Scattered Leaves (23 page)

"I called her house last night and her grandfather said she was still staying over at your great-aunt's house with vou. You two have a party in the basement with Chad and someone else?" Raspberry asked me. "I bet you kept all the alcopops and didn't throw any of it out. huh?"
"No."
"Don't go lying to us. girl," Nikki said.
"I'm not. We didn't have a party. Didn't you ask her?"
"Yeah, we asked her," Raspberry said, glaring at Alanis. "We know enough to know you can't believe Alanis or trust her. She's acting pretty secretive. too. She got something planned and we bet you know what it is."
"I thought she was your best friend," I said.
"She was, but we think she's getting stuck up because of you," Nikki said.
"Me?"
"Yeah. You're a rich kid. right? She has more money on her than I ever seen her have," Nikki said. "All of a sudden we ain't gonna be good enough for her."
I didn't know what to say. I looked to Alanis, who was flirting so much with Chad that the teacher monitor was looking at them angrily.
"Don't you two go haying a party without us," Raspberry warned.
"We're not,' I said. I couldn't eat fast enough and be happier when the bell rang to return to class.
Afterward. Alanis met me in the hallway.
"It's all set," she said. "He's coming by to pick us up at ten tomorrow, I didn't tell him where we're Going exactly or why, so don't say anything. I'll do all the talking."
"Nikki and Raspberry think we're planning to have a party without them." I said. "They're mad at you. They think you're getting stuck up and they're blaming me."
"Forget about them for now. I don't have time for fools," she said and hurried off.
When I turned. I saw Mrs. Browne standing in a doorway with one of the teachers, looking at me. Her face was full of disapproval and suspicion. The two of them began speaking very low as they stared at me. I walked faster, but I could feel her eyes following me down the hallway to my classroom. It actually felt as if they'd been inches from the back of my neck.
In the world I had come from. I couldn't recall any teacher ever having looked at me with anything but a smile on his or her face. What dark boundary had I crossed? Who had I become?
Once again I felt as if events were carrying me off like an ocean current. Would I drown or end up someplace better?

As soon as we stepped off the bus, we saw Alanis's grandfather coming down the driveway. He was walking so quickly and looked so upset that I thought Great-aunt Frances had told him about our trip tomorrow after all and, despite what Alanis planned to say, he knew she was up to something. Her lies wouldn't work as easily with him as they did with other people.

"I want you over to our house right off. Alanis," he said as we walked up. He pointed to it. "You just get yourself over there right now,"

"Why?" she cried. "I'm living in Miss Wilkens's house."
"Why? I don't care if you've moved into Miss Wilkens's house to be with Jordan, but you still have chores to do at our house."
"Why can't Mama do it?" He looked away.
"It's not fair," she shouted. "I'm doing all her work at Miss Wilkens's house. ain't I? There's not half as much to do in your house. Granddad,"
He glanced at me and then in a softer voice said. "She's not here." It was almost a whisper.
"Well, where is she? She don't hafts be at work this early. I--I"
"Your mother's gone off with that bum Olsen, the bartender. It's just you and me," he added quickly, turned, and walked toward the barn.
His words lingered in the air like heavy, smelly smoke. Alanis stood there looking after him. For a moment she looked as if she would begin to cry. Her cheeks twitched, her lips turned in and out on each other, and her eyes grew gray as a film of tears came rushing in and over them, but if Alanis ever did cry, she didn't cry in front of anyone. I thought.
"You see? I'm right. Be no different if my mother was in a coma, too." she muttered.
She glanced at me and then stomped up the driveway, veering off to the right toward her grandfather's house, her head down, her hands clenched into fists pounding at her own thighs as she walked.
"See you later," she called back without even turning toward me.
I continued to the house, and as soon as I stepped in. I heard Great-aunt Frances call for me. She was in the living room watching her afternoon soap opera, and she wasn't waiting for the commercial.
"Guess who called about you today," she said when I appeared in the doorway.
"Grandmother Emma?"
"No. Your father. I can't remember when I spoke to him last. It seems to me he was just a little boy."
"My father? I thought he went on a vacation."
"I don't know where he was when he called."
"What did he say? Did he say anything about my mother?"
"He asked how you were doing. I thought he sounded sad," she said. "Very sad. I can tell when someone is sad. It's like hearing a familiar song. I asked him if he wanted you to call him and he said no. He said he would call again."
"And he didn't say anything about my mother? You didn't ask?"
"I was so surprised at hearing his voice that I didn't think to ask. I'm sorry, dear. I didn't even ask about Emma. He promised he would call again soon. Oh," she said as I started to turn away. "He said to tell you he sent your letter to Ian."
"He did?"
"That's what he said."
"Then maybe Ian will write me here. We'll have to look at the mail every day."
"I don't get any mail," she said, "Lester gets anything important and takes it to the bank or sends it to Emma's lawyer. The rest, he says, is just junk mail."
"I'd better tell him not to make a mistake and throw away a letter from Ian."
