“You know, Heather,” Allison said mysteriously. “Monica said Spruce Cabin is reputed to be haunted.”
“Really? How exciting! Did she say how?”
“No, but we could make something up. Let’s see . . .” Allison began her story in a serious tone. “It all happened a few years back, on a cool summer night just like this. Some girls about our age were staying in this very cabin. One of them, a particularly greedy girl named Henrietta Buford, had this insatiable sweet tooth, and she liked to steal goodies from her friends. So one dark night she slipped away from the campfire and sneaked back to the cabin before her friends.”
Allison lowered her voice to a near whisper, sending goosebumps along the girls’ arms. “Henrietta went through everyone’s favorite hiding spots but couldn’t find anything to eat except a mushy apple and a stale sandwich. After a long search, she found a gigantic box hidden under her best friend’s bed. It was full of chocolate fudge—Henrietta’s favorite. She ate and ate—until the last piece of fudge was gone. Then Henrietta—” Allison paused and the cabin grew deathly silent. “Blew up!” she screamed.
Heather leaped from the bed in fright. “Allison O’Brian! You’re awful!”
“I’m sorry,” Allison choked, collapsing on the bed in a fit of giggles.
“And I suppose you think I’m Henrietta—and I’m going to eat your fudge!”
“No, not at all, Heather. I was just being silly. But now that you mention it, I am partial to fudge.”
“Well, that’s good, because I’m partial to macaroons!” Heather laughed.
Allison blew out the light and they climbed into bed. It was blacker than ink, but after a while Allison’s eyes adjusted until she could see outside. The sky was dark. Allison figured clouds must be blocking the moon and stars. The pine-scented breeze filtered fresh and clean through the screen windows, masking the musty smell of the cabin. Allison pulled the wool blanket up to her chin. “Are you warm enough, Heather?” she asked.
“I’m fine, thanks. Good night, Al.”
“Good night, Heather.” An owl hooted outside and the wind whistled through the trees. Allison got an idea. She crooned in a scary voice, “I’ve come . . . I’ve come . . . I’ve come for my fudge. Ooo—”
“Shut up, Henrietta!” Heather laughed.
Allison lay wide awake in bed. The haunting sound of the wind on the mountain filled her with a sense of melancholy. She thought about her father and how sad his eyes looked when they’d said good-bye. She wondered how long it would be until she was with him again. And what would Marsha say about all this? She had to let Allison stay in Oregon. She just had to.
Suddenly, Allison heard a loud scratching noise, and her worries over Marsha were instantly replaced with fear. Was it a wild animal out in the woods? She’d read a story once about a bear attack, and the memory of it sent shivers down her spine. Even if they screamed at the top of their lungs, who would ever hear them way up here?
“Allison,” Heather whispered. “Are you still awake?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I can’t sleep, Allison. I’ve never stayed in the woods like this and I don’t mean to be a baby, but I feel kind of . . . well, sort of—”
“Scared.” Allison finished her sentence. “Me too. I’ve only been to a camp where you stay with lots of other girls and much closer to camp. This feels kind of strange to me.”
“Sometimes when I’m frightened, Grace and I pray together. We could do that,” Heather suggested. Allison scrambled down from the upper bunk and got into bed with Heather.
“Dear God,” Heather prayed. “We’re scared. It feels lonely up here, but I know you’re close by. You love us and want to take care of us. So please, help us not to be so afraid.”
Allison immediately felt as if a load had been lifted.
“Would you mind if I played my flute?” Heather asked.
“Oh, I wish you would!”
Heather scooted her flute case from beneath her bed and soon sweet, fluid notes drifted through the cabin. Allison laid her head back on Heather’s pillow and let the soothing music carry her away. It sounded like sunshine, and it reminded her of the little sandpipers that raced along the wet beaches in Oregon. Suddenly, Heather stopped in the middle of a stanza.
