Dexter. But Jane couldn’t get Skye without leaving Dexter alone, and that was too dangerous. She had to keep him from wandering off and discovering Jeffrey on the sleeping porch. She had only one solution until Skye—or any reinforcements at all—appeared. She would stall.

  “You want Jeffrey to pack?” Jane asked, gaily innocent. “Heavens, I’m sure he’s still asleep at this time of the morning, and you don’t want me to wake him up. Boys need their rest.”

  Dexter squeezed his eyes shut, opened them again, and seemed disappointed that she was still there. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Jane prattled on. “While we’re waiting, why don’t you give me all the news from Arundel? How are the gardens? And the bull that lives next door—have you seen him lately? No? Then I could tell you how my writing is going. You remember that I’m a writer, don’t you? Last fall I wrote a play called Sisters and Sacrifice, though it was really my sister’s homework assignment, and then I wrote another Sabrina Starr—goodness, look who’s here!”

  Somehow Dominic had snuck up on them. Dismayed, Jane asked herself how it was possible. And then she realized—he hadn’t come on his noisy skateboard.

  “I don’t know,” said Dexter. “Who is he?”

  “He’s Dominic Orne, and Dominic, this is Dexter Dupree, who’s Jeffrey’s stepfather. Dexter, Dominic is …” She wasn’t sure how to define Dominic, so she dropped it and went on to what most concerned her. “Dominic, how did you get here? That is, did you come of your own volition?”

  “I walked, if that’s what you mean,” he answered. “My skateboard has a loose wheel.”

  “Oh!” Jane remembered her angry rant about Dominic the day before. Could that have affected his skateboard? Thank goodness she hadn’t gone so far as voodoo. Who knows what would have happened?

  “Skye, this is all very chummy, but I really need to get Jeffrey back to his mother,” said Dexter.

  “She’s Jane,” said Dominic.

  “Who is?”

  “I am,” said Jane with more irritation than she’d meant to show. Dominic was not the reinforcement she’d wanted. “Dominic, what are you doing here, anyway?”

  “You didn’t come to the park yesterday or even answer my note.”

  “Of course I didn’t. Not after you made a mockery of my love and poetry and everything I hold dear and true, and also taught me never again to fall for an empty shell of a boy who cares only for his skateboard and stealing kisses.”

  Dominic’s face puckered in confusion. It looked as though he were trying to form a question, but Dexter was too quick for him, cutting in sharply.

  “Skye—Jane—whatever your name is—oh, no, here comes another one.”

  It was Mercedes, who also wasn’t Jane’s choice for backup, especially not as she was teetering toward them on the bicycle she still hadn’t learned to control. But even Mercedes was better than being alone with Dexter and Dominic. So Jane waved to her, and Mercedes joined them by crashing her bike into the deck and jumping off before it fell over.

  “I don’t remember her,” said Dexter. “Is she the one who always wore wings?”

  “You’re thinking of Batty,” answered Jane. “Mercedes isn’t a Penderwick.”

  “Does he think I am?” Mercedes looked kindly upon Dexter. “Wow, thanks, mister.”

  Dexter frowned back, then turned to Jane. “You sure you don’t have any coffee, not even instant?”

  “No, sorry. Now, where was I?” said Jane. “I know—Dominic!”

  She was answered by a low growl, which made her nervous—if Dominic was going to start growling, she really did need more help. But then the screen door opened, and out slid Hound in his hunting stance, his I-remember-you-and-don’t-like-you-at-all voice rumbling in his throat. Following him was Batty, who, though not quite growling, had the same scowl of dislike on her face.

  “This is Batty,” said Jane.

  “Oh, yeah.” Dexter edged his chair farther away from Hound. “Where are her wings?”

  “She gave them to Jeffrey last summer,” answered Jane.

  “Terrific. Just what the kid needs—fairy wings.”

  “They were butterfly wings and he did so need them,” said Batty. Startled by her own courage, especially with Dominic right there, too, she clutched at Jane’s hand. “Hi, Mercedes.”

  “Hi, Batty. That man thought I was you.”

  “He doesn’t know anything. He’s Jeffrey’s stepfather.”

  “Oh, no!” Mercedes was horrified, and Jane was certain she was about to blurt out the bad things she’d heard about Dexter, which would not have a soothing effect on him.

  The situation was becoming desperate. Jane needed to keep Mercedes quiet, and she had to keep an increasingly annoyed Dexter from going after Jeffrey on his own. Dominic was no help. Batty was no help. Should she sing, or try a tap dance? No, she’d go back to where she always felt most comfortable—with Sabrina Starr.