"He won't if your name's on the envelope."
"I'll tell him anyway." I said, excited and not wanting to take any chances. I turned and ran back out of the house. Daddy had called about me and he had fulfilled his promise about my letter. It was as if an overcast sky had started to part and let in some blue hope.
Alanis's granddad was feeding the chickens. He was mumbling under his breath, either to himself or to the chickens, and didn't hear me when
I
called to him.
"Mr. Marshall," I called again.
"Yes?" When he turned to me.
I
thought he looked so much older an almost in minutes.
"My father called. I might get a letter from my brother any day now. His name is Ian March, so any envelope with that name on it is for me."
"Well, well now, that's nice. I'll be sure to get it to you," he said.
He didn't smile like he almost always did when he spoke to me.
"I'm sorry Mae Betty left," I told him, and his eyes widened a bit.
"Yeah," he said, and then he added something very strange. "Maybe we'll be better off."
I didn't know what to say. How could Alanis be better off without her mother? I certainly wasn't. And why was he better off without his own daughter? I turned and ran back to the house, practically charging up the stairway to Grandmother Emma's room. There were two more of Ian's letters to read. I seized the bag and sat on the floor.
.
Dear Jordan,
I am now wrapped around my waist so tightly I can't sit up. I am writing to you lying on my back so my writing might look funny.
It all happens to me at night. It happens very. slowly, so slowly that I can't feel it happening and can't stop it.
The nurse and Dr. Walker pretend they don't see it. They spend most of their time trying to convince me I am imagining it. They plead with me to move my legs and now to sit up. I just smile at them. I know this is a charade they must go through in case some health inspector arrives or in case the highly doubtful thing occurs and Father comes to visit or inquires about me. Of course, they have to be sure Grandmother Emma hears only good things, too. She will. My lawyer, Jack Cassidy, pretends to be very concerned and stands in the doorway' looking in at me and nodding his head and shaking his head as Dr. Walker fills his ears with one lie after another.
I don't want you to worry because no matter what they do to me, I will still be able to speak with Mother. I don't have to move my mouth to speak with her, remember. It all done with my brain and with hers, so even if they put me into a coma finally, it won't matter.
That's ironic, and that means funny in a serious sort of way this time, is that I am talking more with her non' than I did when we
^-
were both at the mansion and free. Maybe it because neither of us has much else to do.
However, I am afraid that some medication they will give me might cloud my brain and make it impossible for me to continue to talk with Mother, so I want you to start practicing telepathy.
Here's what I want you to do, Jordan. I want you to sit quietly someplace
^-
where no one can disturb you and where you won't be disturbed by anyone talking to you or any noise and I want you to try to picture Mother in your mind and just keep sending out a call to her. Work hard on it and one day, you will hear her voice. It that simple, but it won't work unless you have a place to go where you can be undisturbed.
I have to stop. . .my arm is aching and so are my shoulders.
Ian
.
Where could I go to do what Ian suggested? I wondered. And then I quickly realized, the attic. I would go up there when I could go up alone, go up whenever Alanis had to be at her granddad's house cleaning. I just had to know where the key was. Excited about it, I was now happy Alanis had made the discovery.
I opened Ian's last letter in the bag. It was in scribbling so awkward and clumsy that I had to study it hard to understand. It was all over the page, too, some words even sideways.
.
Dear Jordan,
My arms are wrapped. I can just move my wrist. Tomorrow, I won't be able to do that.
Good-bye.
Ian
.
For a long time. I sat there staring at the scribbling.
I
was surprised at the tear that fell on the paper and realized it was mine. It had come from my eye and was being followed by eager brother and sister tears charging down my cheeks and leaping off to join the first. What did this mean? Would he never write to me again? What good was Daddy sending him my letter finally?
My shoulders shook and my chest began to ache. I rolled over on the carpet and brought my knees up against my stomach to make it feel better. I closed my eyes and rocked and rocked until I was too tired to continue.
And after a while. I fell asleep.
I woke when I heard Alanis's laugh. She was sitting on Grandmother Emma's bed reading Ian's letters.
"Stop!" I cried, grinding the sleep out of my eyes and sitting up. I reached for Ian's letters. "Give them back to me now."
"Talk about being bonkers," she said. "Your brother is really nuts. No wonder why you didn't want me to read these letters."
"He's not nuts. He's very, very smart," I said.
She smirked. "Yeah, right. The rest of the world is nuts." She put the letters down, and I started folding them back into their envelopes.
"I told you not to read them. Ian wanted only me to read them."
"Don't worry about it. I'm not going to tell anyone. Remember? Real friends keep secrets for each other. Besides, this isn't important. Our discovery is what's important."
I thought about Ian's instructions about telepathy. "Where did you say the key to the attic is?"
"The bottom drawer in the food pantry. It's the only one with a little blue stain on it. I don't know if there is more than one, so we have to be sure to put it back after we use it each time." she instructed. "I just told your aunt that you and I are going to make her a surprise for dinner so she doesn't have to think up any silly costumes or anything tonight. She looked tired anyway and was happy to hear it."
