I watched her standing in the doorway, and had a sudden thought. She was definitely the prettiest woman in the whole wide world.
Chapter 15
Wedged between Siegfried and Elsbeth on the hearth bricks, I stuffed two more marshmallows onto the stripped willow branch and held it in the fire.
“Gus,” my mother reprimanded, “hold it over the coals so it’ll melt. See how Elsbeth does it?”
Elsbeth seemed pleased that she’d noticed and a little smirk crept onto her lips.
My marshmallows burst into a flaming ball of confection. “I love them burnt, Mum. It’s okay.”
I turned the flaming marshmallows around carefully so that they’d be cooked equally on all sides, and then carefully pulled the stick out of the fire and blew out the flames. My father arched an eyebrow over the Life magazine he was reading; probably afraid I’d set the place on fire. The marshmallow bag was almost empty. I lost count of how many I ate. I was stuffed. Overstuffed. But I forged onward. I removed the crispy black layer and popped it in my mouth. After crunching up the charcoal sugary coating, I went after the sticky soft insides, chewing and licking them from the branch. Siegfried sat beside me.
He devoured his last marshmallow moments earlier and looked rather gray.
My mother finally put an end to the party. Elsbeth went home, slightly mollified, and Siegfried and I prepared for bed. We changed into our pajamas and brushed our teeth, and then braved the night. We crept outside to the well pump to refill the bucket in the bathroom.
Finally, we settled into bed with Shadow snuggled between us. I gave Siegfried the good pillow and took the flat one for myself, doubling it up under my head to provide some height for talking. A gentle wind blew and the sound of the lapping water beneath the floorboards was comforting.
“Gus?” he whispered, starting the conversation.
“Yeah?”
“Was it scary out in the woods today?”
I remembered the chilling fear. “Yeah, it was. I kinda panicked, I guess. I was lost, and then I fell, and it was raining…”
We were quiet for a while.
“I didn’t want to ask you in front of the others. But you looked pretty scared when we found you.”
“Thanks,” I whispered. I meant it. I changed the topic to the thoughts uppermost in my brain. “What do you think Sharon’s doing now?”
Siegfried rolled onto his side and leaned on one elbow, scratching a mosquito bite on his arm.
“I don’t know. Maybe sleeping under a pile of leaves?”
I lay on my back and pictured her with her long, wispy blond hair and her frightened eyes. “Do you think she built a shelter? Maybe out of branches and sticks? She could weave them together and make a roof.”
Shadow wiggled closer and laid his head on my arm. I automatically stroked his
smooth coat.
“Ja. She could make a bed of grass and ferns. She could pile them up really high. It might be comfortable.”
I pictured her lying beside the big boulder under a tent of branches on a soft bed of ferns. I imagined her eating the licorice stick I’d left and snuggling under a sleeping bag she’d found in someone’s barn. My eyes began to feel heavy and the image comforted me.
The first sensation of drowsiness washed over me. I fought it hard. “Tomorrow we’ll bring her some real food,” I said with conviction.
Siegfried’s voice was also thick with fatigue. “Okay. Maybe we can take the ponies. Elsbeth’s dying to ride again.” Siegfried lay back down on his pillow. His right arm twitched in a pre-sleep spasm; his eyes closed and his mouth fell partially open.
“Good idea,” I whispered. I drifted off to a heavy sleep.
Chapter 16
I raced across the grassy field with arms outstretched. A familiar sensation hit me: weightlessness. It blossomed through my body, filling me with euphoria unparalleled in waking hours. I leaned forward, my feet lifted off the ground, and glided over the earth, toes brushing against the tips of timothy. The earth rushed beneath me. Willing myself higher and higher, I flew through the air, circling my friends, who gazed up at me in wonder. The breeze fluttered on my face and I closed my eyes in exhilaration.
Waking slowly, I lay back in bed, still feeling the wind whooshing gently against my cheeks. Stirring in semi-sleep, I figured the feeling must have lingered from the dream and I savored it. I loved this recurring dream.
Feeling around on the bed for Shadow, I found him under the covers to my left.
