Aloha, Baby-Sitters!

by Ann M. Martin

“Here,” Margo said, handing him a smaller shovel. “Want to help?”

  “NO! THAT’S A BABY SHOVEL! I WANT THE BIG ONE!”

  “Sorry, I’m using it,” Margo said stubbornly.

  The boy began stamping his feet, kicking sand all over the place. “GIVE IT TO ME GIVE IT TO ME!”

  My good BSC instincts were clicking in. I figured I’d let him pour the water. Get him involved in some fun aspect of castle-building. Distract him.

  But I didn’t have a chance. His mom swooped over from the other side of the park. “Colin, this is not acceptable behavior!” she scolded.

  “YOU’RE NOT UPSEPTABLE!” Colin screamed.

  “Don’t you dare talk to Mommy like that! Bad boys talk like that!”

  She yanked Colin away. His face was bright red. His little body was going wild, kicking and screaming.

  And my jaw was scraping the ground.

  Guess who Colin’s mommy was? Margaret Wellfleet.

  I wanted to laugh. I also wanted to cry. I felt bad for Colin. If she’d left him alone, I’m sure we could have calmed him down.

  Now he was becoming worse and worse. He’d broken loose from his mom and was running away, screaming, “I HATE YOU! DO YOU HEAR ME, I HATE YOU!”

  Boy, did those words sound familiar.

  A girl, who seemed about five or six, was now standing over him with her arms folded. “You’re a baby, Colin.”

  “Isabella, you leave him alone!” Margaret Wellfleet commanded.

  Isabella was the spitting image of Colin. Except her face wasn’t twisted with rage.

  This was amazing. Good old Margaret Well-fleet had two kids!

  “WAAAAAAHHHH! THIS IS A STUPID PLAYGROUND!”

  Colin’s tantrum made Jenny P.’s look mild. He was throwing sand, rubbing it in his hair, smacking the slide as hard as he could.

  “Colin James Wellfleet!” his mom said through clenched teeth. “You stop that at once!”

  By now, lots of people were watching. And reacting. One mom scooped her daughter away from the flying sand.

  Margaret Wellfleet was frantic. Her son was out of control.

  And all she could do was leave him alone.

  Let it boil over.

  I tried not to grin. I raised my chin high. My task was simple. Look her straight in the eye and say, “Now, what was the best way to deal with a tantrum?”

  Nahh, maybe just stick out my tongue.

  I stood up. I took a few steps in her direction. I had the words prepared, even the tone of voice.

  Then I stopped dead in my tracks.

  I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t be that mean.

  Margaret Wellfleet looked totally helpless.

  I slowly backed away.

  Her eyes met mine briefly. They darted away, then came back. She had recognized me. I could tell.

  She sort of glowered, as if I were intruding. But boy, did she look guilty. Her face was turning beet red.

  “YOU’RE A BAD BAD BAD BAD MOMMY!” Colin screamed.

  I didn’t say a word.

  Instead, I held her glance for a long moment. Then I turned away and walked calmly back to my sister.

  I felt about ten feet tall.

  Aloha kakahiaka … Aloha kakahiaka …

  I recited the Hawaiian words for “Good morning” in my head over and over. In preparation for my job, I’d studied a whole bunch of phrases.

  Unfortunately, I am not exactly a genius in languages. A lot of those phrases sounded the same to me.

  When Mr. Reynolds walked in through the front door of the hotel, I stood up eagerly.

  “Hello, Mary Anne!” he said.

  “Aloha kalīkimaka!” I blurted out.

  He looked at me blankly. “Merry Christmas to you, too.”

  I must have turned bright red. “I meant —”

  He roared with laughter. “I know what you meant. It was a very good try. Come on out.”

  He held open the front door and gestured toward a minivan parked in front. “You know, my wife and I really appreciate your doing this on your vacation.”

  “I’m happy to do it,” I said. “I’ve been wanting to meet … your family.”

  I almost said “a typical Hawaiian family.” But I stopped myself. That sounded terrible. I mean, what if someone were visiting me in Stoneybrook and said, “I’ve been wanting to meet a typical suburban white family”?

  I’d been doing some reading about Hawaiians. No one knows exactly where the first inhabitants came from. They may have sailed from Polynesia or the Asian continent. Nowadays they’re only eleven percent of Oahu’s population. So I was going to have a glimpse into a rare and wonderful part of American culture.