"What are we going to make?"
"I can make macaroni and cheese. You make the salad. Granddad bought a nice bread and a pecan pie, which is one of her favorites. It's Friday night so we'll watch television with her and keep her mind off asking about our trip tomorrow. We'll wake up, have breakfast and go before she realizes she had said it was okay. Granddad does most of his other shopping on Saturday so he won't see us leave. Ifs perfect as long as you don't say anything stupid."
"I won't say anything stupid."
"Just remember what I told you about speaking to adults. Take your time before you say anything. Count to five after they ask you questions so you don't accidentally blurt out the truth."
"I told you," I said. "I don't like lying."
"Then don't talk much." she advised. She looked very angry suddenly. "Don't you see how the truth just hurts most of the time? My granddad has to face the truth about my mother. She's a tramp. He can't pretend things like your great-aunt. All he can do is suffer. Anybody asks me where my mother is I'll tell them she's visiting relatives. Or would you rather I tell them the truth and say my mother ran off with a no-good man and didn't care she left me behind? Huh? Which would you say? Huh?" she pursued.
"I don't know. My mother never ran off."
She shook her head and sighed. "Sometimes, talking to you is really like talking to someone from another world," she said, glancing at Ian's letters. "What did you tell the other kids in your class about your brother when you wrote that autobiogiaphy the first day? Huh?"
I bit down an my lower lip.
"Well?"
"I said he was very smart."
"And?"
"That he wants to be a medical research scientist."
"And?"
"That's all I said."
"See? You didn't tell them about the minder or where he is. The truth hurts, so you didn't tell it."
I looked away, the tears threatening to return.
"I'm just trying to tell you how to get along. Jordan. I'm not trying to hurt you. C'mon. Let's get started on the dinner. We'll pretend we're the cooks on a cruise ship or something. We can have some fun and forget anything sad.'
I turned to her sharply. "I thought you said we wouldn't pretend."
"I'm feeling sad all of a sudden. I'd rather pretend."
"You sound more and more like my great-aunt Frances," I said.
She smiled. "Ya? Maybe she ain't so bonkers after all. C'mon," she urged and got up.
I put Ian's letters back in the bag and the bag back in the closet. Then I followed her out and down the stairs. She thought it would be a good idea to make the dinner seem special by dressing the dining room table instead of eating in the kitchen. Great-aunt Frances poked her head in to watch us work. She laughed and clapped her hands, then told us that since we were eating in the formal dining room, she had decided she had to go upstairs and dress in something nice, fix her hair and put on some makeup. Alanis thought it was a good idea, and she and I went up and put on prettier clothes. When we came down, we set up candles and Alanis found some old tapes to play on the stereo system. It wasn't music she liked, but she said we should play it for Great-aunt Frances, who, when she heard it, wore a brighter, happier smile. She did look the nicest I had seen her look since I had come to live here.
Although I had made a simple salad and Alanis had only opened a box that had everything in it. Great-aunt Frances thought we had made the most wonderful dinner, especially with the candlelight and the nice dinnerware. It stirred more memories about her youth, and she began telling us about some of the wonderful dinners her mother had made and some of the family events, especially when relatives had visited.
"Emma was particularly fond of our uncle Bronson. He was our father's younger brother, a dashingly handsome man who was a private plane pilot. He worked for a corporation and flew all over Europe as well as America. He had wonderful stories for us and was always urging us to think about traveling. Emma did a lot of traveling after she was married, but I didn't do any.
"Once, Uncle Bronson took us both for a plane ride. He rented a small plane. My mother was very nervous and so was Emma, but she wouldn't admit it. She didn't care that I was the one Uncle Bronson wanted to sit up front, When I looked back at her, she always had her eyes closed. Once." she said. hesitating. "I told her she had her eyes closed most of her life and she got very angry. You know why she got angry?" Great-aunt Frances asked us. Neither of us had moved an inch or uttered a word the whole time she'd spoken. I could see that Alanis never expected Great-aunt Frances would talk like this. She was surprised and fascinated. "You know why?" Great-aunt Frances repeated, now really looking at us and not at her memories.
I shook my head. Alanis didn't move or speak.
"She got agryy because she knew it was the truth," she said. "And she didn't want to hear the truth."
I looked at Alanis.
She was smiling.
Her whole face was saying, "See?"
The pecan pie cheered Great-aunt Frances up and turned her back to the childlike adult I knew, Afterward, we sent her to watch television while we cleaned up. As we promised, we joined her to watch one of her romantic movies. Alanis even joined her when she spoke to the set and told actors what to do and not to do. Finally. Great-aunt Frances got so tired that her eves began to close. Alanis said she was tired herself and told me she wanted to go up to finish reading the book Ian had given me. She said she was nearly done and it would be the first book she had really read cover to cover.
"Most of the time. I skip stuff," she admitted. "Or I get someone else to tell me the story."