The second thing that was great about visiting Grandma’s house was the shed. It used to stand right over there. You could easily see it from any widow in that corner of the house. It was surrounded by huge trees. During one December storm a long time ago, one of those trees fell smack on top of that shed, so it’s not there anymore. And really, that’s what it was. It was just a shed: no lights, no windows, one door. The door was the coolest! It opened from the top down, like a drawbridge that dropped over a castle’s moat. In fact, that’s what we called our shed—The Castle—even though it looked more like a small barn. “Let’s go play in The Castle,” we would say. The Castle was full of tools, old wires and motors, camping gear and lawn mowers, and in our youthful minds, each of those served its own medieval purpose. Mostly, we kids loved The Castle because the adults never went out there. It was the perfect place to hold our secret meetings. It was the place where we devised all of our childhood plans. And on this visit, we had some very important plans to work out.
*****
9. Thomas’s Logic
Each one of us had our own special seat in The Castle. In the center of our group was the round table. Grandpa said it was a spool, but it was huge. All of us sat on half-full, five-gallon, metal paint cans—except for me. Mine was the only one that was made of plastic. Until this visit, I never figured out why that one was always mine, but the boys made sure it was. They said it was the queen’s special throne.
Our August meeting of The Kids of The Castle met during the first afternoon that we were at Grandma’s house. I sat on my special throne, and that seemed to start the whole thing. The two boys wouldn’t stop giggling for the first fifteen minutes we were in The Castle. The two of them just laughed, poked each other, and generally acted like perfect fools. I shot a questioning glance at Sarrah, but all she did was give me one of those cute smiles and a shrug of her shoulders. I still find myself hoping that she didn’t really know what was going on. Finally, after I lost my cool and screamed at the boys, they stopped laughing. Brian cocked one eyebrow and gave me that toothy grin like he always did, this time with an especially bright glint in those saucer-sized brown eyes. Nonetheless, the laughter stopped, and we could finally get serious.
Thomas was first to speak. “Magic. That’s the only conceivable answer to Grandpa’s disappearance.”
I, of course, played the perfect skeptic. “Grandpa is dead and buried, Thomas. He’s not coming back.”
“No, Hannah, he is absolutely not. You don’t really believe that, either. No one ever located Grandpa, alive or dead. He’s definitely not buried. No one has any knowledge about where Grandpa is or why he disappeared. The local police department scoured those woods from top to bottom and couldn’t find a single clue. No one was with him in those woods except the four of us. We never saw him disappear. We never found him. He’s still there; he’s out there in the woods where we left him. He has to be.”
“I’m thinkin it’s magic, too,” said Brian.
Before he could finish his thought, Sarrah spoke up. “Yeah! It has to be magic. Remember what happened to Brian’s arm last winter. Brian still has nightmares about that.”
“I do not!”
“Do too.”
“Do not.”
“Stop!” I said. “This is going nowhere. Sarrah, let Brian finish.” If I hadn’t stopped them, those two kids would have done the “Do too—Do not” battle for the next hour.
“So,” Brian continued, “I think it has to be magic. The magic has got to be in that tree. Sarrah and I both saw the chipmunk disappear. I could see its tracks right up to the point where he disappeared. Then, I stuck my arm in—an it disappeared!”
“Yeah!” Sarrah interrupted again. “Let me tell them what you s-s-said.”
“Stop, Sarrah!” Brian insisted.
But, Sarrah was on a roll, and she would not be stopped. “I think it went s-s-something like ‘AAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHH!’”
All of us except Brian laughed hysterically. Somehow, the mental image of Brian kneeling in the snow, staring at a missing arm, screaming his lungs out was funny.
“Stop! Stop it!” Brian yelled. He was almost in tears. Brian’s face twisted all up while he tried not to cry.
