Pippa shrieked delightedly. “I sure hope not!”
Julia couldn’t help but smile; the transformation was ridiculous. Pippa could be so stubborn.
“All right. When you’re ready, put one foot on the pedal and push off with the other. I’ve got you.”
She waited while Pippa tried to balance. “But it’s wobbly!”
“I’ve got you,” Julia reminded her. She glanced down the driveway. To her surprise, Wendell was standing by his stupid truck.
Suddenly, Pippa pushed off. The bike wobbled left and right, and the handlebars turned. “Straight ahead!” Julia said, trotting alongside.
Pippa tipped, catching herself at the last second. They’d barely made it six feet, and Julia’s toes had narrowly missed being run over. “Okay. Try again.”
The next push-off, Pippa got her balance and made it almost all the way across the top of the driveway. “Okay, brake!” Julia called.
As directed, Pippa braked hard, and Julia steadied her.
From down below came the sound of clapping. Julia stole a glance. He can leave now, she thought.
But Pippa was thrilled. “Did you see?” she called down.
“You’re a natural,” Wendell shouted back.
“Let’s do it again,” Pippa said.
Just like the last time, they tried again, and again. Pippa was much more balanced this time. So much so that midway across the driveway, Julia let go. Pippa must’ve felt it, because she looked back sharply, turning the handlebars involuntarily as she did. Before Julia could stop it, the bike made a hard left and tipped, and Pippa went down with it.
“Pippa!” she shouted.
Pippa lay sprawled to the side, the bike tipped on top of her. Her lower lip trembled, threatening what Julia knew would be a good cry. “You’re okay,” she insisted. “This happened with Mom, remember? You got right back on.”
At the mention of their mother, Pippa locked eyes with Julia, and her lip trembled harder. Julia lifted the bike off her and pulled her gently up.
“Everybody okay?” Wendell shouted up to them. Julia had almost forgotten about him. He better not come up here, Julia thought as she dusted Pippa off. Thankfully, there were no scrapes on her knees or elbows. “She’s fine,” she shouted back. She had this under control. “One more time?” she asked softly.
Pippa looked very unsure, her eyes shiny with the threat of tears. “You’re doing so great!” Julia added. “Let’s show this bike who’s boss.”
“Okay.” Pippa’s voice was so little, Julia felt like she might cry, too. Wendell was stationed at the bottom of the driveway, arms crossed, like some kind of sentinel. Did he think he was still in the armed forces? She was thankful that her aunt had not poked her head out the door to check on them. Or, if she had, she’d at least left them alone. It was unlike the busybody. Maybe she choked on her tiny sandwich, Julia thought, smiling to herself.
They went back and forth across the driveway not just once but five more times, until Julia was getting out of breath. Each time Pippa did better. “Okay, break time,” Julia said on the last lap. She bent over, hands on her knees, puffing. “You did good!”
“Mommy taught me,” Pippa said, looking down at the pink streamers that fluttered from her handlebars. Julia ran her hand through them, thinking they felt almost like a horse’s mane.
“I know she did, kiddo. She did a good job.”
At the bottom of the driveway, Wendell lifted a hand and went inside the barn. Julia was still furious with him, but she found herself almost waving back. She wondered what he was doing in Raddy’s barn at this hour and why he’d come.
As they wheeled Pippa’s bike back into the garage, he came out, carrying something in a large black garbage bag. She stood in the driveway, watching as he walked around to the rear of the truck. Once he glanced up at her. What is he doing? she wondered. Then she caught herself. Whatever it was didn’t matter. Raddy was gone. Her parents were gone. Wendell climbed in the truck and started the engine. Let him go, too, she told herself.
The truck headlights went on, and it backed away from the barn. As she watched it go, she realized she didn’t feel the usual sense of loneliness. Instead, an idea sparked. An idea inspired by Jamie Aldeen’s advice. So crazy, and such a long shot, that only a fool would bet on it.