  I still wondered about the name Reynolds. It seemed so un-Hawaiian. Maybe Mr. Reynolds had changed it from something else (although I didn’t dare ask him).

  Mr. Reynolds was dressed in shorts, flip-flops, and a bright shirt that looked hand-painted, with a huge map of Oahu on it.

  He must have noticed that I was looking at it, because he said, “Like it? I use it for directions sometimes when I get lost.”

  He burst out laughing again, and I felt immediately at ease. We chatted all the way to his house, which was just up the coast from the Sea View.

  We pulled up in front of a white-shingled ranch surrounded by gorgeous tropical flowers. Mrs. Reynolds met us at the door, wearing a colorful, flowing muumuu.

  “Hi, come on in!” She turned and called into the house, “Scott! Lani! Come meet Mary Anne!”

  As I walked into the front hallway, a boy and girl came bouncing in. He was wearing a tank top with an I Love NY logo, baggy shorts, and Reeboks. She was dressed in a Disneyland T-shirt, cut-off jeans, and tennis shoes.

  “Hi,” they said.

  “Scott’s eight and Lani’s five,” Mrs. Reynolds said. “Come meet baby Raymond.”

  As we walked into the living room, Scott and Lani raced back into the kitchen and started wolfing down Apple Jacks and Cheerios.

  Little Raymond was in a playpen, holding onto the side and bouncing up and down. An unwatched TV was blaring away nearby, and toys and games were strewn all over the carpeting and furniture. Everything seemed cozy and comfy and very … familiar.

  I felt kind of deflated.

  I don’t know what I was expecting. Ukulele music floating through a thatched hut? Kids wearing grass skirts and leis? A luau for breakfast?

  Okay, maybe not. But something a little different.

  If it weren’t for the tropical flowers and trees outside, I might have been in Stoneybrook.

  “Deeeeesss!” said Raymond, pointing at me.

  “‘This’ was one of his first words,” Mrs. Reynolds explained. “By the way, he’s already had breakfast. When Scotty and Lani are done, you can hang out here or take them to the park. You’ll find some hot dogs and buns in the fridge for lunch, and I’ll be home around three.”

  “My father may be home before either of us,” Mr. Reynolds said. “That’s what he looks like.” He pointed to a framed photo on the wall. In it, a white-haired Caucasian man was hugging Scott and Lani.

  “That’s your dad?” I asked.

  Mr. Reynolds laughed. “Yeah, I know, everyone says that. If it weren’t for my mom, I’d think I was adopted.”

  I wanted to shrink away. I couldn’t believe I’d made such a stupid remark.

  From an end table, Mr. Reynolds picked up an old black-and-white wedding photo that showed a smiling blond G.I., arm-in-arm with a stunning young Hawaiian-looking woman. “They were married after the war. Mom died last year, and Dad moved in with us. Anyway, he’s spending the weekend in L.A., at a reunion of his World War Two pals.”

  “His flight back is scheduled for this afternoon,” Mrs. Reynolds explained. “But we’ve told him all about you. Anyhow, call us at the hotel if you have any questions, Mary Anne. And thanks again.”

  We exchanged good-byes, and they left.

  “Deeess! Deeeess!” Raymond kept saying.
>
  “That means he wants to be picked up,” Scott called from the kitchen.

  I lifted Raymond and he gave me a big hug.

  “What a friendly boy,” I remarked.

  “Want to see what we have?” Scott blurted out.

  “Sure,” I replied.

  He and Lani disappeared, then returned with two pairs of brand-new in-line skates.

  “Wow,” I said. “Cool.”

  “Toool,” Raymond echoed.

  “We know how to use them, too,” Lani said. “Can you take us to the park?”

  “You bet,” I said.

  I’d been away from baby-sitting for over a week, but my skills weren’t too rusty. I checked Raymond’s diaper, which was dry. I carried him to his nursery, found a diaper bag, and stuffed it with emergency supplies. Then I went to the kitchen and packed some snacks.

  Scott and Lani were waiting outside, all decked out in their skates, helmets, and protective padding. I put Raymond in a stroller and followed the two older kids to the park.

