A Good Place For Maggie by Ofelia Dumas Lachtman

A Good Place for Maggie
Ofelia Dumas Lachtman
Arte Pblico Press Houston, Texas
This volume is made possible through grants from the National Endowment for the Arts (a federal agency), Andrew W. Mellon Foundation, and the City of Houston through The Cultural Arts Council of Houston, Harris County. Recovering the past, creating the future Arte Pblico Press University of Houston Houston, Texas 77204-2174 Cover design by Vega Design Group Lachtman, Ofelia Dumas. Good Place for Maggie / by Ofelia Dumas Lachtman. p. cm. Summary: Sixteen-year-old Maggie Cruz leaves her mothers and stepfathers big city Los Angeles home in order to lead a simpler life in her grandfathers small town house and gains fresh perspective on her life. ISBN 1-55885-372-3 (alk. paper) [1. ChangeFiction. 2. Country lifeFiction. 3. Grandfathers Fiction. 4. CaliforniaFiction.] I. Title PZ7.L13535 Go 2002 [Fic]dc21 2002070385 CIP The paper used in this publication meets the requirements of the American National Standard for Information SciencesPermanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1984. 2002 by Ofelia Dumas Lachtman Printed in the United States of America
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To Lois, June, and Alice, whose friendship has enriched my life.
Chapter One
ACCIDENT AT GREENSTON NUCLEAR PLANT, No Danger to Community, Officials Say. Every time that headline from yesterdays Los Angeles News flashed into her mind, MargaritaMaggieCruz gripped the steering wheel of her VW more tightly and assured herself that she was doing the right thing. It wasnt as if she were in danger from the Greenston plant in the desert hundreds of miles away, but those headlines had been the convincing factor in her decision. Yes, it was the right thing to do, and hour after hour as she drove north of Los Angeles, she had felt more and more competent and more secure. Until now. For the last hour she had been so intent on the changing countryside that she forgot to buy gas. The gauge said empty. She drove on, dreading the moment when the motor would draw on the last drop of gasoline and give up. She was driving on a narrow country road lined with tall eucalyptus trees and nothing else. Then in a clearing on the left side of the road, she saw a battered old sign with faded red letters: G-A-S. No, it wasnt a mirage; it was more like a miracle. With a grateful sigh she turned into the run-down station, bumping over broken concrete and coming to a stop by one of two pumps.
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A weary-looking old man in grease-spotted overalls appeared beside her. Fill er up? Is it cheaper if I pump it myself? It didnt look as if hed take a credit card and she was low on cash. All the same here, missy, the man called, rounding the car. Fill er up? Maggie said yes, please go ahead, and climbed out of the blue VW. Good thing I didnt splurge on lunch, she thought, staring at the pumps. Gas is almost twice as high up here as it is in Los Angeles. But Im not complaining. When she had driven mile after mile without finding a gas station, she had begun to think that maybe being sixteen and a half didnt make her that smart; maybe a trip like this was a little much for her. Now she felt better. She stretched and thought, Dad would be proud of me. Im doing what is right for me. Oh, Ill miss my friends, especially Mim and Lorena. Ill even miss Ryan. I wonder if he was really going to ask me to the TGI June bash? Well, thats history. Now is now. The old man brought her change and said, Where you headin? Im going to Twisted Creek, she said in as offhand an adult manner as she could muster. Twisted Creek? Are you sure? Her shoulders fell. Isnt this the right road? The man grunted. Right road, all right. But no place for a young one like you to be going. He circled the Honda. Car in pretty good shape? Maggie stiffened. The Bluebirds an absolutely great car. Dad said it was in super condition when he gave it to
me. Of course, its in good shape. The gas station attendant kicked a couple of tires. Guess itll make it, he said. But last I heard that road was bad. Watch yourself. The old mans words stayed with her as she drove up into the mountains. She began to feel shaky. This was the first time she had driven outside of Los Angeles. Still, last night she had poured over maps and written everything down; she knew exactly where she was going. So far, everything had been all right. Even getting away from home this morning hadnt been too bad. It was spring vacation, and her mom and stepfather were away on business. The only person she had to explain to was the neighbor woman who looked in on her. The hard part had been figuring what to say to her mother. She had sat staring at a blank sheet of paper for a long time. She knew what she wanted to write: Dear Mother, It was bad enough after the divorce, being without Dad, I mean. After a couple of years I got used to seeing him mostly on weekends, but now its worse. Because hes dead. Three whole months and I still cant believe it. Maybe you cant help being away so much, but with both of you gone its awfully lonely. Sure, theres been school, and I did have dinner at Mims house and a movie with Lorena on Saturday. But the good things are missing. Dad. Dad. Dad. I dont feel that Im part of a family anymore. Jase is a good enough stepfather, but I told you both how I felt about that condo in downtown L.A. and you guys went ahead and bought it. Its a terrible place. All there is to
breathe inside is processed air and outside, car exhaust. My vote doesnt count, does it, Mom? Thats what she wanted to say, but didnt. Mom, she finally wrote, Ive gone to Twisted Creek. Papacito said hed be there if I needed him. He wont mind. After all, he is my only living grandparent. Ill drive carefully, I promise. Please, please dont be mad at me. Then she had shoved two more sweaters into her suitcase, picked up her paint box and favorite brushes, and left. Once she was out of the city traffic, she had relaxed. But now . . . She swung the car sharply to avoid a large rock. The man at the gas station was right. The road was rotten. It was narrow and crawling with potholes. To make things worse, melting snow on the banks made it slippery, and there were no guardrails. At first she drove through a narrow canyon where the highway, a river, and the tracks of a broken-down railroad crossed and re-crossed. After a while the railroad disappeared. The river, too, was nearly lost, dropping away well below her as the road climbed higher. The views were breathtaking. Far below lay broad valleys with distant shadowed mountains jutting above them. On the rock walls beside the road unexpected little waterfalls sprang from nowhere. But she dared give them no more than a quick glance. At every blind curve she tapped her horn, afraid of meeting another car. But there were none. Weird, she thought. I feel as if Im all alone in the world. What if something happens to The Bluebird? What if it gets dark and I lose my way? And my cell phones useless up here.
Her hands got clammy, her mouth, as dry as sandpaper. Maybe Ill never get there. But just after sunset, with the sky washed with fading color, she rounded a bend to find miles of soft green meadows stretching out before her. Beyond them in a circle of snowy mountains lay the village of Twisted Creek, its church spire glistening like silver in the subsiding light. It was dark by the time she drove through a dimly lighted Main Street. Other than an old sedan that chugged by her, the road was deserted. The sidewalks, too, were empty except for an old man locking the door of a hardware store. She came to a stop at the curb beside him and lowered the window. A blast of icy air hit her as she said, Hi. Can you please tell me how to find 22 Pine Street? The man, a key in hand, whirled around and blinked. Slowly, he pulled a wool cap more tightly on his head. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. Left, he muttered finally. Four blocks, then left again. He turned, once more bending over the lock on the door. But as she drove away, she caught a glimpse of him in the rearview mirror. He was standing slack-armed, staring after her. She had trouble finding Pine. For one thing, the street she had taken after her left turn was extremely dark. Her headlights shone on a lamppost or two, but none were lit. Nor were the buildings scattered along the way. When she had counted what she fervently hoped were four corners, she parked the car and peered at a signpost her headlights had picked out. Pine. Her stiff shoulders relaxed as she reached for her windbreaker on the back seat, pulled it on
over her heavy jacket and got out. And then she stood transfixed. The night sky was unbelievable. It had become a shimmering canopy made up of a trillion stars. Of course. Now she knew from where the term star dust had come. In a moment, with the help of her flashlight, she walked carefully up the muddy shoulder of the road. What if he wasnt home? The thought broke out from where it had been hidden all day. Ill think of something, she told herself. Anyway, even if hed had a phone, I wouldnt have called ahead because he wouldnt have let me come. Ill think of something, she muttered to herself, but right now, before I freeze to death, Id better find his place. The houses on Pine were few, far apart, and set back from the road. At each one she stopped and read the name on the mailbox. By the time she found the one with the name Victor Cruz on it, her fingers were stiff from the cold. The house beyond the mailbox had two stories and was set back against a hill that seemed to be covered with pines. Their sharp, spicy scent reached her as she found her way to the front door and, not finding a doorbell, knocked. Come in, a deep voice called, come in. The doors open. Maggie stepped inside, fighting back tears of relief. She was in a softly lighted entryway with a staircase to her left. On her right, a rectangle of light fell on the floor from an open door, spotlighting a rose-patterned blue rug. Greg, is that you? the same voice called. Come in. Maggie walked hesitantly to the lighted doorway. Its . . . its me, Papacito. Maggie . . . Margarita. I came to see
you. The man who rose from a deep chair on the far side of the room was tall and lean and had a thatch of snow-white hair. His olive-brown face was bony and remarkably unwrinkled except around the eyes. He dropped the book he was holding and pulled off his glasses. His black eyes widened as he said, Margarita? Margarita! Maggie drew in her breath. Yes, Papacito, its me. But how? Why? Wheres your mother? I came alone. I . . . I drove. You what? I drove. Im sixteen now, you know. He shook his head slowly. Thats right. Well, lets have a belated birthday hug. Eagerly, she ran to him and he folded his arms around her. Pressed against his chest, she felt safe again. Almost . . . almost . . . But this was her grandfather, not her dad. She pushed herself back. Her grandfather gave her a long look. Does your mother know youre here? Her eyes moved from his face to the bookcase behind him, to the TV in the corner, and then to the chair on which hed been sitting before she answered. Not yet, but she will when she comes back from London. I left her a note. Ill tell you all about it. But Im awfully hungry. Could I have something to eat first? Of course you can. Wheres my head? Anyone who suffers the tortures of the road to Twisted Creek deserves He stopped and grinned. You really did it, didnt you, Mar-
garita? All the way up here. Well, come on. Follow me. In the kitchen he opened the refrigerator, turned to her, and said, Seora Ramos made me some tortillas. Dont suppose youd want a couple of bean burritos, would you? Wouldnt I? Just let me get the icicles off my fingers and Ill show you. She was seated at the table, a loaded plate in front of her when he said, Wheres your car? I didnt hear you drive up. She told him where it was, and he held out his hand for the keys. Ill bring it up and collect your things. In a few minutes he came in the back door, lugging her two suitcases. She jumped up to help, but he waved her away. Im going to throw a couple of blankets on the bed in the back bedroom, he said. Wont take a minute. Hes nice, she thought. Just the way I remembered him. She had seen him a lot when she was small, and they had visited him when he still lived in New Mexico. But then came her parents divorce and, after that, her dads illness. And even though her grandfather spent a lot of time in Los Angeles during the last days of her fathers life, the little time he had spent with her had not been exactly quality time. Now, sitting in his kitchen, she felt exhilarated. She had made it! All the way up here. All by herself. And once her grandfather understood how she felt, everything would be okay. When he returned to the kitchen, her grandfather poured himself a cup of coffee. While she finished eating, he told her about the new book he was writing and about Seora Ramos, who cleaned and cooked for him. Maggie
kept waiting for his questions, but none came. Later, as she followed him up the stairs, she said, I havent told you yet why I know, he interrupted. But its late, and after your long trip, you must be played out. Tomorrow will be soon enough to talk. At the bedroom door he added with an apologetic grin. Only dont expect me to be up before midmorning, please. Im an owl. I keep late hours. He bent over and kissed her cheek. Maggie said goodnight and in a few minutes was sliding under the blankets on the big double bed. She stared at the dark ceiling, tired, oh, so tired, but somehow feeling good again. Once she had said to Mim that living with Jase and Mom had been okay until Dad died. Then after that she had felt as if she were living with shadows only, that the real people, the ones who truly knew her, had vanished. Mim had nodded and squeezed her arm, but she hadnt understood, not really. Maggie sighed, remembering. Well, here with her grandfather, things would be different. And he was right. She was too tired to make sense tonight. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she had to talk him into it. But, Dad, she whispered softly, if hes anything like you, hell let me stay.
Chapter Two
A call, high-pitched and insistent, cut into Maggies dreams. She grumbled and pulled the blanket over her face. She was drifting back into sleep when the quiet was broken once more. Pushing up on an elbow, she realized two things at once: she was not in her room at home and a rooster was crowing. But the third thing, where she was, took a bit longer. When she remembered that she was in Twisted Creek, she smiled sleepily and dug beneath her pillow for her watch. Five-thirty. Five-thirty! she groaned. No wonder I cant open my eyes. But thats all right. Roosters mean haystacks, clean air, healthy eggs, and green things growing. She punched her pillow into shape and was ready to relax again when she heard a shout. Nicky! Nickee-ee-ee! a girls voice called below Maggies window. Bring my shoe back! Maggie scrambled out of bed and pulled back the window curtains. In the murky light she saw a small blonde girl in a woolly blue robe racing across a narrow bridge at the base of the hill behind her grandfathers house. The little girl stopped, whirled around, and shrieked, I wont, Cat, I wont! Not till you tell me where youre going! An older girl, slim and with the same fair hair, ran
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across the bridge. Below her jeans, red socks and only one white sneaker showed. She lunged at the girl called Nicky and yanked the mate of her shoe from her hand. Now stop this silliness! Ill be late. Late for what? None of your business! You dont tell me anything anymore, the little girl whined. Maggie pushed the window up. Hey, you guys, she called, cool it. My grandfathers still sleeping. The two blonde heads jerked upwards as if pulled by strings, the older girls face turning red as she put her hand over her mouth. They stood motionless for an instant, then scrambled off the bridge, disappearing into a clump of tall firs. Maggie stayed at the window, looking at the spot where the two had vanished, wondering who they were and, with some of Nickys curiosity, where the girl called Cat was going. Finally, she crawled back into bed. For a while, sleep would not come. But at last her eyelids grew heavy. And that was when the rooster began crowing again. Maggie gave up and swung out of bed. If the rooster and the girls havent awakened my grandfather, she thought, hell sleep through anything. But, just in case, Ill have to find something quiet to do. She dragged her suitcases to the center of the floor, ready to unpack. But one look at the sky, now turning pink above the mountains, and she changed her mind. She pulled on a heavy sweatshirt and her warmest pants, and tiptoed down the stairs
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and out the front door. Below her lay the rest of the town. She swallowed a great gulp of air and hugged herself. She was going to love it here! Then she tightened the laces on her running shoes and, after a few stretching exercises, began her run. In a few blocks she found herself on Main Street. Soon she was at the highway that had brought her here. It was called High Street. The four corners of Main and High were taken over by The Bank of A.J. Bremmer, the Bremmer Community Library, Bremmers Market, and Twisted Creek Hardware. Bremmers are big in this town, she thought. Wonder who owns the hardware? At the corner she paused automatically, waiting for cars, but there were none. Turning right, she jogged past storefronts until the sidewalk ended and a small meadow began. She was having trouble breathing, and that surprised her until she remembered the altitude. Running more slowly, she concentrated on getting home. When car wheels braked behind her, she didnt hear them. But she heard a shout. Hey, you! Glancing over her shoulder, Maggie saw a burly man hurrying around an old green pickup truck. Hey, you! he called again, tucking the ends of a green woolen shirt into his trousers. Whatd ya think youre doin? Maggies heart hammered loudly. She wanted to run faster, but her legs refused to cooperate. She stopped and turned. Im running, she gasped. Running . . . what . . . else? I can see that, the man growled. What I want to know is, why? And whats more, whatre you doin in
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Twisted Creek? A head appeared from behind the bed of the old pickup. I know who she is, Mr. Halstead. Nicky, almost lost in a hooded red jacket, circled the car. Cat and I, we saw her at Mr. Cruzs. Go home, Nickel, the man said. He pointed a finger at Maggie. Now you, dont you go nowhere till I get things straight. Who are you? Maggie, she said. Then, finding her breath, she told him that her name was Margarita Cruz and that she was visiting her grandfather. The man in the green shirt frowned as he looked from her dark glasses down to her shoes. Dont make no sense, he said. Victor aint told me word one about no granddaughter visiting him. We got rules, and the rule says you gotta let me know bout visitors. Tell you? Maggie asked. Why you? Blood rose in the mans face. Because Im in charge of keepin order in this town, thats why. All right, lets go talk to Victor. It took a lot of pounding on her grandfathers bedroom door to wake him, but finally he called, Jack Halstead? The devil you say. What do you want? He appeared at the bedroom door in rumpled pajamas. He made short work of convincing Halstead that this was indeed Maggie, his granddaughter, and that if Maggie said she was running for exercise, then that was exactly what she was doing. Halstead grunted a couple of times as he listened and walked reluctantly down the stairs. Next time, he muttered
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as he opened the front door, lemme know shes coming. Go on, Jack. Im sure you have better things to do. Dont waste your time. Or mine. When they were alone, Maggie said, Whats wrong with him? Couldnt he see I was jogging? He acted as if I was doing something absolutely weird. That about sizes it up, her grandfather said with a grin. In this town jogging is weird. But forget him. He turned toward the kitchen. I might as well fix us breakfast since Im up. Maggie offered to help and when he said no, she went upstairs for a shower. When she came down her grandfather was at the stove in the kitchen. He was shaved and wearing a heavy sweater over jeans and a flannel shirt. The layered look, she thought, except its probably not a look up here but a necessity. Breakfast was juice and eggs scrambled with chorizo, lots of toast, and coffee. Chorizo! she said, smiling broadly. Its the best sausage in the world. And the chorizo Seora Ramos makes is even better, if thats possible. She ate the eggs hungrily but passed on coffee. Across the table, steam from her grandfathers coffee cup spiraled between them. Finally, she said, Im sorry my jogging got you up so early. Its just as well. Gives us more time to talk. He pushed his plate aside and nodded encouragingly. Bueno, Margarita, whats this visit about? She took a deep breath and said, First of all, Im most-
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ly called Maggie now. And Ive kind of grown too old to call you Papacito. Would Grandpa be all right? He rubbed his chin for a few moments, then nodded and broke into a grin. Grandpa will be all right, Maggie. But no more hedging. Whats this visit all about? I didnt just come to visit, Grandpa, she said, deciding to plunge right in. I was hoping I could stay a while, maybe live with you. Her grandfather frowned. Abruptly, he raised his cup to his mouth and emptied it. Then he rose and walked to the window above the sink, where he stood looking out. She twisted around in her chair, staring at the back of his gray wool sweater, trying to read what he was thinking. He turned. Problems at home? Oh, no! She shot straight up in her chair. No. Nothing like that. Moms really okay and, on a scale of one to ten, Jase is about an eight as a stepfather. Its something else. Her grandfather raised an eyebrow, and his eyes seemed to darken behind his glasses, but he said nothing as he sat down again. Its something Ive been thinking about for a long time, Maggie said. Then the day before yesterday I knew what I had to do. I had to come here. I couldnt talk with Mom about it because she was gone again. To London. So I left her a note, and here I am. She didnt look up as she added, In L.A. when you came down for my dads funeral, you said if I ever needed you, youd be there for me. I do need you. I need a place to live. I dont understand. If things are all right at home . . .?
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He shook his head slightly, as if to loosen up a stubborn bit of information. Im wondering why you need a place to live. Maggie bit her lip. He would not be easy to convince. She had to choose her words carefully. She didnt want to discuss Jase and Mom right now. She leaned across the table and said, Sure, I have place to live, but its not that great a place. Its not the people that make it that way, its . . . its the surroundings. Cities arent good. Im not talking about crime and all that. Its other things. For instance, in Los Angeles all the food we get is loaded with pesticides. And Ill bet more than half the buildings are plastered with asbestos that people just keep breathing in. Then there are airplanes spilling bad stuff and cars spewing smog. And if that werent enough, TV and radio stations and other high-voltage places are blasting us with . . . with . . . whats it called? Radio magnetic energy? Thats it, she said somberly. Grandpa, I cant believe people. Like the crazies who run around with cell phones attached to their heads, just waiting for brain tumors to develop. Then, willing her voice not to break, she added, I want to get away from everything that killed Dad, all the stuff that gave him cancer. We dont know what caused it, Maggie. Besides, cities have their advantages. He put his hand over hers. You really miss him, dont you? They were silent then, lost in their separate thoughts. Maggie was remembering something her father had said a couple of years back. She had been helping him wash his car,
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and he had stopped and looked across the hood at her. Im very proud of you, mijita. Always will be. Then he winked and added, Especially when you become a famous lawyer. Knock it off, Dad, she said, even if you are teasing. You know arts my thing. Painting. Okay, okay, Ill hide my disappointment. Then he had said seriously, Always do whats right for you. Thats important. Now she looked at her grandfather and said, I want to do whats right for me. And what I need is a good place to live. A place where people know whats important. And you think Twisted Creek is it? Of course. Dont you? The eyebrow shot up again. Look here, Maggie. This town is fine for me. I was hooked when I came to see the house my sister Graciela had left me. For a writer like me, one who doesnt rely too much on research, the remoteness is irresistible. I can bury myself here and get my work done without interruption. But for a young girl like you, no. Absolutely no. But why? Why? Instead of answering her, he said, We have other things to consider. How about school? Cant have you missing that. Im not. Its spring vacation. Woodbine, thats my school, doesnt start up again till next week. By then I could be going to school here, couldnt I? A ghost of a grin touched her grandfathers mouth. Youd find it very different. He shook his head. No, Margarita . . . Maggie. No, it wont work.
