“That will be sufficient, Olive,” said Ben.
She quit cranking.
And Tommy chuckled. “What are you doing? Making ice cream?”
“No, dummy, I’m making you that kiss I promised,” said Olive.
I tried again. “Come on, Tommy. Please. Just hand over the radio.”
Tommy snorted. “No way, Stanberry. I’m keeping it. That thing is going to make me the most famous kid detective in the country. I’ll get my own reality show. That is, just as soon as I figure out how it works.”
Ben sighed. “I had hoped you’d see reason, young man. But I can tell you mean to keep the contraption. So…” He set the Princess Aquamarina backpack on the floor. It shimmered and flashed as he pushed it forward with the tip of his cane.
“What’s that?” Tommy stared at the backpack suspiciously. I could almost see the gears in his head turning. “Another time-travel machine?”
“Don’t touch it, Tommy,” I said, putting myself between him and the backpack. “Believe me, it’s…uh…shocking.”
“Nolan, you’re ruining everything!” yelped Olive.
Ben looked me in the eye. “Don’t you want to right this wrong, my boy?”
“Not this way,” I said. “Sure, I know it’s just a little kiss, but…well…two wrongs don’t make a right.”
Olive looked up at Ben. “Is that one of your sayings?”
“No, dear Olive, but it should have been.” He nodded slowly. “Yes indeed, it most certainly should have been.” He bent for the backpack.
“Oh, no you don’t!” cried Tommy. He pushed me aside, reached out and…
ZAAAP!
A blue spark of electricity burst from the backpack. Crackling, it lit up the mermaid’s tail like a neon sign and filled the air with the bitter smell of melting plastic before leaping up to touch Tommy’s outstretched fingers.
“Yeoooow!”
Geez, was he ever surprised. As he jumped back, Tommy’s feet tangled in his too-long lab coat. He stumbled. Flailed. Grabbed at the air. And landed with a crashing THUD on the playhouse floor. Books, specimen swabs, rubber gloves, fingerprint brushes, and evidence bags rained down around him. The Most Wanted poster fluttered down and landed on his chest. A roll of crime-scene tape bonked him on the head.
“Upper hand!” cheered Olive. Grabbing the tape, she raced around and around the still-surprised Tommy. In seconds, his arms were pinned to his sides with yellow plastic.
“I told you not to touch it,” I said.
Tommy squirmed and struggled. “Let me loose,” he demanded.
“Not until we’ve got what you stole from us,” I said. Moving to the table, I picked up the radio, carried it out to the wagon, and set it beside the electrostatic machine. Then I came back inside and bent over him. I nudged him with the toe of my sneaker. “Are you okay?”
Tommy didn’t say a word. He just growled at me through clenched teeth.
“Yep, he’s okay,” piped up Olive.
By now, Tommy’s face was so red he looked like a chili pepper. For a second, I thought he might actually explode. “You…you shocked me!” he bellowed.
“What, that teensy, weensy spark?” said Olive. “That was just a little kiss. Show him how you did it, Ben.”
Ben nodded and pointed toward the backpack. It no longer flashed and glittered. Now a thin trail of black smoke rose from Princess Aquamarina’s once-shimmering tail. “There is a knitting needle hidden in that satchel, which young Olive charged by cranking the electrostatic machine. A wire—you see?—runs down my stick. It delivered the spark from the machine to the satchel. Your desperation for fame and recognition did the rest.”
Olive stepped over Tommy and picked up her ruined backpack. “No more shimmer and shine,” she said. “But it was worth it.”
“I’ll get you for this!” hollered Tommy. He twisted and wiggled some more, and suddenly his left index finger poked through the tape.
“Time to go,” I said, herding both Ben and Olive toward the door. I knew it would only be a matter of minutes before Tommy worked himself free. And I wanted to be far away when he did.
“This isn’t over, Stanberry!” Tommy shouted after me.
I had a feeling he was right.
IT DIDN’T TAKE LONG for us to get back home. Once again, I put the crystal radio on the kitchen table, where it sat, dark and silent.
I looked it over. “I don’t think anything’s broken,” I finally said. I wiped a smudge of what I thought was probably fingerprint powder off the headphones.
“Tommy sure was mad,” said Olive.
Ben nodded. “I’m afraid you have made an enemy, Nolan.”
I nodded.
“An archenemy,” said Olive.
I nodded again.
“A forever and ever archenemy,” said Olive.
“All right, already,” I grumbled. “I got it.”
Olive shrugged. “I’m just saying.”
Ben cleared his throat “And now, my young friends, I must be saying good-bye.”
“But I don’t want you to go,” Olive said. She slipped her hand into Ben’s.
I admit, I felt a little sad too. Even though the day had been stressful and frustrating and downright weird, I’d sort of gotten used to having Ben around.
“I want you to stay forever and ever,” said Olive.
“Tut,” said Ben. “Don’t you know fish and visitors stink after three days?”
She shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. “That’s dead fish. And you’re here, right now, and I don’t want you to go.”
Ben dropped to one creaking knee and looked in her face. “You are a most singular little girl, dear Olive, and if circumstances were different, I would heartily stay with you. But I have my own home, and my own family. Did I tell you my grandchildren live with me?”