  “So, the Sabrina Starr book that came after Sisters and Sacrifice had her rescuing—”

  Dexter
stood up, his face red, his frustration frighteningly apparent. In Jane’s frenzied state, he looked much bigger than he was, and more than a match for a dog, a not-very-bright boy, and three girls, two of them quite small.

  “I don’t have all day,” he boomed. “If you won’t wake up Jeffrey for me, get your father. Or at least your older sister, Rosalind, isn’t it?”

  Still Jane managed to stand her ground. “Daddy’s in England, and Rosalind’s in New Jersey.”

  “Who can you get? Is anyone in charge here?”

  At last, and just in time, the proper reinforcement arrived. The screen door opened, and out stepped Skye—still rumpled from bed, her hair going in all directions.

  “She’s in charge,” said Jane, sagging with relief.

  The balance of power shifted immediately. Skye was not at all pleased to see the interloper from Arundel, and a displeased Skye could be a mighty force, especially when she hadn’t had any breakfast. Dexter sat back down in his chair, and for a moment Jane almost felt sorry for him. She wouldn’t want to be the one to return to a weeping and hysterical Mrs. T-D without Jeffrey. And by heavens, he would be returning without Jeffrey. Jane was sure of it, now that Skye was here. Jane pulled her aside and quietly explained everything, or at least the parts she understood, which meant not much about Dominic. And Skye, as the true OAP, quickly grasped the essential points and set up defensive maneuvers. She sent Batty inside to wake up Aunt Claire. She sent Dominic and Mercedes back to their grandmother to get coffee for Dexter—since that seemed to be so important to him. Last, she told Jane to go next door and get Alec. And bring him back as fast as you can, she said.

  Jane hadn’t seen Alec since before the golf-ball sale, so not since he’d had his revelation about Jeffrey and his life had turned into a tornado. She’d thought about him a lot, and of the things she wanted to say to him, about hope, the twisted ravages of fate, and how he’d make almost as good a dad as her own. But when Jane reached his house and found Alec sitting on the piano bench, facing the wrong way and staring unhappily at nothing, she simply hugged him and said what was necessary.

  “Dexter’s come to take Jeffrey back to Arundel. Hurry.”

  Alec knew how to hurry—here was another thing in his favor—and without even bothering with shoes, he took Jane’s hand, and together they tore back to Birches, arriving just as Aunt Claire came out of the house and onto the deck, looking as dignified as is possible when your bathrobe keeps getting caught on your crutches. Skye stood on her right and Batty on her left, and Alec and Jane took up their position across from them.

  Dexter was in the middle. There was no longer any balance of power. It was just sulky him versus all of Jeffrey’s most fervent friends, and he hadn’t a prayer. But he wasn’t giving up—not yet. Warily he said hello to Aunt Claire, then tried to give Alec an intimidating sneer but managed only to look like a scared bully. Alec smiled calmly back, and Jane kept hold of his hand—he was her choice for a port in this storm.

  “Where were we?” asked Skye, maintaining a remarkable serenity. “Oh, I know. Mr. Dupree was demanding to see Jeffrey so that he could take him away.”

  “ ‘Demanding’ could be too strong a word,” said Dexter, losing even more ground. “It’s just that the boy’s mother misses him so.”

  “She does? Is that why you’re here, Dexter?” Now this was Jeffrey, stepping out of the house and onto the deck. Jane thought he had never looked so brave and noble and, at the same time, exactly like his father. She smiled up at Alec, who had eyes only for Jeffrey, though Jeffrey carefully kept himself from looking back.

  “He wants to take you away,” said Skye.

  “That’s right.” Dexter nodded at Skye, as though she’d said something quite wonderful. “So go get your golf clubs, Jeffrey. We’re going back to Arundel.”

  Jane held her breath and leaned against Alec, who was holding his breath, too.

  “No,” said Jeffrey. “I’m not leaving.”

  Everyone breathed again except for Dexter—gasping would be a better description of what he was doing.

  “You have to.” Gasping or foaming. Jane was almost certain that Dexter was close to foaming. “Your mother’s worried about you.”

  “Tell her I’m fine.”

  “This isn’t a choice. We’ve already told your driver not to come back for you on Saturday. It’s go with me today, or—” Dexter stopped, not certain of the threat he’d gotten himself into.

  “We’ll drive Jeffrey to Arundel,” said Skye.

  “Of course we will,” agreed Aunt Claire.

  “Or Alec will,” said Jane. “Right, Alec?”

  “Yes,” answered Alec, and gratefully squeezed her hand.

  Jeffrey flushed, still ignoring Alec, but stood firm. “You see, Dexter? I’m not your responsibility. And, by the way, I don’t have the golf clubs anymore. I gave them to Batty.”

