Tremolo

by Aaron Paul Lazar

  Elsbeth appeared beside me seconds later.

  “You’re a rotten egg,” Siegfried shouted.

  Elsbeth stuck out her tongue. “You smell like rotten eggs!”

  Laughing, I stroked toward the dock. “We’re both rotten eggs. We jumped in at the same time.”

  Elsbeth shot me a grateful look and dog-paddled to the ladder.

  I reached up for my mask and slid it snugly over my face. With one deep breath, I ducked back under the water, pushing past the slimy green post. With fascination, I examined the small rocks shimmering on the sandy lakebed, never tiring of the way they looked in this watery, magical world.

  Still underwater, I emerged on the other side, loving the shafts of sunlight filtering through the water that danced over the ripples of sand. I swam lazily down to the bottom and poked around at a mussel. A muddy cloud swirled above it when I plucked it out of the sand. Almost out of breath, I stood in the chest deep water and inhaled a lungful of air. Just like skipping a stone, I chucked the mussel into deeper waters, knowing its sharp-edged shell wouldn’t cut anyone’s feet that far out.

  I lay back in the water, floating on my back, still wearing my mask. The view of the sky was distorted through the foggy lens. Breathing gently through my mouth, I retreated into the private floating world that was mine, thinking of lost boats, penny candy, and finally of Sharon Adamski.

  Aside from the times the twins’ stern father punished them, I’d never been exposed to a child who was hurt by a parent. Hurt so badly that they bled. I’d seen handprints on Siegfried’s thigh after a particularly bad swat, but it had always been swiftly administered. He was never chased by a drunken father through the woods at night.

  Sharon’s face loomed above in the clouds that raced across the sky. Her blond hair trailed behind her, wispy and wild. Her wide, frightened eyes called to me. I wanted to talk to the twins about it, but didn’t want to frighten them. Especially Elsbeth. It wasn’t that she was weak or needed coddling. She was a strong girl. But the urge to stand between her and danger struck me frequently. I didn’t want to see her hurt.

  My reveries were interrupted by a swirl of water currents when something swam beneath me. I righted myself, touching bottom. Siegfried surfaced with a grin. I pushed the mask up and grinned back at him. He cupped his hand over the water and splashed me. I returned the favor, and we repeated the process a dozen times, laughing hysterically.

  “Gus?” Elsbeth called from the other side of the dock.

  I held up a hand to stop Sig from shooting yet another wave at my face. “Yeah?”

  “May I use your fins?”

  “Sure. Just tighten the straps on the back, otherwise they’ll fall off your little feet.”

  I was about to swim under the dock to show her what I meant when my grandfather appeared at the shore, holding a push broom. “Hey, kids.”

  I swam to the ladder and waited for him.

  Elsbeth and Siegfried joined me, their faces bright with expectation. Grandpa always had a treat or a story to share and had practically adopted the twins as his own grandchildren.

  “Havin’ a good swim, kids?” He set the broom down and sat on the dock to light his pipe. The bottoms of his heavy black shoes almost touched the water.

  “We sure are,” I said.

  “Ja,” Sig said. The twins joined me in a semi-circle around him and we watched him expectantly.

  He puffed several times on the pipe to get it going, and then looked out across the lake thoughtfully. “I was just about to sweep the porch and the sundeck when I had a vision.”

  “What was it, Mr. LeGarde?” Elsbeth asked.

  He puffed on his pipe and raised one hand to the horizon, as if seeing a mirage.

  “I saw three young pups with brooms, sweeping the sundeck and porches every day. I saw them digging night crawlers for guests, and catching crayfish for bait. They worked awfully hard to earn the right to use my Starcraft.”

  My heart began to pound. I stared at the aluminum boat moored at the next dock over. Could it be? Would he really let us use his boat?

  Elsbeth spoke up first. “Was it two boys and a girl you saw, Mr. LeGarde?”

  He winked at me. I returned a broad grin.

  “Yep,” he tamped his pipe again and relit it. “It was you three, all right. Think you’re up for it?”

  We began chattering about digging the most worms that he’d ever seen. We’d bring buckets of crayfish back from the stream by Anderson’s store and sweep every single pine needle from the decks.