She shook her head, sniffling loudly.
“Seven little prattlers who cling about their grandpapa’s knees, begging for kisses and stories.” He winked. “And I have a most special tale to tell them tonight.”
“About me and Nolan?”
“You have become cherished parts of my life.”
She thought a moment, her lower lip poked out. Then she took a deep breath. “Okay.”
He smiled. “I am not in so much of a hurry that I would pass up a hug. That is, if you were inclined to give one.”
Olive laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck.
The two squeezed each other tight.
Then Ben slowly straightened. “Master Nolan, I place myself in your most capable hands. Where would you have us begin?”
I stood there a second. All day all I’d wanted was to fix things, make things right by sending Ben home. But now? It sounds crazy, but I didn’t want him to go, either.
“Nolan?” said Ben.
I shook my head. “Oh…er…right.” I looked at the radio. “I think we should do exactly what we did this morning,” I finally said. “Repeat every step.”
“Replicate the experiment,” said Ben. “Exceedingly wise.”
I couldn’t help but blush. I mean, it’s not every day that Ben Franklin calls you wise.
“What if I don’t remember every step?” asked Olive.
“Try,” I said. “Put on your thinking cap.”
She did. Flopping into a kitchen chair, she pretended to tie on a hat.
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, brother.”
“What would you have me do?” asked Ben.
“I think you should go stand over there in the doorway since that’s where you first materialized or…beamed up or…whatever.”
Clutching his toy fire hat to his chest, he took his place.
“Are you taking that?” I asked as I cleared trash and dishes off the table.
“I certainly am,” said Ben. He grinned. “I seem to have misplaced my fur cap. And oh, but the fellows in the fire company are going to be most astonished.”
I snorted. “They must be pretty easily impressed.�
��
That’s when Olive pulled off her thinking cap. “I remember,” she announced. She reached for the radio. “First I touched this little lever right here….”
“Wait a second,” I said. I looked over at Ben. “You ready?”
Ben nodded. “Let the experiment be made!” he called out to us.
I waved. “Safe travels, Ben.”
“Say hi to your grandkids for me,” said Olive. She started blowing kisses. “Mwah! Mwah! Mwah! Mwah! M—”
“Can we do this already?” I interrupted. I was trying to stay focused, trying to remember the exact steps, trying not to sound like I was going to cry.
She wrinkled her nose at me and finished her smooch. “Mwah!” Then, as she’d done that morning, she moved the tiny brass arm….I slipped on the headphones. She turned the dial.
One click.
“Adieu, dear children!” hollered Ben.
Two clicks.
“I shall never forget you.”
Three clicks.
We waited for the stone to start glowing.
We waited for the headphones to fill with static.
We waited for the room to dissolve and bubbles to pop. Instead…
“I am still here,” said Ben.
The crystal radio sat stubbornly silent.
We tried again.
And again.
Nothing happened.
“I don’t get it,” whined Olive “We did it exactly the same.”
I peered down at the radio. All the parts were there. But suddenly—I can’t explain why—I got the strangest feeling that we were missing a step. We’d forgotten to do something.
Ben sagged into a chair. For the first time all day, his eyes didn’t twinkle, and his chin drooped to his chest. He let out a big sigh. “Ah, Nolan, I had never considered that in this age of wonders, I might not be able to return home.”
“You can stay with us. Right, Nolan?” Olive grabbed Ben’s hand and looked at me hopefully.
I didn’t know what to say. So I just stood there, not saying anything.
“He can sleep in the guest room and wear Daddy’s left-behind clothes.”
I doubted it. Dad’s left-behind pants would have to be hemmed at least a foot, and the waistbands let way out.
“He could help Mom with her books. Ben knows all those colonial people.”
I glanced up the stairs toward the studio where Mom was still working. Having Ben around would help her.
“And we could do experiments, and build stuff and…mermaid swim!” She flung her arms wide with excitement.
I have to admit, she made it sound pretty nice. Then I looked into Ben’s sad eyes, and I knew it could never work. He had his own home and his own family. He would miss them the same way I miss Dad. He would feel like he was carrying a deep, empty hole inside.
Ben dabbed at his eyes with one lace cuff.
And Olive wrapped her skinny arms around his neck. “Don’t worry, Ben. It’ll be okay.”
“Sure it will,” I added. “All we have to do is figure out the radio.” I remembered something he’d said earlier. “The scientific mind is ever questioning.”
He looked up. “You are quite right, Nolan. We must undertake a thorough scientific examination of that contraption…”
I nodded. “That’s the spirit, Ben!”
“…tomorrow.” He seemed to sag even further. “Faugh, but I am feeling dropsical.”
I wasn’t sure what that meant, but it didn’t sound good.
Olive jumped in. “I’m hungry. Aren’t you hungry, Ben? I think we should eat. I bet that would make you feel less Popsicle…er…bicycle…um…make you feel better.”
“Good thinking, Olive!” I cried, acting like it was the greatest idea since the lightning rod.
Remembering how much he’d enjoyed those earlier pizza puffs, I microwaved up another box. Olive even brought him a tankard of ale.