Siegfried’s soft snoring created a syncopated rhythm with the waves on the shore beneath the bedroom floor. I smiled, proud that I remembered the term Mr. Olsen had covered during our spring term of piano lessons.
A gentle scrabbling whispered against the side of my face. Puzzled, I opened one eye in the pinkish-gray predawn light.
Something moved on the headboard.
I froze and whispered urgently to Siegfried. “Sig, wake up.”
He didn’t move. I shoved him. He stirred, but didn’t wake. I kicked him and yelled, “Gosh darn it, wake up!”
He didn’t open his eyes, but mumbled under the blankets.
I couldn’t move, afraid to disturb whatever it was on the headboard that brushed against my cheek. I hoped it was a bird that had flown down the chimney, but had a sinking feeling I was wrong. “What is that?” I whispered, tugging the blankets from his body.
He finally raised unfocused eyes to mine. Instantly, they widened in fear. He rolled off the bed, gesturing frantically toward my face. “Mein Gott. Eine Fledermaus!”
No longer frozen in place, I turned to see the wings of a bat fluttering beside me. I leapt from the bed and jumped onto the cold floor beside Siegfried.
Shadow raised his head beneath the covers and started to bark. Caught under the blankets, he became a comical canine lump, circling and barking on my bed.
I heard bed springs creak and guessed my father had just jumped out of bed. I was right. Seconds later, his footsteps pounded across the floorboards and he burst into the room.
“Boys? What’s wrong?” He stared at us wearing red-and-white polka dotted undershorts and a white tee shirt.
We darted behind him, yelling and pointing at the headboard.
“Over there, it’s a bat,” I said.
He switched on the light and backed up a step when he saw it. “Where’s your butterfly net, son?” he said in a low whisper.
“On the porch.”
Without waiting to be asked, Siegfried and I ran to the porch. I grabbed the net, spun around, and we raced back through the door. I tossed it to my father.
My mother appeared in the bedroom door wearing a white slip. “What is it, André?” She slid into one of Dad’s flannel shirts and tugged it around her.
“Watch out, Gloria. It’s a bat.” My father ducked when the creature flew past him into the living room.
We ran toward my mother, who yelped in surprise and shoved us into the bedroom behind her. She slammed the door and we leaned against it, crouching behind her and breathing hard.
My father cursed. It sounded as if he collided with a piece of furniture.
My mother raised an eyebrow and called through the door. “André? Are you okay?”
His footsteps echoed as he ran across the room. “Hold on a minute, Gloria. I almost got him.”
I waited behind my mother and exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Siegfried. The bravado I showed earlier in the face of distant bats evaporated. Shadow’s barking grew louder. I guessed that he’d escaped from the blankets.
“Gosh darn it!” my father yelled. It sounded as if he tripped and went down hard.
She opened the door a crack and peered into the living room. “André?” she said timidly.
He didn’t answer immediately.
She opened the door another inch. “André? Are you all right?”
“It’s okay, Gloria. I’ve got him. You can come out now.”
She opened the door slowly. We peered around h
er. Dad lay in a heap on the floor, the net grasped firmly in his hands. The bat wiggled inside the mesh. Dad’s feet were tangled in my bed sheet. Beneath him, Shadow circled and plaintively bayed beneath the sheet, resembling a beagle-ghost. He poked his nose against the fabric and tried to bulldoze his way out.
A laugh gurgled in my throat. My mother raised her hand to her mouth. She tried to control herself, but couldn’t do it and burst into laughter, leaning against the doorframe.
Siegfried and I joined in, holding our stomachs and wiping the tears from our eyes as we whooped and hollered.
My father’s mouth twitched. “What? What’s so funny?” he said, rearranging his polka dotted shorts to a more seemly position.
He leaned over and released Shadow from the sheet.
The dog burst out and raced around the room in circles, yapping happily. I ran to him and shushed him, remembering that the rest of the camp was probably still asleep.
Dad got up slowly, holding the net carefully so that the bat wouldn’t escape. “Do you boys wanna see the little fella before I release him?”
I looked at Siegfried. He nodded nervously. We crept forward and peered at the net.
