Candy;

by White, Robb, 1909-1990

  She said slowly, ''Won't you help me? Really?"

  "No/* he said. 'Tm useless. I can't climb trees or do anything."

  The ice was melting. The sun was going down. She was in a terrible hurry, and this perfectly healthy doggone boy was so stubborn.

  'Tor crying out loud!" Candy said, exasperated, 'Tm just a girl, and I can climb that little old tree. That one over there with the rope hanging out of it. See?"

  "No," he said, without even turning his head.

  "Well, look at it!"

  His voice was flat and low. "How?" he asked.

  Candy had to bite her lip to keep from yelling at him. "What do you mean 'how?' Just look at it, that's all."

  "I can't," he said. "I'm bhnd."

  Tears came up in Candy's eyes and she had to swallow to keep from crying. Whispering almost, she said, ''Blind? Oh no! Oh, I didn't know that. I'm so sorry."

  His face changed and his voice was suddenly happy. "Didn't you? Really? Couldn't you tell?"

  "Not a bit," she said. "You don't act blind at all."

  Then all the life and happiness went away again. "That's because I wasn't moving around," he said bitterly.

  "I saw you walking, remember? You don't act blind a bit."

  He almost smiled. "FU try to cHmb the tree if you want me to."

  "I dOy and you can get up it fine. Come on." She started toward the tree and had taken four or five steps before she remembered.

  He was still standing there. "You see?" he said, and he sounded so bitter that it hurt Candy.

  She took his hand, and his slow walk was agony to her as she saw how far down the ice had melted.

  She climbed the tree with him and put the rope in one of his hands. She showed his other hand the limb to wTap the

  rope around after he had pulled on it. Then she scrambled down and raced to the pile of ice blocks.

  ''Okay, pull!" she called to him.

  As the bow slowly rose, glass tinkled and fell down inside the greenhouse. Being as careful as she possibly could, Candy eased the boat along, calling to the blind boy in the tree when to pull and when to ease off.

  At last the stern touched the ice and Candy could feel some of the boat's weight taken off the greenhouse.

  In a little while it was all over. Candy, her feet cold from standing on the ice, looked at her boat as it lay there on its side, completely clear of the greenhouse. She called to the boy, and he let the rope drop and climbed down. As he began to wander around, waving his stick, she said, 'Tm over here.''

  She went to meet him and talked jubilantly about what they had done. ''If it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't ever have gotten the boat down. What's your name?"

  "Anthony Strong. People call me 'Tony' when they aren't just yelling at me."

  "Mine's Candy Pritchard. Catherine, really."

  "How old are you?"

  "Thirteen."

  "I'm still eleven. What do you look like?"

  Candy laughed. "I got two heads."

  His expression changed so that he looked sullen and angry. "Good-by," he said abruptly. Feeling with his cane, he started slowly away.

  Candy jumped up. "Please don't go, Tony. I'm sorry I made you mad," she said, walking along beside him.

  He stopped but didn't turn.

  Candy asked softly, "Did I hurt your feelings, Tony? About the two heads?"

  "I haven't got any feelings."

  "I didn't mean to. I was just tr}ing to be funny, but it wasn't funny, was it?"

  ''Nothing's funny/' He was bitter and still sullen.

  ''After the ice melts, we've got to slide the boat down to the water. That'll take a lot of muscle."

  "You want me to stay and help you?"

  "I wish you would."

  "All right."

  She led him back to the greenhouse and they sat down. Candy looked over at the sun just touching the tops of the trees. "It'll be almost dark before it all melts. But that doesn't matter. Mr. Jenkins only said I had to get it down by sunset. He didn't say what I had to do with it."

  "I've never been in a boat."

  Candy chuckled. "We'll fix that. We've got to get this one across the Bay to where I can mend the mast."

  "I don't think I want to/' he said.

  "You'll like it. I'd rather be in a boat, even paddling, than any place I know."

  He shook his head. "I'd better not."

  "You got to go?"

  "No."

