After a while, Hannah said, "I heard Papa and Mama talking last night. Mama told Papa she thinks John Larkin is fond of me."
To my annoyance, a little smile danced across her face. "I'm fond of John too," she admitted, "but Papa—"
Hannah bit her lip and frowned. "Papa said a girl with my notions will never find a husband. He told Mama I'd end up an old-maid suffragette. Those were his very words, Andrew."
Forgetting everything except making her happy, I said, "No matter what Papa thinks, you'll marry John. What's more, women will get the vote and drive cars and do everything men do, even wear trousers and run for president."
Hannah sucked in her breath. "The way you talk, Andrew. I could swear you've been looking in a crystal ball."
Clapping my hand over my mouth, I stared at her. Whatever had made me say so much? I didn't even want to think about her marrying John, and here I'd gone and told her she would, as well as revealing a bunch of other stuff she shouldn't know.
"Do you see anything else in my future?" Hannah was leaning toward me, her face inches from mine, gazing into my eyes, her lips slightly parted. "Will John and I be happy? Will we have lots of children? Will we live a long, long time?"
I tightened my grip on the branch. I was drowning, losing my identity, speaking words that made no sense. "You'll be old when I'm young," I whispered, "but I'll remember, I'll never forget, I'll always love—"
"What are you talking about?" Hannah reached out and grabbed my shoulders. "Are you all right?"
For a moment, I was too dizzy to answer. I wasn't sure who I was or where I was or what we'd been talking about. Feeling sick, I clung to the tree. Gradually, things came back into focus, the world steadied. Birds sang, leaves rustled, the branches swayed slightly. The strength in Hannah's hands calmed me.
I took a few deep breaths and managed to smile. Hannah relaxed, but she was obviously still worried. "Will you ever be yourself again, Andrew?"
"I hope so." I said it so fervently Hannah looked at me oddly. If only I could tell her the truth. She'd understand everything then. But would she believe me?
Hannah sighed and wiped the sweat off her face with the back of her hand. "I reckon the heat's enough to give anybody the fantods." She smiled at me. "Come on, Andrew, I'll race you to the pump for a drink."
Chapter 14
Hannah jumped out of the tree ahead of me and ran across the lawn toward the pump. By the time I caught up with her, she'd already filled the ladle. Tipping her head back, she let the water splash like liquid silver on her face. Before I knew what she was up to, she poured a ladleful on my head. "There," she said. "Doesn't that feel good?"
"Watch out, Andrew," another voice said. "Someone as sweet as you might melt like sugar." Theo stood a few feet away, scowling at me.
Hannah laughed and slung a ladleful of water in his direction. "Let's see what you're made of!"
In seconds, the three of us were fighting for the ladle, slopping water everywhere, turning the ground to mud under our feet, slipping, sliding, falling, laughing.
In the midst of it, Mama strode across the lawn. "Hannah, for heaven's sake! You haven't got the sense you were born with!"
Snatching the ladle, Mama whacked Hannah on the fanny with it. Next she hit Theo and me—him on the head, me on the shoulder. It stung for a second, but I was more surprised than hurt.
"Inside." Mama gave Hannah a push. "Clean up. You know I'm hosting the Women's Club in less than an hour and I need you to serve the refreshments."
Hannah groaned and rolled her eyes. "Oh, Mama, not those old hens."
When Mama raised the ladle threateningly, Hannah laughed and ran for the house, clucking at every step.
"As for you two," Mama said, looking hard at Theo and me, "I'd appreciate it if you'd both disappear for a couple of hours. Mrs. Armiger will be among my guests, and I'm not certain I can trust the pair of you."
Before she turned away, she added, "Take Buster with you. I don't want him making a nuisance of himself."
With Buster leading the way, Theo and I took a path downhill into the woods. A crow called, another answered. Like sentinels, they passed the word along—two boys and a dog were coming.
"About yesterday," I said slowly. "I'm sorry about Mrs. Armiger and all."
Theo sighed and kicked a stone. "Oh, Mama was going to sign me up for music lessons anyway."