  “Okay, then.” He got up, grunting when he put weight on his bad knee. “Promise to come directly home if the weather turns and wear one of those life jackets whenever you’re out. If you can do that, we’ve got a deal.” He motioned to the new orange life jackets hanging on nails beneath the porch roof.

  We nodded gravely, promising to follow the rules, elated that our lakeside grounding had been revoked in this most surprising manner. He propped the broom up against the side of the sundeck, then called back over his shoulder to me. “Gus?”

  I pulled myself up the ladder. “Yes, Grandpa?”

  “Your mother says lunch in twenty minutes, son. Don’t keep her waiting.”

  “Okay. I won’t. Thanks, Grandpa.” I waved to him, grabbing my towel. I wanted to be first to sweep the sun deck.

  He waved over his shoulder and ambled back up the hill.

  Chapter 10

  We sat at the picnic table on the Wee Castle porch. I’d wolfed down two grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches and drained three glasses of chocolate milk and finally felt full.

  Across from me, my father sat staring at the lake, lost in a world of his own. He absentmindedly wiped a crumb from the corner of his mouth and let out a sad sigh. He and Oscar had spent the morning with the rest of the volunteers searching for Sharon Adamski. They hadn’t found her.

  “Another sandwich, Gus?” my mother asked.

  “No thanks, Ma. I’m stuffed.” I burped and received a raised eyebrow from her. “Excuse me.”

  My father continued to look off into the distance. I wondered if he was thinking about Sharon.

  “Dad?”

  He refocused and turned to me. “Yes, son?”

  “Is it okay if I go to Andersons’ with William at one o’clock?”

  He looked at my mother, who tentatively nodded her approval. “I guess so, Gus. Be careful, though. Stick close to William.”

  “The twins are going, too, Dad. We’ll all stay together.”

  I reached over the table for the pitcher of milk and poured another half glass, swirling the dregs of the chocolate until it turned pinkish brown. “Dad? Can I have my allowance?”

  My father straightened and then reached into his pocket to pull out fifteen cents. “It’s ‘may I,’ Gus. And yes, you may have it. Here you go, don’t spend it all in one place.” He dropped the warm coins into my hand. “By the way, we’re going to Oakland Monday. Your mother needs some fabric, and there’s a movie I’d like to see.”

  I looked at my mother, then back at my father. Excitement welled inside me. “Really? A movie?” The last time we’d gone to the movie theater had been for Disney’s “Sleeping Beauty” several years ago.

  “Really,” my mother said, smiling indulgently.

  “That’s fab,” I said, mimicking the language the waitresses used during breakfast.

  My father raised his eyebrows and exchanged glances with my mother. “Fab?”

  I jumped up from my chair when I spotted the twins emerging from their cabin.

  “Bring your dishes inside first, son,” he said.

  I’d nearly escaped. I stopped dead in my tracks, ran back to collect my plate, glass and the pitcher of milk, and then scurried around the table and into the kitchen. I set the dishes in the sink and slid the pitcher onto the top shelf of the Frigidaire. Without missing a beat, I flew out of the cabin just in time to meet the twins halfway, whistling to Shadow. As usual, the screen door slammed behind m
e.

  Chapter 11

  We walked four abreast, swinging our arms and chattering about Sharon, the mysterious guest, and William’s big tip. William found walking sticks for each of us. Mine was an old dried pine branch with a knob at the top for easy gripping. I jabbed it into the dirt road and pulled myself forward with each step.

  Elsbeth wore white shorts and a yellow and white striped shirt; a turquoise bandana covered her curls. It was tied behind her neck, under her hair.

  She looked at me mischievously. “Let’s… do… William!”

  Without hesitation, Siegfried and I joined her in the popular name game based on a song we heard on the radio. William looked on indulgently.

  “William, William, bo Billiam. Banana Panna po Pilliam. Fee Fie mo Milliam… William.”

  William wrinkled his brow and looked at us. “It’s much better with Bill,” he said. “Let’s do Bill.”

  We nodded and laughed enthusiastically.

  “Bill Bill, bo Bill. Banana Panna po Pill. Fee Fie, mo Mill, Bill.”