The bat was the size of a mouse with short gray fur. His legs and arms were tiny matchsticks, attached in multiple places to a fine, black material spread between them. It reminded me of my mother’s nylons she hung over the shower rod at home. He wiggled inside the net.
Siegfried and I jumped back.
“See, boys? He’s really harmless. Gloria? Do you want to take a look?”
My mother shook her head. “No thanks, honey. Not this time.” She closed the bedroom door firmly.
My father smiled, shrugged, and walked out to the porch. He spread the ends of the net open so that the bat could fly away. We watched through the screen door as he jiggled it a little to encourage the bat to release his hold. “Come on, little fella. You’re free now. Go on. That’s right.”
I watched my father standing in his bare feet and underwear and marveled at his bravery. Finally, the bat flew away, swooping off into the treetops. I looked at my Mickey Mouse watch. It was 4:45 in the morning.
“Okay, boys. It’s all over. Back to bed with you, now.”
We scrambled back into the bedroom. My bare feet felt frozen.
Dad picked up the sheet and remade the bed. Siegfried and I helped him with the corners, then we climbed back in and snuggled under the covers. My father leaned over, about to kiss my forehead.
I shot him a mortified look, stopping him in his tracks. He smiled and ruffled my hair instead.
“Night, boys. See you in a few hours.”
Chapter 17
I slapped the fifth peanut butter and jelly sandwich together and cut it in half with a butter knife. Nearby, Oscar Stone sat in his usual kitchen chair speaking with my parents.
“So, have you seen much of our new guest, Oscar?” my mother asked. Her voice was soft and muted, almost a whisper.
Oscar lifted his coffee mug to his lips, glancing at me over the rim. His eyes followed me, watching me stuffed food into my father’s old canvas rucksack. I’d packed enough for lunch and extra for Sharon. He arched one eyebrow.
“It’s for me and the twins for our picnic lunch,” I said, motioning to the bulging bag.
“I see. Good planning, Gus.” He smiled, but lowered his voice when he turned back to my parents. “She sat on her porch last night with Odette. They talked for a long time.”
My father took a sip of coffee. “They go back a long way, Oscar. Childhood friends.”
Oscar glanced at me and then continued in a soft voice. “Her, ah, her guardians are staying in the little cabin right beside us. They take eight hour shifts.”
I looked up with interest. “Guardians?”
My mother shot Oscar a warning and rose quickly from her chair. “Oh, honey, don’t you worry about that. Have you got enough food for lunch? How about some apples? I have a new box of Twinkies, too.”
It worked. The mention of Twinkies distracted me from the topic of the mysterious guest and I happily dumped half the box into the sack.
“Planning a long day in the wild?” Oscar’s bright blue eyes twinkled. He smoothed a stray lock of pale blond hair.
My father smiled over the Sunday paper, rustling it when he turned the page and answered for me. “The children are going riding today. Mr. Anderson has offered his horses again for the summer. Isn’t that grand?”
My mother took her seat and briskly buttered her toast. “And don’t forget to sweep today, if you still plan to borrow Grandpa’s boat.”
“I won’t, Mum. We’re gonna do it this afternoon when we get back.”
She nodded approval and took a crunchy bite.
“Would you like a ride to the Andersons’ barn? Millie and I are heading up to church in a bit,” Oscar offered, peering out the window in the direction of Number Fifteen. His attention wasn’t on me, or the kitchen, or my parents. He stared as if he couldn’t tear his eyes from the cabin next door.
I nodded, noting he was dressed in his Sunday best suit. “That would be swell, Mr. Stone. Thanks.”
Tightening the cap on the thermos full of cherry Kool-Aid, I slid it into the sack and swung the bag over my shoulder. The Marggranders’ cabin door slammed shut, signaling the imminent arrival of the twins.
“We’ll meet you at the top of the hill,” I said, and flew out of the house to meet the twins.
Chapter 18
Siegfried and Elsbeth leapt from their porch steps and ran to greet me. Siegfried carried a bulging leather bag with a long shoulder strap. We linked arms and trotted up the hill in tandem.