  Candy laughed. "Then come on in the boat. It's a lot easier than walking."

  Tony said slowly, his head down, "No. I'm afraid to, that's all."

  "Don't be afraid," Candy said. "I used to be scared, too. But I got over it."

  "You're not blind," he said quietly.

  "No, I'm not. I guess that makes a difference, doesn't it?"

  He nodded.

  "What's it hke to be blind, Tony?" she asked softly.

  He didn't answer. After a while Candy glanced over at him. He had his face in his hands, and she could tell by the way his shoulders moved that he was crjing. But he wasn't making a sound.

  CHAPTER

  4

  The sunlight was fading. Trees made long, dark shadows across the grass.

  At last, his voice very low, Tony said, 'Til go in the boat. If you want me to, Candy." He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and turned his head away from her.

  She was about to say something when Mr. Jenkins flashed around the corner of the greenhouse. He went right past them and glared up at the roof. Then, slowly, he looked down.

  The ice had all melted and the boat lay on its side on the grass.

  "Well, dog my cats,'' Mr. Jenkins said, staring at it, and standing still for a moment. Then he began to hop again. ''Get out of the way. Get out of the way,'' he snapped at them as he unlocked the door of the greenhouse and rushed in. Candy whispered to Tony, "It's Mr. Jenkins." He stayed in the greenhouse quite a while, then came rushing out and glared at Candy. "Get off my land. Get off!" "I'm not going to leave my boat here, Mr. Jenkins." "Get it off, too. I told you distinctly, miss—sunset." "You said that it had to be off the roof by then. It's off." "Don't quibble and lie, young lady." He started to make a shooing motion with his hand. "Get off. Get off."

  Candy stood her ground. "Not until I get my boat."

  Mr. Jenkins began to shriek. ''Are you going to mind me, or am I going to have to arrest you?''

  He was so angry that for a httle while he didn't notice the cane as Tony felt with it across the grass, touched Mr. Jenkins's shoe, and then, delicately, tapped up along his leg.

  At last, though, Mr. Jenkins looked down at it. He stepped back.

  Tony stopped moving and said, *'We'll go when we get her boat. Not before. Now leave her alone."

  It made Mr. Jenkins so mad that he could only make a noise like 'Vhu whu whu." Then, suddenly, he was calm. He pointed to his own eyes and looked questioningly at Candy and made the word ''blind?" with his lips. Candy nodded.

  "All right," Mr. Jenkins said out loud, "I'll give you a little more time. Until—sunup."

  Candy nodded.

  "And you've got to lift that boat up and carry it, do you hear? If you scar my grass, I'll sue you." He went away, still waving his arms.

  Almost as soon as he was gone two men came out of the shadows from the other direction.

  They stopped. "You kids better beat it before Mr. Jenkins catches you," one of them said.

  "He's already caught us," Candy told him. "And now he says we've got to lift the boat up off the grass and carry it."

  They saw the boat for the first time. "Carry that! Man, it would take a covey of kids your size."

  "Let's put it in for them. Bill," the other man said.

  "We can't lift that, and if we cut up the grass we'll lose our jobs."

  "He's got plenty more grass. Come on."

  With Candy helping, they pushed the boat along, eased it over the sea wall, and at last it was floating in the water.

  "Don't tell the old cr
ab who cut up his lawn," one man said.

  'Tell him that the boat just grew wings and flew/'

  Candy thanked them, and they went away.

  By then it was dark. Candy, standing in water to her knees, held the broken anchor rope and looked at her boat in the starlight. It looked so beautiful, even with the broken mast, that it was hard for her to breathe.

  After a while she got practical again. ''There's no anchor and nothing to tie her to. And there's no oar or anything to push with." She turned to Tony standing on the sand. ''Could you stay here and hold her while I go get an oar? It won't take fifteen minutes. Then we'll paddle her across."

  Til do the best I can."

  Candy gave him the rope and told him just to hold it, that was all.

  "It's going to be really dark before I get back," she said.

  He turned his head toward her. "That's all right. Candy. It's always dark where I am."

