Among the Barons (15 page)

a quiet signal:
Not in front of the little boy.
Luke realized that his parents, and even Matthew and Mark, had done that around Luke all those years he’d lived at home. They’d protected him. He’d been the little boy. And now Luke was protecting Smits.

Luke half expected Dad to ask more, but he just nodded and turned back to the radio news.

“Come on,” Luke said to Smits. “I’ll show you around.”

They stepped out the kitchen door into the backyard. Luke froze, staring out at the barn and the trees and the garden, now dried up and dying. Once, this yard had practically been Luke’s whole world. Once, it had seemed huge and endless, especially when he’d been gathering the nerve to run across it to see Jen. But now—now it seemed tiny Luke felt like he could cross the distance to the Talbots’ backyard in a few quick strides.

Smits sat down on the back step.

“Your family loves you,” he said. “They missed you while you were away”

“Yes,” Luke said.

“I wish my parents had
. . . ,“
Smits started, but he choked on the rest of the words and stopped. Luke patted him on the back and sat down beside him.

“My parents will take care of you now,” Luke said. “Is that okay?”

After a few seconds Smits nodded. Luke slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out the I.D. that claimed Smits was really Peter Goodard.

“Do you want this?” Luke asked. “I found it in your room at school, after the fire. I didn’t know what Oscar was going to do with it, but—”

“Oscar? He didn’t know anything about it,” Smits said.

“What?” Just when Luke thought he had everything figured out, another surprise cropped up.

“You found it in his mattress, right?” Smits said. “I hid it there because I thought that was the one place he wouldn’t look. Oscar—he searched everything I owned. Every day He had ways of finding out everything.”

He took the I.D. from Luke and clutched it in his hand.

“But that first day you came to Hendricks—you had tricked Oscar then,” Luke said. “You’d locked him in the closet.”

Smits flashed Luke a disgusted look. “Oscar planned all that. He set me up. He thought I’d get to Hendricks and make some big scene and betray you, and betray my—my parents...

“Why didn’t you?” Luke asked.

Smits stared at the ground. “When I met you and had to call you Lee, it was like, just saying his name—I thought, what if you could be Lee? I mean, I knew you weren’t really Lee, but.., you kind of look like him. A little. And I thought maybe... You listened to me. Like Lee used to. But other times I would be so mad at you, and I was mean to you because...

“Because I wasn’t Lee,” Luke finished. “Not for real.”

Smits nodded.

And from that garbled explanation Luke somehow understood how it had been for Smits. He’d had no one he could trust. His brother was dead and Luke was using his name. So of course he was angry But he’d also let himself drop into fantasy “Can you be Lee?” Smits had asked Luke that on his very first day at Hendricks. And Luke had wondered what Smits really meant, what code Luke was supposed to understand. But Smits had meant exactly what he’d said. He’d wanted Luke to be Lee. Nothing more, nothing less.

Luke shook his head, trying to make sense of all this new information.

“But—the fire,” he said. “Why did you set the fire if— and why didn’t you take the I.D. when—”

“Oscar set the fire,” Smits said. “Or—it was his idea. Just from what I told you that night, he figured out that I was planning to run away”

So Oscar had been listening the whole time, all those nights Smits had reminisced about Lee. And Smits might have escaped if he hadn’t told Luke, “None of this is because of you. It won’t be your fault I even... I even kind of like you.” Everything would have been different if Smits hadn’t cared about Luke.

But maybe—maybe everything would have been worse instead of better. Maybe Smits would be dead now, too.

“But why did you want to run away?” Luke asked. “Where were you going to go?”

“Where I could find out more about Lee,” Smits said. “I

wanted to talk to people who’d seen him right before he died. Oscar said he’d help me if I could make it look like it wasn’t his fault for letting me go. Like he’d been too busy fighting the fire and saving my life to keep me from leaving. So I lit the matches, and he held his hands over the sprinklers as long as he could.... I thought Oscar would leave and I could grab the I.D. at the last minute. But the fire took off faster than I’d thought, and that teacher came in, Mr. Dirk I think Oscar just wanted Mr. Hendricks to send us home, where he could make more trouble. He—he got what he wanted.”

Luke was trying to sort everything out. “So you thought Oscar would help you? Why did you act like you didn’t trust him?”

Smits looked weary “Because I didn’t. There were so many lies. I didn’t know what to believe. Sometimes I believed him, sometimes I didn’t.”

Luke shivered, remembering his own confusion about Oscar. He could sympathize with Smits, trying to cope with Oscar’s lies and manipulations for so long.

“I think I understand everything now,” Luke said. “Except—where did you get the fake I.D. in the first place? And this other one—whose was it if it wasn’t Oscar’s?”

Luke drew out the pictureless I.D. for Stanley Goodard. Smits didn’t look surprised to see it. He reached out and touched it gently

“Lee’s,” he said. He stared out at the leafless trees at the edge of the yard.

“Lee knew there was danger,” Smits said. “He said our country was going to change, and it might not be safe anymore for us.... So he gave me the fake I.D., just in case. He showed me that he had a fake I.D. of his own. And then he left.”

“So how did you get Lee’s?” Luke asked.

“I stole it from Dad’s desk,” Smits said, and gave Luke a defiant look, just daring him to tell Smits that stealing was wrong.

