“Okay, okay. Good night, ladies. See you on the morrow. I shall return to my dungeon and meal of cold gruel.”
Ally and Molly stood at the window, watching as Jeff trudged away. Then Molly crawled back into her sleeping bag, saying, “I’m beginning to think he is a nutcase.”
“Maybe.” Ally slid between the sheets of her bed, smiling in the dark. “I can’t believe he likes me.”
“Why not? You’re a funny person.”
“Oh, come on.”
“You are, Ally. But I think Nick is right. You’d better watch out. This guy is a little weird.”
“I’ll have a private investigator check him out tomorrow.”
Molly giggled. “See? You are a funny person!”
The next morning, the O’Connors ate breakfast at about 8:30. Ally’s dad worked as a manager of a machinery company in town; he usually left at about 8:45. Since it was still summer, August, Ally didn’t have to get up early for school.
“I guess we’ll be going by to see Ally’s one true love then,” Molly said as she munched on a piece of toast.
Ally’s parents said “What!” at the same time.
Molly grinned and stuffed the rest of the toast in her mouth.
Mrs. O’Connor looked at Ally. “Well?”
“He’s fourteen years old, Mom. And I know I can’t date till I’m sixteen.”
“Some kids do it on the sly,” Mrs. O’Connor said. “I’m not going to tolerate you sneaking off with this boy unchaperoned—”
“I’m not sneaking off anywhere,” Ally interrupted, then paused. How did I pick up Jeff’s bad habit of interrupting people? Seeing her father’s expectant look, she continued. “Nick or Molly will always be there with us.”
“Well, I should hope so,” Mr. O’Connor said. “But I’d feel better if I knew who this boy was.”
“Look,” Ally said, giving Molly a hard look, hoping she wouldn’t say anything about last night’s window episode, “he’s just kind of attached himself to us. I guess he’s lonely. But I don’t hardly know who he is, except that he lives with a nice lady who reads Christy every year and is a committed Christian.”
“She is?” Mrs. O’Connor said.
“Yeah,” Molly said. “She’s really kind of cool.”
“But how do you know she’s a Christian, honey?” Mrs. O’Connor said to Ally.
“Jeff told me. Apparently, he doesn’t like her talking about Jesus with him.”
“So he’s not…a Christian?”
“I guess not.”
Mrs. O’Connor said to her husband, “We ought to have them over for dinner.”
“All right by me,” Mr. O’Connor said, getting up and brushing crumbs off his tie. “I’ve got to run.”
“Kiss,” Mrs. O’Connor said.
Mr. O’Connor kissed his wife, then rolled his eyes at Molly and Ally. Ally did like it that her parents loved each other. She knew that wasn’t the way it was for a lot of kids, and she appreciated the little things they did to show affection. But sometimes, like now, it embarrassed her in front of Molly. Ally instinctively began cleaning up.
Behind them, there was a knock at the door.
“Hey,” Nick said, walking in. “Everybody fed and waked up?”
“Hi, Nick,” Mrs. O’Connor said. “I expect you to be the chaperone around this new boy, you understand.”
“Sure,” Nick said, walking over to the table and snagging a leftover piece of toast. “I’ll make him dance to my tune. I’ll put him in chains if he gets out of line. I’ll—”
“Okay, okay,” Mrs. O’Connor said. “I think just being there should be enough.”
Nick grinned at Ally, who placed a pile of dishes in the sink.
A second later, there was another knock.
“What is this, Grand Central Station?” Mrs. O’Connor said, laughing.
Nick opened the door and stepped back, making a motion with his hand. “Lord Jeff of the vale,” he announced.
Jeff walked in and Ally noticed her mother giving him a careful look.
“So you’re Jeff?”
Jeff held out his hand. “Yeah. Is that bad?”
Mrs. O’Connor took it and stared into Jeff’s eyes. “All I care is that there’s no funny business with these kids. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jeff said.
“Good.” Mrs. O’Connor turned to Ally. “I suppose you all are traipsing off somewhere?”
“Not me,” Molly said. “I have to go home and do some chores.”