  She ran all the way around the beach and back with the oar she borrowed. As she first saw the dim whiteness of her boat she began to realize that it was actually hers. She was so happy inside that she would have laughed out loud, except that she was about out of breath from running.

  When she could see the boat clearly, she called, "I'm coming, Tony." Then she climbed around the end of the sea wall and started out on the narrow strip of sand between it and the sea.

  Candy suddenly stopped and leaned forward a little, looking. The strip of sand stretched ahead of her to the other end of the sea wall dimly white in the starlight.

  The sand was empty. No one stood there, waiting.

  Candy dropped the oar and walked slowly forward. Her boat's bow was almost touching the sand. The rope was a dark line against the white.

  At the end of the rope, where it was frayed from being

  broken, was Tony's cane. It was stuck deeply into the sand and the rope was knotted around it.

  Candy straightened up. 'Tony/' she said in an ordinary voice.

  There was no answer.

  "Tony!" she called. Then, louder, "Tony/"

  Water rippled against the sand and the tree frogs sang, but no one answered her.

  Thinking that perhaps he had left something at the greenhouse. Candy climbed the sea wall and ran over there. "Tony?"

  She looked at the darkness of the trees and the long stretch of lawn. Nothing moved anywhere.

  Slowly, puzzled and worried, she went back to the beach. Stooping down, she saw the shadows of his footprints in the sand and she followed them until, reaching a place where the the sand was too hard, the tracks disappeared.

  She could not tell there whether he had gone toward the land or the water.

  Candy suddenly whirled toward the dark, shining-surfaced water. Chills washed across her as she looked out over the Bay. With crying in her voice, she yelled, "TONY! Tony!"

  A sea gull, as though mocking her, cawed with a voice like a file dragged across a piece of tin.

  She could see nothing in the water. Nothing moved or answered her from the land.

  Slowly she went back and got the oar. Then she pulled Tony's cane up out of the sand. She took it with her as she waded out to the boat and climbed aboard.

  For a long time she paddled slowly around, searching the water, until at last she was sure that he wasn't in it. He had gone away on the land.

  Every bit of her happiness had died. For a moment longer she let the boat drift as she looked back at the soft whiteness of the beach and the deep gloom of the trees beyond it. Then, for the last time, she called, "Tony," and no one answered.

  It was late before Candy finished telling her father about the things that had happened to her that day. He came down to see her new boat and, as they walked slowly back, she told him about Tony.

  ''Why do you suppose he went away like that, Dad?"

  He thought for a moment. ''He was probably afraid of the boat. And he didn't want you to find out."

  "But he'd already told me he was afraid."

  "Maybe, while he was alone, it got too much for him. Candy."

  "I guess so," she said slowly. "I wonder where he went."

  "The pohce could find him. They must know about him. Do you want me to ask them?"

  "No. If he wanted to go away, he can. Only I hate to think about him wandering around in the darkness."

  "It's always dark for him. Candy."

  "That's what he said."

  They walked on in silence then for a long time. At last her father said quietly, "I wouldn't fall too much in love with that boat. Candy."

  "Why not. Dad?"

  "There might be something fishy about it. After all, that boat's worth about a thousand dollars. People don't give away things like that. And that man's talk sounds odd."

  "Maybe it does when I tell it to you, but it didn't then. He meant it when he gave her to me. Dad."

  "I hope so. But suppose it didn't even belong to him?"

  "He said it did."

  "I know." He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick hug. "Just don't fall too much in love with it until we find out more about it—and about your friend."

  "All right," Candy agreed. Then, her voice happy, she said, "But isn't she beautiful. Dad?"

  "Yes, she is," he said. "And so are you, skipper."

  Candy dreamed about her boat all night, and by the time the

  sun's rim appeared above the ocean she was down on the beach.

  In dayhght she could see how well made the boat really was. The planking was Philippine mahogany, the rigging and fittings were stainless steel, the running rigging and sails were Egyptian cotton. She was as beautiful as any boat Candy had ever seen, and she forgot the warning not to fall in love with it.

