Dana's Valley

by Janette Oke

  Then my eyes moved on to Brett. I didn’t see any tears on his cheeks. He didn’t even have puffy eyes. He just looked—strange. Angry—or frustrated. I knew he’d been counting on the fishing trip that he and Grandpa had been planning for almost two years. Now there wouldn’t be one. I wondered if Brett was thinking about it while he sat there staring hard at his empty hot chocolate cup. His fist was curled up into a hard knot, almost as if he were hiding something in it. But when he opened his hand to push his way up from the table, there was nothing there.

  He looked in a big hurry to leave, and when we all went our separate ways Brett just went to his room, closing his door behind him firmly. It wasn’t long before Corey was peeking in our door. “Will you play with me?” he asked, looking from Dana to me and then back at Dana again to see which one of us might respond favor~ably. Neither of us felt much like playing a game. Dad and Mom had already left to go see Grandma, and Mrs. Joyce was down in the kitchen opening and closing cupboard doors, probably searching for dinner fixings.

  “Brett won’t play,” said Corey, spreading a favorite game out on the edge of my bed. “He just turned on loud music and buried his head with his arms when I asked.”

  I looked across at Dana. She didn’t seem up to entertaining Corey either. In fact she looked pale and tired. I picked the red game piece and handed Corey his favorite yellow. Neither my heart nor my mind was in it, but Corey likely wouldn’t notice.

  We all went to the funeral. Even Corey. Mom had talked with him to let him know what would be happening. By then I think he had a general idea about the finality of death, but every once in a while he’d say something that didn’t quite fit the reality.

  The funeral was not held in a church. The funeral home had a large room with rows of seats filled with important-looking dark-suited business people and ladies in smart clothes and huge hats, some of them even veiled. Grandpa and Grandma Walsh moved in social circles to which our family was not accustomed.

  Dana and I nudged each other when one particularly fashionable woman was ushered down the aisle. Her hat was black, with a swept-up sea-wave type of brim and a huge bow. The whole affair was perched on a fancy red hairdo. The lady wore the highest heels I had ever seen in my life, and over her shoulders was draped some kind of animal skin that still had a nose and mouth and eyes that looked rather beady. I don’t think they were real. Her husband, who may have been as tall as she was if he’d been wearing equally high heels, wore a dark suit with a white scarf hanging loosely from around his neck. A hankie with a fancy fold stuck just so in his breast pocket. I didn’t dare look at Dana or I’m sure we both would have giggled—but you don’t do that at a funeral.

  The organ played some mournful tunes. We didn’t sing much. A woman with a high trembly voice sang a song I hadn’t heard before about a beautiful isle of somewhere. It was kind of a pretty song, but I didn’t really understand it. Was Grandpa supposed to be on an island someplace?

  A minister—I guess he was a minister, though he seemed far different from our pastor—spoke words about life’s journey being over for Grandpa and that he could now take his well-earned rest. I couldn’t feature Grandpa Walsh being much enthused about resting. The whole thing made me feel sadder than ever.

  When it was finally over, we drove together in the van to a big hall where we had a lunch. By then we kids were ready to eat. But we finished long before the grown-ups, who lingered over their coffee cups, chatting. We didn’t know what to do. So we just sat and occasionally talked in hushed voices. It was quite boring, really—especially for Corey, who had been continuously fidgeting. Finally Brett took him outside. I think they were both glad for a break. Dana and I endured as long as we could and eventually dared to follow.

  At last Dad came out to speak to us. “We’re going to take Grandma home with us for a few days,” he told us. “She’s not ready to go back to her empty house yet. That means you’ll all need to remember that she is with us and is still adjusting to Grandpa being gone. We’ll need to be extra thoughtful and considerate.”

  Brett looked alarmed. I wondered if he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to play his music. Or maybe he just wondered how it would work with an older person in the house.

  “It will mean someone will need to give up their bed,” Dad was saying.

  We all looked at one another. Dana was the first to speak. “She can have mine.”