Luke didn’t.

“So this was the identification Lee was carrying when he died,” Luke said. That fake I.D. was what made it safe for Luke to pretend to be Lee. The Government soldiers would never have known that they’d killed the real Lee Grant.

“The resistance group must have given it to your parents,” Luke said. “As proof.”

Smits shrugged, as though none of those details mattered.

“But what happened to the picture?” Luke asked.

In answer Smits reached inside his shirt and peeled a small, battered piece of clear tape off his chest. He held it out to Luke.

“Mom and Dad got rid of all the pictures of Lee,” Smits said. “For protection, they said. So—this is all I have.”

The tape—badly bent and grubby—was stuck to a picture of a boy who looked vaguely like an older, darker-haired version of Smits. Luke gingerly took the taped picture from Smits and studied it. It was hard to tell anything from such a small picture.

“You’ve been carrying this around for a long time, haven’t you?” Luke asked, carefully handing it back.

Smits nodded.

“I won’t have to keep it with me all the time now, will I?” Smits asked.

^M
No,~ Luke said.

“But if I put it down, that won’t mean I’m forgetting Lee.~

“Of course not,” Luke said. “You’ll never forget him. And I won’t, either. And someday it’ll be safe to tell the whole world what really happened to Lee. How brave he was and what he believed in.

But even saying that, Luke knew that he’d never truly be sure what the real Lee had believed. Had he joined the rebels, as Oscar said, simply to get revenge on his parents? Had he been as nonchalant as Oscar about harming innocent people? Or had he been a true believer, longing to extend freedom to everyone?

Luke couldn’t blame Smits for always wanting more answers about the dead. Luke would probably never know, either, if Mr. and Mrs. Grant had intended to kill him for real or if they’d just meant to send him back into hiding. If they’d wanted to kill him, how could he mourn their death?

But how could he hate them as Oscar did, when they’d given him Lee’s identity?

Smits didn’t seem to notice Luke’s confusion. He bent the tape over the back of the picture and tucked it and the two fake I.D.’s into his pocket Then he glanced back at Luke.

^TM
Luke? After the chandelier—after it fell, when I yelled, ‘My brother is dead,’ I didn’t mean to betray
you.
I don’t think that anyone understood. But—it felt good, you know? To finally tell the truth,
out
loud, in front of lots of people. I feel
...
I feel better about Lee now.~

“You didn’t betray me,” Luke said. He wondered how good it would feel for everyone to finally tell the truth. Someday he and They and Nina and all his other friends could stand up proud and finally tell the whole world their true names, their true stories. But somehow, even now,
sometimes
truth slipped out in the midst of all the lies and confusion.
^TM
And I really meant it when I said you were
my
brother
now.”

~I know,~ Smits said. ABut you’re not going to stay with me here,
are you?”

It was amazing, Luke thought, that Smits had figured that out. That Smits realized that Luke, like Lee, couldn’t make it his top priority to be Smits’s brother.

“No,” Luke said. “But you’ll be safe here. You’ll be ordinary old Peter Goodard, whoever that is. It’s good that Mr. Hendricks is the only other person who ever saw that I.D. We can make up a story about you, about why you’re here. And you don’t look like the rest of the family, so no one will think that you’re actually a third child with a fake I.DY He almost said, aLike they would if I stayed.” But he swallowed those words and smiled at Smits. “You’ll have Matthew and Mark. They’re horrible brothers, but—well, they’re better than nothing. And I’ll stay tonight. But then tomorrow—”

“I know,” Smits said.

Tomorrow Luke would march across that tiny backyard that separated his family’s house from Mr. Talbot’s. And then the chauffeur would take him back to the Grants’ house or back to Hendricks School or maybe even someplace else. Wherever he went, there’d be danger. But there would also be a chance to work toward that day of truth he longed for.

“Hey,” Luke said. “I’ve got an idea.”

He went in the side door of the barn and emerged with a rusty old wagon.

“It’s not red, and I’m not Lee, but—I made you a promise.”

And Luke sat down in the little kiddie wagon. His knees were practically in his ears. Smits laughed and stood up, then grabbed the handle and pulled. Luke instantly tipped over onto the ground.

‘Wow,” he said. ~No wonder Lee never let you pull.”

They goofed off with the wagon for a long time after that, taking turns jerking on the handle and sitting in the wagon. It became a game to
see
who could stay in the wagon the longest, who could dump the other boy the
fastest.
Luke’s dad came out and stood on the step and laughed at them.

“Here,” he said, ~I’11 pull you both.”

And Luke and Smits piled into the wagon, barely fitting in. Luke’s dad tugged hard, and for just a minute Luke could believe again that he
was
just a little kid letting a grown-up determine which way he should go. But then he was on the ground again, and his dad was groaning and rubbing his arm.

“You’re too heavy together,” he complained jokingly “Just the little guy this time.”

And Luke stood back and watched Smits play with Luke’s dad. Smits wasn’t a Grant anymore, and Luke was. But now Smits would have Luke’s parents, and Luke wouldn’t. Luke knew he’d made a bad trade. And with all that he’d risked, he still hadn’t done anything grand for the cause.

But he’d helped Smits. And for now that was enough.