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Please, she said quickly, dont say no. Please think about it. Ill think about it. He seemed suddenly older as he pulled off his glasses and rubbed his temples. There was a tug at Maggies heart as she noticed how much he looked like her father. Then the glasses were back on. Ill think about it, he repeated. But before I do anything else, I have to let your mother know youre here. Do you have her number in London? Yes, she said and got up from the table. At the door she stopped. She didnt want him to call. Not yet. Papa Grandpa? Her voice was full of feelings. Could he hear them? Grandpa? she repeated, asking, telling, hoping all at once. Yes? I just want you to know that this is very important to me. That I thought and thought about it before I decided and that I . . . She stopped. What was the use? He wouldnt let her stay. Guess Ive already told you all this, she said and went quickly into the hall.
Chapter Three
Upstairs Maggie dug into her things for the London number that her mother had given her. When she had scribbled it on a piece of paper, she sat on the edge of the bed, her shoulders slumped. She bit her lip and thought, what right do I have to feel so let down? Coming to Twisted Creek was a gamble. Hidden somewhere under all the excitement, Ive always known that. And you cant win all the time. She straightened up. She hadnt lost yet. Shed figure something to say to her grandfather that would persuade him. Downstairs her grandfather was still seated at the table. He was studying the steam that rose from his coffee cup as she walked in, but he looked up and smiled when she placed the slip with her mothers number beside his plate. Thanks, he said. Ill walk over to the bank later and call her. She nodded, but said nothing. She was wondering why he didnt use a neighbors phone. The fact that he didnt have a telephone himself hadnt struck her as too weird; she understood that he didnt want interruptions. But why go all the way to the bank? She slid into her chair, ignoring that question as she searched for something to win him over. As it was, even if she had found the right argument,
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there would have been no time to use it. At that moment there was a knock at the back door that was followed closely by a call. Mr. Cruz, hey, Mr. Cruz, are you in there? The doors open, Greg, her grandfather answered. Come on in. A boy about Maggies age came into the kitchen. He was wearing a heavy wool jacket over jeans and construction boots, and he spoke eagerly. Ive just come from our meet He stopped and reddened as he saw Maggie. Sorry, sir. Didnt know you had company. This is Maggie, my granddaughter. She came last night. Maggie, this is Greg Hammel. Gregs president of the high schools senior class. Greg shook his head and smiled. Thats not a very big deal, is it, sir? After all, there are only six of us. Six seniors? Maggie almost squealed. Only six, really? Well, Greg said, there wouldve been seven, but my friend Hal flubbed geometry. He never could figure the difference between an axiom and a theorem. Geometrys hard, all right, Maggie said. Especially Solid. Only six, she repeated, trying to imagine such a small class. Do you have a real graduation then? She knew immediately that that was a dumb thing to say. I mean . . . I mean, with caps and gowns . . . and parties . . . and . . . Her words hung helplessly in the air. Sure we do, Greg said good-naturedly. We even
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have traditions. The juniors have to plan, pay for, and serve at the Last-Year Party. Thats held a few days before our Grad Night. Sounds nice, she said, lamely. Her grandfather grinned and stood up. Ill come outside with you, he said to Greg. Greg nodded and edged toward the door. Nice meeting you, he said, and then they were gone and she was left in the kitchen alone. Later that morning her grandfather went to telephone her mother. She washed the dishes and made her bed, then wandered about the house. In the sitting room she studied the paintings on the walls. One was of an Indian woman, a storyteller sitting on a rock with hundreds of tiny Indian children surrounding her. Two others were prints of New Mexican landscapes. She remembered them, especially the storyteller, from her long-ago visits to New Mexico. She left the sitting room, opened a door below the staircase, and found that it was her grandfathers study. A computer and printer were on a large desk that was otherwise filled with papers. One whole wall was filled with books, many of them in Spanish. She pulled one from the shelf, opened it, and was surprised to find that she could still read it. Some of it, anyway. Her father had insisted that she speak Spanish, and she had learned it, along with English, as a baby. Actually, that was due to her moms efforts because her mom knew very little Spanish, awkward Spanish left over from a high school class. If Mom had had a second language it would have been Swedish, maybe,
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because that was what her mothers ancestry had been. Mom was blonde and blue-eyed, the opposite of Dad with his olive skin and dark brown eyes. Well, Maggie thought with a shrug, they say opposites attract, dont they? For a while, anyway. She closed the door and returned to the sitting room, growing more and more restless. What would her mother say? Would she get mad? If she did, no one would know it. She didnt blow up easily. During the months before the divorce, there were no fights or tears. It was just her eyes that showed what was happening. They got those dark smudges under them. Her mom and Jase were so much alike. Interested in the same things, like traveling all over the world: Jase, to sell airplanes; Mom, to find special fabrics for the designer with whom she worked. Maybe she wouldnt get mad, but she might get hurt. Would she even say so? Maggies thoughts went around in circles as she walked from room to room. Finally, she grabbed a jacket and went out, trudging up the hill behind the house. She was still exploring the woods above Pine Street when a church bell began to peal. Where was her grandfather? It was close to two hours since hed gone. As the bell clanged twelve oclock, she went down the hill, sliding on a thick mat of pine needles that covered the ground. She stopped on the bridge where she had seen Nicky and Cat earlier and leaned over the railing. The icy chill from the water below nipped at her cheeks and unprotected ears. Now that the ringing of the bell had stopped, the woods were peaceful again. Only bird songs and the sound of the
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stream interrupted the quiet. Watching the water plunge over polished rocks in the creek bed, she almost forgot her disappointment. How beautiful this place was. Then she crossed the clearing and went along the side of the house to the front. She waited on the front steps until she saw her grandfather turn the corner onto Pine Street. She ran to meet him. Did you get her? she asked. Took a long time, but I did. What did she say? You wouldnt want to hear all of it. She was pretty surprised. They took five, six, seven steps in silence, then Maggie said, Well, tell me some of it. Do I have to go home tomorrow? No. How long can I stay? For a while. But lets go in and start some lunch while I explain. By the time they reached the kitchen, Maggie had learned only that she had to write a letter that day. Your mother wants an explanation immediately. A clear, concise reporting, she said, of your reasons for running up here. Maggie shrugged. Wont do any good, Grandpa. But okay. Ill try again. She watched him open a can of soup, took it from him, and scooped the soup into a pan. Did you tell her I want to live here? No. Ill leave that to you. Maggie turned her back and stirred the soup. He doesnt take me seriously, she thought, blinking back hot tears. Dad
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did. I could always talk to him. Why did he have to die? She took a deep breath and stirred the soup furiously. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Youre not the only girl who has lost her father. In fact there are thousands of orphans, no parents at all, out there. And some who are living on the streets and probably hungry. I know thats so, but he was my dad. It happened to me. And the emptiness just sits there, like somebody dug out a great big part of me. She took another long breath and said, Did she say anything else? Yes. Your mother said her work in London is stretching out longer than shed planned. So I suggested that rather than tying down JasonI gather your stepfather does a lot of traveling, toothat she let you stay here. And, of course, that brought up the subject of school. Maggie slumped. So I have to go by the end of the week. Youre not listening, Maggie. No. No? She whirled around, spoon in hand. Yes. No. You dont have to go by the end of the week. Your mother and I talked at length. The upshot of all that talk is that youll finish your school year here. I what? she gasped. Really, really, really? The spoon clattered to the floor as she threw her arms around him. She hugged him tightly and then stepped back. Really? she said again. He nodded. Thats . . . thats absolutely great! I hope you keep feeling that way, he said. Why wouldnt I? Because things are different up here.
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I know, she said with a wide smile. Thats why I came. Yes, you told me. But theres different and different. Pine Hill is a private school, too, but its not exactly what youre used to. Doesnt matter. I know Im going to love it. Where is it? On the other side of the highway. About a mile. Nice walk from here. Okay, she said with a little laugh, I hear you. I wont take The Bluebird. So its all settled. Youll start school tomorrow. Tomorrow? Yes. And it took some doing. I had to talk fast to get you in. Maggie mumbled something, she wasnt sure what, and sat down. During lunch she was quiet, busy with her thoughts. She hadnt planned on school so soon. She had hoped to spend some time with her grandfather. Maybe go for long walks in the woods and talk about her father. She had hoped, too, that hed let her read the book he was writing and discuss it with her. And there was the herb garden she wanted permission to plant. Okay. That would all have to wait. Tomorrow it was back to school. She shrugged, straightened up and grinned across the table at her grandfather. He grinned back.
Chapter Four
Beyond the corner of Main and High Streets and the buildings that clustered around it, a narrow dirt road led to a broad clearing in the pine woods that was the Pine Hill School playing field. The road edged the school yard and ended at a weathered wooden building of two stories. The next morning, as Maggie trudged up the road toward the schoolhouse, she saw several small children playing a keep-away game in the field. A little girl bundled up in red pants, red wool jacket, and knitted red gloves paused in her chase and pointed. Hey, look! There she is! Told you, told you! a boy shouted. Never seen her before, have you? Well, I have. Shes staying with Mr. Cruz. Maggie waved at Nicky, then hurried down a graveled road at the side of the field that led toward the building. She climbed the wooden steps, her annoyance growing. This was proving to be something like a bad hair day. Except that her hair was as usual, hanging straight to her shoulders and behaving. But something else must be wrong with her. A few minutes before, as she walked up Main Street, a cou26
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ple of people had actually poked their heads out of shops to look at her. She became so self-conscious that she stopped at a plate-glass window to check herself. Nothing was wrong that she could see, but that hadnt made her feel any better. Now, straightening her shoulders, she pulled open the heavy oak door. Inside, she paused, looking for a door marked Office. There was none. Directly in front of her, she saw a broad L-shaped staircase with a large narrow window at the first landing. To her left, a pair of double doors was marked Auditorium. On her right, a hall with several doors on either side extended to the back of the building, where another large window framed the pine forest. A floorboard squeaked as she walked down the long hall to the first door. She turned the knob slowly, opening the door a crack. Peering through the crack she saw rows of stationary desks, the old-fashioned kind with sunken inkwells, facing a faded green blackboard and an ancient teachers desk. The room was empty. Two more doors opened into deserted classrooms. She turned away, bewildered. There had to be students. At least six, anyway, according to Greg. She paused in the center of the hall, listening. Somewhere in this big building there were people; she could hear the muffled sound of voices. With a shrug she decided that she would have to try all the classrooms, no matter that she was beginning to feel like Goldilocks. But as she walked toward another door, a booming voice stopped her. Young woman! Where do you think youre going?
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Maggie whirled around. I was looking for Surprise interrupted her thought and her words. Standing near the foot of the staircase was a frail old man wearing a dark business suit. His white hair glistened in the sunlight that slanted through the window at the landing. She scanned the hall for the owner of the big voice, but found no one but the old man. Was that you calling me? she asked, taking a cautious step forward. Certainly, he boomed. Hurry, hurry, come along. He opened a door at the side of the auditorium doors and turned around to look at her. Ive been waiting for you, Margaret Cruz. Now he sounded petulant. Victor assured me that you would arrive here at nine. He reached into a vest pocket and brought out a round gold watch. It is now five minutes after nine. Im sorry, Maggie said. I didnt realize it would take The old mans disapproving look stopped her. He waited for her to pass through the door, then closed it behind her. Morning sun streamed through two large windows, illuminating the dark heavy furniture that crowded the small room. A blue rug spread beneath ornate table and chair legs and an immense polished desk that fronted the door. He walked slowly around the desk and motioned her to sit in a straight-backed chair facing it. Im Mr. Wagner, he said, Headmaster of this school. Im glad to meet you, Maggie said. Mr. Wagner stiffened. Sir, he said curtly.
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What? Sir, he repeated. You will always address me as sir. Maggie nodded and moved uncomfortably on the chair as he went on. You are being admitted here today as a courtesy to your grandfather. Please remember that. Accepting a student without appropriate records or extensive testing is not our usual way. We may be privately funded, but there are state standards to which we must adhere. He reached across the desk for a pen and held it over a blank form. Your name is Margaret, Margaret Cruz? No, no, its not. My name is Margarita, Margarita Cruz. But everybody calls Thats quite enough! he boomed. Margarita? Margarita? I shall call you Margaret. Now . . . He straightened the paper before him. . . . You are a junior. Is that correct? Yes . . . sir. He completed the form, asking her age, her birth date, and other questions. Report to Mrs. Gilliam upstairs in Room 204, he said, handing her a bright yellow sheet. As he did, a grandfather clock struck the quarter hour. You have already missed ten minutes of Civics and Government. Go quickly. Maggie jumped up. At the door she turned, started to say Thank you, and then changed her mind. She closed the door quietly and started up the stairs, reading the sheet in her hand. It was a hall pass. To All Hall Monitors, it read. Margaret Cruz may travel freely from the Office to Room 204. Time: 9:14 a.m. It was signed Bertrand Wagn-
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er in a small tight hand. At the top of the stairs she looked around for a hall monitor, but saw no one. She shrugged. Obviously, there was no need for a pass. Maybe, she thought with an irrepressible little grin, there is no need for Mr. Wagner either. She opened the rear door of Room 204 and slipped inside. Here, too, the rows of desks were empty. But near the front, half a dozen students and a plump gray-haired woman were seated in a circle of chairs. The woman looked up, smiled, and said, You must be Margaret. Bring up a chair and meet everyone. Her glance went to the yellow pass in Maggies hand. I see Mr. Wagner has made you legal. There were muffled snickers from the students. A solidly built, brown-haired boy jumped up and, with a broad smile that seemed to say Welcome, pointed to his chair and winked. Maggie sat down and he brought another chair and pushed it into the circle beside her. He whispered, Hi, Im Spence. The boy next to Spence, tall and thin and wearing glasses held together at the temple by black electricians tape, said he was John. Then came a stocky girl with red hair who said, My names Nancenot Nancy. Next to her was Catherine. Cat, Catherine said with a grin at Maggie, and Maggie, recognizing the girl from the bridge, grinned back. Hal, probably the Hal who had flubbed geometry, came next and then a tiny dark-haired girl who was almost lost in a bulky gray sweater introduced herself as Anna.
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Mrs. Gilliam said, Welcome, Margaret. Its not often that we have visitors. Thank you, Maggie said. But Im not really visiting. Im supposed to be starting here today. Starting here? the redhead said. You mean youre going to live here? Anna shot Nance a disgusted look. Dont be stupid. Who would want to do that? A blush deepened the color of Mrs. Gilliams already ruddy face. I thought . . . well, I thought . . . I just assumed Mr. Wagner was confused. She cleared her throat. Well, then, welcome once more, Margaret. Maggie, please. Maggie it is, Mrs. Gilliam said. Now, lets get back to the Supreme Court. After a discussion of the merits of checks and balances in government, Mrs. Gilliam moved right into geometry. Maggie was sorry for Hal. He was completely lost. Hal, stay with me, Mrs. Gilliam said when the rest of the students went out into the playing field for what they called physical education, but was more like a recess. Nance clung to Maggies arm as they walked downstairs. Were usually in the gym, she said as they walked outside, but were so sick of being indoorsoh, good! Now youre here, well have even sides for volleyball. She pointed to the far edge of the playing field where Cat was tightening a volleyball net. How about the guys? Maggie asked. Theyd play,
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wouldnt they? Sure. But no coed sports. The school board wont allow it. And the school boards made up of Bremmers only, so . . . Nance raised her hands in a gesture of defeat. The Bremmers? Maggie said. Do they run Hey! Cat interrupted. Hurry up! Times a-wasting! Maggies question remained unfinished. An awkward game of volleyball with made-up rules had begun. The tension shed felt since meeting with Mr. Wagner was gone. The girls, including dour Anna, seemed more relaxed, too. Until a loud, shrill bell rang. Then they all stiffened. Oh, blast! Cat said, quickly snagging the volleyball and racing toward the building. Ill never make it back on time. Tell Mrs. Gilliam I have to put the ball away. Tell her to square it with the head . . . with Mr. Wagner. Anna raced after Cat, and Nance grabbed Maggies arm. Come on! she yelled. We dont want the headhunter to get us. Maggie, sensing her urgency, ran along with her, saying nothing. When they reached the building, Nance pulled open the heavy door and, once inside, stopped, took a deep breath and whispered, No more running. Now we walk up the stairs as if we had all the time in the world. Just before they reached the second-floor landing, Nance nudged Maggie. There he is. Mr. Wagner stood across the hall, a pad and pen in hand. The headhunter, of course. Whoo! Nance whispered. We made it.
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What happens if we dont? We get a mark in that little book of his. Its even worse if we run up the stairs. Two marks? Maggie said with a grin and Nance nodded. And two marks brings us closer to Janitor of the Week, she said. Gotcha, Maggie said and they walked sedately into Room 204. An hour later the minute hand on the wall clock in their classroom clicked to twelve oclock just as the school bell rang. In the distance, the church bell, too, began tolling the hour. Anna, hurrying past Maggie on her way to the door, muttered, This is about as exciting as it gets in Twisted Creek. Enjoy. Cat tapped Maggies shoulder. Dont mind Anna. Shes in training for the diplomatic corps. Ill show you where we eat. You brought your lunch, didnt you? No, Maggie said, I goofed. I thought youd have a cafeteria. I guess I could walk home for lunch. No way, Cat said. Youd never get back on time. Anyway, you can have half of my sandwich. They walked together to where the upstairs hall led to an open space. This eating areas for the upper grades, Cat told her. Lower school eats directly below us, near their classrooms. Loud bantering laughs and voices rose from where twenty or so boys and girls were seated at three long tables.
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Somebody threw a wadded-up brown paper bag into a trash can as Maggie and Cat walked in. A boys voice shouted, Doesnt count! It nicked the rim. Maggie and Cat slid into chairs at the nearest table. This is Maggie Cruz, Cat told the rest of the occupants. Hi, Maggie said and looked around the table. They were all younger kids, freshmen, she guessed. At the far table were the rest of Mrs. Gilliams class and three other boys and a girl. The seniors. But where was Greg? Then she saw him standing by one of the windows that framed a magnificent view of the pine forest with its patches of melting snow. Greg was deep in a whispered conversation with a girl who had long, honey-colored hair. As Maggie looked, the girl shook her head briskly, her hair swinging smoothly back into place as she jammed her hands into her pants pockets. Greg turned and looked out the window. Finally, he shrugged and said, Come on, lets have lunch. Well talk later. The girl nodded, and they took a couple of chairs at the next table. At their table, Maggie noticed that Greg didnt seem to like the way things were going. He frowned. Then Cat put half a sandwich in front of her and said, I hope you like tuna. I do. Thanks. Ill buy the drinks. Wheres the machine? What machine? Soft drinks. You know. In Twisted Creek? Were lucky if someone delivers groceries, including tuna, up here once a month. Nobodyd
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bother to run up here to service that kind of a machine. Matter of fact, finding soft drinks at Bremmers is something of a miracle. Everybody scrambles for them. Oh. Like when the delivery trucks call a strike in the city, Maggie said. No, Cat said, shaking her head, worse. Trust me. Really? But if they deliver stuff everywhere else, why not here? For one thing, the road. You just drove it. Can you picture two big trucks meeting on it? Maggie thought of the sharp narrow curves, the gashes in the asphalt, and nodded. It would be murder. But why dont they fix the road? Isnt the state or somebody supposed to do that? Thats another story, Cat said and turned to reply to the girl next to her. Maggie chewed contentedly on the tuna sandwich. It was all right that Cat hadnt answered her. She was glad to be alone with her thoughts. So there were no Sprites or Diet Cokes. Who cared? She was here in Twisted Creek, and she was going to stay here. Its true, she told herself, and looked around the room for proof. My grandfathers great. He knew how I felt and he persuaded my mom. Schools going to be okay, too, even if it is different. I like Cat. Maybe shell be my friend. Nance, too. And John and Spence and even Hal seem awfully nice. So now all I have to do is persuade those pesky roosters to sleep a little longer.