  Dad nodded his thanks and put his hand on Dana’s shoulder. “I think she should be in a room of her own,” he said. “We haven’t worked out how we’ll do that yet.”

  We all knew there were no extra rooms in our little house.

  “Why doesn’t she go to Uncle Patrick’s?” asked Brett. “He’s got lots of room.”

  That was true and we all knew it. Dad didn’t even answer the question. I’m sure he knew we were aware of the reason.

  “We’ll work it out when we get home,” he said instead and turned to go back to Mom. I thought he looked tired. Sort of like he often did in March and April when he came home after an especially long day of work. Then Mom would explain to us that it was Tax Season again, and we would know not to bother Daddy.

  It took a while for Grandma to pack a couple of suitcases. I wondered if she’d pack her special picture of Uncle Eric, but I knew better than to pry. Dad made arrangements with the neighbor lady to care for the plants and take in the newspaper and mail. And then we all crowded into the van and headed for home.

  I wondered just what was going to happen when we got there. If Dana gave up her bed and Grandma needed her own room, that would mean that I’d have to move out too. But where? There weren’t very many empty spots in our house.

  In the end it was Brett who moved. After he and Daddy talked in the backyard for a while, they apparently agreed on a solution. They moved his bed down to a corner in the basement. I think Brett rather liked it that way. He took his boom box too, but Mom made sure he remembered his headphones. Corey was moved into our room on a borrowed cot. It sure made things crowded. Dana and I could hardly get our closet door open. But I figured this arrangement was much better than having to give up our room entirely.

  It was sort of hard at first, but I guess we all adjusted—or something—for things gradually slid into some kind of routine again.

  Still, whenever I thought about it, I felt sad. It seemed so strange not to have a Grandpa Walsh anymore.

  Chapter Five

  Corey had been trying unsuccessfully to tie his shoe. Normally I would stop to help, but at the moment I just wanted him to move over so I could get into the closet.

  “Corey, can you just … can you move over to your bed? I’ve got to get my clothes for school.” I pushed against him a little for emphasis.

  “I got school too.”

  “Come here, buddy,” Dana called to him. “I’ll help.”

  I didn’t look at her, but I could feel her disapproval anyway.

  Brett poked his nose into the room. “Mom wants us for breakfast. Don’t forget to wash, Corey,” he mumbled.

  Ever since Grandma had arrived, Mom no longer called up the stairs from the kitchen. She didn’t want to disturb Grandma, so she generally had Brett walk up and summon anyone who hadn’t appeared yet. He didn’t seem to enjoy his new assignment.

  I closed the closet door and grabbed up my robe. I’d have to come back upstairs and dress after breakfast. At least Dana would practice piano first.

  “Good morning.” Mom kissed each of us on the cheek as we entered the kitchen. “I made your favorite, Dana. Cheesy scrambled eggs.”

  Dana smiled her thanks, but it looked kind of forced. “I’m not very hungry,” she said. “I think I’ll just have some toast.” She must have been concerned that Mom might be hurt, for she quickly added, a bit brighter, “But thanks. Brett can have my share.”

  Mom studied Dana’s face for a moment. “All right, but be sure to take your vitamin.”

  Corey hopped up onto his chair. “Mommy, I’m hungry.”
r />   “That’s good, honey. I made plenty.” She lifted the steaming frying pan and scooped eggs liberally onto Corey’s plate before turning to serve Dad.

  “How are the plans coming for Carli and Marcy’s party?” she asked. “It’s only two days away, isn’t it? Is everything ready?”

  “Yup. All that’s left is to blow up the balloons. But they won’t do that until Friday so they don’t shrivel up,” I noted.

  Brett stopped gulping eggs long enough to ask, “Who did you invite?”

  Dana answered, “Just kids from our church group and a few from our school classes. Carli invited some older kids, but none of them have said they’re coming.”

  “What about Travis and his brother Graham? Did you invite them?”

  Dana looked puzzled. “I guess we didn’t think about them. Would Travis come? He’s your age. And Graham seems … I don’t know … kind of bookish.”

