Don't Let the Wind Catch You Read online

  Instead of being hurt, Mrs. Brown chuckled. "You are so ornery when you're cooped up like this, Zachariah Tully." She waited a few seconds, and then took the flowers from him.

  "Good to see you, Mr. LeGarde." Tully nodded to my father and seemed surprised when Dad reached down to touch his hand.

  "And you, too. How are you feeling?"

  They chitchatted while I sat and waited. I hoped to talk to him alone, but wasn't sure if my father would want to use the facilities or go get some coffee.

  Eudora drew my father into a conversation at the foot of the bed, and I slid my chair closer. Tully's eyes suddenly bored into mine. "Did you get it done?"

  I nodded silently, but tried to comfort him with an expression I hoped said, Don't worry. I hid your box. Out loud, I said. "Yes. The wood is all stacked and the windows are closed."

  He heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank God." After a few minutes of just sitting together, listening to his sister and my father talk endlessly about boring things, his eyes twinkled. "Wanna see my scar?"

  I drew back and vigorously shook my head.

  "You sure?" He smiled and patted my hand. "Sorry. I don't blame you, son. I hate looking at those stitches, too."

  I noticed he wore my grandfather's amethyst ring. He saw me looking, and winked at me. "They tried to take it off me when I was admitted, but I fought them like a wild bear."

  I smiled, picturing the scene. "Looks like you won."

  "Well, not at first. But Eudora got it back for me this morning."

  "It looks really good on you." I wasn't sure what else to say, but he started to get that quizzical look in his eyes again, and I realized I hadn't told him about Penni. I tried hard to figure out a way to tell him in code, but was stumped.

  "Hey, boy. Why don't you tell me about that ghost story you were reading the other day? Remember?"

  At first I blanked, and then I realized he'd figured out how we could talk without giving anything away. I sat up straighter in my chair, and glanced at my father and Mrs. Brown, who still talked a mile a minute at the end of the bed. "Right. Where did we leave off?"

  "I think it was where the young lad went back to the—er—cave to see if the ghost was still there."

  I nodded, warming to the idea. "Yeah. That's right. He went back to the cave, and at first he couldn't find her. He bumped into his friend's—um—sister. They talked a while, but then the sister left. Finally he felt her presence. She made all kinds of ruckus, and then showed herself in a pool of water. At first she just appeared in the reflection, then she rose up and her body came right out of the water, all sparkly and beautiful."

  My eyes had widened to tell him it was true, and his jaw dropped. "No kidding?"

  I shook my head and leaned forward. "It was amazing! The most gorgeous thing the boy had ever seen."

  Tully settled deeper into his pillow and his eyes blinked as if he were trying to stave off sleep. "And did the boy give the message to her?"

  "He did. And she seemed okay. She kissed his lips."

  With that comment, my father and Mrs. Brown both snapped their heads to the side.

  My father narrowed his eyes. "What kind of book are you reading, son?"

  I squirmed a little. "Oh, dad. It's just a story about a ghost. There's nothing bad in it."

  Mrs. Brown playfully tapped my father's arm. "André, the boy's entitled to a little romance at his age."

  "He's only twelve. He can't like girls yet." My father's face dropped. I'd seen the expression only a few times before, but particularly when my mother had been rushed to the ER last summer after losing the baby. He and I had hugged each other in the ER, and I'd seen how disappointed he'd been after the loss of the sister or brother I never had.

  "Don't worry, Dad. I still think most girls are gross."

  Eudora burst into laughter. "Gracious me. Well, that won't last forever, young man."

  Tully's eyes closed further, although a half-smile lingered on his lips. "Sleep now," he mumbled, squeezing my hand.

  I got up quietly and tugged on my father's sleeve. "Time to go, Dad." I motioned to Tully, and my father suddenly got very businesslike.

  "Yes, well. We’ve stayed long enough. Thank you for letting us visit your brother, Eudora. We'll come back again soon, if you'd like?"

  Mrs. Brown smiled and ruffled my hair. "I know my brother would like that, very much."