He watched Buster bring the stone back and lay it at his feet. "I just wish you'd show some spunk, Andrew, like you used to. It's no fun getting in trouble all by myself. I could've gotten a real walloping from Papa if Mama had told on me."
I scuffed along, watching grasshoppers jump out of my way. The weeds were alive with them.
"It was that drat diphtheria," Theo muttered. "I guess you can't help it."
We walked till we came to a road. "Where do you want to go now?" Theo asked.
I wasn't sure where we were, so I just shrugged. "You pick."
"How about Trot and Owens?" Theo asked. "I have five cents—we can share a bottle of soda."
Trot and Owens turned out to be a little white grocery store with a gas pump in front. Leaving Buster under a tree, I followed Theo up the sagging steps. Inside it was dark and cool. A big fan hung from the ceiling and stirred the air round and round. Dangling strips of sticky flypaper turned slowly.
On the shelves was just about everything a person could need—clothes, shoes, food, tools, even some odds and ends of furniture in the back. It was the first time I'd been in a grocery store and I couldn't get over the prices—a hundred pounds of sugar for five dollars, a hundred pounds of salt for twenty cents.
"Look at this, Theo," I said, "twelve cents for a dozen eggs—that's just a penny apiece."
Theo stared at me. "Why, you can get them lots cheaper at Wilson's farm. Who cares anyway? Surely you don't want me to spend my money on eggs."
But I'd already moved on to something better—bins of cookies. Raisin/oatmeal, ginger snaps, all unbelievably cheap. Jars of candy too. Licorice by the yard.
"I wish I had some money," I said. My mouth was watering so hard my jaws ached.
"All we have is this." Theo showed me the five pennies, but another hand, bigger than his, swept across his palm and took the coins with it.
Taken by surprise, we stared at Edward. Neither Theo nor I had seen him enter the store, but there he was, laughing at us. When Theo lunged for his money, Edward dodged and dropped the pennies into his own pocket.
"That's mine!" Theo yelled. "Give it back!"
Edward spread his hands. "Take it if you dare."
Theo turned to me, but I pretended not to notice. Leaning over a metal cooler the size of a bathtub, I stared at the bottles of soda bobbing among the chunks of melting ice. Maybe if I ignored him, Edward would get bored and go away.
Theo heaved a sigh of exasperation and flew at his cousin, fists flying. Edward gave him a shove that sent him reeling backward into a pyramid of canned food.
The crash got the clerk's attention. "That's enough of that, you young ruffians," he bellowed. "I'll not have rowdy behavior in my store. No excuses—out you go!"
In seconds, the three of us were in the street. Theo tackled Edward again. This time, he landed in the dust at my feet.
"Do something, Andrew!" he shouted.
Buster barked, but he wasn't sure whom to attack—Edward or me. I looked at the dog, I looked at Edward, I looked at Theo, I even looked at the store, hoping Mr. Trot or Mr. Owens might run down the steps and rescue me.
Suddenly, Edward reached out and grabbed the front of my shirt. He pulled me so close I could count the beads of sweat on his upper lip. "Yes," he sneered, "do something. I dare you."
"Let me go."
Instead, Edward twisted my shirt, squeezing my neck till I could hardly breathe. "You've lost your nerve, haven't you?"
He lifted me an inch off the ground and shook me like a puppy. "How come you haven't been near the trestle all summer?"
When I
made a choking noise, Edward loosened his grip on my shirt, but he didn't let me go. "All that bragging and boasting before you got sick — I knew you'd never do it. You're a lying little coward."
I glanced at Theo, hoping he might give me a clue, but he was glaring at Edward. His face was red, and the jugular vein in his neck throbbed with anger. "Andrew's not scared of nothing," he yelled. "Now that he's well, he'll do it. You just name the date!"
Edward released me so suddenly I landed on my rear end in the road. "A week from today," he said. "Twelve noon."
From where I sat, he looked enormous. Tall and skinny, long-armed, big-handed, he stood against the sky, blocking the sun, scowling down at me like the worst outlaw in any Western, old or new.
"You better be there, Andrew," he said.
"He will," Theo yelled. "And I'll be with him. So will Buster!"