“I hear something,” Heather whispered. Allison sat up to listen but could hear nothing. They sat frozen, listening to the sounds of the woods until Allison thought she heard something, too. Heather clutched Allison’s arm as the sound grew closer. A loud tramping and rustling of bushes came right up to the cabin, then the door flew open and a flashlight glared into the room. Allison stared as three dark shadows lurked in the doorway. Her heart pounded in her eardrums, but she felt too frightened to move. She was sure Heather’s grip on her arm would break it in two.
“Thank goodness you’re here,” John Stewart exclaimed breathlessly.
“Land sakes, that’s an awful hike!” an older male voice gasped. “I’m sorry to frighten you girls. I’m Len Stanton, the camp director. John was worried about you two when you didn’t show up for the campfire. And when he mentioned you’d been put in the Spruce Cabin, I became concerned, too. We don’t use this cabin anymore—it’s too far removed from the rest of the camp.”
Allison found her voice. “You mean not because it’s haunted?”
Len chuckled. “Haunted? Not likely.” He turned to Monica, who stood sheepishly behind John. “Did you tell these girls it was haunted?”
She hung her head and nodded.
“You mean we weren’t really supposed to stay here in the first place?” Heather asked. “After we cleaned it and everything?”
“I’m so sorry, girls,” Len said. “Monica, we should make you stay up here all by yourself! That’d teach you a lesson.”
“Actually, we kind of liked it,” Allison told him. “At least until nighttime. Of course, the hike is something else. . . . Oh no, does this mean we have to haul everything back down again?”
“No, Monica will take care of that tomorrow,” Len said in a voice of authority. “You can either spend the night up here and Monica will keep you company, or you can come down and stay in a much nicer cabin. It’s your decision.”
“What do you think, Heather?” Allison asked.
“I don’t mind staying here for the night,” Heather said. Monica groaned.
“Then it’s settled,” Allison announced, glad to see Monica squirming. “In fact, we were just starting to enjoy it—before you frightened us, that is.”
“We heard that beautiful flute music,” John said. “Who plays?”
“That’s Heather,” Allison said proudly.
“Heather, I don’t suppose I could entice you to share your music at campfire with us?” Len asked.
“Sure, I’d love to.”
“Great! Now, you’re certain you’ll be okay? Monica brought her sleeping bag, and I’m sure she’ll love spending the night up here.” Len chuckled as he and John departed.
“Are you sure you don’t want to return with them?” Monica asked hopefully.
“No, we’re fine,” Allison answered, climbing back into her bunk. She heard Monica sigh in exasperation as she threw her bag onto the bunk across the room, and she bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud.
The next morning, Allison awoke to chirping birds and sunshine streaming through her window. She stretched and breathed deeply the fresh air, then looked over to see Monica twisted in her sleeping bag with a sour expression on her face. Heather was already up and dressed.
“Thank heavens it’s morning,” Monica groaned. “I didn’t sleep a wink all night.”
Monica was all too eager to help them pack up their things and make their way back to camp. She grumbled as she led the way down the trail, practically shoving them into the nice bathroom facility at the foot of the hill. They enjoyed hot showers and the luxury of real plumbing.
Following a hearty breakfast, Monica showed them to Oak Cabin and, according to Len’s command
s, carried all their suitcases for them, dumping them with a loud grunt when she finished.
Their new cabin was squeaky clean and situated near the lake. It had shiny glass windows instead of screens. They met their cabin mates and unpacked their bags for the second time. Then everyone pitched in to clean the already spotless cabin.
“We do this every morning,” one girl explained. “We have the record for the cleanest cabin in camp, and we want to win the award at the end of the season. So even though it looks clean, we try to make it better.” Allison and Heather helped straighten the white stones that led up the immaculate walk to the cabin.
A young woman with sleek black hair that was pulled back into a long ponytail approached them. “Hi, I’m Constance, and I’m your counselor. I hear you girls had quite a first day. You’ll have to excuse Monica. She’s Miss Campbell’s niece and gets a little carried away sometimes. I see the girls have already put you to work. I’m managing the boathouse today, so come by and say hi later during sports time.