  I took one last look at Tully, preserving the memory in my mind so I could describe the details to the twins. I knew they'd be worried, especially Elsbeth.

  "Let's go, son."

  I walked side-by-side with my father to the elevator, which smelled like soup and sandwiches, and enjoyed the rush of the feeling in my stomach when it descended to the ground floor. We headed outside into the late afternoon sun, and walked slowly toward the Oldsmobile.

  "Dad?"

  His eyes took in the hills to the west. "Yes?"

  "Thank you."

  We reached the car and he unlocked his door. With a smile, he slipped inside, and then reached over to pull up the button on my side. I got in and leaned back into the comfy seat.

  He reached over to hug me, and I didn't even mind. "You're welcome, sport."

  Chapter Fifty-four

  My mother seemed slightly more relaxed at dinner that night. She hugged me when I came in the door, shot a questioning look at my father, and then returned to the stove where a big pot of spaghetti sauce and meatballs bubbled. "How did it go?" She didn't actually look at me, but vigorously stirred the pot.

  I glanced to my father for support. He nudged me and nodded.

  I spoke with my head down, afraid to see pain in her eyes. "It went okay, I guess. We saw Mrs. Brown there."

  My mother set the wooden spoon on the stove and wiped her hands on her apron. "That's nice."

  My father took over. "Mr. Tully looked good. His surgery was successful, and now he has to work hard to recuperate and regain his strength. Eudora's planning to watch over him for the next few weeks, before she flies back to Washington to meet with someone who wants to do a book and a movie about her experiences."

  I spun toward my father. "What? Really?"

  He nodded and walked to the stove to sample the sauce. "Mmm. I can taste that fresh basil." He rinsed the spoon and set it back on the stove. "Anyway, Eudora's attending a party in her honor. Sort of a ‘welcome back to the States' event. I guess it's going to be huge. Even Walter Cronkite will be there."

  I moved closer to him, hanging on his words. "Wow."

  My mother's eyes turned to saucers. "Maybe the President will stop in to shake her hand."

  "He might. She mentioned something about the White House." His eyes twinkled and he sent a secret smile in my mother's direction. "Actually, the gala is going to be in the White House."

  I dropped onto a chair. "Holy cow!"

  My mother flopped on a chair beside me, which I'd never seen her do while cooking. Usually she whirled and spun around the kitchen like a well-controlled top. She splayed both hands on the table and leaned forward. "Good golly, André."

  He toyed with the dishtowel that hung on the stove handle. "There's one more very important part to this, Gloria."

  My mother stood and grabbed both of my father's hands in hers. "Tell me."

  He played with her a little more, and then finally blurted it out. "We're invited, Gloria. It's black tie, fancy dinner, dancing—the works. You and I are going to Washington, Mrs. LeGarde."

  She looked back and forth between us as if she didn't believe it, and then danced my father around the kitchen. "We're going to the White House?"

  Relief flooded my body. Thank God for distractions. She'd almost forgotten about Tully and whatever it was that upset her so much.

  After a few moments of giddiness, she stopped and looked at me, then back at my father. "Wait. Are children invited?"

  He tilted his head with an apology directed at me. "No, dear. But I'm sure Gus could stay with the Marggranders or Stones."

&
nbsp; Conflicted feelings washed over me. Disappointment was soon followed by a shrewd calculation of which family I'd rather stay with. The Stones meant dealing with William, my sometimes nice/sometimes nasty teenage pal. The Marggranders would be heaven, since my best friend and—dare I say, girlfriend, were built into the deal. But their father was so stern he made me sweat and shake. And what if their mother had one of her breakdowns? What if she started crying and moaning and locked herself in her room like she was known to do?

  The Stones sounded better. Millie would spoil me, Oscar would want to talk about the Ambuscade, and I could pretty much ignore William if I played my cards right.

  "The Stones," I said. "I can do chores for them and maybe earn a dollar. I really want that new Beatles single that's coming out next month."

  My mother seemed not to care where I stayed. Stars danced in her eyes. My father weighed the idea, tossed it around in his head, nodding. "That sounds fine, son. Let me call and see if you can bunk there."