Chapter Five
When school was over that day, Cat caught up with Maggie as she started for home. Walk with you, she said. Ill show you a shortcut. The two girls walked to the end of the road by the playing field. This way, Cat said, turning abruptly. Once we cross High Street, well be in the woods. She led Maggie through an opening in a row of sprawling shrubs, then between two deserted houses and across a field toward the highway. But when they reached the highway, they didnt cross it. They stopped and stared at a large black automobile that was slowly approaching from the direction of town. When the car came closer, Maggie said, Wow! Look at that hood ornament. Thats a classic Cadillac! We just call it Bremmers bus around here. Cat grinned as she added, The passengers are classics, too. Sitting stiffly behind the steering wheel was an elderly man wearing gold-rimmed glasses. A few strands of hair were spread neatly across his baldhead. Next to him sat a small woman in a dark coat and hat. In the shadows in the back seat were two people whom Maggie couldnt quite see. When the big car came even closer, she made out the faces of two white-haired ladies who were angling close to
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the glass to stare at her. The driver slowed the car down, lowered his window and said, Good afternoon, Catherine. Cat raised her hand in a hello as the automobile rolled by them. Who are they? Maggie asked. The Bremmers. Mister and missus and his two old maid sisters. Out for their weekly airing. Come on, lets hurry. Theyll be turning back pretty soon. The girls ran across the road, ready to plunge into the woods when Cat said, Oops. We didnt make it. Here they come. They turned back quicker than usual. Maggie said, To get another look at me, Ill bet. The black car had come to a noiseless stop opposite them. Catherine, Mr. Bremmer called, rolling the glass all the way down, bring your young friend here. Youre right, Cat whispered. Howd you know? Easy. Everyones been staring at me all day. All right. Lets go. When they were at the car, Mr. Bremmer nodded at Maggie. His eyes flicked over her face nervously. So youre the Cruz girl, he said. Yes. I understand you came here to live with your grandfather. Is that true? Maggie felt her eyes widen and her hackles rise. What was this all about? Thats right, she said crisply. He peered at her and scowled. Hm-m. What did you really come for?
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Maggie drew in her breath, her mouth hanging open for a second. Then she said, I dont even know you. Is there any reason why I should answer your questions? The woman in the passenger seat turned quickly. Of course, you dont have to, my dear. Now, A.J., dont badger the child. She leaned forward, looking at Maggie over the steering wheel. Her eyes are like faded blue jeans, Maggie thought. But not wishy-washy. I feel as if Im being x-rayed. The woman said, We are naturally curious about you. We rarely have new people with us. She turned to the man beside her. If you want to talk with this young woman, why dont we have her to tea on Sunday? Yes, she answered herself, thats an excellent idea. Mr. Bremmer said, Tea? Yes, lets do that. From the back seat came a mumble of assent. Tea it is, then, Mrs. Bremmer said. Well expect you at four on Sunday, young lady. Catherine, my dear, youll come another time. She settled herself back and nudged Mr. Bremmer. He reached for the ignition key and the motor came to life, purring softly as the car moved away. Maggie stared at the back of the car, shook her head, and said, What was all that about? The queen just commanded you to appear at the castle. I suppose so. It certainly wasnt an invitation. They pushed into the woods, scaring a handful of pigeons out of the pine tops. After a few steps Maggie said, What if I dont want to go?
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No one has ever refused Mrs. Ivy Bremmer. Well, then, this will be the first time. Id go if I were you, Cat said seriously. And you might as well answer all their questions. Theyll have the answers, anyway. Meaning? Meaning that everybody knows everything about everybody else in Twisted Creek. If you sneeze here, somebody on the other side of town either catches cold or says, God bless you. The only place where theres any privacy is in the woods. At that moment a blue jay dived from a treetop and perched on a branch above them, scolding loudly. Maybe not even here. The path they were on was so narrow that they had to keep brushing away boughs to get through. But the forest of young trees was dappled with sunlight, and the smell of the firs was strong and sweet. They walked quietly for a little while, and then Cat held out a restraining hand and whispered, Look, Maggie. She pointed to a squirrel that sat motionless at the base of a tree. Dumb dodo. He thinks if he freezes like that, we wont see him. Maggie watched, delighted, as the squirrel and another just like it scrambled up the trunk of the tree, disappearing in the high branches. Then they went on. In a matter of minutes they reached a spot above the little bridge and Maggie said, Thanks for showing me the back way. Youre welcome. Its The Nickels and my special path. It leads up the hill to our house. Maggie went into the house through the back door. The
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kitchen smelled of onions, celery, and other good things, all coming from a pot that was simmering on the stove. She lifted the lid. Small meatballs bubbled in a broth dotted with little green leaves of cilantro. Albondiga soup. How she loved it. The lady who works for my grandfather has been here, she thought, and, after buttering a slice of bread that she ate hungrily, she went to look for him. He would want to know about her day at school, and she wanted to ask him about the Bremmers. The study door was closed. She raised her arm to knock, but stopped when she saw the sign. Written with black felt pen on a half sheet of white paper were the words, Man Working. Please Do Not Disturb. Slowly, her arm fell to her side. Maggies shoulders slumped as she went upstairs. That message was meant for me. Does Grandpa think Im a little kid? That I have to be told not to bother him? She bit her lip as good sense and a touch of guilt took over. Why shouldnt he think that? You came to live here without being invited, didnt you? Fair is fair, Maggie. Thats his office. Thats his space. When Im sketching, I hate to be interrupted, too. For Petes sake, whats happening to me? She went to stand at the open window, thinking how little she understood herself. She had become so sensitive. For the last couple of months, things she hadnt paid attention to before all made her want to cry: the school bus drivers nod and smile; the first star in the steely twilight sky; a voice barely heard from around a far corner on the street. She would nod briefly to the pleasant bus driver, breathe a
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wish at the star, and wait for the voice to come closer, but always it dissolved in the distance, leaving her feeling empty and hurting. And today it was Grandpas sign that had triggered the same feelings. With a shrug she turned away from the window and the view of snow-topped mountains and went downstairs to watch TV. The television set, she remembered, was in the sitting room near the fireplace. The cord was lying on the floor so she plugged it in and pushed the Power button. The screen filled with jagged black and white, and the audio produced a harsh buzz. Nothing changed when she pressed the channel buttons on the remote. Kneeling before the TV, she tried all the push buttons there and got the same disappointing result. Do something! she demanded and stared angrily at the dancing black-and-white screen. That was when she heard a rustling sound and a soft female voice behind her. Buenas tardes. Seorita Margarita? Maggie glanced over her shoulder. The woman who had spoken stood in the doorway. She was in her early thirties, small and slim, with black hair tied casually at the back of her neck. She smiled. Yes. Yes, you are seorita Maggie. But you are prettier than your picture. Thank you, Maggie said. And Ill bet youre seora Ramos. Not seora. Just Amparo. That is my name. And mine is Maggie, not seorita Maggie. Amparo nodded and smiled, her eyes crinkling pleasantly at the corners. Maggie said, Is the TV broken, or something?
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No. Well, perhaps it is . . . but that would not be important. It is that there is not television in Twisted Creek. Mr. Cruz was surprised, too. No television. No television? Maggie frowned. How could she live without her favorite programs? How could that be? she asked. The cable, Amparo answered. There is none. Why, I do not know. Well, that takes care of that, Maggie said in resignation and got up off the floor. She went into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of milk, and talked part English, part Spanish with Amparo as she watched her make a rice pudding. It wasnt long before she had lost her feelings of disappointment. An hour or so later, Amparo, coat on, purse in hand, came into the sitting room and said, I am going now. I never disturb Seor Cruz. Oh, Maggie said and thought that maybe the sign was not for her alone. Im sorry you have to go. I enjoyed talking with you. So did I, Amparo said, but it is a long walk to Bremmers Woods and I have my fathers supper to prepare. Let me drive you. Theres a road, isnt there? Yes. For part of the way. Thank you. I would like a ride. In a few minutes they were driving up Main Street. There were no other cars, but there were two or three bicyclists, each of whom gawked openly as The Bluebird passed them.
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They are wondering about the car, Amparo said. They are wondering from where it came and who it is that drives it. They already know all that, Maggie said in a matterof-fact voice. Amparo glanced at her and giggled and then they were both laughing. They were on High Street now, leaving the town behind. Soon thick woods of spruce and pine sloped upwards on either side of the road. Occasionally, a narrow track led into the deeper wood. On one they saw a deer standing hesitantly. When they came to a paved road, Amparo pointed and said, That is Silvergate, the house of the Bremmers. Through the trees Maggie caught a glimpse of a large rambling house with a pitched roof from which two or three brick chimneys pushed upward. The castle, she thought. Wonder what its like inside? She imagined the four people she had seen in the shiny black Cadillac sitting stiffly on straightbacked chairs, each holding a steaming teacup, and smiled to herself. A tea party at the Bremmers probably would be as exciting as watching paint dry. Just beyond Silvergate their way curved sharply and Maggie slammed on the brakes. The asphalt had ended abruptly in a broad grassy clearing. A metal gate closed off the entrance to a rutted dirt road at the far end. On the gate a sign declared, Silvergate Mine. Absolutely No Admittance. Amparo got out of the car and, holding the door open, said, Until Friday, then. Thank you. Where are you going?
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Home. Up that road. Amparo pointed toward the gate. But . . . but it says . . . That? No importa. That is not for me. My father and I live by the mine. Does he work there? Not anymore, Amparo said softly. The mine has been closed for many years. I see. I guess all mines run dry eventually. Amparo was silent for a few seconds and then said, Something like that. She shut the car door firmly. Until Friday, she said and walked toward the gate. Maggie stared after her, then, with a shrug, drove out of the clearing and started down the road. At home she parked The Bluebird in the garage beside her grandfathers car and started toward the house. A movement on the path above the stream caught her attention. Someone was tramping up the trail. It looked like Greg Hammel. Yes, she was sure it was Greg. She watched until he disappeared in the trees and then walked slowly to the house. She was willing to bet that he was on his way to Cats. And this noon he had been all bent out of shape about the girl with the long taffy hair. With a grin and a dismissive shrug, she pulled open the back door. For sure it was none of her business.
Chapter Six
Maggie decided to be philosophical about the roosters. After all, they did awaken her in time for her run before school with minutes left over after a shower to pack a hurried lunch. On Friday she rushed the shower so that she could make two sandwiches. It was her turn to take lunch for Cat. As they ate that noon, Cat provided bits and pieces of information. Sheila Aiken was the name of the girl with the taffy-colored hair. Sheilas father was the only doctor in Twisted Creek, and he ran the only hospital. It wasnt exactly a hospital, Cat amended seriously, more like a clinic with a few beds and a couple of nurses. Along with the other bits, Maggie learned that there was a movie theater and that all the high school kids were going there that night. Its Heaven Can Wait, Cat said between bites of egg salad sandwich. Weve all seen it before, but I dont care. I love Warren Beatty. Me, too. But its pretty old. Dont you ever get newer movies up here? Sometimes. If its something from Walt Disney. No R-rated movies, huh? And no mysteries or shockers, Ill bet.
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Be real, Maggie. They would never get by the Bremmers. Why the Bremmers? They own the theater. Theyd boot out Mr. Dembowski if he dared to order anything they didnt like. Cat chewed on the last bite of her sandwich. Want to go? Maggie said sure, and Cat said shed stop by for her. The movie house was on a narrow street that intersected High Street. Most of the upper-grade students were gathered in front of a barn-like building when Maggie and Cat, with Nicky bounding beside them, arrived. There were some older people too, but they were scattered in small groups on a wooden verandah that fronted the movie house. Hey, Cat! Hey, Maggie! Spence, Hal, and John walked toward them. Hal bowed low to Maggie. The presence of the darkhaired lady from the City of Angels is deeply appreciated, he said. Spence nudged Hal out of the way and said, Im glad you came, Maggie. Most people wouldnt come out for a rerun. John hoisted Nicky up into the air and put her down again. See you brought The Wooden Nickel, Cat. Im not wood! Nicky brushed her arms where Johns hands had been. Im all flesh and blood. And nobody brought me. I just came. Cat gave her a little push and said, Well, then, dont hang around us. Go talk to Billy and Babe. Thats exactly what I planned to do, Nicky said and
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raced to where a boy and girl about her age were hopping up and down the verandah steps. The lights on the marquee went off, then on, and everyone hurried inside. The theater was small and dimly lit, with a dark red velvet curtain drawn over the screen. Maggie waited with her new friends while an old man in a wheelchair was rolled down the aisle and placed near the front row. Then, following Cat and the others, she slid into one of the rows on the left side of the auditorium. There was a lot of shifting and changing and moaning and muttered complaining but, finally, everyone was settled. That was when Maggie noticed that they were segregated. The little kids, including Nicky, were in the first two rows in front of them. But all the older people were seated on the right side of the theater with two rows remaining conspicuously empty in the center. She nudged Cat. Why are those She didnt finish her question. She was sure she knew the answer. Those places were for the Bremmers. With no kids to bother them. Cat rustled a paper sack. Fudge. Have some. Ive got peanuts for later. Maggie whispered thanks and took a square of fudge. No snack bar, of course. No foyer for a snack bar, anyway. Weird. She stared at the heavy velvet curtain and then below it at the old man in the wheelchair, who at that moment tossed some peanuts into his mouth. She didnt know why, but the old man annoyed her. The peanuts annoyed her. And so did the velvet curtain. She looked away from him, her glance skimming over the vacant rows
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in the right section, then back to the curtain and the dim orange lights on the walls. Im dreaming, she thought. Im going to wake up any minute and Ill be in my own bed at home. A wave of homesickness engulfed her, and she thought that she was going to get up and run out. But at that moment Cat nudged her, telling her to take more fudge before it was all gone. Trust me, she was saying, holding out the almost empty sack, theres a piece in there somewhere. Did you find it? Quick, the films coming on. Spence walked home with them after the movie. When Cat and Nicky turned at Pine Street, he said, Ill walk you to your house, Maggie. Its kind of on the way. Maggie stole a glance at the stocky, brown-haired boy as he plodded along beside her, his hands in his jacket pockets. Hes the one who brought up a chair for me that first day, she thought. Hes nice, but hes awfully quiet. He whistled softly but said nothing until they were about to reach her house. Good movie, huh? he said. And then with a shake of his head that sent a strand of his hair onto his forehead, he repeated, Good movie. Funny to die that way and come back in somebody elses body. Maggie glanced up at him. There was a wistful note in his voice that surprised her. Do you mean youd like that? To live a different life? Well, yeah. To try it anyhow. He paused for a second, jammed his hands even deeper into his pockets, and looked up at the sky. Wonder what goes on up there? On all those
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different planets? Not much on the moon and Mars, she said, and paused to look up at the star-laden sky, too. But there are jillions more planets up there, so who knows? They took another few steps, then Spence stopped again and said, It must take a lot of courage. You know, to change your life so completely. Well, in the movie hed already died, so that was different, but you . . . you . . . He stopped abruptly and gave a little laugh. Wasnt it hard to leave a big city like L.A.? Maggie shot another look at him. A little bit, she said. Sure, there are things I miss. The telephone mostly. Even my cell phones useless up here. But take a deep breath of this air, Spence, and look at the stars. You dont get that in the city. I guess not, he said flatly. They started up to her door. She said, It would be nice to have TV, but, you know, you cant have everything. He laughed. We dont, believe me. When she reached for the doorknob, he said, Wait, please. Ive been wanting to tell you. Some of us are getting together tomorrow. At Elk Meadow. For lunch. A picnic? Well, yeah. Everybody brings a sack lunch. Greg said I should ask you. Greg? He told you to ask me? Her voice rose to a squeak and she was furious at herself. Why would Greg tell you who to ask? Because hes in charge of the thing, Spence said calmly. Were only just getting started. In the dim light
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that burned above the door she saw his face clearly. Id sure like you to come, he said. She said, Sure. Ill go. I wouldnt want you to get into trouble with Greg. How do I get to Elk Meadow? Spence grinned, ignoring her remark about Greg. Youll come? Great. The only way to get to Elk Meadows to walk. But Ill come get you. And, say, Maggie, dont mention the . . . the picnic to anybody. Its kind of a secret. All right, she said. Except for my grandfather. Sure, Mr. Cruz is okay. Well, goodnight then. See you tomorrow. At the edge of the street he turned and waved. Inside the house Maggie found her grandfather reading in the sitting room. He looked up. How was the movie? Good. She grinned and added, It always is. Her grandfather laughed and she said, Grandpa, are little towns a lot alike? Its possible. Im not quite sure what you mean. Im not quite sure either. Maggie leaned against the doorjamb for a minute and then went and sat on the arm of the couch nearby him. Ill bet you miss your old friends down in New Mexico, she said finally. Like that guitar club you used to belong to. Not a club, he said with a grin. Just a few old friends who liked to make music together. Of course I miss them. But I still have my guitar and I know a song or two. But you dont have anyone to speak Spanish to, Grandpa, except maybe Amparo once in a while. Arent you afraid youre going to forget it? Lose my Spanish? No, no linda. Nor any other part of
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my background. You dont shed your heritage like a snake sheds its skin. Nor would you want to. He leaned forward and patted her knee. Youll always be an American bigcity girl, Maggie. One colored by broad brushstrokes from her Mexican and Swedish backgrounds. You make it sound so pretty . . . well, rich. But if Im a city girl, why do I love being here so much? Its a change, and a change is good for the soul and ones view of life. When you go back, youll see the city differently. I dont want to go back, Grandpa. I hope I never go back. He nodded thoughtfully. Well see. In any case, I love having you here. Now, go on to bed. Leave an old man to his reading. Okay, okay, she said and stood up. But before I go, theres something I need to know. I havent seen a gas station. Is there one? Theres a gas station, all right. Primarily to keep the Bremmers car moving, but theres always enough gas to supply the rest of us. Good. Id hate to have The Bluebird grounded. At the door she turned. Grandpa, dont you miss the phone? Yes, he said with a smile, and no. As for television, I miss it, yes. But when you live in a village rimmed by mountains, you have to have cable, and without telephone lines, cables out. So, . . . He picked up his book . . . I have to resort to reading. Guess I will, too. Goodnight, Grandpa. That night she dreamed of her father. Her father, laugh-
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ing as they drove into a tunnel. As she turned to say something to him, the lights went off in the tunnel and all the cars disappeared. So did her father. Maggie was alone in the blackness, struggling to find her way out. Mercifully, she awakened at that moment. In the morning she pushed away thoughts of the dream, thoughts that threatened to depress her. She reminded herself that she was in Twisted Creek, that today was Saturday, and that she was going to a picnic. Spence came promptly at eleven-thirty. Maggie and he went across the small bridge and up the back path to call for Cat. She was sitting on the railing of a porch that ran across the front of a wooden house with a high-peaked roof. When she saw them, she ran to meet them. Hurry, she called. I dont want The Nickel to get wind of where were going. But it was too late. There was a sharp sound of wood on wood as a door slammed. Nicky came racing after them. Hey! Where you guys going? On a long, long hike, Cat said. And dont you dare follow us. Nicky stopped dead in her tracks, her face turning pink, her lower lip trembling. You guys dont like me all of a sudden, she said. Like I have the grubbies or something. It isnt that at all, Cat said quickly. Maggie wondered what the reason was. Cat had taken her little sister along to a movie on a Friday night, which none of the kids in L.A. would have done. Why not take her to a picnic? Go on home, Cat said. Ill explain when I can. Nicky sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. I
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dont care if you ever do. When I grow up, Im gonna leave Twisted Creek and youll never see me again! She whirled around and ran back through the trees. Shell be all right, Cat said. Shell get over being hurt. Wed better get going, huh? They walked singly. The narrow trail led through thick woods where occasional shafts of sunlight slanted down on mounds of last years cones and on moist patches of moss. Once in a while Maggie caught glimpses of the stream below them. Above she heard the whirring sound of wings as pigeons flew from their favorite perches into the blue sky. If the walk had not been uphill, she would have enjoyed it more. But in a short while she was struggling just to keep up. Her legs were threatening to fold and her lungs were begging for mercy when Spence said, Theres Elk Meadow. See? Through widely spaced trees, Maggie saw a long field of pale spring grass bordered on one side by a sloping hill, and on the other sides by the dark green woods. A rock, large and flat as a table, was near the woods at the far end. Greg and Sheila were sitting on it. John and Hal were leaning against a huge boulder. Greg jumped off the rock and came to meet them. Hey! he called with a wide smile. That does it. Now were all here. He turned to Maggie. Sure glad you could come. Were really going to need you. Maggie started to say, Need me? but John spoke first. Hey, Greg, he yelled, lets eat. Im hungry! They all sat on the flat rock in the sun to have lunch.