“We’ll be around, Mom,” Ally said.
“Actually,” Jeff interjected, “I’d like to take whoever wants to go to meet a friend of mine.”
“Who might that be?” Mrs. O’Connor said.
“He lives back in the woods behind the houses. He’s really a neat guy, and I thought, well, I thought Ally and Nick might like to meet him. Since they seem to think I’m so mysterious and all.”
“I don’t know about this,” Mrs. O’Connor said with uncertainty.
“He’s just a regular guy,” Jeff said. “Doesn’t do anything bad. He’s the most natural guy I know. I promise, he’s really nice.”
“Well, all right. Just so you’re back at lunchtime,” Mrs. O’Connor said to Ally.
Molly left and Ally and Nick finished cleaning up. Then they walked up the road with Jeff toward the covered bridge.
“Your mom is nice,” Jeff said.
Ally laughed. “She slings around orders sometimes, but I love her.”
“Yeah,” Jeff said. “I wish I had a mom like that.”
No one said anything, and the only sound was their running shoes padding on the pavement.
“What happened to your mom, anyway?” Nick said, breaking the silence.
“She had breast cancer.”
“I’m so sorry,” Ally said.
“It’s okay,” Jeff replied. “It was when I was little. I didn’t even know her.”
“So you’ve been living with your aunt since then?” Nick asked.
They walked through the covered bridge, keeping to the right side of the road.
“Pretty much,” Jeff said. “Except when I lived with my dad.”
“So how come you don’t live with him now?”
Jeff suddenly took off running on the other side of the covered bridge. He raced down a trail into the trees.
“Guess we’ll have to ask that question later,” Nick said and plunged into the woods after Jeff.
Ally hurried after both of them.
Five
The Man in the Woods
Jeff sprinted ahead of them through the deep woods. Ally hadn’t realized how thick the trees were here; she’d never really explored them. It had never occurred to her that someone might live in the woods, almost secluded from the rest of civilization.
She caught Nick just as they both reached the top of a hill. Jeff stood there in the morning light, panting. He stared down at something, and Ally followed his line of sight.
There, in a small valley between hills, stood a cabin with smoke drifting lazily from the chimney.
“What is it?”
“Coombsie,” Jeff said.
“Coombs who?” Nick asked.
“Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
The three of them tramped down to the valley and reached the rustic, rusty-hinged door. Jeff knocked.
A man with a gray beard answered within seconds. He had twinkly green eyes and was wearing clothes made out of deerskin. “Hey,” he said smiling, his teeth clenching a pipe.
“Coombsie,” Jeff exclaimed. “These are my new friends. Ally and Nick. They’re riding horses over at Mrs. Hanson’s.” Jeff grabbed the man’s arm. “This,” he announced, “is my friend, Nestor Coombs. Everyone calls him Coombsie.”
“Come on in,” Coombsie said and motioned for them to enter.
The cabin was one room that had a fire burning in the fireplace. All around the walls hung the stuffed heads of various animals—a bear, a
couple of deer, birds, even two gray squirrels. Ally didn’t care for the animals, but she did think the cabin quaint.
Coombsie sat in an old armchair, and Jeff took a seat on a bench made out of a split log. Jeff patted the wood. “This is where you guys sit. Coombsie’s place isn’t laid out like my aunt’s. No leather furniture.”
“But that doesn’t mean I won’t have it someday,” Coombsie said. “When the government sends me the money they owe me.”
“Coombsie’s always talking about the government owing him money,” Jeff said. “It’s a joke. Laugh.”
Ally smiled and Nick stared around the room, then they both plunked down on the split log.
“So you bagged anything lately?” Jeff said.
“Got a buck the other day. Been eatin’ good,” Coombsie replied. He gestured to the fireplace, where a large pot hung over the fire. Ally sniffed the gamey aroma of cooking venison. “Carcass is hanging out back,” Coombsie said matter-of-factly. Ally decided she wouldn’t take a look if she could help it. When it came to hunting deer, she definitely sided with Bambi.