  Siegfried shouted, “Let’s do Gus!”

  I knew this was his favorite and chimed in with him, emphasizing the best words as we skipped along the dirt road together.

  “Gus, Gus, bo bus. Banana Panna, po PUS. Fee Fie, mo Mus, Gus!” we shrieked.

  Elsbeth laughed and covered her mouth. Her brown eyes sparkled beneath long lashes. “Gross,” she laughed. “Pus.”

  We’d walked for about fifteen minutes when we came to the blueberry farm. Although the woods were filled with wild berries, the large, easy-to-pick cultivated berries were quite popular with the locals. A number of cars had parked in the field by the gray shed.

  William stroked his thumb and forefinger along his chin as he looked into the field. “Hmmm,” he said, eyeing the berries growing on the other side of the stone wall. “There’s nothing like those big warm berries, fresh from the bush…they just about melt in your mouth.”

  We looked over to the field and then back at him.

  “Doesn’t it cost a lot?” I asked. My parents would never pay for berries when they could send me out to the woods behind Wee Castle to gather those that grew free.

  “Yeah. It’s way too much,” he said, “but I have an idea. Who’s up for an adventure?”

  His eyes glinted conspiratorially. He peered down at us from his towering height of five feet, ten inches. He grinned, explaining the plan with his arms swinging rapidly. “One of these nights, we’ll get up after everyone’s asleep. We’ll sneak up here and help ourselves to some of these berries. They won’t miss ‘em, I guarantee ya.”

  My heart beat faster. Sneaking out without permission, violating the No Trespassing sign, and stealing. It felt so foreign…yet there was an element of excitement that was strangely appealing. I exchanged glances with the twins, noting their eyes sparkled bright with excitement.

  We continued past the blueberry farm and plunged back into the pinewoods. Shadow ran before us with his nose to the dusty ground.

  “William, tell us again about the model you’re going to buy,” Elsbeth said when the conversation waned.

  He looked at her and smiled. A dreamy look stole across his face. He put one hand on her shoulder and waved the other across the sky. “It’s a 1955 Ford Thunderbird. Convertible. I’m going to paint it metallic green.”

  We all looked at William in admiration.

  “Metallic green?” I repeated. “Keen.”

  William nodded in self-satisfaction. The crunch of tires around the bend warned us of an oncoming vehicle. The twins jumped to the side of the road and leaned against a massive granite boulder, waiting for it to approach.

  I ran forward, grabbed Shadow’s collar, and squatted down beside him. There were several cars kicking up the dust. The lead car—a dark, late model Oldsmobile—held occupants dressed in dark suits. The middle car was a larger, older model Packard.

  We waved, craning to see who sat inside. The driver nodded politely when he rolled past. Because the rear windows were tinted, it was impossible to see who was in the back seat. Another dark sedan followed close behind, and then disappeared around the bend.

  William leapt back into the road and turned to watch the procession. He lifted his wristwatch to his face and frowned. “If that’s who I think it is,” he said, “they’re early. “It’s only one-thirty. Your grandmother’s gonna have a fit. She was expecting them at three o’clock.”

  “Who is it?” I asked, nudging him in the side.

  “Oh, I don’t know who it is, but it’s someone very important. It’s all very hush-hush.”

  We stood watching for a long time, contemplating the possibilities. I suggested that it might be the Beatles, and Siegfried guessed Queen Elizabeth.

  We neared Mr. Anderson’s farmhouse, a well kept white A-frame. Mrs. Anderson’s nasturtiums tumbled out of flower boxes lining the small porch, and the lawn had just been mowed. The small green barn and post-and-board paddock was home to two horses. I craned my neck to see if they were still there. I couldn’t see them and guessed that they must be inside the barn. Last summer Mr. Anderson let us exercise them and we had a fantastic time, riding bareback through the logging roads and along the lake trails. I’d seen him twice since we’d arrived, anxious for another invitation to ride, but he’d been busy with customers each time, and hadn’t yet mentioned a word about the horses.