  “He is. But he’s a decent guy,” Brett said. “And Travis says that Graham’s trying to get out with the youth group more. So I think he might like to be invited.”

  I marveled at this much information from the morning stoic. Not wanting to be left out of the conversation, I asked, “We still have time to call, don’t we, Dana?”

  “I suppose. But I feel funny about it. Will you call him for us, Brett?”

  Brett stood, collected his dishes, and headed toward the kitchen counter. “Nope. ’Cause you never invited me to your big fancy party either.”

  I looked at Dana and she stared back, her eyes round and surprised. We hadn’t suspected that Brett would be remotely interested in our party. There was a moment or two of silence. We could hear the back door close as Brett left with the trash bags.

  Dana was the first to speak. “Oops. We never even thought to invite Brett.” I watched her as she looked from Mom to Daddy, probably hoping they would tell her how to fix our mistake.

  “Well, Dana. It’s probably not too late to invite your brother either.” Mom’s tone was a little terse.

  “Excuse me,” Dana said as she gathered her own dishes and rose to place them beside the sink. In a moment we could hear the same door close softly behind her. I sat awkwardly, not knowing whether to follow.

  Daddy spoke. “Erin, I think you should start your piano practice.”

  “But, Daddy, it’s Dana’s turn to …” I left the sentence unfinished. The look on his face made me certain it would be best if I just obeyed.

  By the time we were headed toward the school bus, it looked as though Dana had corrected the problem. I’m not certain what she said to Brett, but she seemed to have smoothed his ruffled feathers. It was probably a good thing I hadn’t been involved. Conversations between Brett and me had not been going smoothly lately. I probably would have just fouled up the process.

  The party was the only topic Marcy could converse about on Friday. She was so excited she hadn’t even bothered to read the science assignment the previous night, and now she was worried that she might be called upon to answer a question about it. That would be particularly troublesome for her because Stephen happened to attend this class too. Fortunately for her, she was overlooked in the discussion time.

  At lunch she was fairly bursting with enthusiasm.

  “Okay, I think we’re almost ready. Carli and I got up early and blew up balloons. It nearly made me sick. But we had to hurry so we wouldn’t miss the bus. And Mom said she would tape them around the basement so we don’t have to do it when we get home.”

  “What about the streamers?”

  “We did those last night.”

  “How many kids said they’d come?”

  “Twenty-one. That’s counting Brett and Travis and his brother Graham.” Marcy stuffed the last of her sandwich into her mouth, now having to talk around it. “I haven’t heard back from Stephen yet. But Chris told Michael Kelly that he heard Stephen say he might come.”

  “That’s good,” I answered lamely. Secretly I hoped Stephen wouldn’t be there. If he showed up, Marcy wouldn’t be good company at all.

  After school Dana and I scurried home, dropped our books inside the back door, grabbed up the bags that held our costumes, and sprinted back out the door. We changed at Marcy’s house, crowding into their bathroom, laughing and giggling continuously.

  Marcy had decided to be a rag doll. She liked the idea of wearing a big floppy-yarn wig and had made it herself—a bright red one. Always a bargain hunter, her mom had stopped at the local resale shop and been lucky enough to pick up a cast-off square-dance dress made of calico with loads of ruffles. It was perfect. With her painted cheeks, big black shoes, and tall white stockings, her costume looked fabulous. Marcy was thrilled. She even wore one stocking up and one down. She had a flare for fashion. We weren’t surprised that she’d pushed for a costume party.

  Carli had gone in an entirely different direction. She’d concentrated on some type of inanimate object. For a while she had wondered about being a rocket. But that seemed a little too boyish, so she had decided to dress as a lamp—a very feminine one. She had cut and bent a large piece of cardboard to make the shade, then covered it with pink ruffly cloth. Her father had even rigged up a battery-operated lantern so she could be “turned on,” and she had draped an extension cord over one arm as if it were the lamp’s plug. We laughed hysterically when we saw her in full costume.