“Ginger ale,” she explained. Still, she’d poured it into a big mug so it sort of looked like the real thing.
Not that it mattered much. Ben just picked at his food. When he finished pushing pepperoni around his plate, he went into the family room and lowered himself into my dad’s old easy chair. His hands, resting on his knees, remained stone-still. Not a single finger twitched. He closed his eyes.
At the kitchen table, Olive traced the radio’s gold block initials over and over. “H.H.!” she suddenly cried. “I bet he knows how the radio works.”
“Yeah? And how are we going to find him?’ ”
“Call him? Maybe he has a phone number.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, brother. That might be the stupidest—” I stopped. I thought a second. “Wait a minute! You might be on to something. Maybe—”
“What?”
“Maybe we can find H.H. online.”
“You think H.H. has a website or a Facebook page or something?”
I shrugged. “Weirder things have happened today.”
Olive touched Ben’s arm. “You want to come with me? I’ll let you click the mouse.”
I thought for sure the phrase “click the mouse” would get him going. But he didn’t even open his eyes. “No thank you, dear.”
Olive’s lower lip trembled. She was obviously as worried about him as I was.
She and I went into the computer room. Before the divorce, it had been Dad’s study. But now all his books and papers and research materials were gone. Just empty shelves, a table and chairs, and a desktop computer remained. I booted it up and typed the initials H.H. into the search engine.
“Ugh,” groaned Olive.
If H.H. was online, it wouldn’t be easy to locate him. We found hula hoops and headless horsemen, Haircut Haven, the Hilltop Hotel, haunted houses, health hazards, H & H Plumbing Supplies. There must have been like a gazillion H.H.s.
“Horatio Hornblower,” I read.
“That’s a silly name,” said Olive.
I tapped some keys.
“Herbert Hoover.”
“Who?” said Olive.
“He was a president,” I replied.
She shrugged. “Who knew?”
I scrolled through a few more screens, but I was losing hope.
“Stop!” cried Olive.
“Did you find something?”
“Hector the Hedgehog’s fan club site. I love his cartoons. Can we bookmark that?”
It was useless. There were way too many possibilities.
Just then the computer let out an electronic chime.
Only one person could be video calling at this time of day.
I pushed back from the computer and made for the door as Olive eagerly clicked some keys on the computer.
“Hi, Daddy!” she chirped.
I was almost to the door when she turned. “Nolan, come talk to Dad.”
I looked back. Behind her on the computer screen I could see him smiling. “Hello? Nolan? Is that you, buddy?”
I shut the door in his video face.
Ben was leaning forward in the easy chair, his ear tuned toward the study. “You do not wish to speak with your father?” he said when he saw me.
I shook my head. “I haven’t talked to him in a while,” I confessed. “Not since he left.”
Ben took a deep breath. He seemed to be deciding whether or not to tell me something. At last, he said, “I have another son. Did you know that, Nolan?”
“Besides Franky?”
Ben pulled a cotton cloth from his sleeve and polished his glasses. “William.” He said the name softly. “Strange how the word feels on my lips. I have long refused even to utter it.”
“You don’t say his name?”
“I no longer speak to him either,” said Ben. He shook his head. “I no longer see him.”
“Ever?”
“Never.” Ben’s eyes took on a faraway look. “Oh, my dear, brilliant William…”
And he told this story.
Olive came out of the computer room then and curled up in a corn
er of the couch. She looked sad. Video calling with Dad does that to her sometimes. Nobody talked. I guess we were all lost in our own thoughts.
I WOKE WITH A start on the family room floor. The house had that late-night hush. I looked at the clock: ten-thirty. On the couch, Olive snored softly. And Ben…
Oh, geez, he wasn’t in the easy chair!
I scrambled to my feet.
Not again.
The house was dark except for the glow seeping out from under Mom’s studio door and the circle of light from the overhead lamp in the kitchen. Phew! Ben sat beneath it at the table. I sighed with relief. He’d opened the window to catch the night breezes, and was now writing something. He looked so sad and serious as he scrawled away with that feather and chocolate pudding that I didn’t have the heart to tell him about the invention of the ballpoint pen.
“Whatever happened to ‘early to bed, early to rise’?” I asked, sitting down next to him.
He looked up with the barest of smiles. “That was before the invention of the electrical light.” He blew on his paper, I guess to help dry the pudding. “I am writing a letter to William.”
He read the first lines:
Dearest William,
Can a father turn from his son? He cannot. He should not. I have wronged you, William. Wronged you because I felt you’d wronged me. But, as a wise lad recently reminded me, “two wrongs can never make a right.”
“That’s nice,” I said.
He set down his quill. “I have discovered many marvels during this extraordinary day, Nolan. But methinks this was the most marvelous of them all.”
We sat at the table in the ring of light, listening to the silence. Ben wore a sad smile, but his eyes were bright. He picked up his quill again and poised it over the paper.
Just then, the calm was broken by a white glow. Beside him on the kitchen table, the stone in the center of the crystal radio began to radiate light. White…whiter…crystal white.
Ben Franklin's in My Bathroom! Page 7
