The Secret Life of Owen Skye (7 page)

“Rex! Down boy! Down!” came a little girl's voice.

They were all amazed. It was Sadie, one of the widow Foster's girls.

Rex was the size of Andy and Owen together, but the little girl put him on a chain like she was handling a bunny rabbit. Then she let the boys in, and they were amazed again.

There inside the warm house, playing cribbage with the other girl Eleanor and with Mrs. Foster herself, was Uncle Lorne, looking as relaxed and easy as if he were part of the family.

ELEANOR WAS MRS.
Foster's eldest daughter. She had wild blonde curly hair that fell in front of her eyes whenever she bent forward, and long bony limbs. Sadie was the youngest, with straight reddish hair and bold blue eyes and tiny hands. She was quieter than her sister and seemed to fall in love with Owen that night the boys showed up at Mrs. Foster's farmhouse half-frozen and lost. She made hot chocolate for him and brought him warm socks from her own drawer. She knelt close to him by the fire to help him roast his marshmallows. When she looked at him her eyes went dreamy and Owen's neck started to roast and his hair stood up.

That night Uncle Lorne drove the boys home. Their parents were terribly upset about them being out so late and wandering so far from home, and they didn't even know about the near-disasters on the ice and the train bridge. Margaret stood in the kitchen, which was steamy with the smell of soup that had been boiling for hours, and said that was it, they'd never be allowed out of the house on their own again.

Horace said he was going to give them each a hiding they'd never forget. He went to the cupboard and took out the warped ruler that he used in such times.

“I stole this ruler when I was in grade three,” Horace said. He whacked it against his thigh and all three boys jumped. Margaret stood against the counter and didn't look as if she might be inclined to save her sons.

Horace held the ruler up for all of them to see. “What shape is it, Owen?” he asked.

“It's w-w-warped, sir,” Owen said.

“And what does that remind me of?”

Owen's lips were trembling badly. But he managed to say, “Of your own mistakes, sir! And how you have to stay straight! And it hurts you much more than it hurts us, sir, to have to beat us, but if you spare the bod you spoil the child, sir!”

“Rod,” Andy said.

“Spoil the rod!” Owen cried out.

“Spare the rod!” Andy said.

“Spare the child, spoil the rod!” Owen blurted.

“Quiet!” Horace said in his largest voice. Then he hit himself again on the thigh with the ruler.

There was a loud
crack
and half the ruler flew over the boys' heads and into the soup pot behind them.

Owen couldn't help it. He turned and looked at the soup pot and started to laugh.

“Shhhhh!”
Horace said. “It isn't funny!” Margaret went over to the pot and fished out the broken piece and said, “Spoil the rod!”

Then they were all laughing. Owen felt it jiggling his skin. He felt like a water balloon inside. He couldn't stand up anymore. He collapsed on the cold kitchen linoleum and wobbled and gurgled with laughter and kicked out his legs in feeble spasms. Soon it was Owen who was so funny, and even Horace started snorting and wheezing and leaning against the wall in limp exhaustion.

That's when Uncle Lorne came into the kitchen and said, “By the way, Lorraine and me are getting married.”

“Who's Lorraine?” Owen cried out, and it was minutes before any of them could speak again, they were howling drunk with laughter.

“That's… that's… Mrs. Foster,” Lorne managed to say, and then they all screamed even more.

But it was true. Lorne had somehow screwed up the courage to ask her, and Mrs. Foster — Lorraine — had accepted. Not only did it make everything better instantly, but in the weeks that followed, the good news blew like a warm wind and chased out winter early.

Unfortunately, the closer they got to the June wedding, the more often Eleanor and Sadie came to visit with their mother. Margaret was sewing Lorraine's dress, and it was taking forever. They would spend hours in the back room where Margaret kept her fabric and her sewing machine. Sadie grew mushier and mushier around Owen until it was almost unbearable, especially when Andy and Leonard ran around yelling, “Owen and Sadie are getting married!”

One day Owen couldn't stand it anymore. He ran away from all of them and went into the backyard, where he climbed the apple tree and began flying solo combat missions over the English Channel. But even there he wasn't safe. Within minutes his mother was standing under the tree telling him he had to come down and play with Eleanor and Sadie.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because they're your guests!” Margaret said.