  Daylight also showed that the mast was too badly broken for her to fix. She knew that Mr. Carruthers was the only man who could mend it the way it ought to be, and he would do it free— if he wanted to. But he was so particular that she was afraid he wouldn't want to. Then she would have to wait until she got enough money to pay someone else. And Candy didn't want to wait at all.

  Mr. Carruthers was still an Enghshman, although he had lived in Florida for fifty years. He always acted as though he was angry about something, and most of the time he was. But when he began to work on a piece of wood, building something, he was marvelous. Candy liked the old man and would listen to him talking about when he sailed in square-riggers, or went treasure hunting, or cut down mahogany trees in South America. Mr. Carruthers knew more than anyone she had ever met and he knew absolutely everything about her Bay.

  When she got to his shipshape little house he was sitting on the back steps carving a riny boat inside a bottle. She said good morning, and he scowled at her as he waved for her to sit down.

  She knew from experience that there was no use telling him anything—he always knew it anyhow—so she just sat and watched his blunt, thick fingers working the tiny knife inside the bottle. As she waited, she began to wonder what he knew about her boat and the mysterious man. She began to be afraid that he would know all about it and tell her that the man didn't even own the boat, or something terrible like that.

  At last he said, ''Where'd you get the new boat?"

  ''A man gave her to me."

  "Did he, indeed? Who is he?"

  ''I don't know," Candy said. ''His name is Daniels."

  Mr. Carruthers scowled, thinking, until his gray, bushy eyebrows got tangled up. "Don't know him." He sounded angry about it.

  Candy felt better.

  "Never saw that boat before, either," Mr. Carruthers said, as though he had been insulted.

  Candy felt wonderful. Maybe, after all, the man really had owned the boat. And, she thought, if he had gone out to one of the islands, then the boat was really hers. "Is anybody going out to the islands today, Mr. Carruthers?"

  "No indeed."

  "None of the shrimpers or charter boats?"

  "Nothing's going to leave the Bay today. And that's a fact."

  Candy began to
feel afraid again. The man had said he was in such a hurry to get out to the islands and yet, so far, he hadn't even gotten a boat to take him. So maybe he would come and make her give him back the boat.

  Mr. Carruthers put the bottle down, wiped the knife with an oily cloth, put it in a rack, and stood up. "Well, let's yank that mast of yours and mend her," he said, hitching up his pants by the suspender straps.

  Candy jumped up, beaming all over. As she walked along beside him, she said, "You're a nice man."

  "Matter of opinion," he growled.

  They got the mast out and carried it to his workshop. Candy helped him all she could as he began to splice in new pieces.

  She went to the door occasionally and looked out at her boat floating at anchor. Each time she was sure that there would be some strangers there taking her boat away. But no one came.

  "Mr. Carruthers," she asked, "have you ever seen a blind boy around here?"

  "Tony Strong? Yes, poor lad."

  Candy told him how Tony had helped her get the boat down. ''Where does he live?" she asked.

  ''Hard to say. He was in that garage of Mrs. Tatum's for a while. But that thing's flat as a flitter now."

  *'Hasn't he got anybody to take care of him?"

  "Don't think so, more's the pity. He's an odd piece, that Tony, and that's a fact. Did you like him. Candy?"

  "Well," Candy said slowly, remembering, "I feel awful sorry for him, but he's funny. You can't tell what he's going to do. Like going away and leaving the boat."

  Mr. Carruthers nodded. "Reminds me of a httle wild thing. Lets you pet him one minute and bite your finger off the next. He's ashamed of being blind but won't admit it. Mighty touchy."

  "He sure is," Candy agreed.

  "What he needs is to know some kids his age. Needs to have a little fun. Most of all he needs real help, but he won't take it. Fve talked to him, and he's so afraid that he'll be put in an institution that it's pitiful."

  "I know some kids," Candy said. "If I ever see Tony again, ril introduce him to the Magruder brothers. They're a lot of fun."