Then came a long discussion about what they should do next. No one wanted to interrupt the precious first date going on at the university, but, except for Skye, no one believed they should call the police all on their own. Jane’s suggestion of throwing Norman into their basement so that he could dwell on his sins was rejected outright.
“We’d better call Daddy and Iantha,” said Rosalind finally. “They need to call the police, not us. Their speeches came first, so we’ll just be interrupting their dinner.”
“Their romantic dinner together.” Jane frowned at Norman, lying there in the neckties. “This is all your fault.”
“All agreed, then?” asked Tommy.
Skye ran off to make the phone call.
Rosalind was perched at the top of the steps, waiting for her father to come inside. Her sisters had gone to bed, but tired as she was, she knew she couldn’t fall asleep without hearing how it had all ended. With Norman and the police, and—with Iantha.
Now Rosalind heard the front door open and close and was about to call to him quietly, but he was already coming up the steps, for he knew right where she’d be.
“What’s going to happen to Norman?” she asked.
“We don’t know yet. Iantha told the police she thinks he’s more confused than dangerous, but lawyers will have to straighten it all out.” He sat down and put his arm around her. “Did he frighten you badly?”
“Only for a second, until I realized he was more afraid than I was. And then, once Tommy was there, I couldn’t be frightened anymore.”
“Thank goodness for Tommy.”
“Yes.” She snuggled closer to her father. “We’ve decided to start dating when we’re both thirteen. Isn’t that good?”
“The best. Optimus. Tommy’s a good person. He’ll make a great son-in-law.”
“Daddy!”
“Sorry.”
She rested her head on his shoulder to show that the joke was forgiven, and there they sat at the top of the steps, father and oldest daughter, at peace with their world and with each other.
“I’ve missed this,” he said quietly. “You do know how much I love you, don’t you?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“And do you know—well, I know, anyway—that I’ve relied on you too much since your mother died? I’ve been remembering how concerned she was about you trying to fill in for her, and how I promised I wouldn’t let you become too grown-up and responsible. I’m afraid I didn’t keep that promise well enough, Rosy. It’s no wonder you hated the idea of me bringing a new woman into our lives.”
As gratifying as this was—a few days ago Rosalind would have given anything to hear her father say these things—the conversation was going in the wrong direction. She and her sisters hadn’t bothered to steal a battery and maneuver two oblivious adults into one car for it all to end like this.
“Maybe ‘hate’ is too strong a word,” she said. “Or ‘new.’ Maybe ‘new’ is too strong a word.”
“Sweetheart, you’re so tired you’re not making sense. Time for bed, yes?”
“No, wait.” She was desperate. “You haven’t told me yet whether you and Iantha enjoyed being together tonight. I mean, before we called you about Norman. No cruciatus, right? And you know how much we all like Iantha, right?”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, you do like her, too, don’t you?” By now Rosalind was babbling. “We were almost positive but don’t have much experience with this kind of thing. And we’re sorry about the car, but Skye thinks she put the battery back the right way.”
He unwrapped her arms so he could look at her properly. “What are you talking about?”
“Why, you dating Iantha, of course.”
“Oh.” He stared off into space for a long moment. “But what was that about the car?”
“Nothing.”
“Maybe I should look under the hood in the morning.”
“Maybe you should, but please, about you and Iantha. You did enjoy being together, didn’t you?”
“We did indeed.”
“And?”
“Rosy, I’m lost here. Please speak slowly and clearly to help out your old father. Are you saying that you and your sisters won’t mind if I date Iantha?”
“Will we mind? No, Daddy!” She wrapped her arms around him again, this time so tightly he couldn’t get away. “We’ll think it’s wonderful!”
EPILOGUE
SEVEN MONTHS LATER
The sisters had decided together what they would wear on that most important day. Jane had asked for dresses with full skirts. Rosalind had picked out the color—a mysterious blue-green, the color of the sea just before sunset. Batty, with some guidance, had selected shoes with low heels and thin ankle straps. As for Skye, all she wanted was not to wear a hat with bows, or anything else on her head, for that matter. But when Iantha had asked if they would tuck yellow roses into their hair to match the yellow roses in her bouquet, Skye had agreed without a murmur, though she did tell Jane later that she would have drawn the line at pink roses, even for Iantha.
Now, on the day itself, the four were gathered in Rosalind’s room, finishing their transformation from regular Penderwicks into bridesmaids.
“Hold still, Batty,” said Rosalind. “Your rose keeps slipping.”
Too excited to hold still, Batty was jumping up and down, trying for glimpses of herself in the mirror over the bureau. “I look beautiful, Hound,” she said in between jumps, though Hound was ignoring her, being too busy trying to bite off the yellow bow around his neck. “Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.”
“As do we all.” Jane put her hands on Batty’s shoulders and held her down, letting Rosalind pin the errant flower firmly in place.
“I think that will hold,” Rosalind said, then turned to Skye, who was almost as green as she’d been the night of Sisters and Sacrifice. “Are you all right?”
“I’ve forgotten my speech again.” Skye plucked at the skirt of her dress and wondered if there was time to escape to the roof for some solitude. But from the roof, she’d be able to see into Iantha’s backyard, where there was a flowered arch and an altar and dozens of chairs set in rows, and, worse, the already arriving guests. That would make her more nervous.
“It’s not actually a speech,” said Rosalind, not for the first time.