“So, have you eaten any more little kids lately?” Jeff asked Coombsie.
“Just had one for breakfast. Nice little boy,” Coombsie answered, blowing smoke rings out of his circled lips.
Jeff laughed, but Ally didn’t. Coombsie looked enough like a wild man for her to believe that anything might be possible with him.
Jeff sensed Ally’s uncertainty. “Coombsie and I joke like this all the time,” he assured her. “He wouldn’t harm a flea, except for the animals he kills to eat, that is.”
Ally just smiled at Coombsie and nodded her head.
Coombsie smiled back, then leaned forward. “So, what’s the news?” he said to Jeff.
“Haven’t heard from him,” Jeff replied mysteriously.
“What are you going to do?”
“I was thinking of coming and living with you,” Jeff said.
Coombsie took the pipe out of his mouth. “I’d love to have you. You know that. But I don’t think it would be a good idea.”
“Yeah, I guess. I’d just mess up your life, anyway.”
“What are you talking about?” Ally interjected. “Who haven’t you heard from?”
“My father.”
Coombsie suddenly stood, rapping on the arm of the chair.
Ally sat very still, wondering what was going on.
“Oh, come on,” Jeff said to Coombsie.
Coombsie knocked again.
“What is it?” Ally said, suddenly feeling a little frightened.
“It’s a knock-knock joke,” Jeff said. “Can’t you tell?”
Coombsie shook his head and knocked again.
Jeff whispered with mock seriousness, “This is why Coombsie isn’t married. He has limited entertainment interests. Just play along, okay?”
Ally glanced at Nick as Coombsie knocked again.
“Who’s there?” Ally said cautiously.
“Ally,” Coombsie said.
“Ally who?”
“That’s what I want to know,” Coombsie said and sat down.
Jeff laughed. “Sorry! Her last name is O’Connor. And Nick’s is Parker.” He turned to Ally. “Coombsie likes to use knock knock-jokes to ask questions sometimes.”
“Really?” Ally said.
“Yeah, it’s his way of getting someone’s attention when he’s not sure they’re paying attention.”
Coombsie knocked again and Jeff said, “Who’s there?”
“Jeff,” Coombsie said.
“Jeff who?”
“Jeff, what will you do?”
Ally thought she understood and said, “Where is your father, Jeff?”
“Hiding.”
“What do you mean, hiding?”
“He’s…I don’t know.”
There was an awkward silence, then Coombsie knocked again.
“Who’s there?” Nick said this time.
“You want…”
“You want what?” Nick said, grinning at Ally.
“You want to hear my latest story?”
Jeff clapped his hands together like an excited four-year-old in Sunday school. “All right!” To Nick and Ally he said, “Coombsie writes stories.”
Coombsie put his finger to his head and leaned back as if meditating. Suddenly, he shot forward, his face animated, alive, almost glowing with excitement.
“All the fair feathered friends were imprisoned,” Coombsie said. “The cruel prince had captured them, put them in cages. But lo! There was enchantment in the land, and the two great ones came over the mountain to work it. Just the two of them. In search of their destiny. In search of hope.
“They were young—they hadn’t aged in centuries. They only wanted rest and hope and peace. And to set their friends free.”
Jeff whispered, “All his great characters want peace and hope.”
Coombsie put his finger to his lips. “Shhhhh! You can hear them if you listen. On the wind. Their voices like pine trees in a breeze, their eyes sad and gray but hopeful. They come with their heads back, and they smile into the river, and they know they will find what they’re looking for there. His name is Jason the Unblemished. Hers, Marianne the Matchless. They go into the stream. They look down. Diamonds. Rubies. Emeralds. They dip down deep. They grasp the jewels and hold them up to the sun. The jewels sparkle. Then…”
Jeff grinned. “This is the good part.”
“They take a bite. The emerald tastes like all the great cities of the world in their glory. The diamonds taste of an artist’s tears after he has finished his greatest work. The ruby—the ruby is the best; it tastes of fair earth and blessed heaven and all the joys of creation. And then…”
Jeff whispered, “Watch this.”