“I’ll give you both a schedule at lunch. Until then, your cabin mates can help you find your way around. We allow our campers a certain amount of independence, but we expect you to be responsible, too. Some activities are optional, but Chapel, Bible class, and the evening campfire are mandatory. I’m sure you both will fit right in.” Constance smiled warmly.
Another girl with short chestnut hair and a golden tan welcomed them. “Hi, my name’s Barbara. Our cabin is signed up for the craft shed this morning, but first we have Chapel. You gals coming?”
“Sure, sounds swell,” Allison answered.
Chapel was held under the trees and led by Pastor Warren, who lived in the nearby town. Allison tried her best to listen to his words, but her eyelids drooped heavily. Her long night in Spruce Cabin was definitely taking its toll. At last Pastor Warren said amen, and the campers scurried back out into the sunshine.
At the craft shed they worked on clay pottery and took turns on the two kick wheels. Allison watched Heather expertly maneuver the slippery clay on the spinning wheel, then glanced back at her own lopsided pot. “Heather, you must have done this before!” she exclaimed.
Heather laughed and nodded, giving the wheel another firm kick. “We had potters’ wheels like these at Tamaqua Junior High. I always liked making pots.” The others gathered and looked on with admiration. Heather’s head bent low over her work and her long golden braid trailed down her back. No one noticed her eyes.
Barbara told them that they were scheduled for water sports next. After a few water relays, they were allowed to swim freely until lunch. Allison stayed close to Heather, and they laughed and splashed together, holding hands to jump off the dock. Allison had devised a series of code words to direct Heather without alerting the other girls to her blindness. It had become a game of sorts and they were getting good at it, but Allison worried about what might happen if their secret was uncovered. She couldn’t bear to see Heather sent home.
Allison and Heather climbed out of the lake and flopped down on the warm, sandy beach to dry in the sun. “Oh, Al, this is such fun. I can’t wait to tell everyone at home what a great time we’re having. I suppose I better not pull out my typewriter just yet. That might look suspicious.”
“That’s okay. I’ll write letters for both of us.” Allison glanced hesitantly at her friend. “Heather, how are you doing with all this? Does being away from home make you nervous?”
“A little bit. But mostly I feel guilty, like we’re deceiving everyone here. Do you think it’s wrong?”
Allison picked up a handful of sand and watched as it slipped through her fingers. She thought for a moment before answering. “I think it’s wrong for you to be excluded just because you can’t see. You have just as much business being here as I do. I just wish we didn’t have to sneak around so much.”
“What are you two whispering about?” Barbara asked, dropping down beside them in a soggy heap. “Some deep, dark secrets I suppose—or just boys?”
“We were just discussing a friend of ours,” Heather said mysteriously. “Her name was Henrietta and she died a tragic death.” Both girls burst into laughter.
“Really? What happened?” Barbara’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Allison will have to tell you all later on tonight . . . when it’s dark,” Heather whispered.
Later that afternoon, they had two hours of free time. They visited with Constance at the boathouse for a while, then took out a sleek blue canoe. Allison rowed them to the middle, then pulled in the paddle. There in the center of the sparkling lake, Heather played her flute while Allison wrote letters to home.
“Be sure and tell Andrew that John Stewart still thinks you’re pretty special,” Heather teased.
“What makes you think I’m writing to Andrew?”
“Well, who are you writing to?”
Allison didn’t answer.
“I knew it!” Heather exclaimed. “I could tell because you were so quiet.”
“Heather, sometimes you can be very irritating!” Allison laughed as she slipped Andrew’s letter safely into an envelope. “Besides, that’s not true about John. He’s just a good friend and you know it!”
“Well, Monica didn’t think so, did she?”
“So you admit it, Heather. I was right about Monica, wasn’t I?”
“I suppose so, Al.” Heather’s head drooped. “I guess sometimes I can be pretty gullible. . . . Andrew is always warning me about—”
“Oh, Heather, that’s what I love about you—and it’s not that you’re gullible. It’s just that you always think the best of people, and that’s nice. You were right about Lola. I mean . . . she’s not all bad. But don’t forget Shirley, who didn’t care if you drowned as long as she didn’t get her hair wet!”