Sarrah was beyond stopping, and so, I think, were we. She took another jab. “And then, when he pulled his arm out of the tree roots, it reappeared and was covered with BUGS! Then he danced all over the place, s-s-shaking and waving that arm like it was on fire.” Sarrah began mocking Brian. She danced all over The Castle, one arm waving in the air, screaming like a mad woman.
I know Brian was hurting, but Sarrah’s antics were really hilarious. We all laughed so hard we nearly fell off our paint cans. Brian had told this story before, many times, but the way Sarrah was telling it was sooooooo funny.
“He s-s-squashed those bugs all over his jacket. That was the best part,” Sarrah continued between belly laughs. “Bug guts up and down his arm! And then, when he s-s-stabbed himself with those devil’s club thorns that were s-s-stuck in his shirt sleeve!” We all doubled over laughing at Brian’s expense. Sarrah picked herself up and continued imitating Brian, “They’re biting me! They’re biting me!” That part of the story was new, and it was hilarious. We were fading fast from laughing so much.
Tears rolled down Brian’s cheeks. He plopped his head onto the round table and hid his face in the folds of his arms. The three of us stopped laughing while we watched Brian’s shoulders heave and listened to his fists pound the table. We started to feel really sorry for him, but just then, Brian lifted his head, and we saw that Brian was laughing harder than we were. It started—again. The four of us laughed like maniacs.
Suddenly, “That’s it! Stop!” Thomas exploded. Then, he double over laughing again. “Stop it! That’s it!” He scolded, again. Finally, every one of us stopped laughing and gawked at Thomas, who still had tears in his eyes from laughing so much. We thought Thomas was mad at us for poking fun at Brian, but he wasn’t. He had just solved the riddle.
“That’s it!” Thomas persisted. “Listen. Grandpa took us to the colonnades at least a dozen times, ever since we were little kids. Every time, he told us never to go through the portico, but he never told us what that was. I discovered that answer, though. Remember? A portico is a special colonnade that screens a doorway. Brian must have found the doorway. A magic doorway. A magic portal.”
Now, how much sense did that make? Magic? A magic door? It made enough sense that we all stopped laughing. Actually, after Thomas spoke his piece, we all stopped breathing. If you were listening, you could have heard the sparrows flittering through the fir trees. If you were listening, but we weren’t. We were all thinking about the magic portal.
Brian, not Thomas, put very simple words to our more-than-confused thoughts. They were more than just words. They were insight. They answered nearly every question we had for the past year. “By goin through those tree roots, we actually go through the magic portal. It’s what Grandpa told us never to do. But, he did it, didn’t he? He knew what was on the other side. That’s why he always warned us. That has to be it.”
Sarrah was a year older since Grandpa had disappeared, and her increasing maturity definitely showed. “I think he did. But if he could’ve returned like Brian’s arm did, then why didn’t he? And what about the s-s-springtail armies? What if they got him?”
*****
10. Thomas’s Plan
It was quite clear that Thomas had put some serious thought into this, but it was Brian’s last revelation that seemed to be the final piece of the puzzle. Everything suddenly fit—especially for Thomas. He tried to explain. “Consider this,” he said. “Grandpa has always taught us so many things. Most valuable of all, he taught us to ask questions and demand answers. That’s what he’s done this time, too.”
Thomas lost me, and I wasn’t afraid to say so. I had confidence that Thomas knew what he was talking about. I just didn’t have his logical brain, so I didn’t necessarily follow his
thought process. “Thomas, I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. The only thing Grandpa ever told us was to stay out of that part of the woods. The last time we were there, Grandpa even yelled at Brian for almost going over the colonnade by accident.”
Thomas and I were the only ones that talked for the next few minutes. Brian and Sarrah sat mesmerized, listening.
Thomas tried to clarify like Grandpa would have. He asked questions. “Yes. Grandpa made a special trip to the colonnades every time we visited. Every single time, he stood between those two dead logs and told us not to cross over to the portico. Why do you think he told us that?”
“I have no idea,” I answered.