“Hey, Pip,” she called. “It’s still early. What do you say we take your bike back out?” It was no longer about teaching her little sister to ride a bike. Suddenly, it was part of her plan.
Twenty-One Wendell
In the middle of the night, a noise outside startled him awake. Wendell lay in bed on his back, his senses on high alert. It was not unusual for the nocturnal wildlife to make some pretty crazy noises. The scream of a fox or the howl of a coyote could send shivers down a grown man’s spine. He held his breath, listening.
He heard it again. There was a sharp thud below his open window. Wendell slipped silently from his bed, muscles tensed. An evening breeze ruffled the curtains, and he moved quickly to the window, scanning the yard below. His father used to sleep with the front porch lanterns on all night, a sign to the town that he was always there, even in the middle of the night; but Wendell was not his father and did not like to waste electricity, so he’d not continued the practice after his father passed away. Now, squinting down into the inky darkness of the front yard and driveway, he wished he had.
It was probably a racoon messing around with the garbage can lid or some such, but he decided to check it out, just in case. From the floor, he retrieved his T-shirt and pulled it over his head. He was about to walk out the door when he heard a voice. Wendell froze. Yes, it was very clearly a human voice, not the sound of an animal. He turned, retrieved the metal baseball bat he stored under his bed, and headed for the stairs.
His National Guard training had taught him to keep a cool head, to think critically in a flash of a moment, to judge a situation before acting. It was something that had stayed with him all these years after active duty, and he knew it always would. But after Wesley’s death, Wendell had never been able to recoup that sense of dead calm. In its place was doubt: about his timing as well as his judgment. There was no place for doubt in active duty, and after the loss of Wes, it had spelled the end of his military career. Now, as he stood on the bottom step with the bat in hand, images of Afghanistan flooded his mind. The white-hot heat. The desert dust rising up in his nostrils. The thud of bootsteps in sand during morning drills. It didn’t matter that he was in the safety of his own home and not in a war zone; the familiar trickle of doubt began.
Wendell let his eyes adjust as they scanned the windows of the first floor. The sound had come from the front porch area, and he moved toward the front door, ever so lightly so as not to elicit a single creak from the hundred-year-old pine floorboards. As he crept toward the door, he was met with a noise from the other side. Wendell’s blood froze. The desert images came again. He closed his eyes, willing his thoughts to clear, his heart to slow. But they had already gotten away from him.
Outside, there was a sound on the porch floor. Wendell gripped the bat harder and walked up to the door, keeping low. He was about to peer out the keyhole when he heard a voice. “Shhh,” someone said. There was more than one person. He was about to reach for the outdoor light switch when the door handle creaked. Wendell looked down in horror as it began to jiggle back and forth. They were trying to get in, to surprise him. Well, whoever it was had their own surprise coming.
In one fell motion, Wendell flipped the lock, flung the door open, and raised the bat over his shoulder. From the other side of the screen came two screams. Wendell kicked the screen door open and leaped out onto the porch.
Two figures stumbled backward, much smaller than he’d thought. One fell down. Both screamed again. They were female voices, young voices. “Wendell! It’s me.”
Wendell let the bat fall to his side and stepped back, letting his eyes adjust. “Julia?”
* * *
The girls
sat side by side at his mother’s vintage Formica kitchen table, a crocheted blanket draped across their hunched shoulders. There were two steaming cups of tea in front of them, which neither had touched. Wendell reached for the one in front of him. What he really could’ve used was a shot of bourbon, but that wasn’t happening. So he poured honey into his mug and began stirring it with a teaspoon.
“That’s a lot of sugar, you know.”
He looked up. Julia was staring at him. “Sugar? You just tried to break into my house. I almost swung a bat at you, and you’re worried about my sugar?”
She glared back at him. “You scared us half to death.”
“I scared you?” Wendell sat back hard in his chair and laughed. It came out as a sharp bark, and Pippa’s eyes widened. “Sorry,” he said, regaining composure. Then to Julia, “You have some nerve.”
