Summer Sanctuary (7 page)

“All for only $50 each!” chimed in Dinah. We danced around, kicking our feet up and laughing as we cleaned up our lunch trash.

“I'll throw that in the garbage on my way back in the library,” I said. “Want to meet back here in an hour? I'll have your harmonica book for you.”

“That's so sweet of you, Matthew,” Dinah said. Happiness surged through my body.

“Do you want another book to read, too? I don't really need to take any of those science books home. Mrs. Cleary's letting me keep them behind the desk.” I was looking down and kind of kicking the ground with my
my sneaker as I said it. “Anyway, it won't be long before I'll have the real card. Then I can check out as many books as I want.”

“Are you sure you don't mind?” Dinah asked.

“I don't mind at all,” I answered, smiling. I found myself smiling a lot when I was with Dinah. “What book do you want to read?”

I was back an hour later with the harmonica book and the first Harry Potter book,
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
. Peace Congregation did not care for magic, wizardry, or Harry Potter. But there wasn't anyone from Peace there when I checked it out, and it wasn't like I was planning on lugging it all around with me or reading it myself. I just borrowed it for a friend.

“Don't forget, tonight's trash night,” I told Dinah before I left. “Church will be done by 9:00, and I'll stay after and help with trash and make sure the back door stays unlocked, okay?”

“Thanks, Matthew,” Dinah said, as she packed the books away.

“And I'll bring that stamp for you tomorrow,” I added. “Stay out of the fountain and away from mall security.”

M
OM CAME INTO
the kitchen just as I finished packing my lunch.

“Let's see what you've got,” Mom said.

I swallowed hard and handed her the bag. She peered inside at my two turkey and Swiss sandwiches (one with mustard and one with mayonnaise), an apple, a banana, at least a dozen baby carrots, and two string cheese sticks. I held my breath.

“My goodness, Matthew,” Mom said. “I suspected there was something you weren't telling me when you wanted to pack your own lunch. I had no idea that I wasn't giving you enough food!” She rolled the paper bag shut and handed it back to me. “You must be coming up on another growing spurt.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I said, heading for the door.

“Oh, Matthew,” Mom called after me. “There's a letter from Kyle in this morning's mail. It's on the stand in the entryway.”

“Got it!” I yelled back. I grabbed the letter and stuffed it in my backpack. I rode as fast as I could to the library. I went straight back to our tree and found Dinah lying in the grass on her stomach studying the harmonica book.

“So I guess the blues harp is more interesting than Harry Potter,” I said as we nodded hello.

“Nah,” she said, as she sat up and handed me the Harry Potter book. “I finished this over an hour ago. I was hoping you could get me Year Two today.”

“You read this whole book in a day?” I couldn't believe it. I turned to the back of the book. “It has over 300 pages!”

“Not like I have anything else to do,” Dinah laughed.

I flipped through the Harry Potter book. Maybe once I got my real library card, I'd check it out again and read it myself. It must be pretty good or Dinah wouldn't read it so fast and be ready for the next one.

I put Harry Potter in my backpack and pulled out Kyle's letter and Dinah's stamp. “Here's your stamp,” I said as I handed it to her. “I got a letter from Kyle.”

“So how's Kyle liking life on the farm?” Dinah asked.

“I don't know. I grabbed it on the way out and haven't had a chance to read it yet.” I tore the letter open. “Want to hear it?” I thought it was only fair that I share my letter with her, since she let me read her letter to her mom yesterday. Plus Kyle can be pretty entertaining.

“Sure,” Dinah said. She lay on her back, her arms behind her head and the harmonica book open across her chest. I cleared my throat and began reading.

Dear Matthew,

Hey! How's it going? Me, not too bad. Grandpa says he'll make a farmer of me by the end of summer. I don't think so.

Grandpa milks the cows at 4:30 every day. That's 4:30 AM and 4:30 PM. He hauled me out of bed to milk with him the first morning, but then Grandma convinced him I'm a growing boy and need my sleep. Thank you, Grandma!

The worst part is the smell. Sometimes it stinks so bad I have to pull my shirt over my nose and mouth to keep from hurling.
Grandpa laughs and says that's the smell of money and I'll learn to love it. I definitely don't think so.