Not only did Thomas ask questions like Grandpa, he also insisted that I answer like Grandpa would have. “Yes, you do, Hannah. Think about it.”
There was nothing but silence in The Castle for awhile, but Thomas must have been comfortable with that. He just sat there waiting for an answer, and he wouldn’t even give us a clue. All of us looked at each other. We tried to find answers in our own thoughts, but what we found were sparkling eyes that flashed from face to face. Not a single word was said between us. I listened for an answer from one of the others, but none came. I waited. After awhile, I realized that everyone else was waiting on me, but I had nothing. I grew embarrassed, but I simply had no answer. Why would Grandpa insist that we not cross over the colonnades? I could hear them all breathing. And, I could hear the buzzing of hornets.
That buzzing sound attracted my attention toward the corner where a small family of hornets was busily building their nest. They were smart bugs. I could never figure out how they did it, but you know, those insects never flew to their hive by way of our big, open door. They entered The Castle through a tiny crack in the wall that opened right next to their growing hive. I could never figure it out. How did those little hornets fly for miles to gather food and still get back to that almost invisible crack? How did they even know that their hive was on the other side? That’s when the realization struck! The answer was right in front of me, and I blurted it out as if I had known it all along. “Grandpa knew what was on the other side! We already said that he must have crossed over. That means he knew! He warned us not to cross the colonnades because he knew what we would face on the other side.”
Thomas’s expression spurted excitement. “Absolutely! He was already aware. He was protecting us from what he already knew was there.”
My thoughts went directly to the springtail armies. “Springtails! He knew about the springtails!” That was always the second thing Grandpa would say. First he would warn us not to cross the colonnades. Next, he would tell us that the springtail armies would get us.
Thomas agreed. “And more. I would think Grandpa knew about more than just springtails.”
I think I was in some kind of shock, not really wanting to believe the thoughts that were coming into my head. “Thomas, are you saying he saw them? Like Brian saw them?”
“I think he did more than see them. So do you.”
I had to give Thomas’ challenge more thought. So do you, was really another question that required an answer. I know, now, that all these ideas should have come together much easier than they did. When I think about it, I’m pretty sure that we were all in denial; all but Thomas. Finally, I admitted, “Grandpa was afraid of them, wasn’t he? He had gone through the portico before, and he had come back before.” We kept repeating that statement over and over again. Grandpa had gone through before. For some reason, the full impact of that truth refused to sink in.
Thomas confirmed my thoughts. We were thinking along the same lines. “He went through the magic portal. He knew about them. He knew what they were capable of doing. I’m not so sure he was afraid of the springtails for himself, but I am sure that he was afraid for us.”
Now, it was Brian’s turn to talk and my turn to be mesmerized. Sarrah and I sat together with our chins propped in the cup of our hands as if we had nothing more to do than listen. “That’s why Grandpa yelled at me. He was afraid I would accidentally go through the magic portal. He knew I wasn’t prepared, an knew that if I crossed over, I might never make it back.”
Once again, Thomas agreed. In fact, he was thrilled. It was his moment of glory. “He knew you would be attacked by the springtail armies. You were, in fact. Thousands of them assaulted your arm in the time it took you to scream. It was like you dipped your arm in a pool of the things.”
Brian was intrigued, especially since the memories of his bug-covered, invisible arm were still fresh. “How can anythin attack you if you’re invisible? That’s the only question on my mind right now. It seems impossible. My arm was invisible, but those bugs didn’t have any trouble findin it.”
I remember thinking at the time how Brian’s statement seemed so odd. “It seems impossible,” he said. Everything we were talking about seemed impossible. Magic doors. Armies of Springtails. Invisible arms. Disappearing Grandpas. The oddity of the statement seemed not to strike Thomas. He stood ready with that answer, too. My brother was so smart back then. He must have filled every possible minute of the last year studying this problem. “Not invisible,” he said. “Little. Tiny. Miniscule, in fact.”