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Its barf time, John said. Hals got peanut butter with mustard. Sheila, sitting cross-legged by Hal, inspected his sandwich. Gross, she said. Cat said, The only way to eat peanut butters with dill pickle. Greg said, Banana. Peanut butter and bananas the only way to go. Maggies mind drifted to Los Angeles. Saturday noon. If she were home, she would probably be having lunch with Mim or Lorena at the Beverly Center Mall. After lunch theyd shop and goof around until it was time to go home. Or maybe theyd see one of the movies at the Cineplex. Thats how it had been since Dad had died. No more Dodger baseball games. No more hikes in the Santa Monica Mountains or jogging along the beach. But her friends had been there for her. And now she was in a meadow above Twisted Creek with people she hadnt known existed a week ago. All right, Cat said. Whos got what for dessert? Pile it right here in the middle. An assortment of cookies and cake slices appeared. Spence added a bag of popcorn and Maggie a jar of peanuts. Say, whos in charge here? Greg asked good-naturedly. Foods my department, Cat replied. Recruitings yours. She produced a table knife and cut the cake slices into pieces. Youll never get it divided equally, Hal mumbled. Trust me, Cat said and went on distributing desserts.
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Okay, Greg, Im through. Its your turn. Its about time, Sheila said, her voice as dry as the pages of an old book. Whatre we doing here, anyway? I thought I explained, Sheila, Greg said with a shake of his head. Its about Twisted Creek and how things arent what they should be. We all know that, Sheila said. But what do I have to do with it all? Nothing. Not unless you want to. Let me tell you how it all started. A couple of weeks ago Hal and I were complaining about not being able to watch the basketball playoffsradios okay, but its not TVwhen Cat said we shouldnt just sit around beefing, that we should do something. So we decided we would. Why now? Sheila said. This is the way its always been. Thats just it, Greg said quickly. Its time somebody did something. Maggie bit into a cookie and thought, things are as blurry to me as they are to Sheila. What am I doing here? Greg went on enthusiastically. The three of us talked and talked, and the whole thing got more and more real. For days thats all we could talk about. And then, zap! We started to look at the way things work in this town and the people who would be dead set against us and we almost gave it up. But we didnt. Sure, we all had different ideas about what was important, but we agreed on one thing. We had to keep all this quiet until we were ready to do something. We even got up at the crack of dawn to meet and plan our strategy.
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Yeah, Hal said, First off, we thought what we wanted was a satellite dish to bring in TV, but that didnt work. We got in trouble figuring where it would be put and whod control the programming. That was pretty stupid, John said. Arent you forgetting something? Satellite dishes cost money. Cat threw a grain of popcorn at him. It landed on the grass and, from nowhere, three birds swooped down for it. That wasnt stupid, she said. We knew we could raise the money somehow. But one satellite dish isnt the answer. Like Greg said, there are lots of things wrong in Twisted Creek. He should worry, Sheila said. He can leave when he graduates. I am leaving, Greg answered. Im going to college in September. But Mom and Dadll still be here and my kid brothers, too. Anyway, this is my home and I hate to see it dying of neglect. He ran his hand though his hair and frowned. Gregs so serious, Maggie thought. I guess they all are. Theyre more like old people than kids. Theres nothing cool about them. And theres not even a four-letter word in the bunch. Hal said, Gregs right. Twisted Creeks gotta come alive. Were not even thinking of things like cell phones, but we figured if we could get more telephone lines, then everybody could have TV. And then maybe we could get somebody to fix the road And people could get to us, Cat interrupted. Maybe the bus line from Melville would connect with us.
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And maybe theyd send snow plows to clear the road past Red Spruce, Greg said. So we wouldnt be snowed in all winter. Snowed in. The words brought to Maggies mind a picture of a red-trimmed cottage in a snowstorm, a picture of a winter world enclosed in a small glass globe. As a little girl, she would shake up the snowstorm and imagine herself snug inside the cottage. Being snowed in in Twisted Creek might not be so bad. Snow plows, Hal was saying. Yeah. Then, little by little, Twisted Creek could grow. Maybe become a tourist place like Silverton, Colorado. Theyve got an old silver mine there, too. Maggie stared, unbelieving. Theyre crazy, she thought. Who do they think they are? Theyre just a bunch of kids. It doesnt matter that Gregs a senior, theyre still a bunch of kids. They cant do anything. Finally, she said, I know Im new here and maybe I dont know what Im talking about, but arent you taking on an awful lot? Maybe, Greg said, but weve got an idea and we think its worth trying. But shouldnt roads and telephones be somebody elses problem? she persisted. Like the mayor, or somebody? Should be, John said, but it isnt. Weve got the Benevolent Bremmers who wont do anything. Or let anybody else. Remember when my dad got a petition together about the road? Right after Eddie Ramos was killed on it, Sheila said and shuddered. If they wouldnt allow it to be fixed then,
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theyre not going to allow it now. She grabbed a handful of popcorn and sat back. Greg shrugged and crumpled up a brown paper bag. You guys. Youre so pessimistic. That petition of Johns dad was just one try. Like a first down, you know? Weve got three more to go before we give up the ball. Were not even in the game yet. Cat and Hal and I know we cant do much unless you guys help us. We hoped this would be a strategy meeting. There was a long silence. Everyone seemed uncomfortable except Cat. She was busy tidying up, stuffing papers and peels into one bag. Spence, too, was busy, rubbing something off the side of his boot. He looked up once and Maggie thought he was going to say something, but he went back to working on his boot. John broke the silence. Okay, okay, he said. If what were going to do will hassle the Bremmers, Ill do it. Shaking them up will be worth it. Sheila sighed as she uncurled her legs and pulled her knees up under her chin. All right. I might as well dream with the rest of you. Wouldnt it be great if we had a radio station of our own? One that doesnt drift off all the time? Id really like that. Greg turned to Maggie. We figured you being Mr. Cruzs granddaughter and being from a city that, maybe, you could help us. Youre bound to see everything thats wrong with Twisted Creek better than we can. Maggie shook her head. I dont know how I could help, she said quietly. It seems a huge job. Anyway . . . anyway, I really like Twisted Creek just the way it is.
Chapter Seven
When Maggie was a little girl, she had believed that if you tried hard to please everyone, everyone would like you. And then, she reasoned, it would follow that you would be totally happy. She wasnt sure when that belief had changed. Maybe it had been in the third grade. That was the year when her favorite teacher, the one for whom shed behaved so well, had left because she had fallen in love and was going to get married. Or maybe it was when she was ten. She could picture her mother saying, If you dont want to play with Brenda, youll just have to tell her, wont you? So what if she wont like you? When she complained to her father, he had said, I know its hard to do. But its more important that you like yourself. She had mulled her fathers words over and had finally understood them. Now, as she sat on a flat rock in Elk Meadow staring at the faces around her, she realized that there was still some of that old belief lurking in her. They were new people in her life. She wanted them to like her. She wanted to be happy in Twisted Creek. They all stared back at her, saying nothing until Sheila shook her head and said, Oh, shoes! She really means it!
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You do, dont you? Well, yes. Maggie moved her legs from under her. There. And now what should she do with her hands? Yes, she repeated. Sure, some things arent perfect. I dont like the road either. Well, then? John said. Maggie looked from one to the other. Cat and Spence avoided her eyes. Greg stared back and she looked away. Hal said, Sure. Wouldnt it be great to have a good road? Then we could get to Melville once in a while. See a new movie for a change. But if the road was fixed, wouldnt everything change? Maggie asked. More people? More business? Even tourists, like you said? Maybe. Maggie frowned. That would be awful. It would be just like a city then. John laughed. You cant accuse Twisted Creek of being like a city. No way. But it could get that way, Maggie said defensively. Not while the Bremmers are alive, Cat said. Trust me. Well be lucky to get one or two things done. But if you change one or two things, maybe everything will change, Maggie said. And everything here is so clean and peaceful . . . and good. Sheila snickered. Youve only been here a couple of days. Youre going to get your fill of clean and peaceful and good. That is, if you stick around for any length of time.
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Maggies face was hot. She could feel the blood filling her cheeks. The whole discussion, argument almost, was making her feel like such a worm, a gross, crawly worm! She ran her tongue over dry lips and said, Im sorry. Im not trying to change your minds. Its just that I dont agree with you. She slid off the rock. Ill go on home now and leave you guys to your planning. She stood for a moment, waiting for someone to say something, but there was no sound but the rustle of paper as Cat continued to clean up. Embarrassed? Disappointed? Angry? She was having trouble sorting out her feelings. Look, Greg said, you dont have to go. We can No, you cant, she interrupted. Whatever you were going to say, its better if I go. Besides, she added with a grin, the way backs all downhill. There were some muttered good-byes as Maggie picked her way to the other end of the meadow. Halfway across she turned and called, Hey! In case youre wondering, dont worry, Ill keep your secret! That evening as she put down her book and looked across the sitting room at her grandfather, she wished she hadnt made that promise. She was beginning to feel pretty cut off from everybody. If there had been a telephone, she could have called Lorena or Mim. But then if there was a telephone, thered be TV and e-mail and who knew what else? And then Twisted Creek would be changed. She couldnt have it both ways. But if she hadnt made the promise, she could, at least, be talking to Grandpa about it.
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He had just asked how things were at the picnic, and she had answered, Fine. She wanted to tell him everything, and of course she couldnt. She picked up her book again. She was reading a book she had found on a shelf of Mark Twain volumes. She had thought it would be entertaining, and, until today, it had been. But now she felt resentment toward the man King Arthur called The Boss. How dare he arrive in that slow, lazy English countryside and modernize everything. Imagine building a network of factories and roads and . . . She slammed the book shut. Grandpa, she said, tell me something about the Bremmers. Do they really own all of Twisted Creek? No. But they might as well. Why? Because they own most of the land surrounding it. To the north and east they own Bremmers Woods and the mine; to the south and west, River Road and the railroad right of way. Twisted Creek is encircled by the Bremmers interests. So theyre all over the place. In more ways than one, I guess. They want me to go to tea tomorrow, remember? When he nodded, she said, What do you think I should do? What would happen if I didnt go? Nothing. Do what you think is right, Maggie. I dont know whats right. They didnt ask me, you know, they ordered me. I know, he said and laughed. A command performance. I made one, too. I think all newcomers do. Like a rite
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of initiation. More like an interrogation. Youre probably right. Except for the tea. That was a test. It was black and bitter, and no amount of cream and sugar could persuade me it wasnt poison. But I sipped it bravely and they admitted me into the club. Maggie giggled. That does it. Im not going. Thats okay, her grandfather said and returned to his reading. She threw a quick look at him and wondered what he was thinking. What did he really want her to do? She sighed. Didnt he understand that sometimes people really wanted advice? There are days, she thought, that arent bad bad, but that arent in any way, shape, or form good. Today is one of those days. Its been a bummer. This book is a bummer. Mark Twain should have stayed with Tom Sawyer and not sent back a Connecticut Yankee to mess around with King Arthurs court. And Greg and Cat should leave Twisted Creek alone, too. She glanced at the blank TV screen. Boy, what I would give to be watching a stupid sitcom. But, even so, telephone lines and roads are still none of Gregs business. She pulled her legs under her, opened the book again, and stared at the printed page. I wonder if Cat will still be friendly? If any of them will? She caught her grandfather looking at her and wondered if hed read her thoughts. She forced her eyes back to the open page. The doorbell rang.
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Her grandfather called, Come in, come in, the doors open. He waited a moment and then rose and walked into the hall. Come in, young man. Hows your mother? Much better, Mr. Cruz. Actually, just fine. Thanks for asking. It was Spence. Is Maggie here? Maggie closed her book. Now she could admit it to herself. She had been fighting that funny empty feeling since leaving Elk Meadow. Walking down the trail, she had jammed the emptiness down deep and held it there. But when she went by Cats house and saw Nicky sitting like a limp ball on their front steps, some of the feeling slipped through. Then, once she was at home, a glimpse from her bedroom window of the sun gleaming on snow-topped mountains brought the deep sadness right back. Now, as she got to her feet, she felt herself unwind. At least Spence was talking to her. Hi, Spence, she called. Whats up? He came to the door and paused, running his fingers through his hair in a hesitant, embarrassed manner. Hi. I was just going by and . . . Say, Maggie, would you like to go down to The Pink Polly? Pink Polly? Whats that? Ice cream, her grandfather said. Thats what it is. Polly Ames and her husband make the best ice cream in the world. Isnt that right, Spence? I havent been all over the world, sir, but it is awfully good. He turned to Maggie. Want to go? Sure, she said, afraid to say more, afraid that her
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words would betray her gladness. She went and got her jacket from the hall closet. They stepped out into the cold spring evening and walked slowly side by side. As they neared the corner, Spence said, Im sorry I got you into all of that today. Theres nothing to be sorry for, Maggie said quickly. I just dont agree with you guys. Twisted Creek is great, for a lot of reasons. She stopped and threw her head back to look at the sky. Look at those millions of stars. You never see anything like that in the city. Spence cleared his throat. I guess theres always a trade-off. They took a few more steps and he said, Wait till you see The Pink Polly. Its one of the oldest buildings in town. The building that housed The Pink Polly was old and long, with two stories and walls of rough-hewn planks. It had massive double doors with insets of pink-frosted glass. Spence pulled open the heavy door and they walked inside. They sat on stools at a long polished bar that was almost empty. At the far end, Nance and Anna and three of the freshmen boys were reaching over one another, playing a game with paper and pencil. It sounded like Pictionary. Down in the city, Maggie thought, it would be computer games. Two or three booths were filled with noisy groups of kids. In another, a gray-haired couple sat across from each other, quietly eating oversized banana splits. A man in bright red suspenders wiped the spotless counter in front of them. Whatll it be, Spence? he asked,
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his eyes straying to Maggie. Whats the flavor of the week? Fresh strawberry. Berries are finally reaching us from down below. How about it, Maggie? Spence asked. Not for me, Maggie said. Im a chocolate freak myself. Do you have chocolate? Does Sears have Roebuck? the man behind the counter said with a broad smile. We have Double Chocolate Maltedwith fudge sauce, if you want. Will that do? Ill love it. So will I, Spence said. Make that two. They waved hello to the group at the end of the counter. Maggie said, This looks like a bar in a western movie. All thats missing from that big mirror in front of us is a painting of an almost-naked lady. Spence grinned. It used to have one. Really? I didnt see it, but my grandfather did. When silver mining was big around here, this place was the Pink Palace Saloon. A saloon? With dance-hall girls and gunfights? Thats what my grandfather says. After the Silvergate lode was found, people came up here in droves, looking for a rich strike of their own. There were mines all up and down the river and the creek. Silvergate was the richest. It kept going when all the rest of them were boarded up and deserted.
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And then it died, Maggie said. So why isnt Twisted Creek a ghost town? The Bremmers, thats why. Mom says theyll manage to keep it alive so long as theyre alive. Well, thats good, isnt it? Maybe, he said and left it at that because their icecream sundaes had arrived. The ice cream was rich and good and almost gone when the outside doors opened behind them. The remaining five from the Elk Meadow picnic pushed into the room. They staked out a large booth, with Cat and Sheila squeezing onto the bench beside John. Cat jumped up immediately. Hey, Maggie, she called and slipped on to a stool beside her. Im really glad youre here. Thanks. Maggie could think of nothing else to say; there was so much relief bubbling up inside of her. What she wanted to do was throw her arms around Cat, but that was out. Thanks, she said again. Hope youre not mad at us, Cat said. At you? I was afraid youd all be mad at me. Why? You didnt do anything. Right, Spence said. Maggie shrugged. Its just that I . . . that I wished that I . . . She stopped, not sure of what she wanted to say. Oh, well, so long as everythings okay. Everythings cool, Cat said, trust me. She slid off the stool. Good. I feel better. See you tomorrow, huh? Tomorrow? Sheila shouted from the booth. When?
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Before she goes or after she gets back from the Bremmers? Cut it out, Sheila, Greg said, but she ignored him. Its not everybody, Sheila continued, who gets to have tea with the Toothpick Twins and A.J. and Ivy. She pointed a finger at Greg, than at Hal and John. Have you? Have you? Have you? John and Hal shook their heads and Sheila howled, See? Well, Miss Clean and Peaceful and Good has been invited. And she cant wait to go, Ill bet. You are going, arent you? Maggie had been watching Sheila in the mirror. Now she swung around to face her. Hey, she said, thanks for asking. Yes, Im going. Ive been looking forward to it for days.
Chapter Eight
The next afternoon Maggie took one last look in the mirror. For the umpteenth time she asked why she had done this to herself. No, she didnt want to go to the Bremmers, but, at the same time, she didnt want Sheila to get away with doing a number on her. Oh, well, she said philosophically to the mirror, I have to wear these pantyhose once before they rot in the drawer. And itll feel good to wear a skirt for a change. Downstairs she waved good-bye to her grandfather and backed The Bluebird down the short driveway. All the way to the Bremmers she worried about what she would do at their gate. Maybe theyd have an electronic gate opener, but if they didnt . . . Did she honk? Or park and try to open it? The gate was open. She drove up the narrow asphalt road to a parking area in front of the big sprawling house. At the door she smoothed her hair, checked her fingernails, and took a great gulp of air. Here goes, she muttered and raised the large brass knocker. What will I say when the door opens? One vassal waiting to visit the queen, she thought, and giggled.
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What she said when the door opened was, Its you, Amparo! Am I ever glad. Amparo, wearing a crisp white apron over a colorful skirt, smiled widely. Come in, Miss Maggie. They are waiting for you. She led the way through a plant-filled entry and down a narrow hall to a closed door at the back of the house. This is the sitting room of the family, she whispered. They have decided not to be formal with you. Then stop calling me Miss Maggie. Sh-h-h. I have to. Amparo opened the door quietly and said, She is here, Mrs. Ivy. Maggie felt four pairs of eyes on her as she stepped into the room. Two pairs were directly in front of her. They belonged to the white-haired sisters she had seen in the back seat of the black Cadillac. They were identical twins. They were seated on a brocade-covered love seat, their long thin legs extending from beneath identical beige skirts. Maggie held back a giggle. The Toothpick Twins. Sheilas name for them might not be nice, but it was absolutely right. She could not remember meeting any skinnier, more colorless people. On upholstered chairs on the far side of a round coffee table sat Mr. and Mrs. Bremmer. A fire was snapping cheerily in a large brick fireplace on the wall near them. Mr. Bremmer rose stiffly, and Ivy Bremmer waved an arm toward a chair facing them. Sit down, my dear. Youre right on time. We do appreciate punctuality, dont we, A.J.? Mr. Bremmer, who was
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in the act of seating himself, nodded briskly as he sank into his chair. Ivy Bremmer turned back to Maggie. Now, Margaret . . . may I call you Margaret? Maggie shook her head. No, please. I know thats what Mr. Wagner insists on calling me, but my name is Margarita and nearly everyone calls me Maggie. Well . . . well . . . Mrs. Bremmer looked a bit shocked. Well, then, Maggie, I dont believe youve met my dear sisters-in-law. Gertrude on the left and Gretchen beside her. Gertrude nodded and Gretchen nodded, too, but a little smile came and went quickly on her lips. Maggie sat down as Mrs. Bremmer went on talking. Arent they remarkable? Now dont even bother trying to tell them apart. Only A.J. and I can do that. Maggie gave a little shrug of acquiescence, thinking shes not very nice to talk about them as if they werent here. She smiled at them. I always wanted to be a twin, she said. It must be fun. Gertrude said, Not recently, in a dry, squeaky voice, and Gretchen giggled. Mrs. Bremmer rang a little china bell that was on a round coffee table before her. In a moment Amparo appeared, rolling a teacart with a silver tea service and a bowl of flowers. She rolled the cart close to Mrs. Bremmer and said, The little sandwiches, they are ready. I should bring them, no? Gretchen said, And the ones with sweet basil and dill,
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Amparo. Dont forget those. And the herb tea, Gertrude added. Make sure it has steeped for a full five minutes. I will bring all, Amparo said and left the room. Now, my dear, Mrs. Bremmer said. How do you like your tea? Cream, I would guess and how many lumps of sugar? Ill . . . Ill wait for the herb tea, Maggie said, giving the sisters a glance. That is, if its all right with you. Of course, its all right if you wait, Gertrude said. But does that mean that you want some? Oh, yes, Maggie answered quickly. Well, then, you should have said so, Gertrude said. Its a special blend of sisters. Rosehips, blackberry leaves, lemon grass, and chamomile. Tea? Fiddlesticks! Mr. Bremmer sputtered. Thats just medicine. Well, brother, Gertrude said, call it what you will, but it certainly is tea. Tea made from Gretchens homegrown herbs, and its very good. And so are the sandwiches, Gretchen said. Oh, look, here they are. Amparo appeared, carrying a tray with a ceramic teapot and several small platters. There was a general commotion while Ivy Bremmer directed the white-haired sisters to bring up chairs to the table. Once they were settled, Gertrude (at least Maggie thought it was Gertrude; she wasnt sure who was on whose left anymore) checked the herb tea while the other
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twin passed sandwiches. Maggie took those with fresh basil and dill. The twin she thought was Gretchen beamed. Heres your tea, the twin at the teapot said, handing a steaming cup to Maggie. The other wailed, Oh, Gertrude, youre dripping. Maggie smiled. Now she knew which twin was which. I am? Gertrude said. Not you, of course. The teapot. All over the table. Never mind, Ivy Bremmer said. Just move over. Amparo will wipe it up. Mr. Bremmer sputtered a bit, left his chair, and went over to sit on a straight chair by his wife. Maggie had an almost uncontrollable urge to giggle. There was something vaguely familiar about all these goings-on. Everyone sipped tea and ate sandwiches for a few minutes, and then Mr. Bremmer said, I do believe Ill go back to my own chair, Ivy. You know this one makes me stiff. Well, dear, then why did you take it? Mr. Bremmer started to say something, sputtered instead, and settled himself in the upholstered chair once again. He leaned forward and spoke to Maggie. And where did you come from, young lady? This time Maggie did giggle, if only a little. She knew now why things seemed so familiar. This was as weird a tea party as the one in Alice in Wonderland. Im not sure what you mean, Mr. Bremmer, she said. Ive been here all the time.