But he regretted it as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He was on high alert, still coming down, and it made him irritable. When he thought of the raised bat over his shoulder and the two little girls tumbling away, he shuddered. It could’ve ended so badly.
Julia picked up her cup of tea and blew on it. She glanced at Pippa, who looked heavy-lidded and exhausted. “Still too hot,” she told her.
Wendell glanced at the wall clock: twelve forty-five a.m. “Does your aunt have any idea where you are?” Looking at the two of them, he already knew the answer.
“She’s sound asleep,” Julia said decisively. She set her teacup down. “We need your help.”
Wendell was set on knowing what on earth could’ve brought them out here in the middle of the night. Whatever it was, it must’ve been bad. But first things first. “We have to call her,” he said, rising and moving toward the old-fashioned phone on the wall. “She at least has to know you’re okay.”
“No!” Julia leaped from her seat and reached for his wrist, almost knocking over her cup of tea. It startled him, and the look on his face must’ve startled her, too, because she let go before he could jerk away instinctively. He was a trained soldier trying to deescalate. She shouldn’t be lunging at him like that. “Please, not yet. Let’s talk first.”
It went against his better judgment, but the night was already out of control, so he found himself sitting back down reluctantly. “You’ve got five minutes, and then we call her. I can’t risk her thinking you’re missing or maybe worse. It’s not right.” He didn’t add the next thought that occurred to him: two little girls from the family he worked for, alone with him in his house in the middle of the night. He winced. “Hurry up and tell me, please.”
Julia leaned forward, lacing her fingers together. Despite her young age, it was an authoritative posture of a person with far more years and confidence. “I have a proposal.”
“Shoot,” he said. Beside her, Pippa took a loud slurpy sip of her tea and smiled, shyly, across the table. “Want some honey?” he asked her. She nodded.
Before he could pass it, Julia grabbed the honey from him and thunked it down in front of her sister. “Are you listening?” she asked him. “Because this is important.”
“Yes.” Wendell sighed. “Go on.”
“You’ve heard my aunt’s plan for White Pines.”
It stung, being reminded. Wendell nodded.
“And you liked working there, yes?”
“I do. I still work there.”
“Not for long,” Julia said.
He couldn’t argue that. She paused, glancing around the farmhouse kitchen. “This is… homey, I suppose,” she said in a tone that sounded like she was being generous.
Wendell frowned. “What does my house have anything to do with your being here?”
Julia lifted one shoulder. “It has potential,” she went on as though she hadn’t heard a thing he’d said. “Anyway, I know White Pines is your only job.”
“For now.”
“My father liked you. You’re a good caretaker. He never would have let you go from this, your one job.” Her blue eyes were steely with intention.
“Can you please get to the point?”
Julia glanced sideways at Pippa, whose head was tipped back, her nose in the teacup, as she drained it. “You know what ‘caretaker’ means, right?”
Wendell was losing patience. “Julia, I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
She rushed on. “It means ‘taking care.’ How would you feel staying on at White Pines and taking care of it for good?”
“That sounds nice, but it’s not possible.”
Julia shook her head, a slow smile creeping across her face. “But it is. You can stay on at White Pines and continue to take care of it. With one condition.”
Wendell had a bad feeling. “Which is?”
She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. “You take care of us, too.”
Wendell couldn’t help it. He laughed. Loudly. And as soon as he did, he found he couldn’t stop.
Julia’s expression soured. “What? What exactly is so funny?”
Wendell wasn’t sure if it was humor or relief or the two mixed together with the late hour and the frightening close call they’d all just had. But he couldn’t stop laughing.
“This is not funny,” Julia said, pushing her chair back. “This is serious. I’m serious.”
Wendell had to turn away, he was laughing so hard. “I’m sorry,” he managed finally. “It’s just… I don’t know. Ridiculous.”
Julia scowled at him. “Ridiculous? This is my life.” Gone was the decisive and demanding young woman who’d been seated across the table as if it were her house and she were interviewing him for a job. Her lower lip trembled. Sensing a turn, Pippa looked between the two of them anxiously. If he weren’t careful, her lip would start, too.