“Mini-school? What?” Brian questioned. None of us had Thomas’s head for big words.
“Miniscule. Tiny. Microscopically small.” Thomas answered.
“No way. My arm wasn’t little. It was gone,” Brian insisted.
Thomas was quick to respond, though. “I don’t think so. I believe it was extremely small. Now, it’s your turn to think about it. What did Grandpa say right before he disappeared? And what did he do?”
There was silence in The Castle again, except, of course, for the hornets. We looked into each other’s eyes, each in our own turn, one person at a time. Our shared looks went from kid to kid. Thomas sat there with an expectant look on his face, and all the time, it seemed that he was staring directly into our souls. He knew we would find the answers. Grandpa had given them to us. Thomas knew the answers already. The rest of us did too, but we weren’t ready to put them to words just yet. That’s when Sarrah planted the seed that got us going.
“He broke off a s-s-spine from the devil’s club plant,” she said.
Suddenly all of our thoughts flowed like four streams of warm honey: well joined, thick but smooth and unarguable. It was like admitting these impossible truths opened the door to a deeper understanding. All of us were finally beginning to understand; no, all of us were finally beginning to believe what Thomas and Grandpa had known all along.
Brian added his thought. “He danced with it. More than danced. He used it like a sword. Like a weapon. In fact, it looked like he was actually using it to swordfight.”
I added. “And he said that it would make a good spear for a really small person. He said it would make a good spear for a person about the size of a ladybug.”
Sarrah followed. “Then, Grandpa disappeared.”
And Thomas finished. “Or at least, that’s what we thought. I choose to believe that he exited through the magic portal. I think he’s probably still there for some reason, ensnared and unable to come home. I’m certain that he’s about the size of a ladybug, and I trust that he has a devil’s club spear with him.”
Grandpa is alive! I’m sure that exact thought went through each of our minds at exactly the same time. It was a confirmation of everything we wanted to believe for the past year. It was some kind of explanation, even a magical one, an answer to the unanswerable question. It was another question, and of course, it was another answer waiting to be discovered.
*****
11. How?
As much as I wanted to believe, the monsters of denial and doubt kept raising their ugly heads. I heard what Thomas said. I believed it. I hated it. I thought it was stupid and ridiculous, and I loved it. As bizarre as it was, every word made perfect sense, but only in a magical sort of way. Denial made me do it. Doubt made me play devil’s advocate one more tim
e. I had to hear Thomas say it again. I had to believe it. More, I had to hear certainty in Thomas’s voice. I had to know that he believed the incredible story we had just built. “Thomas. This is all just stupid. A magic portal? Shrinking arms? Grandpa shrunk to the size of a ladybug? Swords and spears? There’s just no way.”
Thomas was absolutely certain of himself. He had done nothing but study and plan for the past year. He had an answer to almost every question, that is, if you find magic an acceptable answer. “It’s the only way, Hannah. You figure it out. Grandpa was always teaching us everything he knew. He taught us about the woods, insects, birds, tracking, directions, everything. He taught us about life. He taught us how to solve problems. In fact, to Grandpa, everything was either a question to answer or an answer to a question. He never gave us a direct answer. He either gave us a question, or he gave us a problem to solve.”
The resulting silence meant general agreement, so Thomas kept going.
“Why would Grandpa tell us not to cross to the portico without telling us what a portico was? Why would he tell us to be afraid of the springtail armies, a bunch of tiny bugs very few people in the world have even seen? Why would he act out a swordfight using a thorn as a sword? Why would he make some off-the-wall comment about that thorn making such a perfect spear if you were small enough? Why would he disappear? And, with all the training he gave us about being in the woods, how could he disappear so completely when we had all been with him only seconds earlier? And, more important than anything, how do you explain the reality of Brian’s disappearing arm and the real fact of the disappearing chipmunk?”
Truthfully, none of us had a better answer than Thomas’s to any of those questions.