  Dana had chosen to turn herself into a butterfly, with large wings of sheer white fabric on which she had painted a kaleidoscope of colors. She had labored intensely to get them just right. Dana was always so fussy about details.

  I had changed my mind several times before beginning my own costume. Finally settling on being a teddy bear, Mom had helped me plan and assemble the fuzzy brown suit out of an old blanket. But I still needed all the girls to help me with my stuffing. No matter how much we tried to smooth it out, I was lumpy. By the time we emerged from the bathroom, we were giddy with laughter.

  Guests began to arrive a little before the appointed time. We welcomed pirates and waitresses, princesses and several animals. It was such fun to guess who was who and discover what each of our friends had decided to be. We all made our way into Marcy’s basement. I noticed Marcy watching closely for Stephen, but he didn’t show up. I felt a mixture of relief on my own account and pity for her. She had really set her heart on his being there.

  Then three little old ladies arrived. Stooped over and slow, wearing faded dresses, gray wigs, funny old hats, and wire-rimmed spectacles, they had even worn knee-high hose, complete with holes, drooping down around their ankles and sturdy shoes. Whoever they were, they played their parts to perfection. When we noticed that two of the pairs of legs were quite hairy, we all howled with laughter.

  Dana recognized one set of legs and announced that they belonged to Brett, and this brought on another round of laughing. The second old lady was Travis, and the third turned out to be Graham. They all looked fantastic. Once they realized they’d been recognized, they each took off their hats, nodding and bowing for us in elderly fashion. The room applauded.

  Dana and Marcy each had a camera, so flashes blinked as cameras clicked. We got used to the sudden flares throughout the evening as one or the other caught some incident on film.

  Marcy’s mom had been quite generous in allowing us to choose our own menu. She also had gone to a great deal of effort to prepare it all for us. We girls spent some time running up and down the stairs, bringing down ice and drinks and refilling platters. By the time the guests had finished eating, we were starting to feel tired. But we hadn’t even gotten to the games yet.

  After participating in two, which included a great deal of raucous laughter, I ducked out of the third and sat in a corner where I could see the fun. The floppy brown paws of my teddy costume had become stained with punch, so I took them off and put them on the seat beside me. I wondered how the thick paint that I’d used to make my big black nose was holding up.

  “Hi.”

  Surprised, I looked up at Graham
Dawson, Travis’s brother.

  “Hi.”

  He eyed the seat beside me and motioned toward it. “Mind if I sit down?”

  “No, go ahead.” I picked up my discarded paws and stuffed them under my chair. “I like your costume.”

  He grinned back. “It was Travis’s idea. We got the clothes from my grandma. She keeps everything. I’ll bet they’re over fifty years old.”

  I laughed. “They suit you.”

  “Yeah, that’s what my dad said. I’ll take that as a compliment, by the way.” He grinned. “Mom wasn’t quite as enthusiastic, but we talked her into letting us use her makeup.”

  The party game was over. I rose to go.

  “Hey, Erin, I’m sorry about your granddad.” He clearly was feeling awkward about how to say the words, but I liked the sincerity in his voice. It was good to know that people around cared—even though I really didn’t know Graham that well.

  “Thanks.”

  All in all, we thought the party was a huge success, and we already were talking about the next one.

  I guess we all expected Grandma to stay with us for a while and then decide to go back to her own big house again. But it didn’t turn out that way. She talked about it from time to time, making statements like “I should really be going home and letting you get on with your lives.” Or, “I just hate to think of being all alone again.” Or, “Brett, you must be getting anxious for your grandma to let you have your own room back.” Each time she said something like that, either Mom or Dad would assure her she was welcome to stay in our home for as long as she liked. But I think we all were feeling a little bit crowded, in more ways than one.

  The first clear indication that she was reluctant to car-ry on with her own life was when she told Uncle Patrick over the phone to go ahead and sell the motor home. I don’t think any of us expected her to drive it. Still, I saw Brett look up with a funny expression. There went the fishing trip for sure. Maybe he’d been hoping that he and Dad would be able to take it.