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No, no, he said impatiently. Before you came to Twisted Creek. Oh. Los Angeles. But I thought you knew that. He pressed his lips into a thin line and sat back. Gretchen held a platter in front of Maggie. Here, have another You mustnt think us rude, my dear, Ivy Bremmer said right over Gretchens words. We are merely wondering why you came to our town. A young person like you. Maggie sighed and put her sandwich down. She might as well stop eating. The interrogation had begun. I came to Twisted Creek because my grandfathers here and because its such a super place to live, she said. Mr. Bremmer made a sound suspiciously like a snort. Come now, young lady, you dont expect us to swallow that. Why, brother, Gretchen said, her face as pink as a cherry popsicle, how unkind. Ivy Bremmer gave Maggie a shrewd look. What A.J. means, my dear, is that it is hard to believe you would prefer our little town to your city. I can speak for myself, Ivy, Mr. Bremmer said. What I want to know is what youre doing here. Did someone send for you? Send for me? My grandfather didnt even know I was coming. No one comes here without a reason, Mr. Bremmer insisted. Come now, whats yours?
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Maggie stared at the suspicious little man across from her. His breathing was quick and shallow. He seems frightened, she thought. She had a sudden impulse to reach over and pat him on the arm. Instead, she said, Two months ago my father died and I didnt want to live in the city anymore. So thats why Im here. I really do love Twisted Creek. I hope it never changes. Ivy Bremmer expelled her breath. There, A.J., now will you relax? Margaret . . . Maggie isnt here under false pretenses. Lets all relax now. Gertrude, pour Maggie more of your tea. Gretchen, pass the cookies, please. And girls, when were through here, why dont you show our guest your greenhouse? But weve never shown it to anyone, Gertrude said dryly. No one at all, Gretchen echoed. No one was interested. Maggie jumped up from her chair. I am, she said enthusiastically. Id love to see it. This was her chance to escape Mr. and Mrs. Bremmer. She wasnt going to lose it. The twin called Gretchen rose immediately, and Gertrude, more stiffly, followed suit. Maggie went with the twins down a long hall and into a large kitchen, where Amparo was busily washing dishes. She grinned at Amparo and followed the older women through a door at the far end. The smell of damp earth and flowers told Maggie that they were in the greenhouse. It was the size of a small classroom, only long and narrow,
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with three glass-paned walls built against the south side of the main house. One of the twins closed the door quickly. The temperature must be just so, she said and went on explaining about soil moisture and humidity without moving until the other interrupted. Fiddledeedee, Gertrude, she said. Thats enough. Lets show her the garden. Well, said Gertrude, weve managed to grow one cymbidium . . . thats an orchid, you know . . . and we have a few begonias that Not those, Gertrude. Come here, Maggie. My gardens over here. Gretchens garden was at one end of the greenhouse, built in steps on tiered benches. Boxes of rich loam held tomato plants, some green, some ripe and red. Other boxes held rows of beets, carrots, and little green onions. Below them were radishes and lettuce. And these are my dear herbs, Gretchen said with an excited little laugh. Arent they beautiful? On rows against the wall of the house were boxes and pots filled with well-nourished herbs. The basil leaves were large and brilliant green. Spearmint grew next to them. Parsley, coriander, and dill filled other boxes. Oh, said Maggie, pointing to a large ceramic pot, that little shrub is rosemary, isnt it? What sweet blue flowers. She turned to face Gretchen. Your herbs are beautiful and they smell heavenly. Gretchen clapped her hands. Gertrude, isnt this won-
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derful? She loves our little garden. Yes, Gertrude said. Brother had this built for us. It has the very latest in sprinkling systems and the temperature control is Fiddledeedee! Gretchen interrupted. Thats not at all interesting. Never in all my put-togethers, Gertrude, have I seen anyone so taken by old water pipes as you. Its just that I appreciate all that brother has done for us, Gertrude said huffily. And what has he done, indeed? Gretchen said. Its our She stopped abruptly. Well, hes a good man, that Ill say for him. A little smile stole across her lips as she added, Even if lately hes been acting like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockers. I dont know what he was thinking, getting after Maggie that way. Thats all right, Maggie said. I guess he just loves Twisted Creek and wants to protect it. But what harm could I do? A picture flashed in her mind: six of her new schoolmates sitting in a circle on a flat rock in Elk Meadow. Mr. Bremmer must know about them, she thought, and he thinks Im here to help them somehow. I hope he knows I love Twisted Creek just as it is. A look passed between Gertrude and Gretchen. What he doesnt know, Gretchen said, wont curdle his whey. Here, Maggie, have some mint.
Chapter Nine
You didnt go, did you? Sheila said Monday at lunch. Maggie and Cat were sitting at a table with some of the seniors when Sheila spoke. Yes, I did, Maggie answered. Really? Sheila said, tossing her long golden hair over her shoulder. That mustve been a blast. Maggie thought of not answering, but she gave in to her better nature. Actually, she said, I sort of enjoyed myself. I guess you would, Sheila said and changed the subject. She tilted her head toward the table farthest from them. Why arent you two over there with your class planning our Last Year Party? Because were not on the committee, Cat said. Nance is in charge. Shell put us to work when the time comes. Trust me. Greg came in the door, waved to them, and walked over to sit at their table. He smiled at Maggie. I see you made it through the inquisition. If you mean yesterdays inquisition, Maggie said with
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a mischievous glance at Sheila, it wasnt bad. They were really pretty nice to me. They must want something, Greg said. From me? Maggie wanted to say, I dont think so; instead she said, Well, maybe. Now wasnt the time to push things. Now was the time to cool it and see what happened. Over the next two weeks Maggies days fell into a routine. At school she became used to having her subjects all taught in the same classroom by the same teacher. Mrs. Gilliam moved from civics to math to English composition with ease. Every now and then Mr. Wagner would wander in to sit on one of the rear seats to watch, then fall asleep. There was a routine at home, too. In the afternoons, she studied while her grandfather worked. And then there was supper and a quiet evening with him and their books. It was during those long evenings that Maggie truly missed the telephone. Seeing the kids at school was fun, but there were always little things popping into her mind that she wished she could share with Cat. Sometimes, instead of reading, she wrote letters. To her mother. To Lorena and Mim. Later, when she thought of it, she realized that those letters were filled with descriptions of the mountains and the streams and of her new friends, nothing about the lack of new movies, a telephone, or TV. She was glad that the kids from the Elk Meadow picnic (the Change Campaign Group she called them in her mind) were all still friendly. If they were going ahead with
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their plans, she heard nothing about it. On Fridays she went to the movies. Mary Poppins and then The Sound of Music. Considering that this was the third time she had seen The Sound of Music, it held up pretty well. There was ice cream at The Pink Polly after the show and lots of talk about the Last Year Party. The seniors kept prodding the juniors for the theme, with no success. Maggie had begun to feel that she was a part of Twisted Creek. People no longer stared at her nor at The Bluebird. Her days had grown more comfortable. Then, in the middle of the third week, Maggie found that Mrs. Gilliam was not at school one morning. She was ill. Mr. Wagner took over the class and they fumbled through all the subjects, especially geometry. John, who might have helped, was gone, and, according to the rumors, he was sick, too. At home that afternoon she found the house to be unusually quiet. There were no keyboard keys clicking or sounds from the printer. The door to her grandfathers study was open, but he wasnt there. She went upstairs. A knock on her grandfathers bedroom door brought a muffled Come in. Her grandfather was in bed, looking rumpled and slightly green. Whats wrong, Grandpa? You look . . . you look . . . The words totally bummed out almost escaped her mouth. You look pretty uncomfortable. Whats wrong? Everythings wrong, he grumbled. Dont come near me. Im in misery. And Im afraid Im
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going to live through it. What is it? she asked, her voice hardly above a whisper. Have you seen a doctor? The doctor, he said. Dr. Aiken. And hes mystified. Might be a new strain of flu, he says. But hes just guessing. Maggie thought of her mothers insistent advice when she had had the flu two years before. Arent you supposed to drink a lot of water? Should I get you some? He groaned as he lifted himself up in bed. Yes, yes. But you have to boil it. A precaution, Aiken says. More guesswork. Ill go do it, Maggie said, her words shaky. Ill be right back. In the hall she stood by the closed door staring at the wall. A little chill of terror held her there. Her grandfather was sick. Like Dad? No, not again! Then, drawing in her breath, she ran down the stairs and into the kitchen. She was surprised to see Amparo at the sink, washing green sprigs of mint. Amparo! Grandpas sick. Do you know? I know, I know, Amparo said, nodding. I have seen him. Whats wrong with him? Is it bad? It is the spring sickness. It comes, it goes, Amparo answered with a shrug. Hell be all right, wont he? The holy saints will guard him. But we must make him some strong mint tea.
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I told him Id take him water. After I boiled it. No, Amparo said, shaking her head. No water. Tea. Only tea. And you must have some, too. Me? Why me? In the time of sickness, mint tea is necessary for everyone. But, Amparo, Im not You are new here, Amparo said impatiently. In the city perhaps these things do not happen. My grandmother, who has great wisdom and over one hundred years, tells us that during the time of this sickness, only strong mint tea may be drunk. Water causes great weakness. Amparo, are you sure you know what youre talking about? Amparo gave her a long look. Would you question my grandmothers wisdom, Miss Maggie? Im sorry, Maggie said quickly. Okay, Ill have the tea. But will it really help my grandfather? You will see how much it will help. In Spanish, mint is called yerbabuena, the good herb. Maggie stood looking out of the kitchen window while the tea steeped. A cat with a mouse in its mouth ran across the field into a stand of trees and she shivered. Would her grandfather be all right? When it was ready, she drank the dark green, almost bitter brew that Amparo pressed on her and took a large mug of the steaming liquid to her grandfather. What is this? he growled. Poison?
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You know better than that, don Victor, Amparo called from the door. Your mother surely knew the value of yerbabuena. Humph, he said and drank it down. At school the next day Maggie learned that it wasnt just Grandpa who was sick. A note on the blackboard said Junior Class, please wait quietly. Mr. Wagner is ill. A substitute will be in shortly. So now it was Mrs. Gilliam, her grandfather, John and Mr. Wagner, and a lot of other people in town. Anna said, Nance is sick, too. I stopped by and her mother said she had the flu. Yeah, Hal said. I hear its spread around the whole country. Brought here by all those boat people. Boat people? Cat said. That was years ago. Where did you hear that? Anyway, I heard it was some bad cans of green beans in the last grocery delivery. I hope nobody here has been eating green beans. Everyone was suddenly silent and Cat asked, Is there any medicine for botulism? Cut it out, Cat, Spence said. Dr. Aiken and Mom think its something else. To Maggie he explained, Moms a nurse. She works at the clinic. In a few minutes the door opened. A pale blonde woman came in and everyone called, Hi, Mrs. Hammel. Thats Gregs mother, Cat whispered. She used to teach here before she quit to help Mr. Hammel with The Creek Chronicle. Mrs. Hammel smiled at them, sat down, and looked
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through the papers in a folder she was carrying. She pulled out a couple of them and laid them on a chair beside her. Before we start our schoolwork, she said, lets talk about whats happened. Weve just learned why so many of us are sick. The waters contaminated. Yuck, Anna said, clutching her throat and gagging. I just went out in the hall and drank some. Well, then, Hal said, I guess youre just gonna die. Mrs. Hammel frowned. Relax. If you kids havent gotten sick by now, that probably means you have natural immunities. There was a long silence and then everyone had a question. How did it happen? Whats in the water? Who found out? I dont have all the answers, Mrs. Hammel said, but I do have some instructions. You are not to drink the water until you boil it for at least twelve minutes. A few drops of chlorine might do the trick, too. But until Dr. Aiken says thats okay, stick to boiling the water. Maggie frowned as she listened. How could the water be polluted? According to her grandfather, it came straight from the mountaintops to Little Green Lake, the Bremmer Water Company reservoir that was right above Elk Meadow. She thought of the creek by Grandpas back door. She had cupped that icy water in her hands. It was crystal clear and clean. Water like that had to be pure. Mrs. Hammel was still talking. Samples of our water were sent to a Melville laboratory. The result is that, from
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now on, the lake will be treated chemically. We dont want to take a chance on this happening again. Anna said, Why didnt the rest of us get sick? Who knows? Mrs. Hammel answered. Luck, probably. But we cant take chances. Boil your water until you hear otherwise. And throw away old ice cubes and anything uncooked that has water in it. Well be handing you emergency instructions before you leave today. Now, lets get to work. At home, Grandpa was an unmanageable grouch. But he did drink his mint tea. Only to keep that woman from nagging me, he grumbled. Maggie was glad to escape to school. With Mrs. Hammels help, the days went smoothly there. By the following Monday, things in the classroom were almost normal. Mrs. Gilliam had returned, wan and pale, and so had John and Nance. At home, too, things were improved. Grandpa was good-natured again, and no longer sickly green. He was back at his computer. And, although the water from the faucet had a funny taste, they were told it was safe to drink. Safe? Maggie drew a glass of water and sniffed it. How do they know its safe? Now that theyve put all those chemicals in it, how do they know? Her glance fell on a large enamel kettle on the stove and she shrugged. Mint tea. Lots of Amparos mint tea. Maybe it helped. Maybe it was good for me, but right now Id trade it, and my favorite running shoes, for a nice, cold Pepsi.
Chapter Ten
The movie that Friday night was The Wizard of Oz. Maggie had a hard time believing that the story she had grown up with, seeing it over and over again on TV until she had memorized some of Judy Garlands lines, was now being shown in a theater as a special treat. And for money. No wonder Hal was eager to be able to get to Melville to see newer movies. Cat and Nicky stopped by for her. As they walked toward the movie house, Nicky bounded ahead of them singing, Were off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz. Sounds like youve already seen it. Have you? Maggie asked. Sure, Cat answered. Lots of times. The Bremmers own this one, so they show it a lot. And they charge you? Of course. They didnt get rich by being generous. The wizard and Dorothy, and especially the cowardly lion, were as likable as ever, but Maggies mind kept drifting away from the screen. Her eyes shifted to where Greg sat two rows in front of her. His profile was outlined perfectly in the dim, moving light. He looks like his mom, she
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told herself. Another time she thought, hes nice-looking. Not handsome. Just nice-looking. After a while she began to feel self-conscious and forced herself to get back to the yellow brick road. But when the movie ended and the house lights came on, she was once more looking at Greg. Quickly, she turned away. That was when she saw the Bremmers. They were isolated by the two empty rows behind and ahead of them. Theyre waiting for us common people to leave, she thought. They dont want to rub elbows with us. Who do they think they are, anyway? It was at that moment that one of the twins glanced toward her, caught her eye, and winked. Maggie smiled and gave a little wave. Gretchen. That had to be Gretchen. Outside, Greg came up to them and asked, Coming to The Polly? I cant, Cat said. Ive gotta go straight home. My folks are going to the city on a buying trip for the store, and, as usual, for everybody else. It isnt easy having the only womens store in town. You should see the list of bring-me-backs Moms got. Anyway, well be getting up grotesquely early. How about you? Greg asked Maggie. She wanted to say yes, but for some reason she shook her head. I . . . I think Ill go on with Cat. See how Grandpas feeling. He still gets pretty tired. At the corner Maggie glanced over her shoulder. Greg was standing with Hal and John and Spence. As she
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looked, Greg turned and glanced her way. She was sure he had smiled. Spence slapped Hal on the back and sprinted toward them. Hey, Maggie, he called. Ill walk with you. Hes got a thing for you, Cat said close to her ear. Nicky asked, Who? Who? No, he doesnt, Maggie said. Hes just being nice. Trust me, Cat insisted. Hes got what my mom calls a crush. Hes got a crush. Thats why The Nickel and I are gonna go ahead. Dont, Maggie said, please dont go. Whatre you two talking about? Nicky grumbled. Spence, Cat said, pulling her around the corner. Come on. Maggie took a step after Cat and then thought better of it. She stayed at the corner waiting for Spence, but all the while looking at Greg, who was walking the other way with John and Hal. When Spence reached her, he grinned and said, Someday Im going to get tired of that movie. I might, Maggie said, except Im in love with the cowardly lion. They started walking down Main Street. They turned the corner toward Pine and she stumbled. Spence grabbed her arm to steady her. Its dark, she said, with an awkward little laugh. Sure is, Spence said and, after a few steps, let go of her arm.
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She was surprised when she found herself wishing he hadnt. His hand had felt strong and good on her arm. Will they ever put bulbs in the street lamps? she asked. Maybe, he said. Then, abruptly, as if it were a decision he had just arrived at, he reached out and took her hand. She walked more surely then. Was it because the stars seemed a bit brighter, closer, maybe, and there was no need for street lights? His hand warmed hers. Maybe it was that, or the fact that she felt relaxed, comfortable. How are you guys getting along? I mean about TV and roads. You know, changing Twisted Creek? she asked. Okay, I guess. Were growing. All the seniors are with us. And . . . and the juniors, too. All the juniors? For a moment he hesitated. Yes. Except me, of course. Doesnt anyone else feel the way I do? Doesnt anyone else like Twisted Creek? Now the night seemed to darken again. The kids here didnt like or dislike her, she thought, they just put up with her. She was as important to them as last weeks homework assignment. It didnt much matter what she did. She didnt belong. She was an outsider. Spence said, Id tell you more if I could, but were supposed Oh, sure, she interrupted, her common sense returning. If she felt left out, it was no wonder. She was the one whod pulled out of the activity that interested them the most. I understand.
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They didnt talk the rest of the way home. Spence held her hand loosely. Something pleasant that had begun had been stopped abruptly, and an unpleasant silence was now in its place. They walked up to the door. Goodnight, Maggie, Spence said. Hope your grandfathers feeling better. Goodnight, Spence. She waited a moment before she added with a little laugh, If youll give me my hand back, I can go in. Sorry, he said. I guess I didnt want to let go. She went inside, closing the door quietly behind her. So Spence did have a thing for her. And what about her? What did she have? A split personality? Feeling all glad and warm when Spence held her hand while all evening long her eyes couldnt stay away from Greg. She turned away from the door. As she started up the stairs, a small yellow envelope lying on the hall table caught her eye. She turned back and picked it up, and when she found that it was addressed to her, she opened it eagerly. What was she hoping? That Greg had written her a note? But it was not that, nor anything else she might have guessed. It was an invitation to have tea with the Bremmer twins on the following day. We enjoyed your company so much, the note said. And we know you enjoyed our little greenhouse, so please come and thats where well have our tea. We have a new lemon tea that were dying to try out and also an herbed butter that you will love on our homemade wheat bread.