  I watched them zoom around. I played with Raymond on the grass. I gave them a snack. We were having so much fun we didn’t arrive home until two.

  Hot dogs, Kool-Aid, and ice cream cones were on the menu for lunch (baby food, too). Then I put Raymond down for a nap and straightened up the house a bit. When Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds arrived home, I was playing video games with Scott and Lani.

  “The place looks so neat!” Mrs. Reynolds exclaimed. “Mary Anne, you’re a wonder. What are you doing tomorrow?”

  “Uh, well, I’m not sure,” I said. “Why?”

  Mr. Reynolds sighed. “My dad called the hotel to say he’s staying in L.A. an extra day.”

  “And our sitter’s still sick,” Mrs. Reynolds added, “although she insists she’ll be all right by Tuesday. Now, I know this is asking a lot, but we sure could use your help another day. Just till my father-in-law comes home.”

  I felt kind of trapped.

  I mean, I’d enjoyed myself. I liked the Reynoldses a lot. But to be honest, one day was enough.

  I was on vacation, after all.

  “Grandpa’s not coming home today?” Lani asked.

  “No, sweetie,” her mom replied.

  “Rats, I miss him.”

  I glanced over at the two photos of Mr. Reynolds’s dad. A couple of glass-encased military medals stood next to the wedding picture, and above it was a citation for bravery from President Harry S. Truman. It would be fun to meet him. He probably had all kinds of interesting stories to tell about the war and about old Hawaii.

  Then an idea popped into my head. Claudia should sit for the Reynoldses. It might improve her frame of mind. Besides, she’d mentioned she was running out of money.

  “Well, I may want to stick with the tour tomorrow,” I said to Mrs. Reynolds. “But if I do, maybe my friend Claudia could sit. She’s a fantastic sitter. She’s another member of the Baby-sitters Club.”

  “Perfect!”

  Mrs. Reynolds thanked me a million times, and the kids hugged me good-bye.

  I rode back to the hotel with Mr. Reynolds.

  The lobby was crowded with SMS kids when we arrived. They were gathered around the front desk in a tight circle. In the middle of them, Mr. Kingbridge was talking on the phone. Ms. Bernhardt stood next to him, looking grim.

  The place was silent, except for Mr. Kingbridge’s voice.

  “What do you mean, lost?” he shouted. “Where? What about the others? Are they all right?”

  I ran up to Claudia and Dawn. “What happened?”

  I hadn’t seen Claudia look so upset since her grandmother died. “It’s Stacey,” she said, her voice wavering. “Her helicopter went down in a forest.”

  The words hit me like a sledgehammer. “Robert, too?” I asked.

  Dawn shook her head. “He was in another helicopter, and he’s fine. But he saw Stacey’s helicopter disappear into a big storm.”

  My knees gave out. I sank into a chair and burst into tears.

  “The storm came in high and fast,” said the helicopter pilot on the ten o’clock news. “I turned away from it, but I guess Jim thought he’d duck over the lip of the crater.”

  “There’s Robert,” Jessi said.

  Sure enough, Robert and two other kids were visible behind the pilot on the TV screen. They were all standing on a sunny landing field.

  The sight of Robert’s face made my heart sink. He looked awful, as if he’d been crying for hours.

  Mary Anne, who really had been crying for hours, started up again.

  The image faded, and a local news anchor appeared. “Rescue workers combed Haleakalā National Park, the Waihoi and Kipahulu valleys, and much of the dry-land forest. They will start again tomorrow morning at sunrise …”

  Abby flicked off the TV. “Knowing Stacey, she’s probably found the only electrical outlet in the forest.”

  “Maybe the rescuers should just listen for the sound of a hair dryer,” I said.

  Jessi smiled. “She could use the dryer to scare away the Death Marchers.”

  “The who?” Abby asked.

  Jessi pulled her spiral notebook out of her pack and leafed through it. “Let’s see … the huaka‘i o ka pō. Death Marchers. I read about this. They’re ghosts who march around with torches, but only from about seven-thirty to two in the morning, and if you see them, you …” Jessi’s voice trailed off, and she closed the book.

  “You what?” I asked.

  “Well … die, but it’s, you know, only a story.”

  “Lovely,” Abby murmured. “Just what we need to hear.”

  We sat there for awhile, trying not to look too awkward. “Well, I know they’ll find her tomorrow,” I said.