“Wait, I’m sorry,” Wendell said, pulling his chair back in. “I don’t think that at all. It’s just… I was your dad’s caretaker for a property. For barns and fields.”
“And orchards and trees and, to some extent, Radcliffe. All living things. Things that require taking care of.”
“Yes. But that’s not the same as people. Especially little people.”
“I’m not little. In three years, I’ll be eighteen, the same as you and your brother when you could enlist.”
The mention of Wesley caught him. This girl knew far more than he realized. “Three years is a long time,” he said softly. So much could happen in three years. The time it took to do basic training and be deployed to Afghanistan. For a soldier to be killed in action. To bury a brother and, not long after, a father. Wendell swallowed hard.
But Julia was not letting up. “Look, according to my lawyer, we need a guardian. And from what I learned about my trust, there may be enough money for me to keep White Pines—if I can find a guardian.” She stared at him, waiting for it to sink in. “You need White Pines to keep your job. Everyone wins.”
Wendell shook his head. So she’d gotten herself a lawyer. He was unsurprised, maybe even impressed. “Why now, in the middle of the night?”
“Because I don’t want my aunt to know about this. And we’re running out of time.”
“Julia, you were furious with me a few days ago. Now you want me to live with you?”
She glared back at him. “That’s exactly what I want.”
Unable to stand the look in her eyes, he rose. Wendell could feel her desperation, and it was affecting. It was also not lost on him what a touching request she was making. But there was simply no way.
“Look, I can cook, I can take care of Pippa, and I can do laundry. All we need is an adult who can take care of White Pines so we can stay there. That’s all.”
“That’s all?” He had to be firm, right here and right now, and not let this runaway idea take them any further down the road. “Julia, you have that person. It’s Candace—”
“I hate her!” she snapped, eyes ablaze. “Look what she’s done. Stealing Raddy. Selling our home. Taking us away to a place we’ve never even been.”
This was getting too heated
. Julia was livid, and Pippa looked like she might cry. It was time to get them back home, even if it was the last thing they wanted. But Julia was not done.
“Do you know Pippa rode her bike all the way here tonight? In the dark! She just learned to ride a bike yesterday. It took us an hour to get here.” Julia tugged Pippa’s hand lightly, and Pippa stood up. For the first time, Wendell noticed her right knee was skinned. There was a long red scrape covered with dirt.
“Pippa, you’re hurt?” He knelt beside her, examining it. When he looked up, she was eye level. Her eyes were cornflower blue, just like her dad’s. Wendell felt his throat tighten. “Can I help you clean it? I’ll be gentle, I promise.”
In the bathroom medicine cabinet, he found the small first-aid kit. It was a leather pouch, the same one his mother had kept all those years ago for the family. How many times had he and Wesley torn through it looking for Band-Aids?
He brought the kit out to the kitchen, but Julia held out her hand. “I’ll do it.”
Wendell handed her the kit and stood by, watching. Julia was so tender and so thorough. “You could be a nurse,” he told her.
“Or a doctor.”
He grimaced. “Or a doctor.”
Pippa whimpered once as Julia ran an alcohol swab cloth over the knee, but that was all. “Very brave,” he told her.
Before she stood up, Julia kissed Pippa’s knee. “All better.” Then she rose and handed the pouch back to him. “Thanks.”
As he reached for it, she hung on. “Think about what I said,” she urged. Her eyes were a mix of steel and something else: fear, he thought. “Please.” Then she let go.
“We should call your aunt,” Wendell said.
“Not necessary. We’re leaving now.”
It was almost one thirty in the morning. “It’s too far, and it’s not safe. Let me give you a ride.”
“We don’t need your help,” Julia said, taking Pippa’s hand. “Thank you for the tea.” As if they’d just come to visit on a summer day instead of attempting a break-in during the middle of the night.
Message in the Sand Page 18