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Come early. Well expect you at two oclock. The note was signed by both Gretchen and Gertrude, but Maggie felt sure that this was Gretchens invitation. Oh, shed go all right. Otherwise, she would be alone, reading a book while Grandpa worked. There would be no use in walking up to Cats; the Change Campaign Group would be sure to be meeting somewhere. Besides, she really liked Gretchen. She smiled, thinking of her wink. When she knocked at the door of the Bremmers house the next afternoon, it was opened by one of the twins. Here you are, Maggie. Im so glad you could come, she said. It was nice of you to invite me again. Maggie shook her head and frowned. Are you Gretchen? Ill never be able to tell you two apart. The woman at the door smiled. When dear Momma was alive, she insisted on dressing us exactly alike. Its become a habit, you see. But Ill tell you a little secret. Im Gretchen and I have one eyebrow higher than the other. See? Sisters are perfectly level. She leaned close to Maggie and whispered, They wouldnt dare to be otherwise, I guess. They walked down the hall to the family sitting room as Gretchen said, I planned to hand you that envelope at the movies, but you disappeared, so I left it with your grandfather. I persuaded Brother to go out of his way. Oh, my, how he hates that! Brother cant stand even the smallest hitch in his getalong. Maggie grinned. There was a contagious good humor
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about Gretchen that brightened the dark hall. On the other side of the door with Gertrude, the mood changed. There you are, Gertrude said, looking pointedly at a clock on the fireplace mantel. Now we can have our lemon tea. You go ahead with the tea, Sister. I think Maggie and I will have a coke. Ill just go get them. A coke, Maggie thought. Boy, wont that taste good. And, of course, the Bremmers would have them. Gretchen disappeared and Gertrude sniffed and said, Sometimes my sister forgets her age. Inviting a young girl like you to tea, for instance. Oh, Maggie said, wondering how to answer that rude remark. Im sorry it bothers you, she said finally. Actually, I thought it was very nice of her to ask me over. Besides, it gives me a chance to exercise The Bluebird. Exercise a bird? Not a real bird, Maggie said, laughing. I call my car The Bluebird. A car with a name? Nonsense. After all, an automobile is merely a machine that, when functioning properly, moves one from place to place. Whats that? Gretchen asked from the door. Here you are. She handed Maggie a tall glass of fizzing cola. Whats that youre describing, Sister? A robot? I was simply defining cars as they should be defined. As machines. Maybe they are machines, Maggie said a bit defen-
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sively. But they have personalities. For instance, I think Id call Mr. Bremmers car Black Beauty. Its loaded with horsepower. Anyway, my little car reminds me of a bluebird, so thats what I call it. Did you bring your . . . The Bluebird? Gretchen asked, glancing quickly at her sister. When Maggie nodded, she said, Oh, Sister, do you think we could? Brother and Ivy wont be back for hours. You know how long they take with Dr. Aiken. And if Maggie would, it would be just lovely. Dont you think we could, Sister? What Gretchens jabbering about is a ride up Mine Road to Washboard Lake. Yes, Gretchen said eagerly. The blackberries there ripen early. There must be bushels of them. And its such a long walk there and back. Brother wont go. He despises getting his car dusty. Of course, we would clean yours when we returned, and you would have all those lovely berries for pies or preserves. She paused to draw in her breath then added, And well have tea and sandwiches in our little garden when we return. Maggie smiled. She had always dreamed of picking wild berries. Sure, Ill go. Just try to stop me. Ten minutes later they were on their way. It was a relief to have the sisters finally settled. Gretchen was in the back seat surrounded by four pails, two wide-brimmed sun hats, and three voluminous smocks. Blackberry stains grab on and stay, she had said. Ill bring a smock for you, too.
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Gertrude had, of course, insisted on sitting by the driver. I am assuming you can control this vehicle, she said, but I will be at the ready if you need me. Maggie said, Not to worry. I can control The Bluebird. She ignored the skeptical look that Gertrude gave her. They drove to the gate where Maggie had dropped Amparo. Getrude got out of the car and straightened the sign that warned off trespassers. Then, producing a ring of keys from her skirt pocket, she unlocked and pulled open the metal gates. A hundred yards or so from the entrance they came to the cabin with a neat little picket fence and a riot of colorful flowers at its base. An old man sat rocking on the porch. His head was thrown back, his eyes closed. Maggie nodded, thinking this must be where Amparo lived and that must be her father. Her thought was hardly completed when the old man stiffened, picked up a shotgun by his feet, and aimed it at them. Alto! Alto! he yelled. Stop or I shoot! Maggie slammed on the brakes. The metal pails in the back clanged and clattered and fell to the floor. Maggies hands were trembling on the wheel as she heard Gertrude shout, Put that thing down, George! His names Jorge, Sister, Gretchen called from the back seat. Horray, indeed! Gertrude said with a snort. If thats the way he wants it pronounced, why doesnt he spell it that way? The old man lowered the shotgun and said, Ay, seori-
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tas, I am very sorry. I . . . I did not recognize you. Its not your fault, Jorge, Gretchen called cheerily through her open window. We should not have come in a strange car. Were on our way to pick berries. Well bring you back some. The old man smiled broadly. Thank you, seorita Gretchen. I do not deserve your kindness, but I will accept it. Gretchen poked Maggies shoulder. Its all right now, Maggie. We can go now. After I catch my breath, Maggie said. You may not believe this because of what goes on in Los Angeles, but nobodys ever pointed a gun at me before. The man is merely doing his duty, Gertrude said. The mine entrance is just behind his cabin, and it is to be protected at all costs. If Brother truly feels that way, Gretchen said, he should hire a private eye. After all, Jorges blind as a bat. Shall we go now? Maggie restarted the car. The road was rutted and all uphill, but The Bluebird was on good behavior. In a matter of minutes, they turned a curve marked by a huge boulder. The blue waters of a sun-sparkled lake could be seen through the trees. They parked the car by the side of the road. Maggie said, Its beautiful, and took a few steps down the bank toward the lake. She wanted to sit on a boulder and listen to the soft lap-lap of water against the rocks, breathe in the sweet pure air. But the bustle of the whitehaired twins behind her pulled her back. Gertrude was issu-
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ing orders as Gretchen, half in, half out of the car, dragged out pails and smocks. Before Maggie had put on the smock handed to her, Gertrude had disappeared through the trees near the lake. Gretchen nudged Maggie. Gertrude thinks she knows the best places. But you come with me. I know where the berries like to grow. She pushed through the trees and, as if she were following a path, climbed briskly up the hillside. When they reached a spot where the trees were more widely spaced, she stopped. Look, look, there they are. Growing close to the ground and spreading across a wide area was a brambly plant with dark green leaves and clusters of velvety blackberries. Watch out for thorns, Gretchen warned. And, remember, you have to eat the first one you pick, so find a good one. As far as Maggie was concerned, they were all good. She ate the first five berries she picked and then began to fill the pail. She followed Gretchen up the hill from one patch of berries to another, and before she knew it, her hands were inky and her pail was full. Gretchen said, Well go back by the lake. There are some good sitting rocks down there where we can rest a bit. Maggie watched with wonder as the tall, white-haired woman went down the hill. Shes as sure-footed as a goat, she thought. And about as strong. My arms about to give out from carrying this pail. She dug her heels into the soft loam for better footing as she followed Gretchen down the incline. What did you say? Maggie called down to Gretchen
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when they were nearing the water. I didnt say anything, Gretchen answered over her shoulder. Somebody else is talking. Come here. Look. Your friends are down there. Maggie put the pail down and took the last few steps quickly. Gretchen parted some pine boughs and pointed at Greg and a dozen of her schoolmates. Greg stood talking while the others sat on rocks and listened. Those are steps one, two, and three, Greg said. Are we clear about that? Sure. It was John. Step one is to get our parents on our side. I can see that. But can we trust them? I mean, trust them not to forget and say things they shouldnt? Yeah, Sheila said. Old Boulderdome Bremmer and Clinging Ivy will squash the project if they hear about it too soon. And, of course, the Toothpick Twins will go along with them. Look, Sheila, Spence said, Theres no point in Damn all of them! Hal interrupted. Theyve run us long enough. Its our town, too! Maggie put her hands up to her face and sank slowly to a fallen log. She wanted to run back up the hill and hide. The kids were having another secret meeting, and shed brought the Bremmers! But what was almost worse, Gretchen, sweet friendly Gretchen, had heard the mean remarks that Sheila and Hal had made. She wondered if shed ever be able to look at her. When she finally did, she was shocked to find that Gretchen was laughing.
Chapter Eleven
How can you laugh? Maggie said in a hushed voice, looking up at Gretchen. Theyre trashing your whole family. Gretchen didnt answer. She went on laughing until tears spilled from her eyes. Oh, my! Oh, my! Old Boulderdome and his Clinging Ivy! And calling us a pair of toothpicks. Isnt that imaginative? Maybe, Maggie said, remembering the cutting remarks that Sheila had made to her. But not very kind. Gretchen wiped her eyes on the hem of her smock. I suppose not. Its a good thing that Gertrudes not with us. Her feathers ruffle easily. What are they talking about, anyway? Now Maggies concern shifted to herself. Instead of answering, she shrugged and said, I think we ought to go, dont you? Gretchen nodded and they started up the slope. They walked silently, Gretchen plodding on ahead of her until, abruptly, she stopped and turned. Her forehead furrowed under kindly blue eyes as she said, Did they fail to invite
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you? Oh, no, no. Its not . . . its not that they Well, Gretchen said, did they or didnt they? No, they didnt but Just as I thought. Then, in a softer tone, she added, Sometimes young people can be unmercifully cruel through carelessness. It will suddenly occur to one of them that they forgot to include you. And they will feel bad. They wont forget the next time. Thank you, Maggie said a bit stiffly. Its very nice of you to . . . to . . . well, to worry about me. What else could she say? Even so, she felt like a traitor. She picked up the pail of berries and followed Gretchen through the pines. Gertrude was waiting by the car, tapping her foot impatiently. Well, Gretchen, what took you so long? Did you have trouble finding your berries? Not at all, Sister. We have been resting and chatting and . . . She grinned at Maggie. . . . seeing the sights and listening to the sounds. Maggie nodded, but didnt smile as she walked to the front of The Bluebird and raised the lid of the storage compartment. She wanted to get out of there. But Gertrude was in no hurry. The older woman bent over the pails of berries and examined them, claiming that hers were larger, riper, and more uniform in size. She sampled berries from each pail and vowed that hers were sweeter, too. At last, she straightened up and said, You can put them in now, Maggie. But, mind you, keep mine separate.
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With the full pails stashed tightly in the trunk and the two sisters in their seats, Maggie swung The Bluebird around and, as quickly as the bumpy road allowed, drove away from the lake. At Amparos house, Gertrude and Gretchen fussed about which bucket of berries should go to Jorge. Beads of perspiration broke out on Maggies forehead as she waited, her eyes circling the woods, fearful of seeing one of her classmates. Finally, the twins made their decision. Gertrude called, George! Jorge hurried out of the house. He nodded appreciatively as he took the pail of berries Gertrude handed him. Gracias, seorita, he said. Gertrude, who usually moved briskly, seemed to take forever to get back into the car. Maggie started the motor, and The Bluebird was flying down the rutted road before the old man reached his door. Once more, Gertrude got out of the car to open the Old Mine Road gates. But, at last, it was done and Maggie wheeled the little car onto the main highway. At the drive in front of the Bremmers house, Gertrude suddenly twisted around to face her. Her eyes narrowed as she said, Whats going on at the lake? Maggie, caught by surprise, fumbled for words. I . . . Im . . . Im not Gretchen rescued her. Are you talking about the students, Sister? Maggie and I sneaked a quick look. Whatever they were talking about sounded mighty dull to me.
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Gertrude shook her head. From what I heard, and it wasnt much, it sounded more like they were up to something. And not something good, Ill vouch. Do you think, Maggie said, hoping her shakiness wasnt showing, do you think they might be planning the Last Year Party? Ive heard that they keep that pretty secret. Well, Gertrude said acidly, if thats it, Mr. Wagner will hear about it. No one is allowed on Old Mine Road. Thats true, Gretchen said, but if youre young and strong, you dont need Old Mine Road, you simply take the back trail. It may have a lot of slides and scrambles, but its pretty and it takes you to the lake as well. Well, Sister, arent you going to get out? The berries will be turning to wine if we sit here much longer. Giving Gretchen a grateful glance, Maggie jumped out of the car. Driving home, her thoughts went round and round. Somehow Gretchen had sensed her feelings and was trying to help her. The meeting at the lake was not her doing. She hadnt even known the kids were having it. So why was she feeling so guilty? And why had she tried so desperately to protect them? She knew, of course. She had friends there. Cat, for one. And Spence. Having their plans blow up would really bother him. And then there was solid, serious Greg, who was determined to succeed and was putting all his energy into that determination. Im not on their side, she thought as she drove The Bluebird into the garage, but Im sure not going to work against them.
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As she jogged early the next morning, Maggies thoughts were still on her jumbled Saturday afternoon. It had been a crazy collage: the fright at Amparos house, the blackberry picking, the kids meeting at the edge of the lake, and the panicky ride home. When she saw Nicky wandering on Pine Street, her thoughts were pulled back to the present. The little girl kicked at some leaves that clung to the side of the curbing. Then she bent over, picked up a pine cone, and sent it flying into a tree. A squirrel scrambled up to higher branches. When Maggie was nearer, she asked, Whatre you doing out here so early? Nothing, Nicky said, wrinkling up her nose. Cats still sleeping. Then in a plaintive little voice she added, I wish Mommy and Daddy were back. There was a sad, forsaken note in Nickys words that touched off a silent cry in Maggie. Nicky went on, But they wont be back for days yet. Maggie nodded, fighting back unexpected tears. My dad wont ever be back, she thought. Ill never see him again. Nicky sighed. Cats just no fun anymore. Well, Maggie said, pushing away the pain growing inside of her, Im probably not a lot of fun either, but why dont you come and have breakfast with me? Grandpas sleeping late, too. Cool, Nicky said. Im really hungry.
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In the kitchen, Maggie set the table, poured orange juice, and started scrambled eggs while Nicky chattered. I wish Mom and Dad didnt have that dumb store. Maybe it would be all right if they just sold dishes n things. Mommy says you can order that kind of stuff from catalogs, but clothes are different. They have to go down to San Francisco to choose clothes. When I was very little, they used to take both of us with them. But now Cats old enough to watch me, so we dont get to go anymore. Did you know that all the hotel rooms in San Francisco have TVs? One day Cat and I watched two whole movies. Two movies in one day. Isnt that something? Maggie opened her mouth to say that it was something to waste a day in San Francisco watching old movies, but Nicky didnt wait for an answer. Wouldnt it be cool, just perfectly cool and lovely, she said, to have a TV of your very own? Id never be bored if I had one. Would you? Maggie, trying to keep the eggs from sticking, kept her back to Nicky. Yes, she had felt bored at times, even with her very own TV, but she didnt want to say that. Even TV can be boring sometimes, she said. No way, Nicky said emphatically. You know what Cat said? She said maybe well get TV right here in Twisted Creek. Do you think so? I dont know. Maggie placed a steaming plate in front of Nicky. How do you like your toast? The food took most of Nickys attention, and, except for
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a word or two, they both ate hungrily and silently. They were having second glasses of milk with toast and jam when they heard a shrill call. Nicky! Nickeee-eeee! Maggie ran to the back door. She saw Cat standing on the path above the bridge, her hands cupped around her mouth. Hey, Cat! she called. Nickys in here with me. Cat dropped her hands to her sides, but a scowl stayed on her face as she started across the bridge. Cat was angry; there was no question about that. She ran past the door Maggie held open for her and, leaning across the kitchen table, snapped at Nicky, You arent supposed to disappear this way! And you arent supposed to sleep so late! Cats face reddened as she blustered, Im in charge, you know. Not when youre sleeping, youre not! Nicky slammed her fork on the table. Cat grimaced at her sister. Trust me, Nicky, youre in real trouble. Maggie said, Well all be in trouble if you guys keep shouting. Youre going to waken Grandpa. Okay, Cat said. Okay. Come on, Nicky. Ive gotta get us breakfast. Shes already had breakfast. I hope thats okay. Cats eyes circled the table and then she turned to Maggie. Whatve you been doing? Feeding her and pumping her? Wha-at? Maggie shook her head as if to clear it. Was
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Cat talking to her? You heard me, Cat said. I keep my promises. I dont tell her anything. So what did you think shed know? Whatre you talking about? Please tell me, whats all this about? Cat shrugged. Its not your confusion thats showing. Its your double-dealing. I saw you yesterday above Washboard Lake. A grating, maddening sensation, like the sound of a fingernail across a chalkboard, traveled up Maggies spine. So thats it. Sure, thats it, Cat said fiercely. I was on my way home early because of Nicky; otherwise, I probably wouldnt have seen you. But there you were, big as life. You actually brought one of the Bremmers to listen in on our meeting! Boy, Maggie said, do you have it all wrong! But I dont suppose you want to know the truth since youve already made up your mind. I already have the truth! I saw you. You and one of the Bremmer sisters hiding behind a tree We werent hiding! Well, yes, we were, but it wasnt the way it looked. Wed just Stop it! Cat shouted. You two were spying, and you know it. Come on, Nicky, she said, pulling her sister by the arm, lets get out of here!