  This was the biggest blow so far. “You gave them to Batty?”

  “And I sold them because I need a piano,” said Batty. “Don’t be mad at Jeffrey. He was being generous.”

  “Generous,” choked out Dexter, his face as red as Alec’s house.

  “He’s teaching me to play the piano,” said Batty, growing ever bolder, “and also the harmonica.”

  Batty pulled out her harmonica and was playing “Taps” before Skye could dive over and take it from her.

  “Sorry,” said Skye, tossing the harmonica to Alec, who caught it and held it out of Batty’s reach. “She’s become a music lover.”

  But “Taps” had done Dexter in. Whatever fight he’d had was gone. Even the arrival of Mercedes with a half-spilled and lukewarm cup of coffee couldn’t help.

  “You refuse to come back with me today,” he said to Jeffrey. It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes, sir, that’s about it.”

  “It’s on you, then, kid. Before I go, though, I have a message from your mother.” Dexter looked around, as if he expected the others to go away. They didn’t. “She apologizes and says that she did the best she could.”

  “Thank you. And you can tell her—” Jeffrey stopped, not knowing how to finish the sentence.

  To Jane’s delight, it was Alec who came to his rescue. “Tell Brenda that Jeffrey’s doing the best he can, too.”

  With that, the battle was won. There was field cleanup to do—washing away of the gore and working out the details—but that was for the grown-ups to handle. Jeffrey melted back into the house and the four girls followed him, and when he sat on the couch, they sat there with him, two on each side, squashing him in so tightly no one could have pulled him out, if indeed they’d dare approach his ferocious Amazonian bodyguard to try it.

  “Dexter was a little upset about the golf clubs,” Jane said after a while.

  “He was apoplectic,” said Skye. “I loved it.”

  This got a ghost of a smile from Jeffrey, but it didn’t last. “I’m wrecking this vacation for everyone. Maybe I should go with him.”

  “No!” cried Batty and Mercedes, and Jane and Skye squashed him in even tighter just in case he was foolish enough to try to leave. They all sat quietly that way until Aunt Claire came back inside and sat in the chair across from them.

  “Dexter is gone and he won’t be back,” she gently told Jeffrey. “I promised him that you’ll be delivered back to Arundel on time, and he accepted that.”

  “I won’t fit in your car,” he said, “and I don’t want to ride with Alec.”

  “Alec and I have already worked that out. He’ll take some of our luggage in his car, and Hound, and maybe one of the girls. You’ll ride with me. All right?”

  Jeffrey nodded, miserable.

  Aunt Claire went on. “And Alec has decided to move out of his house until we need him for transportation. He thinks you’ll be more comfortable here for your last few days without bumping into him, and this way you can use the piano whenever you want. He said you’re probably missing the piano.”

  “I don’t want to be any
trouble.”

  Aunt Claire stood up from her chair and shoved her way onto the couch, then put her arm around him and held him close. “You’re not any trouble, Jeffrey. Not to Alec, not to me, not to any of us. You must believe me.”

  “I’m trouble for Dexter.”

  Skye snorted. “It’s a badge of honor to be trouble for Dexter.”

  “Alec won’t be far away,” said Aunt Claire, “just up the coast with his friend, the one who owns that boat, the Bernadette. If you decide you’d like to see Alec or just talk to him, or if we need anything at all, we can call him and he’ll be here in a half hour. But, Jeffrey, he told me specifically to tell you this—you have all the time in the world. He will never give up on you or stop loving you, no matter how long you take to figure out what you want. Do you understand?”

  Jeffrey stared straight ahead, not answering, looking so sad, so frightened and lonely, that Jane started crying and Skye would have, too, if she hadn’t pinched her arm so hard she left behind a black-and-blue mark.

  “No, I don’t understand,” he said at last.

  “Well, then, it’s our job to show you how worthy you are of being waited for,” said Aunt Claire. “Someday you’ll understand. I promise.”

  An hour later, Alec was gone, too. Jeffrey had silently watched from the window as the car pulled away, then just as silently gathered up Batty and Hound and headed next door for the solace of music. Others scattered, worn out by the drama. Jane went back to the deck and Sabrina Starr. Mercedes wandered down to the beach to search for tiny snails. Aunt Claire, all out of jigsaw puzzles, started the Paris one all over again.

  But Skye wasn’t ready to calmly recuperate. Seeing Dexter, talking to him, being polite to him, had sullied her soul, and she had only one solution—she would clean Birches from top to bottom. Aunt Claire protested that Dexter hadn’t even gone inside, but Skye didn’t care. He’d been on the deck, he’d breathed the air—if she could have, she would have cleaned all of Point Mouette.