Coombsie waved his hands upward. “The transformation comes. They both become…they become completely…they become all they were meant to be.”
Jeff sat as though transfixed while Coombsie put his finger to his lips again. “They’re able to mount the sky, to seek the farthest horizon, to filch the gold at the end of the rainbow. They are transformed. Friends who can help friends must look like them. They’re sparrows!”
“Sparrows!” Ally almost shouted, caught up in the story.
Again, the finger to the lips. “They fly off to the castle, where the cruel prince has imprisoned all the fair feathered friends. The sparrows fly in. They beat their wings at the prince. They flail. They screech. They bring him to his knees, and he cries out, ‘What do you want?’ They say, ‘Set our friends free.’ And the prince, cowering and terrified, obliges. He opens every cage. And every fair feathered friend emerges, singing his song and flying into the heavens.”
Coombsie paused and then clapped his hands. “Ha!”
Jeff banged his hands on his knees. “Cool!” To Ally and Nick he said, “Coombsie’s stories always involve setting things free.”
“That was really interesting, Mr. Coombs,” Ally said.
“Yeah, cool,” Nick added. “But what happened to Jason and Marianne?”
Coombsie nodded. “They ate once again of the rubies, emeralds, and diamonds, then transformed back. And the ruby hardened, so they sold it and went to the Great City, where every video game that’s ever been invented is free. And they played and played and played. And won too.”
“Whoa,” Jeff said.
Coombsie knocked on the chair arms again, his face full of delight.
“Who’s there?”
“Now some…” Coombsie said.
“Now some who?” Jeff asked, his face aglow like Coombsie’s.
“Now some music.”
Jeff turned to Nick and Ally. “Prepare to be amazed.”
Six
Music Extraordinaire
Coombsie grabbed a violin out of an ancient case, put it to his neck, and began to play. At first the sounds were scratchy, meaningless, but soon he captured a tune. He played skillfully, beautifully, heart-wrenchingly.
Ally was
soon caught up in the mournful yet powerful tones of the music. Coombsie looked transported, his eyes closed, also caught up in the music. He went up and down the neck of the violin like a master, bringing together the melodies of rock tunes Ally recognized and linking them—no, spinning them—into a wondrous melody that had everyone in the room enraptured.
Coombsie’s fingers roved the violin like he’d played it every day since birth. Ally had heard some of the greatest violinists in the world—her parents believed strongly in exposing her to great music—and she thought that Coombsie sounded as good as any of them.
Jeff whispered to Ally as Coombsie played renditions of songs from the Beatles, the Beach Boys, and other old bands Ally’s mother and father often listened to. “Coombsie’s been playing the violin since he was a little kid.”
The music was more compelling than anything Ally had ever heard. She almost felt as if she couldn’t listen anymore for the joy and pain that resounded in the simplest parts of the melody.
Then, suddenly, the spell was broken. Coombsie’s eyes popped open.
“They’ve come again!”
Jeff jumped up. “No. NO!”
Coombsie threw the violin onto the bed. He grabbed a bullhorn off a table in the corner and ran to the door. Jeff tried to stop him, grabbing him by the shoulders.
“You have to conquer it, Coombsie!”
“They’ve come back!” Coombsie yelled, his face twisted in anguish. He looked terrified. He pushed past Jeff to the door, threw it open, and put the bullhorn to his lips.
“Go away!” he cried. “Go away. I won’t listen to you.” He stuck his free hand over an ear and exploded into the horn, “I won’t listen to you!”
Jeff tried to pull Coombsie back into the room, but Coombsie threw him off and ran out into the clearing in front of the cabin.
“I’ll make you go away,” he shouted into the bullhorn. “I’ll never listen to you.”
Jeff looked at Nick and Ally, who were staring out the window at Coombsie. “I’m sorry about this,” he said. “I didn’t think it would happen today. I’m really sorry. It only happens once in awhile, but when it does…”
“What is it?” Ally said, listening to Coombsie roar into the bullhorn like a maniac.
Hoofbeats on the Trail Page 3