  We cut across the grassy meadow bordering the Andersons’ field. Elsbeth stopped along the way to pick handfuls of wildflowers. Siegfried and I helped her, finding Queen Anne’s lace, black-eyed Susans, and daisies. She picked tall fuzzy-stemmed flowers that resembled dandelions. I never knew what they were called. They grew in clumps of yellow, rust, and orange. As we walked through the meadow, a large monarch butterfly floated and circled around us, flitting from flower to flower. The afternoon sun shone down on our heads with pleasant warmth, and we chatted amiably about what we planned to purchase with the coins that jingled in our pockets.

  When we finally reached the store, we were thirsty and tired and automatically headed for the stools lining the ice cream counter. Shadow sneaked inside the screen door just before it slammed shut. His toenails clicked across the wide wooden floorboards and he followed us across the room. An overhead fan circulated air that blew gently across my face and hair.

  William pulled the five-dollar bill from his leather-tooled wallet and smiled when he plunked it down on the counter.

  Mr. Anderson finished ringing up the lady at the cash register and finally wandered over to us. “Well, well, well. Lookee here. It’s the Loon Harbor gang.” He wiped his hands on a white apron and glanced down at the five-dollar bill with surprise.

  “Hi, Mr. A,” William said. “Four sodas, please. It’s on me today. I got a heck of a tip this morning.”

  My head snapped in his direction and I quickly calculated that I’d be able to buy candy and comic books if William covered the five cents for my orangeade. I couldn’t believe it.

  Elsbeth smiled broadly, immediately ordering a grape soda. Siegfried stuck to his usual root beer, and William ordered Coca Cola.

  “That’ll be twenty cents.”

  We lounged on the stools, sipping soda from glass bottles with bendy straws and idly discussing which types of candy we should buy.

  A group of men came through the front door looking tired and bedraggled.

  I called Shadow closer and held his collar tightly. His nose twitched in the air and he strained to get closer to them. “Shadow, sit.” He reluctantly obeyed, disappointed eyes raised to mine.

  The men milled around for a while, discussing the search for Sharon Adamski. They spoke of the search area, and I realized they hadn’t yet begun to search the west side of the lake where we had seen her the night before. It was an hour away from Black Bear Point.

  I hailed Mr. Anderson and whispered in his ear, telling him what we’d seen. He spoke to the man who appeared to be the leader of the group. Shaking his head, the man glanced at u
s, saying something under his breath to Mr. Anderson. They left after a few minutes, purchasing a case of soda, flashlight batteries, and cigarettes.

  “Seems the girl’s father, Mr. Adamski, says she went missing over by their cabin at The Willows campground. It’s not where you kids say you saw her. They’ve been going by the police report, Gus. They’re searching around Black Bear Point first.”

  I looked up in shock, exchanging glances with Elsbeth and Siegfried. “But they might not find her there,” I said slowly.

  Mr. Anderson scratched his bald spot on the top of his head and adjusted his apron straps. “I’ll have a talk with the sheriff when he comes in later, son. I’m sure they’ll find her soon.”

  Elsbeth piped up, her eyes looking very serious. “What happens to her when they do find her, Mr. Anderson?”

  Siegfried echoed her question. “Ja, what happens to her?”

  Mr. Anderson picked up a damp rag and wiped down the counter as he spoke. “Well, I imagine she’ll be returned to her family. That would seem to be the right thing now, wouldn’t it?”

  We all exchanged worried glances. She’d been running from Mr. Adamski as if from the devil himself.

  “Don’t you kids go worrying about this, now. Why don’t you stop by one of these days and take the ponies out? They’re getting too fat.”

  “Really?” I said, thrilled that he’d finally offered.

  “Ayah. You kids are welcome to come over and take them out anytime.”

  The mood lightened as Siegfried, Elsbeth and I exchanged excited glances. I tilted my bottle of orange soda and downed the last of it quickly. The cold, fizzy beverage ran down my throat, completely quenching my thirst. Setting the heavy bottle on the counter, I hopped down from the stool and walked over to the penny candy counter, followed closely by the twins. I chose a string of rock candy, a pack of Teaberry gum, two fireballs, and a stick of licorice. As the twins picked out their own selections of penny candy, I wandered over to the comics and found the newest editions of Richie Rich and Superman. Toying with both of them, I finally picked the former, knowing that Elsbeth enjoyed it as much as I did.