They got me all confused over mealtimes here. Grandma kept asking me what I want for dinner and then making it for lunch. Took me three days to figure out they eat breakfast, dinner, and supper, not breakfast, lunch, and dinner like us.

They call cantaloupes muskmelons and green peppers mangos. The milk's not pasteurized, and we skim the cream right off the top. I churned some of it into butter. Grandma acted like it was the best butter she ever tasted, but it wasn't as good as a stick of store butter.

Anyway, Grandma wants to fatten me up and Grandpa wants to work me 'til I'm skin and bones, so you'll know who won when you see me in August.

Am I missing anything fun? Any news if Acts is a boy or girl yet? Well, I gotta go chop wood. It's 85 degrees outside and Grandpa's worrying about freezing in February. WRITE ME BACK!!!

Your friend,

Kyle

When I finished reading the letter, Dinah asked me, “So who's Ax?”

“Acts is what Kyle calls the new baby,” I told her.

“Ax like you use for cutting wood? What kind of name is Ax for a baby?” Dinah scrunched up her eyebrows and frowned.

“It's just Kyle's weird sense of humor,” I laughed. “And it's Acts, like Acts of the Apostles, not ax like a hatchet.” I stood up and headed down toward the creek.

“I still don't get it,” Dinah said, following me.

“My parents named me Matthew. My brothers are Mark, Luke, and John. Like the gospels,” I explained. “The first four books of the New Testament. It's Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, then the next book is Acts.” I kicked a walnut toward my reflection in the creek and watched my face disappear in the splash.

“Would your parents really name a baby Acts?” Dinah asked.

“Nah,” I told her, although suddenly I wondered myself. “No,” I repeated with more conviction. “Nobody but Kyle would call a baby Acts.” I kicked another walnut, only this time I missed my reflection. I watched as the circles rippled through my head and down my body.

“So you're named after a book of the Bible?” Dinah parked herself and her backpack by the edge of the creek and began taking off her shoes and socks.

“Yes—well, after the Apostle Matthew, I guess. What about you?” I'd been wondering about that ever since I read about Dinah in Genesis. That was one name from the Bible Mom and Dad definitely wouldn't pick for a girl. I couldn't imagine why Dinah's mom had picked that name.

“My name's Dinah Renae. My mom's name is Rose Dinah. Her mom picked the name Dinah because she loved Dinah Shore.” Dinah leaned back on her elbows and splashed her feet in the creek. “Mom said in her family, the mom's middle name is automatically her daughter's name. Her mom's name was Frances Rose. And her grandma's name was Mary Frances. So Mary Frances had Frances Rose, and Frances Rose had Rose Dinah, and she had Dinah Renae.” Dinah alternated the splashing her feet with each generation. “My daughter will be Renae, and then I'll get to pick my granddaughter's name when I pick my daughter's middle name. Get it?”

“Who's Dinah Shore?” I asked.

“Dinah Shore—you know, the singer, golf tournament lady, TV star?” Dinah told me.

I shook my head. “Sorry. I've never heard of her.”

“Well, she's been dead a while, so I guess maybe you wouldn't have,” Dinah conceded. “She was a great singer and TV star. I've been reading up on her here at the library and listening to some of her songs in the audio room.

“So that's who you were named after—a dead singer and golfer?” It didn't sound like something I'd be too proud of.

“Well, she wasn't dead when my grandmother picked that name. Dinah Shore's real name was Frances Rose Shore. Frances Rose, just like my grandmother.” Dinah looked at me closely to make sure I was interested or at least following. I stopped kicking nuts into the creek and sat down beside her. “When Dinah Shore was still Frances Rose Shore she sang that song that goes ‘Dinah won't you blow, Dinah won't you blow, Dinah won't you blow your horn.'”

Dinah sang the entire chorus for me. Her voice was somewhere between a tenor and an alto. Not that I expected her to be a soprano.

“You know that song?” Dinah asked. I nodded. “Well, the announcer forgot her name when she sang that song on the radio and started calling her Dinah. She decided she liked that better than Frances Rose and just called herself Dinah after that.”