The dog barked and tried to escape the grip Theo had on his collar.
Edward spat in the dust. Slowly and deliberately, one by one, he dropped Theo's pennies beside me. "I'll believe it when I see it," he sneered.
Like a fool, I sat in the middle of the road and watched Edward saunter away. When I was sure he wasn't coming back, I got to my feet. Theo saw me gather up the pennies, but, when I tried to give them to him, he hit my hand.
I looked at the copper coins shining in the white dust. "Don't you want a soda?"
"Not with that money!"
Before I could stop him, Theo picked up the pennies and flung them into the jungle of pokeberries and weeds beside the road. Buster "whuffed" and dove into the brush after them. In the silence we heard him thrashing around, looking for the coins.
"You're not my big brother anymore," Theo yelled. "You're a little crybaby! Next you'll be wearing white gloves and slicking your hair back and playing the piano at recitals like a perfect sickening old gentleman!" With that, Theo turned and ran.
Buster bounded out of the weeds, barked in my direction, and raced after Theo.
I trudged home by myself, worrying about the trestle. What was I supposed to do there? If Andrew had dreamed it up, it was sure to be terrible. Maybe I'd have to lie down between the rails and let the train run over me. Boys did that in stories, but I wasn't sure it worked in real life. It seemed to me you'd be gouged to death by things hanging from the bottoms of boxcars.
I thought a little longer. Maybe it had something to do with explosives. Andrew had blown up an outhouse once—he might want to dynamite a whole train.
I kicked a stone so hard I almost broke my toe. There was no way of guessing what went on in Andrew's fiendish mind. I'd just have to wait till tonight and ask him.
Chapter 15
When I finally dragged myself home, I was dying of heat and thirst. All I wanted was to stick my head under the pump in the backyard, but, before I had a chance to do it, the front door shot open. Buster charged outside, carrying what looked like a bunch of flowers in his mouth.
Mama was right behind him. "Come back here, you wretched cur!"
Buster never was what I'd call an obedient dog. Instead of heeding Mama's order, he ran faster. Maybe he thought it was a new and exciting game. Or maybe he was just full of devilry. What went on in his demented brain was anybody's guess.
"Stop him, Andrew!" Mama yelled.
By this time, the Women's Club was crowding out the door. Mrs. Armiger was in the lead, brandishing a parasol, her face scarlet. "Darling Andrew," she shrieked, "save my hat!"
Buster was heading straight toward me, gripping the flowered monstrosity like booty won in a war. He wasn't going to give it up. He'd die before surrendering.
From the porch railing, Theo yelled, "Atta boy, Buster! Run, run!"
Telling him to run stopped Buster. Not two feet away from me, he tore into the hat as if it were a vicious enemy. Flowers and bits of straw flew through the air. A huge artificial poppy landed at my feet, followed by a flurry of fake rose petals. It was like an explosion in a greenhouse.
Mrs. Armiger wailed, "Can't you do something, Mildred? That hat was designed especially for me by Madame Sophia. It cost over five dollars!"
Mama grabbed my arm. "Control that animal, Andrew!"
Bigger than the Hound of the Baskervilles and twice as fierce, Buster growled savagely at me. Somehow he'd managed to get what was left of the hat caught around his neck. His eyes rolled, his jaws drooled, he shook his head. Paralyzed with fear, I watched him run away, trailing flowers and ribbons and long unraveling coils of straw.
"My hat!" Mrs. Armiger shrieked. "My beautiful hat!"
"Buster," I yelled feebly. When the dog ignored me, I tried whistling again, but this time I couldn't make a sound. I guess I was trying too hard.
I honestly don't think Andrew himself could have stopped Buster. He was in a frenzy, tearing around in circles, panting, trying to shake the hat off.
Disgusted with me, Mrs. Armiger chased him, whacking his rear end with her folded parasol. Theo was two steps behind, imitating every move the poor woman made. On the porch, the other ladies huddled together, clucking to one another. One looked like she was about to faint. Another called for smelling salts.