“Just a line,” said Jane, who’d written this part of the ceremony. “Rosalind says: ‘For a long time we didn’t know what we wanted.’ Then Skye, you say: ‘And when we finally knew, we realized that what we wanted was right next door.’ And then I say, ‘Her name was Iantha, and magically, she wanted us, too.’ Then Batty says—”
“‘And so did Ben,’” finished Batty.
“‘And when we finally knew,’” muttered Skye. “‘And when we finally knew, and when we finally knew’—”
Now Aunt Claire was calling them from downstairs. “Girls! The groomsmen are here!”
All worries about roses and speeches vanished as the girls flew out of the room and down the steps. Aunt Claire was at the bottom, flushed with excitement and lovely in dusky lavender. She gave them each a quick inspection and a quicker hug, then shooed them into the living room to greet the groomsmen.
There were three, splendid in dark suits. The tallest had a big smile and eyes only for Rosalind. She was across the room and hanging on his arm in a flash, certain that Tommy looked more grown-up and handsome than ever, and she may have been right, though she’d been thinking the same thing every day for the last seven months. The second boy, with freckles and green eyes, was not as tall but just as handsome, and was joyously attacked by Skye and Jane almost before he knew they were in the room. Batty and Hound, too, needed to show their great devotion to this boy, for, after all, he’d been far away in Boston for months and months.
“Jeffrey, I love you so!” Batty cried, flinging herself at his knees, while Hound barked in agreement.
“I love you, too, Battikins,” he said, picking her up in a fierce hug.
<
br /> The third groomsman was quite short, and his red hair was combed and flattened to within an inch of its life. Bewildered by the unfamiliar clothes and all the noise, he was thinking about crying, but before he could get started, Skye had torn herself away from Jeffrey and was kneeling beside him.
“Hey, Ben.” Though she still didn’t like babies, she’d decided to make an exception for this one. “How are you?”
“Not good.”
“Me neither, but it’ll all be over soon and then we’ll have cake. Okay?”
This reminder of cake cheered him greatly, and he was now happy to quietly pluck at Hound’s yellow bow until it came undone, earning him even more love from Hound than he already had.
In the middle of all that, Aunt Claire had melted away, but she came back now, and with her was—
“Oh, Daddy,” said Rosalind. “You look—you look—”
“Gorgeous,” said Jane.
“Nonsense,” protested Skye, though her breath, too, had been taken away.
It wasn’t the suit, of course, or the starched white shirt, or even the tie that didn’t clash with anything. It was the happiness that had settled in every part of him, the pure and solid happiness that he’d longed for and deserved, and now was his.
“My princesses,” he said, and all four rushed to him and hugged him until he gently pulled away to pick up Ben for a hug of his own. Then he nodded to the other two, man to men. “Tommy, Jeffrey, thanks for being here.”
They nodded back, suddenly serious and adult, until Jane tickled Tommy, and Skye tickled Jeffrey, and everyone became themselves again.
Now there was a knock on the front door. It was Nick and Anna, come to say that it was time to go next door.
“She’s ready?” asked Mr. Penderwick, and no one had to ask whom he meant.
“Yes, she is, Mr. Pen,” said Nick. “And the minister.”
“And all of the guests are here,” said Anna gleefully, for she loved weddings when they weren’t her own father’s.
Mr. Penderwick handed Ben over to Aunt Claire, then gave each of his daughters one last hug. “Well, girls, are we ready to get married?”
Married. Was it possible? But yes, astoundingly, miraculously, all of the Penderwicks were absolutely, positively, indisputably, and without a shadow of a doubt—ready to get married.
And so they did.
When Jeanne Birdsall was young, she promised herself she’d be a writer someday—so she could write books for children to discover and enjoy, just as she did in her local library. The Penderwicks was her first novel, and it won the National Book Award for Young People’s Literature.
Jeanne lives in Northampton, Massachusetts, with her husband and an assortment of animals, including cats, a snail, and a dog named Cagney. You can find out more about Jeanne (and her animal friends) at her Web site, www.jeannebirdsall.com.
Also by Jeanne Birdsall
The Penderwicks: A Summer Tale of Four Sisters,
Two Rabbits, and a Very Interesting Boy
THIS IS A BORZOI BOOK PUBLISHED BY ALFRED A. KNOPF
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2008 by Jeanne Birdsall
Illustrations copyright © 2008 by David Frankland
Grateful acknowledgment is made to Golden Books, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., for permission to reprint excerpts from The Sailor Dog by Margaret Wise Brown, illustrated by Garth Williams, copyright © 1953, renewed 1981 by Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. Reprinted by permission.
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Alfred A. Knopf, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Birdsall, Jeanne.
The Penderwicks on Gardam Street / Jeanne Birdsall ; [illustrations by David Frankland]. 1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: The four Penderwick sisters are faced with the unimaginable prospect of their widowed father dating, and they hatch a plot to stop him.
[1. SistersFiction. 2. Single-parent familiesFiction. 3. Dating (Social customs)Fiction. 4. Family lifeMassachusettsFiction. 5. MassachusettsFiction.] I. Frankland, David, ill. II. Title.
PZ7.B51197Pen 2008
[Fic]dc22
2007049232
Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
eISBN: 978-0-375-84961-9
v3.0
Jeanne Birdsall, The Penderwicks on Gardam Street
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