“So you're named after a dead singer who was named after a train?” I was feeling better and better about the names my parents chose.

“I'm named after Dinah Shore,” Dinah corrected me, “and Dinah Shore was actually a pioneer among women. You wouldn't believe all the stuff I've been reading about her.”

I had the feeling she was going to tell me anyway, so I got comfortable before I asked, “Like what?”

“Well, to start off with, Dinah Shore had polio when she was young. She exercised so hard that she learned to walk without a limp. She was a really good tennis player and golfer.” I had to admit that was impressive. She must have been pretty athletic to begin with, though. More like Mark than like me. Like Dinah, too. She was sure good at getting up and down trees. Muscular, like a gymnast, not scrawny like me. Dinah was still going on about Dinah Shore. I started looking for smooth rocks that we could skip.

She talked about Dinah Shore like she was a member of her own family. I had never heard anyone talk like that about somebody they never even met and who died before we were even born. But I guess when you don't have much of a family yourself, maybe you should get to adopt other people's family history. I just leaned back and let her keep chattering until she told me everything she thought I needed to know about Dinah Shore.

I was kind of listening to Dinah, and kind of writing my letter back to Kyle in my head.
Not much to write about if I leave out Dinah
. So I started thinking about how to convert light years from distance to time again.
Maybe I should calculate how many seconds there are in a year. Then I could calculate how far light would travel in a year and compare that to how far the earth travels around the sun in a year.

Dinah interrupted my strategy. “So do you want to eat lunch early, or study in the library a while? It's only 10:30.”

“I don't care,” I said, sitting up and stretching. A big yawn followed. “How about you?”

“I'm okay for now,” Dinah decided. “I'd like to be able to read Harry Potter Year Two while you're studying in the library.”

“All right,” I said. I'll meet you back by the tree in a little bit.”

D
INAH AND
I settled into a comfortable routine over the next week. She played her harmonica with me when I practiced on Sunday, and she read the whole Harry Potter series that week. I wanted it to be June forever, but suddenly it was July first.

We finished dinner as usual, and Luke was jumping up on Dad shouting, “A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!” That's what we always said to get Dad to be our horse.

But Dad said, “Sorry, Luke. I've got a meeting to go to.” Dad never had meetings on Thursday nights. “Come give me a kiss and hug goodnight.” Dad wasn't planning to be home before their bedtime.

“Where are you going?” I asked as he kissed Mom goodbye and kissed the baby in her belly goodbye. My heart stopped.
Please don't let it be the church.

“I've got a meeting at the church,” he said and gave me a goodnight hug, too. “I shouldn't be too late, but Johnny and Luke will definitely be in bed asleep.” He picked up his briefcase and car keys.

“How come you're driving if the meeting's at the church?” I asked.

“They're calling for thunderstorms tonight. I'd better drive just in case.” And with that he was gone.

At 9:00 Mom sent Mark and me to bed. There was still no sign of Dad. I peered out the window. Just looking at the back of the church, I couldn't tell whether the meeting was still going or not.

“What are you looking at?” Mark asked.

“The clouds,” I said. “Dad said it's supposed to storm tonight.” I closed the curtains and nestled into bed.

“I sure hope it doesn't flood the ball field.” Mark propped himself up on his elbows. “We need to practice for the Fourth of July Tourney this weekend.”

“Is baseball the only thing you care about?” I asked him.

“Heck, no!” Mark retorted. “I care about soccer and basketball, and I like swimming, too.”

“Anything else?” I asked shaking my head.

“I've been thinking more about winter sports. Maybe hockey or even downhill skiing.”

“Good night, Mark,” I said and pretended to go to sleep so Mark would, too.

“Night,” said Mark. I watched the clock. This had already been the longest night of my whole, entire life. I didn't know it yet, but it was really just starting.

Lightning illuminated the room. In the flash, I saw Mark sleeping. The thunder boomed not far behind, but Mark didn't stir. Just as the patter of raindrops started, I heard the garage door open. I crept silently down the stairs, just far enough to hear better, but not far enough for Mom and Dad to see me. I heard the garage door close, then voices in the kitchen. I couldn't make out what they were saying until they came into the living room and sat on the couch.