  “Yeah …”

  “Sure …”

  “Uh-huh …”

  Everyone nodded. Everyone agreed. No one wanted to admit the truth.

  We were all scared out of our minds.

  “So!” Abby blurted out. “What are we all doing tomorrow, after we celebrate the big rescue?”

  “I was going to go with Mr. Wong’s group, to visit some famous Japanese temple,” Jessi said.

  “Ms. Bernhardt’s checking out some of the beaches south of here,” Abby added.

  “Cool,” Mary Anne remarked.

  “Sounds like fun,” Dawn said.

  This conversation was getting to me. Talking about Stacey made me nervous enough — but trying not to talk about her was even worse!

  I flopped down on my bed. “I’m beat. I’m going to bed.”

  Abby, Dawn, and Jessi all muttered in agreement. We said good night, and they shuffled off to their room.

  Mary Anne and I headed for the bathroom. As I was brushing my teeth, she asked, “Um, Claudia, I was wondering what your plans are. Did you want to go to that temple?”

  “Uh-uh. Ah wah to shoofooway —” I spat. “I want to stay far away from Japanese stuff on this trip. It reminds me of you-know-what.”

  “Uh-huh. Well, you know, I had a great time at the Reynoldses’ today. The thing is, they asked if I could sit again tomorrow, but I think one day’s enough.”

  “Can’t they find someone else?”

  “Well, I thought maybe you. You told me you needed the money, and they’re such nice people.”

  “I don’t know, Mary Anne,” I said. “Babysitting in Hawaii?”

  “It’s only half a day. And you’ll like them. You would really get a lot out of this job.”

  “Mary Anne, I have baby-sat for nice families before.”

  “But not as … interesting as this.”

  I wanted to laugh. Meek little Mary Anne was sounding like Kristy the steamroller.

  But she had a point. I did need the money. And when I thought about the upcoming day, the other options weren’t so great.

  Mr. Kingbridge had said we were going ahead with all plans. He thought it would be healthier than sitting together at the hotel worrying.

  Which only meant we’d be traveling aro
und the island together worrying. I wasn’t looking forward to that.

  I had faith that Stacey would be found. All the news reports had said that the pilot was the best. He knew every inch of Maui and had never had an accident.

  If I had to spend Monday morning waiting to hear about Stacey, why not baby-sit? I’d be away from the nervous atmosphere. And with three kids to care for, I wouldn’t have time to worry.

  “Okay,” I said.

  * * *

  I had a hard time sleeping that night. I woke up before Mary Anne did and flicked on the TV. I sat through the news, but Stacey’s helicopter wasn’t mentioned once.

  Breakfast wasn’t exactly a laff riot, needless to say. I felt kind of relieved when Mr. Reynolds picked me up in the lobby.

  How was the job? Just fine. The kids were easy. The parents didn’t mind if they ate junk food. We spent most of the day outdoors. What more could you ask for?

  After lunch, Scott and Lani went off to play in the den and I put Raymond down for a nap. Mr. Reynolds’s dad was due any minute. I was starting to think about Stacey a lot, and I was anxious to get back to the hotel.

  As I walked back to the living room, I passed the Reynoldses’ wall of family photos. Wall and table, that is.

  Mary Anne had mentioned that the older Mr. Reynolds was Caucasian, and he kind of stood out in the pictures.

  She didn’t tell me he was in World War Two, though.

  A letter of commendation from the president, a Flying Cross, a Purple Heart …

  Gulp.

  My own heart was turning purple.

  This was a war hero. He fought against the Japanese. He lived in Hawaii, he married a Hawaiian woman.

  And he was about to come here.

  Did Mary Anne know this? She must have. This was sabotage.

  Why had she done this to me?

  I couldn’t let him see me.

  I could hold a newspaper in front of my face. Make a paper bag mask and tell him the kids forced me to keep it on.

  Ding-dong! “Anybody home?”

  I couldn’t move. My feet had become one with the carpet.

  “Grandpaaaaa!” Lani and Scott screamed as they ran for him.

  I eyed the back door.

  “Hiiii!” answered the elder Mr. Reynolds. “So, where’s the young lady from Connecticut?”

  He was stepping closer. In a moment he would leave the front vestibule and face me.