Chapter Twelve
The back door slammed shut and in a second the screen door slammed, too. Maggie took a step or two after them and then stopped. She wasnt sure what she was feeling. Disappointment? Hurt? Frustration? All of those things, she decided, and mad, too. She took a deep breath and counted to ten. And when she was through and turned back into the kitchen, there was her grandfather standing in the doorway in his pajamas and robe. Whats going on down here? he said. Im sorry, Grandpa. Im sorry we got you up. Its just . . . its just . . . She pulled out a chair and sank into it. Things are a mess, and Ive got to figure out what to do about it. Well, he said with a hint of a smile on his face, if you can do it quietly, Id appreciate it. But he made no move to go. Please stay, wont you? Do you suppose we could talk? He threw her a questioning glance and said, Let me plug in the coffee first. When that was done, he took a chair facing her. Im all ears. Shoot. Its about yesterday afternoon when I went blackberry
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picking with the Bremmer sisters. He nodded. While we were there, Gretchen and I stumbled onto a bunch of the high school kids. They were having another one of their meetings and I just didnt She stopped and bit her lip. Oh, no, there I go, Im doing it! And I shouldnt be. Im not supposed to be telling you. You havent told me much. Im not supposed to tell you anything. I cant. I cant even tell you what the argument was about. Its because . . . because of a secret I have to keep. A promise is a promise, her grandfather said. I know about that. I have a few secrets of my own. Actually, most of mine are pretty insignificant. But I guess all promises are important, even if they arent worldshaking. But this one is significant, even if it is little-town stuff. Remember, Maggie, this little town is my home now. Anything that concerns it is important to me. Maggie nodded and stared beyond him to the coffeepot that had begun to perk rhythmically. In a moment she sighed and said, You know, Grandpa, theres something Ive noticed about this little town. Well, not something, but a lack of something. Everyones pretty much the same in Twisted Creek. There are no black or brown faces. No Asians. And I miss that. I like the . . . the mixture we have in L.A. I know theres a better word than mixture, but I cant think of it now. Diversity? Right. Diversity. Thats it. Its a good thing this town
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has Amparo and Jorge and you and me, tooeven if I look more like my motherotherwise it would have no . . . no diversity at all. There are two Chinese families living up beyond Silvergate, but they keep pretty much to themselves. Arent there any children? There were, Im told. But they were sent down to San Francisco to live with relatives. She nodded again and said, You know how I feel about cities in general and loving Twisted Creek just the way it is? I know Im right about pollution, but do you think I could be wrong about other things? Wrong? He shook his head. Thats the way you feel, isnt it? Theres nothing right or wrong about feelings. Im glad to hear that. She smiled at him. Youre impressive, you know, Grandpa? Honey, youre too easily impressed. He got up, walked to her side, bent over, and gave her a kiss. Im going to go wrestle with my computer for a bit. Its acting up. I hope its nothing serious. At the door he turned and said, When the coffees done, will you bring me a cup? Maggie sat at the kitchen table, listening to the gurgling sounds of the coffee maker. If Id told him more, I wouldve been doing what Cat accused me of. Breaking my promise. But, oh, how Id like to talk to someone. If I was home, Id just pick up the phone. Or, if there was a phone here, Id call and talk to Mom. Not to tell her the kids secret. Just to talk. About Cat and Spence and Greg and
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funny Mr. Wagner. Hes unreal, Mom would say. Sure youre not making him up? And then they would laugh. Letters arent the same. Anyway, Mom hates to write letters, even on e-mail. If Grandpa had a phone, it would fill some of the empty space. At school Maggie felt the empty space left by Cat. Cat talked to her only when she had to. Not one unnecessary word in class, at lunch, or at their lockers. She was cold. Cold as an ice cube. Maggie was sure that everyone noticed, but only Spence said anything. Something wrong with Cat? he asked. Maggie was tempted to tell him what had happened, but thought better of it. She shrugged and said, Shes probably missing her parents. Theyre going to be gone longer than she thought. Monday and Tuesday were long, uncomfortable days for Maggie. On Wednesday she decided she had to change things. Cat had to listen to her. At lunch she wrote her a note: Cat, It feels weird having you mad at me. If youd listen, I could absolutely explain. Really. The whole thing was an accident. Besides, Gretchen Bremmer isnt as bad as you think she is. Actually, shes a pretty cool lady. Id like to talk to you about everything. Please meet me after school where the road ends by the playing field. Ill wait there for you. Maggie
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She asked Nance to give the note to Cat as soon as she could. When the last bell rang, Maggie rushed down the stairs and out to the end of the playing field. By the time all the other kids had gone by and Cat hadnt shown up, she began to worry. Ten lonely minutes later, she gave up. Cat wasnt coming. It was no consolation to think that shed tried. The afternoon was sunny and bright. Shreds of clouds moved lightly in a bold blue sky, and on the mountain peaks snow sparkled like shattered glass. There was a sweet spring smell in the air. Maggie had never known May to be such a beautiful month. But today might as well have been a gray smoggy day in the city. That would have better matched her mood. Dejected, she started toward Pine Street. On Monday and Tuesday she had taken Cats shortcut through the woods, hoping to see her. Today she headed the other way, walking up Main toward High Street. When she reached the Bank of A.J. Bremmer, an overpowering urge took hold of her. She wanted to talk to her mother. She had to talk to her mother. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, then pushed the heavy door and stepped inside. The room she stood in was long and narrow. A woodpaneled wall with four barred windows ran the length of the room. It looks like a set for a western movie, she thought. A white-haired man, bundled up in a bulky sweater, stood before one of the windows, transacting business with a long-faced woman behind the counter. On the other side of the room, by two glassed-in telephone booths, two men in khaki work clothes and a plump woman and lit-
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tle girl were seated on a long, polished bench. In one of the booths a man was carrying on an earnest conversation, while in the second booth a gray-haired woman looked around impatiently, as if waiting for her call to go through. Above the bench a sign said Please limit your calls to essentials. Pay charges at Window One. The word essentials stared at Maggie accusingly. She glared back. She sat on the bench next to the little girl, who was staring at her candidly. She spoke to the woman. Are you waiting to use the phone? Yes, the woman replied. You have to get a telephone use slip over there. She indicated Window One. Maggie thanked her and went to the first window at the rear of the room. A thin, bald man rose from a small desk and asked her what she wanted. A telephone use slip, please. He came to the counter and pulled a printed pad toward him. What number are you going to call? Maggie gave him her mothers business phone. The reason you need to use the phone, please? he said, pencil poised. We-ell, its . . . its that I absolutely need to talk to my mother. I havent talked to her in two months, you know. No, I dont know. He looked at her suspiciously. Are you sure its your mother you want to call? This line is reserved for the towns use through Mr. Bremmers generosity. It is not intended for frivolous purposes. Frivolous! Maggies voice rose. Frivolous? All her
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feelings about what had happened with Cat boiled over in her angry reply. Thats an absolutely rotten thing to say! Whats frivolous about wanting to talk to my mom? Lower your voice, young lady, the bald man snapped. Youll disturb Mr. Bremmer. But it was too late. A door at the back wall flew open and Mr. Bremmer hurried through it. What have we here, Mr. McNee? A problem? A problem? See what youve done? the man called McNee hissed. Youve upset him. Its your own fault! Maggie hissed back. You couldve been nicer! Mr. McNee turned around and said soothingly, There is no problem, sir. Im just explaining our policies to this young lady. It seems that she was not aware of them. Thats right, Mr. Bremmer, Maggie said, leaning over the counter. I wasnt aware that Twisted Creek had such mean policies! Its too nice a place for that. Didnt you ever miss your mother? Didnt you ever want to talk to her so badly you could cry? Mr. McNee said, Ill take care of her, sir. Dont you bother yourself. Ill take care of her. As he spoke, the man who had been in the first booth stepped up to the window, his wallet in hand. Mr. Bremmer, obviously flustered, looked from his employee to Maggie and back again. Well, he said and paused. Well, no, McNee, you take care of your customer. I think I know this girl. Ill talk to her. He stepped through
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a door next to the barred windows and signaled Maggie to follow him. They sat on the bench where now only the woman and the girl were waiting. Yes, yes, he said, now I remember. Youre Margaret and you came to tea. Margarita, Maggie wanted to say, but decided that this was not the time to correct him. She nodded. Well, well, Mr. Bremmer said, so you think Twisted Creeks a fine place, do you? Until today I did. Then, shaking her head, she added, Thats not really true. I still love it. But I would like to talk to my mother. Mr. Bremmers eyes narrowed behind gold-rimmed glasses. Do you have a problem? Problems are no good. I dont like problems. Who does? What a weird man, Maggie thought. Hes afraid of everything. All right, she said, getting up, Ill be going now. I dont want to trash your systemor cause you a problem. You dont want to do what? Mess around with your system, she said quickly. You know, your policies. Forget it. I just wont call my mother. Mr. Bremmer let out his breath. Go on, go on, he said, pointing to a now empty booth, call your mother. Keep in mind, young woman, that our policies are made to protect our town from bad influences. He rose and pointed to a clock high on the back wall. Brief, be very brief. Maggie hurried into the phone booth. After all that
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struggle, she thought as she punched in her mothers number, Mom had better be in her office. She was, and her mothers secretary put her right through. Maggie! her mother said breathlessly. Are you all right? Everythings cool, Mom. I didnt mean to scare you but I . . . I just felt like talking to you. I cant talk long. Im using a phone in the bank. But I guess I just wanted to keep in touch. She told her about school and about her new friends. Twice she started to tell her about her problem with Cat, but gave up. It would take volumes to explain and she didnt have the time. Just before they said good-bye her mother said, Werent you surprised at the announcement in Mims letter? What letter? Mails awfully slow up here. Oops, her mother said, I almost blew it. Blew what? I cant tell you now, Maggie. I promised. Promises. Maggie grimaced. Promises. They were haunting her this week. She glanced up at the clock. Id better hang up now, Mom, she said, fighting back tears. She started to say good-bye, but a fluttering in her throat held the word back. Are you all right? her mother asked. Yes, yes, I was just wondering . . . have you and Jase tried the Italian restaurant on Third Street yet? Not yet, her mother said. Why? Are you hungry for
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Italian? Maybe. I was just thinking . . . just wondering . . . Ill wait to try it with you when you come home. That would be nice, Mom. Oh, oh, Im getting dirty looks from everyone, so Id better say good-bye. Good-bye, honey, her mother said. I miss you. Me, too, Maggie said and hung up quickly. She was glad shed talked to her mother. It was a good thing to do. As for the Mim thing, shed just have to wait until the letter came. With a little shrug of acceptance, she stepped out of the telephone booth. At Window One, Mr. McNee had the charges waiting for her. She paid him and said Thank you over-sweetly. His thin nose twitched irritably. Next, she walked around the end of the counter to Mr. Bremmers door and knocked. When he said Come in, she opened the door halfway. He was almost hidden behind a huge immaculate desk. Hanging on to the doorknob, she leaned forward and said, Thanks, Mr. Bremmer. It all went smoothly. There was no problem. Fine, fine, Mr. Bremmer blustered, rising from his chair. Essentials only. Remember that.
Chapter Thirteen
Once outside the bank, Maggie walked slowly along High Street. Every now and then she paused to look at the mountains and to wonder when she would have the courage to set up her easel on one of these corners. The shapes and textures of the small buildings with the forbidding mountains behind them would make a terrific painting. That is, if she could handle the perspective and capture them in a good light. Morning? No. Afternoon would be better, with the sun a bit lower than it was now. With that decided, her thoughts returned to Cat. She needed a strategy to reach her. Obviously, the letter hadnt worked. But something had to work because she missed her terribly. She was still struggling with that problem when she reached Pine Street and home. She found her grandfather in the kitchen with Amparo. There you are, he said. I hoped Id get to see you before I left. Youre going? Where? Melville and Grand View first. If they dont have what I need, over to San Francisco. My computers getting
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impudent. It talks back, accusing me of all sorts of crimes. I can fix it, but I have to pick up some hardware. You can really fix it? See? You are impressive, Grandpa. When will you be back? Friday night. Amparos going to stay with you tonight and tomorrow. What for? Ill be all right. What for? So Ill sleep better. Do you mind? Not really, she said and winked at Amparo. But be warned. Were going to talk all night. Maybe half the night, seor, Amparo said with a straight face. She returned to scrubbing the sink. Maggie went outside to wave good-bye to her grandfather. She watched until his car turned the corner, then came in. A letter addressed to her was on the hall table. It was the one from Mim. Maggie tore open the envelope as she walked into the sitting room and sat down. She read the letter through once, a huge smile covering her face. Then, because it was too good to believe, she read it once more. She put it down. Mim and one of the boys at school were the city finalists in the Teen Triumphs dance contest! Maggie remembered how she had laughed when Mim told her she and Dale were going to the tryouts last fall. Sure, they were good, but the best in the city? She picked up the letter again. Thats what they were. It said so right here. Mims last words in the letter were, I expect you to throw a party for all those new friends of yours so they can
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watch us win the state finals. Remember, its Saturday, the twentieth, on Channel 7. That was Mim, all right, always telling her exactly what to do. What Mim doesnt know is how I stand right now with the kids up here, especially Cat. And things arent about to change between now and Saturday. I may not throw a party, but Ill be glued to the TV. Maggie stiffened. There is no TV! Well, that wont stop me. Ill get Mom to tape it. Old Mr. McNee will have to let me use the phone again. Maggie crumpled back in her chair. What good will getting a tape do? Nothing works up here. In the corner the unconnected television set reflected only the afternoon sunlight on its dark gray screen. Maggie glared at it. There are plenty of other TVs, she muttered. TVs that work. I dont have to stay here. Ill drive down to Melville on Saturday. Im going to see Mim no matter what! Hearing her determined words made her feel better. She got up and went looking for something to eat. Thoughts of Mim and TVs and getting down to Melville were still on Maggies mind when she awakened the next morning. It isnt just Mims contest, she told herself. Its that its weird living completely without TV. I miss Friends and Lucy and Ethel on those old reruns and seeing M*A*S*H* over and over again. She grinned. I even miss Big Bird. And how Grandpa can get along without a connection to cyberspace, I certainly dont know. How does he do his research? Yet, he must feel the way I do, that its worth giving up some things for others, that the simple
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life in Twisted Creek is best of all. She lay in bed for a few minutes, listening to the kitchen sounds coming from below. She enjoyed the idea that Amparo was up before she was. She was getting used to the fact that her grandfather lived at a different end of the day than she did. He was an owl, all right. But today it would be nice to say good-bye to someone when she left for school. Trading her running time for the luxury of a long shower, Maggie put on her clothes and went eagerly down the stairs. Buenos das, Maggie, Amparo said, turning from the stove. I have been waiting to make a tortilla de huevo. Would you like that? Would I ever, Maggie said. Ill pour the juice. Suddenly, shrieks and shouting came from outside. Help, Mr. Cruz, help! Maggie and Amparo reached the back door together. They threw it open and saw Cat standing above the bridge, waving her arms and yelling. Its Nicky! Something awfuls happened. Come help me! Behind Cat, Nicky sat propped against a tree, emitting short, sharp screams of pain. Call your grandfather, Cat shouted. I cant lift her! Maggie and Amparo raced madly across the bridge. Amparo dropped to the ground by Nicky, and Maggie said, Grandpas gone. What can we do? I dont know, I dont know, Cat said. She fell from
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the tree house and hurt her arm. S, s, Amparo said. Her arm needs attention. Cat said, Even with her bad arm, she walked this far and then she slipped a little and got scared . . . Cats hands flew wildly as she explained. Weve got to get her to Dr. Aiken. Maggie nodded. Nickys right arm was hanging from its shoulder at a crazy angle. Come on, Nicky, she said. Walk to my car and Ill drive you to Dr. Aiken. No, no! Nicky howled. I cant! Itll hurt! Wait, Amparo said. I will bring pillows. With Amparos persuasion and the pillows cushioning her arm, they got Nicky into The Bluebird. Cat squeezed into the rear seat and Maggie backed down the drive. She hadnt known that there were so many bumps in the road, but Nickys shrieks pointed them out. By the time Maggie pulled up in front of the cottage with the sign Twisted Creek Medical Clinic, she was worn out. They got Nicky out of the car, but not before her cries had alerted people inside. The door was thrown open, and a tall, pleasant-looking woman rushed out to help them. It was Marian Carpenter, Spences mother. Cat was apologetic. We cant calm her down. She hollers at every move. Its no wonder, Mrs. Carpenter said. Here, lets get her in to the doctor. No, no, she said to Maggie. You stay in the waiting room. Just Cat. Maggie took a chair facing the door through which they
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disappeared. In a minute, that same door opened and Mr. Bremmer, his tie not quite knotted, his few strands of hair not quite combed, came into the waiting room. Emergencies, he sputtered and fumbled into a chair. Cant even finish my visit with my own doctor. When he caught sight of Maggie, he called, You, young lady, whats all this about? Nickys hurt her arm, Maggie answered, wondering if he had forgotten who she was again. Children, he said as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. They scramble all over everything. Always falling. He pulled a round gold watch from an inside pocket, glared at it, and tapped his foot impatiently. In a moment he picked up a magazine from a table by his side, threw it back, and picked up another one. Soon Cat came through the door. She stepped to one side of it, pressing herself against the wall. Dr. Aiken wants to see you, Mr. Bremmer, she said. At last, the old man grumbled and trotted eagerly out of the room. Cat remained where she was for a moment and then, with a weary shrug, came and sat near Maggie. Thanks, she said. I guess you can go now, if you want. Dr. Aiken will explain at school, why youre late, I meanif you want. Im not going anywhere, Maggie said. You dont really want to be left alone, do you? No, I dont. Cats eyes grew wet and shiny as she
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added, Nickys really hurt. Her shoulders dislocated and may be broken. Dr. Aiken says its the worst dislocation hes seen since the mine caved in twenty years ago. He says she needs a specialist. An orthopedic surgeon. Hes on the phone making arrangements right now. Will the specialist come up here? Uh-uh. Thats the trouble. Weve got to get her down to Melville. Cat laughed, a tight little laugh. And everybodys gone. Not only Mom and Dad and your grandfather. Gregs folks, too. Jack Halstead, you know, the sheriff, is up at Green Peak chasing after some poachers, and Dr. Aiken has to look after Mrs. Desantis. Her babys ready to be born and Ill take her, Cat, Maggie said, pressing her friends arm. Just tell me where. Would you? Would you really? Wait. Ill go tell the doctor. But before Cat had finished what she was saying, Dr. Aiken and Mr. Bremmer came into the waiting room. They shook hands, and Mr. Bremmer said, You understand, dont you, Sam? That roads in bad condition. I havent driven it for years. Its . . . its . . . well, its downright dangerous, from what I hear. All those curves and with a shrieking child . . . No, I couldnt possibly do it. Arthur, when are you going to learn to listen? Dr. Aiken said sharply. Youre in no condition to drive any distance. That shot I gave you should turn you into jelly in half an hour. What I asked for was your car.
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My car? I dont allow anyone to touch my car. You know that, Sam. Oh, I know that, you old skinflint, but this is an emergency. Maggie smiled. At least theres one person in town that stands up to Mr. Bremmer. Dr. Aiken continued. If we had better access to Twisted Creek, maybe we could get ambulance service up here, or if we had a more progressive town, maybe wed have our own ambulance service, but we dont, and that little girl is suffering. She needs to be in the hands of an orthopedic doctor as soon as possible. And since I cant sedate her too heavily, she needs to travel in as comfortable a conveyance as we can get. Come on, Arthur, Mrs. Carpenter is a capable driver. Shell bring your car back in one piece. Mr. Bremmers face grew red as Dr. Aiken spoke. He opened his mouth to protest, and then closed it. Then he said, Now, Sam, dont complain because Twisted Creek is a quiet little town. Thats what it is and thats what its always going to be. And it takes a lot of vigilance to keep it that way. Nothing wrong with that, you know. He pressed his mouth into a thin line, frowned and shook his head. All right, all right. If Mrs. Carpenter is a capable driver, I suppose it will have to be all right. But Ill hold you completely responsible for my car. Keep that in mind. Ill accept complete responsibility, Dr. Aiken said with a grin. Now, the keys. Mr. Bremmer brought out a small leather case from an
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inner pocket and carefully took two keys from their hooks. He handed them to Dr. Aiken with a long sigh. Dr. Aiken turned to Cat. Your parents are on their way, Catherine. I finally reached them. Theyll meet you at the hospital in Melville. Here are the keys for Marian. He slapped Mr. Bremmer on the shoulder. Come on, Arthur, Ill drop you at home on my way to the Desantis place. As soon as the two men were gone, Marian Carpenter appeared with two pillows under one arm and a tearful, sobbing Nicky encircled by the other. Cat, Mrs. Carpenter said, please bring the other pillow, the blankets, and my purse from the examining room. Maggie went with Cat. Outside, she helped settle Nicky in the back seat of the Bremmers Cadillac. Cat got in the back by her sister, and Mrs. Carpenter slid behind the steering wheel. Maggie said, Good luck. Let me know when you get back. She was about to turn and head toward The Bluebird when Mrs. Carpenter dropped her head on the steering wheel and let out a loud groan. Good Lord, Cat, she moaned, who would have guessed it? This car has a manual gearshift. I cant drive it. Wha-at? Cat leaned over the front seat to look. Youre sure? Of course, Im sure. Its not automatic. Wed get as far as High Street, if we were lucky, before I stripped the gears. Oh, my gosh, Cat said, whatre we going to do?
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I can drive it, Maggie said. Mrs. Carpenter shook her head. Thanks, but no thanks. You city kids think you know everything. Ill bet youve never even heard of a clutch, much less know how to work one. I dont lie, Maggie said, her voice quivering with anger. My dad taught me to drive in a pickup with a stick shift. He said everyone should learn that way. And he was right! Mrs. Carpenter drew in her breath and said, Oh, honey, forgive me. I didnt mean any of that. I dont know what made me say those things. I guess its just that Im so mad at myself for being such a dummy. Sure, Maggie answered. But I meant what I said. My cars got a stick shift, and I drove it all the way up here from Los Angeles. I can drive this one if you want me to. I hurt! Nicky howled. Why doesnt somebody do something! Do you have your drivers license? Mrs. Carpenter said quickly. I never drive without it. Well, then, get in, she said, sliding over into the passengers seat. We have to get going. Maggie hurried around the imposing black hood and into the drivers seat. Its big, she said, but Ill get used to it in a few minutes. She put her left foot on the clutch and cautiously eased the gearshift into low. Slowly, she disengaged the clutch and pressed the accelerator. The car
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started to move and then balked, killing the motor. Nicky shrieked. Im sorry, Maggie said. Ill be more careful. She started the engine again. This time she got the car moving with only a series of small jerks, and they curved on to the street. By the time they reached High Street, Maggie was starting to get the feel of the old Cadillac. This is what it must feel like to drive an army tank, she told herself. She hung on to the steering wheel and wondered if she had made a mistake. Maybe. But somebody had to get Nicky down to Melville. Were creating a sensation, Mrs. Carpenter said as they drove by Main Street. Everyones mouth is hanging open. Theres Jane Grissom about to lose her false teeth. I cant look, Maggie said, her eyes glued to the road. No, no, honey, of course, you cant. And youre doing fine. Hows everyone in the back seat? Okay, Cat said. Im not okay! Im not! Nicky cried. And I dont want this dumb pillow! Maggie said, If you really dont want the pillow, Id like it. Cat, why dont you slide it behind my back? There. Now I can reach things without straining my legs. Maggie relaxed as she drove alongside the long meadow leading out of the valley. But when she came to the first curve of the mountain road, she turned too sharply. She brought the car back on to the asphalt, only to plow into a pothole that jarred everyone in the car. Nicky let out a
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holler, and Mrs. Carpenter turned and said, There, there, sweetie, youre being very brave. The roadll smooth out soon. Maggie bit her lip. Not soon enough, she thought. Well, at least there arent those slippery places I passed in April, the places where the snow was melting. But she remembered other hazards. The wide cracks, the small rockslides, and, always, the danger of meeting someone on a curve. She curled her fingers more tightly around the wheel. If that happens, with this big car, well never be able to pass each other and Ill be the one having to back up. I dont know if I could do it. After a while Mrs. Carpenter said, Maggie, youre a wonder. Just when Im ready to say, Dont you think you ought to put the car into a lower gear? youve done it. And just when Im about to push my foot through the floorboard, you slow down. I guess I can relax now. Relax? Maggie moved cautiously to the center of the road. I cant relax with all those loose rocks around. She straddled the remnants of the center line for a couple of miles, avoiding the rockslides. Then, she spotted an old truck climbing the hill toward them, its wide bed loaded with crates of chickens. She felt icy cold fear. No way can this Caddy squeak by that truck. But just as she came to a stop, the truck found a narrow slice of shoulder and swerved into it. The driver waved her on. Whooh! Maggie let out her breath, and Mrs. Carpenter patted her arm.
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Cat said, A miss is as good as a mile. Ill take a mile, Maggie said. They were quiet the rest of the way down the mountain, except for Nickys whimpers and occasional shouts. When they came to the crossroads, she brought the car to a halt. The hard part was over. But the road sign urged her on. Melville, 15 Miles. It was noon as they entered the little town of Melville. Cat leaned forward. Thank God were almost there, she said with relief. In a matter of minutes, Mrs. Carpenter said, Turn here. They drove along a street of small, neat houses. Signs that read Hospital Zone. Drive Carefully, began to appear. After a few blocks Mrs. Carpenter said, There it is. Just pull up by the doorway. Maggie slowed down in front of a one-story, pink stucco building. Two cars were parked by the door. Is this the hospital? she asked, thinking of the medical structures back at home. Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure? Absolutely, Mrs. Carpenter said, patting Maggies knee. Ive been here many times. Its larger than you think. Maggie nodded as she got out of the car. She was thinking that large was what her father would have called relative.