  Dinner was full of talk about the Oval Office, strapless gowns, and tuxedos. I didn't care. My mother was back again, and she practically glowed with excitement.

  I smiled from her to my father and back again as I plowed into my chocolate pudding. I'd been absolved of my wrongdoings by happy circumstance, and that was fine by me.

  After dinner, I bedded down my horse, fed the cats, and came back inside. I let Shadow out for a final evening walk and filled up his kibble and water dish. My father had helped with the dishes, mostly because my mother didn't want to stop talking about the gala. He was just hanging up the dishtowel when I finished my chores.

  "I'm heading up," I said. I looked up to find my father hugging and kissing my mother in the dining room, which inflamed my cheeks and made me duck back around the corner. They murmured goodnights without really sounding like they knew what they were saying.

  Adults could be so weird.

  Shadow ran upstairs before me, ready to start circling the rug in my bedroom in preparation for his nighttime snooze. I followed him, shaking my head. Watching my parents kiss sure wasn't like being kissed by Elsbeth.

  Or Penni.

  I smiled and pulled my shirt over my head. When I got to my jeans, I automatically patted the pockets before unzipping them. My fingers closed around my jackknife in one pocket, and then brushed a stiff piece of paper in the other.

  The photograph.

  My fingers touched it, but I hesitated. If I pulled it out, I'd be betraying Tully's confidence.

  If I left it in my pants, my mother would find it in the dirty clothes hamper.

  Or worse, it would get destroyed in the wash.

  The crickets had already started up their nighttime chorus, and the air had a sultry, moist feel as it wafted into the room.

  I froze with indecision for a few minutes, and then made up my mind. I walked over to my bed, whipped the picture out of my pocket with my eyes squinted to defocus them, and slid it under my pillow.

  I'd sleep on it. No one would find it. And tomorrow I'd return it to the metal box under the porch.

  ***

  Three hours later I lay wide-awake in bed. Moonlight washed into the room, tickling the floor and curtains. I missed my friends after so many days apart, and suddenly wished Penni would appear in the moonbeams.

  The desire to look at the photograph had grown like an out-of-control monster. For the past few hours I kept doing things to make myself forget about it. I read until bedtime. I counted sheep. Lots of sheep. I tried to imagine myself into a great dream about Onset and the beach.

  I got up and paced in the moon-bright room.

  Shadow snored on my bed.

  I muttered to myself, giving pros and cons and finally flopped down on the bed again. I sat Indian style and stared at the pillow. A corner of the snapshot peaked out from beneath.

  I touched the corner, tantalized beyond belief.

  Just a little peek? How could that hurt? And how bad could it be?

  Really.

  How bad?

  The edges of the photo were cut in a sawtooth pattern, as if my mom had taken her pinking shears to them to fancy them up. All of the pictures that had spilled onto the porch had looked like that. Black and white. Jagged edges. And just bunches of people in them. I'd recognized some of my grandfather and Tully, and other folks, too. Nothing had jumped out as "suspicious" or even out of the ordinary when I'd stuffed them into the box on the porch after running Mrs. Brown down.

  I grabbed my flashlight and flicked it on, then pinched the corner and slid it out. Just a little.

  There. Big deal. It was only my grandfather Marlowe. I saw his handsome face on the side of the photo. His grin stretched from ear to ear.

  Just a little further.

  An arm around his shoulder.

  I nudged it out halfway. Two arms dangled around his neck.

  I gave up the pretense of honesty and slid the whole picture out.

  At first I squinted my eyes to see it better, then shined the flashlight from another angle.

  Tully hung his arms around my grandfather's neck from behind, his cheek pressed against my grandfather's. One of my grandfather's hands clasped Tully's–fingers interlaced. The other hand sported the ring.

  I flipped over the photo, looking for an answer.

  To the love of my life was scribbled in faded pen in the bottom of the right corner. It was signed, Marlowe.

  Chapter Fifty-five

  I stared at the photo for a long time. I felt confused, but in some weird way, it seemed to make sense.

  I had questions. Hundreds of questions.

  How could two guys fall in love? Did it happen a lot? Did they get married? Did they feel like I felt for Elsbeth?