Owen wanted to say that he hadn't invited them. He wanted to say that Sadie made him feel like he was buried to his neck in sand with fire ants up his pants. He wanted to say that he couldn't be in love with Sadie, because he was already in love with Sylvia and that was bad enough.

He wanted to say all these things. But he couldn't.

Instead he got down from the tree and went inside where the girls were playing medical emergency in the living room.

“You're looking a bit peaked,” Eleanor said to him.

Owen didn't know what she meant, but he nodded anyway.

“You might be in need of scientific attention,” Eleanor said. “Take off your shirt.”

Eleanor had a certain way of giving an order, and Owen did as he was told.

“Lie down. Close your eyes,” she said. “Nurse, pass the instruments.”

Owen felt something cold against his skin. Sometime later Eleanor said to Sadie, “I'm going to hand you his liver. You hold it while I stitch down the new esophagus. Don't drop it!”

Owen opened his eyes to see Eleanor kneeling over him with a butter knife.

Just then Andy and Leonard ran into the room to save him.

“Why are you cutting out his liver?” Andy yelled.

“It's just a minor operation,” Eleanor said coolly. “We've already replaced his heart with a perfect aluminum one.” Then she told Andy to step away because he was getting germs in the patient's body cavity.

Owen thought Andy would push her aside but he didn't. He took a step back just like he was told. Eleanor had very steady hands and her brow furrowed in concentration like a real surgeon's on TV.

“You must remain utterly still,” she said to Owen. “If you move even an inch then your replacement spinal cord will be ruined.” Owen nodded his head, which made Eleanor throw down her butter knife in anger.

“What did I just tell you? Do you want to be a paraplegic the rest of your life?”

“It doesn't matter,” Sadie said. “I'll nurse you
forever
.” She mopped his forehead with a damp piece of tissue paper. Then she leaned down and kissed Owen on the cheek.

Owen sat up as if he'd been bitten by a snake and ran away, shirtless.

But he didn't escape for long. A few days later his mother told him that at the wedding he would be walking up the aisle in the church beside Sadie.

“She's going to be the flower girl, and you're going to be her escort,” Margaret said.

“Her
escort,
” Owen said. It sounded like he'd have to spend the rest of his life following her around.

Another day Sadie asked Owen what kind of house he wanted to live in.

“I hate houses!” Owen said. “I'd rather go live in a cave!”

Then she asked him about furniture, and whether he preferred blinds or drapes, and what pattern he wanted on their dishes.

“We aren't going to have any dishes!” Owen said.

“We have to have dishes,” Sadie said quietly. And she reached out to pat Owen's hair, which made him jump back and run to his mother, who said he had to play with her, no matter how gushy she got.

Lorne was also in a bad way. He needed new shoes. But his feet were too big and he'd waited too long to order a pair from the only store that would have his size for sure, the tall man's store in New York City. Margaret said he should try the shoe store in town anyway. And she said Owen needed shoes too so they could go together.

They drove off in Lorne's truck. Spring-green growth clothed the lawns, trees and unplowed fields. The plowed ones were brown and black with mud, and the sky was so blue it hurt the eyes. Lorne had trouble shifting gears, and the old car lurched badly.

“They say that you have to speak and such,” Lorne said, his eyes intent on the road.

“I don't want to be her escort,” Owen muttered.

“You have to make toasts,” Lorne grumbled. He looked across at Owen for a second, then back at the road. “They make you stand up. In front of everybody,” he said.

“I don't see why I have to be her
escort
,” Owen said.

Lorne made a flapping noise with his lips and shook his head slightly. “Anyway, I'm never going to find shoes,” he said.

They couldn't even find the shoe store. Lorne drove aimlessly around the main streets. He rode the brakes hard every time it looked like someone wanted to cross the road or turn into the lane.

Owen suggested they could park and ask somebody, but Lorne had a hard time finding a parking space. He seemed afraid of getting too close to other cars. Finally, many blocks from the main streets, he found a spot with plenty of room.