“Did you bring the blanket?” I asked.
“Ja,” Siegfried answered.
He seemed distracted. I followed his gaze, and noticed he was staring into Number Fifteen.
“It’s just an old lady and her cat, according to my parents. Nothin’ too exciting. She’s a good friend of my grandmother’s.”
Elsbeth pointed to one of the front windows. “Look!”
A colossal cream-colored Persian cat slept on the windowsill inside the house. He watched us with round copper eyes. He reminded me of the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland. As I watched him watching us, I decided the similarity had to do with the self-satisfied glint in his eyes.
We reached the top of the hill, piling our knapsacks into the back seat of the Stones’ car. The oversized sedan easily fit three in front and four in back. William and Oscar arrived, supporting Millie between them. She walked slowly, smiling as she approached.
I opened the front door for her. William helped her slide onto the seat and the twins climbed in back. She wore a pastel flowered dress, white gloves, white shoes, and a hat decorated with dried flowers and berries. A long hatpin fastened it to her tight black curls.
“Thank you, Gus,” she said, settling in the seat.
The aroma of roses filled the air from her favorite scent, Summer Rose. We’d given her a large powder box last Christmas. I closed the door carefully after she pulled her dress inside.
“Hello, twins. How are you? You haven’t come to visit me in a while.”
Elsbeth piped up. “We thought you didn’t feel well, Mrs. Stone.”
Her brother jabbed her with his elbow. She frowned and rubbed her ribs, hissing fiercely at him. “Well, we did.”
I slid in beside William. Millie slowly swiveled around in her seat. “You’re right, sweetheart. I did have a few bad days, but I’m feeling much better now and I’d love to see you.”
Siegfried leaned forward. “How about tomorrow?”
Millie smoothed her gloves and nodded. “That would work out just fine. Why don’t you three come for lunch?”
“I’m going to Oakland with my folks tomorrow, Mrs. Stone,” I said apologetically.
“That’s okay, honey. We’ll do it another time. Meanwhile, the twins will keep me company.”
William tugged at his starched collar and tie.
His hair was slicked back with a spicy hair tonic and he looked quite spiffy in his shined Sunday shoes. Although we attended the East Goodland Methodist church quite regularly during the school year, my parents took the summer off when we stayed at Loon Harbor. I hadn’t been to church in weeks.
The back seat cushion was deep and roomy. We were enfolded in comfort in the old car, barely feeling the bumps in the road as Oscar drove us to the Andersons’ barn.
Chapter 19
The cavernous white barn needed a paint job, but was in good shape. I pictured the cows of yesteryear tethered for their morning milking and almost smelled their aroma standing there in the cool barn. The Andersons gave up the dairy farm for their small country store long ago. Two box stalls stood on the far end of the aisle for the “ponies,” as Mr. Anderson called them.
With doors that opened into the pasture, the horses were able to seek shelter at will. Mr. Anderson fed them simply by tossing their hay over the stall walls and dumping the scoop of grain into buckets hanging on the inner walls. A short hose ran from the spigot to the stalls, which made filling the water buckets easy. It was a very practical set-up.
We set our bags on the floor and reached for two lead ropes hanging on nails near the stalls. Elsbeth grabbed the braided leather lead and I took the frayed white rope. We headed out into the field through one of the stall doors.
Although Mr. Anderson referred to his pets as ponies, they were full-sized horses. The Count of Monte Cristo, or Monty, as we called him, was a broad black-and-white pinto with a thick black mane and wide-set eyes. He stood at fifteen hands, a full two inches taller than official pony dimensions and the size of most average pleasure horses.
The twins usually rode him double. His docile personality and gentle gaits were his most noteworthy features. Siegfried and Elsbeth headed toward Monty. He raised his head from the pasture with interest.
My faithful steed was Sir Galahad. Sir was a palomino with a wide blaze, four white socks, and a white mane and tail. He stood at fifteen and a half hands and was a bit more spirited than Monty. Both animals were well-nourished. Their coats shone in the morning sun, courtesy of the special wheat germ oil that Mr. Anderson sprinkled on their grain.
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