Just then, Hannah poked her head outside to see what was going one. Her bewildered face made me laugh. I tried to stop but I couldn't. The louder Mrs. Armiger screeched, the louder I laughed. Tears ran down my face, my stomach hurt, my sides ached.
Mama tightened her grip on my arm. Giving me a violent shake, she said, "Go inside this minute! You've shamed me half to death!"
As I headed for the house, I saw Theo scrambling up into a tree. "Hooray for Buster," he called to me, "hooray for you!"
If he thought Mama wouldn't see him, he was wrong. "Theodore Aloysius Tyler," she cried, "come down from there at once. When your father gets home tonight, he'll see to you and Andrew!"
Papa found Theo and me side by side on the steps. We'd been sitting there for two hours, part of our punishment for ruining Mama's party. Now Papa was about to give us the rest of it—a whipping, Theo whispered. He was sure of it.
"Come with me." Papa's voice was soft but it hummed with anger.
Rising warily to my feet, I glanced at Theo. For once, he had nothing to say. Like condemned prisoners, we followed Papa to the back porch.
"I'm deeply disturbed by your behavior," Papa began. "At lunchtime, I ran into Mr. Trot as I was leaving my office. He told me how you conducted yourselves in his store."
When Papa paused to light his pipe, Theo inched a little closer to me, making it clear that I was forgiven. We were buddies again—the two of us against Papa.
"Edward started it," Theo muttered. "He took my whole allowance, he—"
"Be silent until you are spoken to," Papa thundered. "When I want your explanation, Theodore, I'll ask for it."
Theo hung his head.
Papa then repeated Mr. Trot's version of the events: Theo had knocked down a display of canned goods, we'd been sent outside, we'd brawled in the street like common hooligans.
"As if that weren't enough, your mother telephoned to tell me you disrupted her club meeting. You not only failed to control Buster but you laughed at his antics and actually encouraged his destructive behavior."
Papa produced from behind his back the tattered remains of Mrs. Armiger's straw hat. If I hadn't been so scared of Papa's temper, I would have laughed at the sight of it. Glowering at us both, he said, "Your allowance will cease until this has been paid for. The way I see it, you won't have a cent to spend till Christmas."
"Yes, sir," Theo and I whispered.
Turning to me, Papa said, "How often must I tell you I will not have you fighting with your cousin. No matter what Edward does to provoke you, you must walk away from him like a gentleman."
"But Papa—"
"I will tolerate no excuses," Laying his pipe on the railing, Papa unbuckled his belt. "Bend over, Andrew."
"Why?" I stared at him in disbelief. Surely Papa wasn't going to hit me.
"What do you mean, 'why?' I
'm going to give you the whipping you deserve!"
Fear loosened my tongue, made me careless. "You're not my father, you have no right to touch me!"
"Don't try my patience, Andrew," Papa bellowed. "That sort of nonsense might fool Mama, but I'm not so easily deceived, my boy."
Seizing my arm, he whirled me around and brought the belt down with a sharp whack on my rear end. The leather bit right through my trousers and stung my skin. I danced about, crying and trying to escape, but the more I struggled, the angrier Papa became. By the time he was done with me, I was sure I'd never sit down again.
Papa turned to Theo. "Your turn."
Giving me a scornful look, Theo clenched his teeth and took his whipping without a whimper. When Papa let him go, he hissed, "I don't know what in tarnation is wrong with you, Andrew. You never used to cry when Papa spanked you."
That night, I startled Andrew by striding right up to him in the attic and shoving my face close to his. For once, I was too angry to be scared of him. "You didn't tell me Papa beat you!"
Andrew raised his eyebrows. "Do you mean to say you finally earned a whipping?"
"It's not funny—he hit me with his belt!"
"Oh, horsefeathers. If Papa thought you deserved it, you probably did." Andrew studied my face. "I hope you didn't cry."
"Of course I did. It hurt!"
Andrew cradled his head in his hands. "How will I ever face Theo," he muttered. "I can't imagine what he thinks of me."
Stung by his lack of sympathy, I glared at Andrew. "My dad never hits me. Never! When I do something wrong, we talk about it. Fathers who beat their kids go to jail for child abuse."