  And why was my mother so angry at Tully? Was my grandmother jealous of the relationship the two men had in Europe, before he married her, and maybe made my mom feel the same way?

  When did Marlowe decide to marry my grandmother? When did he break up with Tully? Was it after the war?

  At least now I knew why Tully lived alone in the woods. His heart was broken, but not in the conventional way.

  Had my grandfather loved Tully his whole life? Even after he got married?

  Had they passed in the streets, looked at each other, and wished life was different?

  I turned off the flashlight and stared at the ceiling. I needed to talk to someone about it, but I sure couldn't discuss it with my parents. If I told the twins, I'd be betraying a confidence.

  Again, Millie's face rose to my mind's eye. She knew Tully in high school. She must've known about the romance between him and my grandfather. I needed to see her, get her alone, and ask her all my questions.

  ***

  I met the twins the next morning on horseback halfway between my house and theirs. They both looked happy and relaxed, so I figured Mr. Marggrander was still riding a calm wave. Elsbeth wore two candy necklaces, and when she brought Golden Boy up close to Pancho, she slid one off her neck and dangled it toward me.

  "Here. This is for you, Gus."

  I took it and put it on.

  "Try it. It's candy."

  "Okay." I bit into one of the candy disks and chewed it up. The elastic string that held the candy snapped back to my neck with the next bite. "Mmm. It's really good. Thanks."

  Siegfried clucked to Frisbee to bring him up on my other side. "I already ate mine." His grin was relaxed and his hair was even longer than the last time I saw him. It crept over his ears and the front almost hid his eyes.

  I studied it with envy. "Your hair's getting really long."

  "Ja. And yours is growing, too."

  "Not fast enough."

  Elsbeth tugged on my shirt to get my attention. "Gus. Stonybrook was beautiful!"

  "Yeah?"

  "Uh-huh. We went hiking, and swam in the river, and went over this waterfall."

  "What? In a barrel?" I couldn't picture her father letting her go near a waterfall, and pictured Niagara Falls.

 
"No, silly. It was a little one. Everyone was sliding down it, and we landed in a pool in the bottom."

  Siegfried's eyes sparkled. "You have to go there. Honest."

  I nodded. "Yeah. Maybe next time?" I wondered if their fascination with the state park had more to do with their father's sudden turnaround than with the majesty of nature.

  Elsbeth's eyes bored into mine. "So, is Tully okay? Did you go to the hospital?"

  I found it hard not to burst out with everything I'd learned in the last day. I wanted to tell them about the love between Tully and my grandfather, and show them the photo. I ached to have them weigh in on the subject. But I pulled myself together and didn't let on that I'd solved part of the mystery about my mother's behavior. "He's got a huge scar, and Mrs. Brown's gonna take care of him when he gets out."

  Sig's brow drew down. "In the cabin? Won't that be hard?"

  I nodded. "I'm not sure where. She checked it out yesterday and was kind of wondering the same thing. No electricity, no hot running water, and no fridge."

  Elsbeth tilted her head to the side. "Where's Mrs. Brown living now?"

  I swatted at a deer fly. "I think she's been staying in a hotel. And I guess she has a house in Washington, DC, too. That's where she was living before she went to the Middle East and got kidnapped. Her husband lived there while he waited for her to come home. Then just before he died, they drove up here to find Tully."

  She lifted the reins and moved her palomino into a slow jog. "They need to move in with someone. A nice family who has extra rooms."

  I pondered her idea. Of course, the Marggranders' place wouldn't work. They had no extra rooms. And our house was out. As good as my mother had been lately, I didn't think she was up to living with Tully.

  I wondered about the Stones. They had two extra bedrooms, and Millie was Tully's oldest friend. If I was staying there, too, when my parents were gone, I could help take care of him.

  I shared my thoughts with the twins, and told them about my parents' invitation to the gala at the White House to honor Mrs. Brown.

  Elsbeth's eyes sparkled. "You mean they're actually going inside the White House?"

  Siegfried eyes bulged. "Mein Gott! They'll probably see the President."