“Of course!” Heather giggled. “But dear, brave Allison was there to save me!” They both laughed loudly.
“Hey, what’s the joke?” Barbara called as she and Sarah, another one of their cabin mates, rowed next to them and splashed playfully.
“Just some funny memories,” Heather answered.
“Want to race across the lake?” Sarah asked.
“You’re on,” Allison squealed.
Heather wasn’t used to rowing, and Allison worked doubly hard to finish a close second. After they docked the canoe, they dragged themselves to the cool green grass beneath an enormous maple tree.
The other three girls chatted away like old buddies while Allison stretched back and stared up at the gigantic leaves above her. They looked like brilliant green stars with the sunlight filtering through. She rubbed her stinging palms, still hot from rowing. That burning sensation reminded her of her stormy row to the lighthouse—a memory she’d suppressed. She didn’t like to think about how close she’d come to dying out in that storm. She didn’t want to face the guilt of any unfinished business with God, either. She’d cried out to Him in fear that day, and now she wondered what she owed Him in return. With all these chapels and Bible lessons, she was getting a little worried. She certainly wasn’t about to dedicate her life to the mission field and travel to the darkest depths of Africa.
“And you should’ve seen Monica’s face last night at the campfire when Len told her she might have to spend the night in Spruce Cabin.” Sarah laughed, tossing her short blond curls.
“Poor Monica,” Heather sighed.
“Poor Monica? I felt sorry for you two!” Barbara exclaimed. “Though I must admit I was a little jealous. It sounded pretty exciting to spend the night up there all alone!”
“Not to me,” Sarah piped up. “I thought for sure you would be back down by midnight. I know I would’ve.”
“Hey, the Snack Shack’s open now,” Barbara exclaimed, leaping to her feet. “And I’m just dying for a Dr. Pepper!” She reached down to pull up Heather, but naturally Heather didn’t respond. Allison looked quickly at Barbara, but Barbara just stood there with her arm outstretched in front of Heather’s face.
“Hey,
wake up, sleepyhead,” Allison said. She grabbed Heather’s arm and pulled her to her feet.
“Oh sorry, guess I was daydreaming. . . .”
“That was a close call,” Allison whispered as Barbara walked out the door.
“Sooner or later someone’s bound to find out, Allison. Maybe I should lay low for a while.”
“But you’re here to have a good time, not sit in our cabin all day long. If they find out, they find out. If they want to send you home, they’ll have to send me, too.”
After dinner, they joined the other girls in readying for the campfire. Everyone fixed their hair, brushed their teeth, put on sweat shirts and jerseys, and dug out flashlights and Bibles. Allison had brought along the white Bible Grandmother Mercury had left her. Heather, of course, didn’t have one.
“Don’t worry, Heather, I’ll share mine.” Allison laughed, linking arms with her best friend.
“You guys are as inseparable as peanut butter and jelly!” Monica remarked from behind. “Don’t you ever let each other out of sight?”
“Not if we can help it,” Allison retorted.
They sang lots of lighthearted songs and the counselors did a funny skit that put the campers in stitches. Then Len stood up behind the fire. The leaping orange flames illuminated his face in a flickering glow. After a few brief announcements, he introduced the evening speaker. “Tonight, Constance Green will share her personal testimony.”
Constance stood before the campers and shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the next. Allison felt sorry for her. What must it be like to stand up and speak to all those people?
“Hi. As you know, I’m Constance,” she began. Her long black hair cascaded over her shoulders and her dark eyes sparkled in the firelight. “I’ve never done this before, so bear with me. I guess I’ll start my story by saying I don’t come from your typical, everyday home. You see, my parents never went to church and my dad—” She paused and took a breath. “He used to be an alcoholic . . . in other words, a drunk. For years I tried to keep it a secret. It was hard, though, because I could never invite friends home, and once in a while my dad would show up at a school function after drinking too much. It was very embarrassing for me.” She looked up at the darkening sky and continued.
Allison O'Brian on Her Own Page 20