As they were walking back to the downtown, Lorne said, “You have to say how beautiful everybody is.” Then he shook his head. “Not everybody. You have to say what a beautiful bride.”

“I don't see why Sadie got to choose,” Owen said. “Why she chose me!”

Lorne made the strange flapping noise again.

At the main street they walked past the hardware, the corner store, some fashion shops, the pharmacy. Owen went up to a plump old lady in a fussy hat who looked like she might help.

“Do you know where the shoe store is?” he asked.

“Two blocks over,” she said, pointing the direction.

After awhile they found the place. The owner was a small man who wore a suit and tie and had a trim mustache and shoes that shone like mica in the sun. He took out a metal instrument with expandable flaps for measuring foot sizes. When he knelt down he had a hard time fitting Lorne's foot inside the flaps.

“I might have something,” he said doubtfully, and wandered off.

“They clink glasses,” Lorne said, staring into the mirror at his feet. “You have to stand up in front of everybody.”

The salesman came back with a pair of dusty black leather shoes too big for a box. He threaded the laces through the eyelets and dragged back the tongue. Then he knelt by Lorne and reached around to his heel with a shoe horn. Lorne stood up and groaned as his foot settled into the shoe.

“If they don't fit I guess you can't get married,” Owen said hopefully.

“These are the biggest you have?” Lorne asked.

“I'm afraid so,” said the salesman.

The second shoe went on a little more easily and Lorne paced gingerly, then stopped to look in the mirror. “If I soaked my feet in ice,” he said finally, “it might be all right. It's only one afternoon.”

Owen chose a pair that tore at his heels and made him make little groaning noises whenever he took a step. They seemed like the right kind of shoes to get for the day your life was about to end.

On the way home Lorne took a side route and parked the truck by a pretty bend in the river where a big willow tree hung over the water. He showed Owen how you could pull yourself onto one of the lower branches and lie very still and look straight down into a pool where half a dozen bass were sunning themselves.

They watched the fish for awhile and then Owen told him all about the problem with Sadie. He talked about her being gleamy-eyed and sticky to be with, and what an awful thing it was to have to walk with her down the aisle.

Lorne listened quietly and when Owen was finished he said, “Hearts are like fish.”

“What do you mean, fish?” Owen asked.

Lorne said, “It's rare you can look straight into a heart. You don't find that every day. Even if it isn't the right one. You treat it special anyway. If you don't you might never see another one again.”

And they looked at the fish awhile longer before they went home.

At the wedding rehearsal Sadie insisted Owen hold her hand the whole time, not just when they were walking up the aisle. Owen squirmed and sweated and his shoes tortured his feet.

Sadie said, “I think we should have six kids, all girls.” She was in a flouncy yellow dress with her hair tied up in flowers. Eleanor was a flower girl too but she didn't need an escort, for some reason. She stood straight and proud and alone. That meant Andy and Leonard could run past at odd times in the rehearsal and make farting noises under their armpits and say, “First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Owen with a baby carriage!”

“Your brothers are so immature!” Sadie said, squeezing Owen's hand.

On the day of the wedding Margaret insisted that the boys be ready hours ahead of time, and then they had to stay still as statues to keep their clothes clean. But she seemed to be whirling like a cyclone. She fought their hair into place with a brush, scolded Horace about his tie, organized Lorne into his wedding suit and painful new shoes, and phoned Lorraine about the flowers and the catering and her hair and the dress.

As the time to leave got closer they suddenly noticed that Lorne wasn't there. His truck was still in the driveway, but he was gone.

“I think he went for a walk,” Horace said. “Grooms often go for a walk on the big day.”

“You'd better find him,” Margaret said. Horace was the best man and it was his responsibility to make sure Lorne arrived at the church on time.

“He'll be back all right,” Horace said.

“If he's late, if he in any way breaks this woman's heart,” Margaret said, “then I will divorce you and take the children and go live with Lorraine.”

“Why divorce me?” Horace asked.

“Because he's
your
brother!” Margaret said.

The boys were forbidden to go outside to look for their uncle. They had to sit in the living room and not ruin their clothes. They watched the clock turn from a quarter to one and into one o'clock, and then one-fifteen.