Chapter Fourteen
Just before sunset a white mist hung over the roofs of Twisted Creek. The pale light from the setting sun pierced through the mist, brushing the buildings with a metallic glow. Maggie, driving the old Cadillac on the last lap of the return trip from Melville, stared with fascination at the cluster of buildings beyond the long meadows. She turned to Marian Carpenter. Twisted Creek looks unreal, doesnt it? All clean and silvery. Pretty enough for a picture postcard. It is unreal, Marian said. Our silver village looks pretty, all right, until youve lived there for a while. Then all the inconveniences begin to show. Like today. Like today, Mrs. Carpenter answered wearily. Nickys going to be all right. But it was a tricky manipulation. Shes lucky theres no nerve damage with all the bumping we put her through. I know, Maggie said. I knew what to expect, all right, but the road seemed worse the second time. She drove silently for a bit, listening to the swishing, whirring sound of the tires on the asphalt. It seemed to be the only
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sound in the world except for the noise of uncomfortable thoughts that were hammering away in her mind. Finally, she said, Boy, have I learned how spoiled Ive been. What do you mean? I was thinking about hospitals. At home theyre big and close by, and full of specialists. Poor Nicky. Well, Mrs. Carpenter said, at least this wasnt a matter of life and death. But I am glad that her parents are bringing her home. Even sedated, shell be a handful. She rotated her shoulders and rubbed her arms. I dont know about you, Maggie, but when I get home, Im going to soak in a hot bath for a couple of hours. Sounds good to me, too. After I get the car to Mr. Bremmer, of course. Oh, holy cow! Hell have a spasm if he sees it so dirty. Well, then, well just have to wash it, Marian Carpenter said. Lets hope Spence is home. He can give us a hand. The grassy meadows slipped by on either side of them as the car gained speed on the flat road. Ahead of them the mists above Twisted Creek dissolved as a warm breeze sprang up. The village lost its silvery cast. The church steeple was again a sooty whitethe wooden roofs, a weather-beaten gray. Home for the Carpenters was a cottage next to the clinic. When Maggie pulled the big car in front of the house, it was twilight. Spence jumped up from the front porch steps where he had been sitting and raced to the curb. Am I ever glad you two are back, he said, pulling
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open the car door. Half the towns saying Maggie stole Bremmers car and the other half says he lent it to her. Nobody believes either story. But they saw Maggie driving it. What happened? Are you guys all right? Spencer Carpenter! his mother said with a smile. Thats the longest speech Ive ever heard you make. The truth is Mr. Bremmer lent his car to me and I couldnt drive the darned thing, so Maggie came to the rescue. I suppose Dr. Aiken told you about Nicky. Yeah. Good thing shes all right. Did he say anything about Gloria Desantis? Everythings okay. The baby mustve given him some trouble because he was there a long time. Spence shook his head. Boy, am I glad you two are back. Not as glad as we are. Right, Maggie? Maggie nodded wearily from behind the wheel. She had just discovered how really tired she was. Ill feel better after the cars washed and back at Mr. Bremmers, she said and wondered where shed find the energy. I know, honey, Mrs. Carpenter said. I feel that way, too. But youve done enough for one day. Why dont you go home and get some rest? Maggie looked longingly at The Bluebird that was waiting where she had left it that morning, but shook her head. Not till I return this Caddy to Mr. Bremmer. Besides, I got to rest while I waited for you at the hospital. She started to get out of the car. Hold it, Spence said. If youll pull the car closer to the house, Ill wash it for you.
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Hey, thanks. From out of nowhere, the thought of his warm hand holding hers slipped into her mind, No, she said, its big as a building. Id better help. While Mrs. Carpenter returned the blankets and pillows to the clinic next door, Maggie and Spence tackled the car. Spence went into the house and returned with whisk brooms and rags. With the help of a pair of flashlights, they brushed the upholstery, swept the floor, and polished the dashboard. When they were ready to begin the washing, Spence appeared with a pair of boots. Here, he said. Your shoes wont take all the water were going to use. Better wear these. When they were done, Maggie sat on the steps and changed into her own shoes. Br-r-r, she said, shivering. My fingers are stiff. That water was cold. Behind her at the door Mrs. Carpenter said, Come wrap your cold hands around a mug of hot cocoa, Maggie. Ive made a few sandwiches, too. That will have to do for supper. They were almost through their meal when Mrs. Carpenter said, They tell me at the clinic that Mr. Bremmers been keeping the phone hot. Hes in a stew about his car. Wants to know if theres something wrong with it. Maggie jumped up and Mrs. Carpenter said, I guess its time to return it, but youre not going there alone. Well face the old bear together. Ill go with Maggie, Spence said. Ill follow her in your car. Shes got to have a way back. Well, all right, his mother said with a long sigh. But
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dont let that old crank badger you. Hes not all that bad, Maggie said, and Spence shot her a quizzical look. I hope youre right, he said. We need him. For what? Maggie asked, surprised. For the town meeting Saturday night, the one you kids arranged, Mrs. Carpenter said with a glance at her son. Oh, she might as well know, Spence. Everyone will tomorrow. Sure. Okay, Spence said, but Maggie thought he looked uncomfortable. Mrs. Carpenter walked them to the car. Thanks again, Maggie, she said, giving her a hug. Remember, I owe you one, a big one. Turning into the entrance to Silvergate, she drove slowly up the drive and came to a careful stop by the front door. She turned off the headlights. Behind her, Spence did, too. A dark shadow moved close the house. As it came closer, a circle of light appeared on the ground beside it. Well, Mr. Bremmer said, its about time. He took a step forward. So, Mrs. Carpenter, I see that youve He stopped. Mrs. Carpenter? he asked and pointed his flashlight at Maggie. Dear God, its true! he said, his voice rising angrily. Young lady, what are you doing in my car? Returning it to you, Maggie said. And please take that light off my face! Mr. Bremmer turned away, swinging the light over the car. Maggie jumped out. We just finished washing it for you, she said. Spence was at her side. Maggie didnt hurt your car,
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sir. She drove it as a favor to my mother. And she didnt do it for fun. Driving it down to Melville on that . . . that awful road isnt a joy ride, anybody knows that. But Maggie got Nicky and your car down there in one piece. Mr. Bremmer muttered something and continued circling the automobile. I dont like this, he said, shaking his head. No, I dont like this at all. It was your mother to whom I lent this car, young man. Maggie was filled with confusing feelings. First, she was scared. But why? She hadnt done anything wrong. And then, when she looked at Spence, she was proud and . . . glad. Spence followed Mr. Bremmer to the other side of the car. I know it was my mother, he said. Mom thought your car had automatic transmission. Anybody would. After all, I read that it was Cadillac that started automatics with something called hydromatic. Mr. Bremmer ran his hand over the long black hood. This automobile was built to my specifications. Automatic, bah! Anyone with good sense wants to be in control of his car. He peered across the hood at Maggie. Well, Margaret, so you drove my car down the . . . He coughed. . . . all the way to Melville, he amended. Yes, Maggie said. Nicky was in such pain and Mrs. Carpenter didnt realize that she couldnt Yes, yes, Mr. Bremmer interrupted. But what do you think of this excellent machine? Maggie wondered what to answer. It has lots of power, she said and thought, but its like driving a two-ton truck. My arms will never be the same.
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Plenty of horses, Mr. Bremmer said, nodding, plenty of horses. And you were able to handle it all right? Oh, yes. It took some getting used to, though. You didnt fall into any potholes, did you? he asked. The car didnt get jolted, did it? Maggie opened her mouth to reassure him, but something else spilled out. Of course, I fell into potholes! That road is full of them. No, Mr. Bremmer, your car didnt suffer, but Nicky sure did. Seems to me you ought to be more concerned about her than a . . . a . . . a lousy piece of metal! Mr. Bremmer stood still as a statue on the other side of the wide hood. Now Ive done it, Maggie thought. I dont like that. The old mans voice quavered. I dont like what you just said. Im sorry, Maggie said, her eyes filling with angry tears. But dont you realize how bad that road is? Yes, of course you do. I heard you tell Dr. Aiken this morning. I know some of it is yours and you dont have to do anything about it, but how can you live with yourself when people can get killed on it? And that isnt all. Why arent there more telephones? And cable. People absolutely need cable for TV and for the Internet. What have you done to stop all that? People need those things. Ill bet youve never ever been without a telephone. And while Im thinking of it, whats wrong with new movies? Mr. Bremmer, why dont you just do whats right? Not try to control everything the way you want to control your car. What are you afraid of? That Twisted Creek will get contaminated by the rest of the world? Well, in case you didnt know it, Mr. Bremmer,
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there are a lot of good things down there in the rest of the world! She dug deep into her pockets, pulled out a tissue, and swiped at her eyes. At that instant, a rectangle of light fell at Maggies feet as the door of the house was thrown open. She whirled around. Gertrude and Gretchen stood in the doorway. Good evening, Maggie, Gretchen said. Dear girl, what a trying day for you. Dr. Aiken just called and told us all about how you stepped right in to help. And I heard you say you even washed the car. What a kind, thoughtful thing for you Sister, Gertrude said. You have a message for Brother, dont you? Oh, yes, Gretchen said. Brother, where are you? Dr. Aiken says you are not to harangue this young lady. He says that not only will it be entirely unfair and unkind, but it will raise your blood pressure. Sister! Gertrude snapped. Is that really what he said? More or less, Gretchen answered. Brother, see you mind the doctor. I am not haranguing her, Mr. Bremmer said peevishly. I dont understand why you would think so. He walked around the front of the car. Id like my keys, he said to Maggie. Spence said, Hey, Mr. Bremmer. Maybe you ought to thank Maggie for taking such good care of your car. I dont think my mom couldve done that well. Mr. Bremmer said nothing. He held out his hand. Maggie handed the keys to him and said, Youre prob-
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ably mad at me, but I dont care. I meant what I said. She turned to Spence. Wed better go now. Sure, Spence said. As they got into his mothers car, he muttered, The sooner, the better. When Spence pulled the car in front of his house, neither one of them made a move to get out. Maggie stared out of the windshield while a collection of uncomfortable thoughts paraded across her mind. Spence threw her a sidelong glance or two. Finally, he said, You were great up there. Ive never seen old man Bremmer so shaken. He was mad. Oh, Spence, maybe hell have a stroke or something. If he does, its his own fault for being such a Class A jerk. He didnt even appreciate that wed washed his car. She nodded, staring at the star-cluttered sky, too tired for more words. When she finally spoke, she said, Another things worrying me. You guys need him and now Ive made him really mad. So? Maybe hell cool down in time for the meeting Saturday. Its this Saturday? Maggie asked. The twentieth? Mimis contest was this Saturday. Yes. Youll come, wont you? She sighed. Seeing Mimi and Dale dance would have to wait. Yes, she said. But youd better hide me somewhere. If he sees me, Mr. Bremmer will turn around and go home. Wont matter, Spence said. Well, I hope so. She glanced at him quickly. He was looking straight ahead. A mutinous lock of hair fell over his
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forehead, and he brushed it away impatiently. She said, Thanks for everything, and fumbled for the door handle. Here, let me get it, Spence said and leaned across her. He released the door lock and straightened up. Maggie felt a strong urge to turn and look at him again, but she was afraid that if she did shed find him looking at her, too. A shaky little pulsing started in her throat and, for no reason at all, her face was hot. She was sure that Spence was looking at her, reading her thoughts. She sat very still. And then his face was close to hers, and she knew that if she moved hers just a little . . . Maybe she did. Or maybe he did. But his mouth was on hers, kissing her lightly and then more firmly until she was lost in feelings. Warm, glad feelings that said she had been wanting Spence to kiss her for a long time. One hour later Maggie was at home and in bed. She had told Amparo all about the trip and the confrontation with Mr. Bremmer. That is good, Amparo said, giving her a hug. What you did is good. My father says that is what that old . . . bueno, I wont tell you what he calls him . . . needs. My father guards the mine not for Mr. Bremmers sake, but because he claims there is much silver left in it. He prays every night that they will start working it again. She shook her head. Here I am talking on and on when what you need is a hot bath and bed. If I can make it up the stairs, Maggie had said with a tired little grin. Later, in bed, each time she thought of Spence a happy
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glow filled her. Then her mood changed. Instead of falling asleep, she lay staring at the rectangle of gray in the dark wall that was the window. It had been a long day. It had been an unbelievably tiring day, but she could not sleep. Its because my grandfather isnt here, she thought. Its lonely. The nights so silent. Not even the sound of a distant car, or footsteps outside, or a far-off bit of music like in the city. She lay still, listening to the in and out of her breathing. Then, outside in the nearby woods, she heard an owl call, a long melancholy cry that found an echo in her. She sat up. Dad. Thats who Im missing. Oh, Dad, I want so much to talk to you. I wish you could meet Spence. Hes such a nice guy. Quiet. And smart. Youd like him. You wouldnt even mind my kissing him. Or would you? She smiled and slid back under the blankets. It was quite a day, Dad. Like no other day Ive ever lived through. And, except maybe for what I said to Mr. Bremmer, I think youd approve of the way I handled it. Good thing you showed me how to drive your pickup truck and that you taught me mountain driving. I guess you taught me lots of things. I guess theyre always going to come in handy. She punched her pillow and pulled the blankets more snugly over her shoulders. In the woods the owl called again, and Maggie whispered, Goodnight.
Chapter Fifteen
Muscles. Maggie awakened the next morning to discover that she had too many. Especially in her arms and chestand they all ached. Nonetheless, a quick glance at the clock persuaded her to propel herself out of bed. Dressing and walking to school reminded her that she had sore leg muscles too, but soon the posters she ran into pushed that into the background. The posters were plastered all over the town. Bright pink, they dotted lampposts and walls on every street. Town Meeting, they proclaimed and then continued: Why Cant We Have: A Modern Hospital? Telephones? Safe Access Roads? Come Help Your Town to Come Alive! Lets Find Out What We Can Do! Saturday at 7:00 p.m. Community Church Fellowship Hall On Main Street, Maggie ran into two little boys who were slipping the pink flyers under every door of every shop. The Change Campaign was thorough. The closer she got to school, the more the air seemed charged with excitement.
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Talking animatedly, groups of the younger kids were scattered in the playing field. On the steps of the school building, Hal and Sheila were confronted by Mr. Wagner. No, Mr. Wagner said firmly. No, you may not distribute your propaganda on the school premises. He pulled himself up straight and stiff as he spoke. Maggie grinned and thought that all he needed was a tall plumed hat to make him look like a toy soldier. No, he repeated. And you may not post any. Remember, this is not public property. He turned sharply and went inside. Hal and Sheila, looking chagrined, started down the steps. When Hal saw Maggie, he said, Here. Take a bunch of these flyers and give them to everyone you see. But not in school, Sheila said. You heard the General. Hey, Dad says you drove Bremmers antique down to Melville. Can you do other magic tricks? Me? Youre the guys with the magic. Youve got the whole town with you now. Almost, Hal said. Yeah, almost, Sheila added sourly. It was not a usual school day. The excitement of the coming town meeting was impossible to contain. Everyone was caught up in it. Mrs. Gilliam, usually so calm, jumped nervously whenever a door was slammed or a book dropped. Maggie was caught up in it, too. She didnt mind the buzz of conversation and the planning that went on all around her. What she minded were the questions about Mr. Bremmers car. Did he really lend it to you? Could you really drive it?
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You didnt really go all the way to Melville in it, did you? She hurried away from school at the end of the day. When she saw her grandfathers car in the garage, she was glad that she had. She slammed the outside door and ran through the kitchen into the hall. Grandpa! she called, after shed looked in his empty office. Youre home! Where are you? He was in the sitting room, standing by the bookcase. She ran to him and gave him a hug. Im glad youre back. Youre just in time, you know. Have you heard? Indeed I have, and Im very proud of you. Nicky and the whole family stopped by a while ago and they told Not that, she interrupted. About the town meeting. Its tomorrow night. The flyers and posters are all over the place. Are you going? I know I am. He gave her a long look that ended in a smile. Yes, Im going. And, yes, I have heard. Greg was here earlier. Greg? What did he want? To give me a progress report. Oh. She frowned and then shook her head in understanding. After the meeting at Elk Meadow, she should have guessed that Greg was conferring with Grandpa. Her grandfather had always been an active supporter of causes he believed in. So had her dad. Youve been helping them, she said. I shouldve known. But howd you get involved? That was easy. Greg wrote a piece complaining about the lack of services in Twisted Creek that he wanted published in The Creek Chronicle. He knew I was a writer we had already struck up an acquaintanceand he brought
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it to me for suggestions. Was it published? It must have been. Its his parents paper, isnt it? It might have been, except that, after thinking it over, he agreed that his efforts might be better served in initiating plans to effect change. He rubbed the back of his neck. I didnt like keeping secrets from you, honey, but you were so adamant about no changes in Twisted Creek. You thought it was nearly perfect. I was wrong. Its not perfect. Not nearly. She smiled. So Greg thought it over. After you made a suggestion or two, Ill bet. Its my town, too, he said.
At ten minutes before seven oclock on Saturday night, the social hall of Community Church was filled with people and the loud, undulating hum of their voices. While her grandfather went up front to talk to Greg, Maggie slid into a seat in the last row. Where had all these people come from? And the chairs? The first ten rows were made up of folding seats that may have belonged to the church. After that, the rows were filled with chairs from dining rooms and kitchens. Of course, there were no chairs here from the school or the library; they would have needed the Bremmers consent, and no one had wanted to rock the boat. Ancient garden and canvas chairs made up the back row. Maggie sat down carefully, looking dubiously at the weathered canvas seats.
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A few rows ahead of her, she saw Mrs. Gilliam seated beside a nice-looking, gray-haired man. In the very front row, sitting stiffly on the edges of their chairs as if ready for action, were Mr. McNee and Mr. Wagner. When someone called her name, she looked to her left and saw Amparo near the far wall, waving. Amparos father, Jorge, was seated next to her, and Maggie wondered who was guarding the mine. She looked for Cat and found her up front with the rest of the seniors and juniors. Maggie smiled when Cat saw her and grinned. Now, as Maggie looked away from Cat, she saw Spence at the far end of the front row, standing, searching the room. When he saw her, he motioned for her to come up front. She shook her head and pointed to her grandfather. Spence grinned and nodded his understanding. As it got closer to seven, she scanned the room for the Bremmers. They werent there. She had felt sure that Gretchen would come. But at ten minutes after seven, when Greg walked to an old wooden lectern and rapped for attention, none of the Bremmers had showed up. Sorry to start late, folks, Greg said, and a nervous grin came and went on his face. I was waiting for Dr. Aiken. He should be here any minute. He He stopped and looked over their heads to the back of the room where Dr. Aiken had just appeared in the doorway. Greg frowned. There he is, he said. Excuse me. Ill be right back. He marched between the chairs to Dr. Aiken, and they stepped out of the room. But before they did, Maggie heard Greg say, He wouldnt come? Why? He promised.
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He. Who? Mr. Bremmer, of course. Hadnt Spence told her that they needed him? Hadnt Spence hoped that hed cool down by Saturday? Just now, Greg said Mr. Bremmer had promised. And he was breaking that promise. Why? Maggie swallowed hard. She knew the answer and she didnt like it. It was all her fault. Mr. Bremmer was mad because of all the things she had said. She shouldve kept her big mouth shut. No matter that Spence had told her that she was great. She had been stupid. She had spoiled everything. Because if Dr. Aiken couldnt persuade Mr. Bremmer to come tonight, then nobody could. Tears burned her eyes. Her grandfather moved down the row to the chair beside her and said, Another delay. Gregs got his hands full. She blinked the tears back and said, I know. And then a crazy thought hit her. Grandpa, she said, jumping up. Ill be right back. In the small foyer, she raced by Greg and Dr. Aiken, who were deep in conversation. She passed a few latecomers on the steps and then headed for Pine Street. Her plan, crazy or not, was to get The Bluebird, go to the Bremmers, apologize and then, somehow, persuade Mr. Bremmer to come. Maybe Im being stupid again, or worse yet, bigheaded. Maybe hell slam the door in my face. Maybe hell have me kicked out of school. Out of the depths of memory, she seemed to hear her dad quoting one of his favorite Spanish sayings: No le tengas miedo al chile aunque lo veas colorado. Dont be afraid of the chile even though it seems very red. And he had explained that sometimes our
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worst fears were blown up in our minds. She paused and took a deep breath. Well, if Mr. Bremmer slammed the door or kicked her out of school, let him. She had to try. She was so busy arguing with herself that she almost missed the black Cadillac parked on the street a few yards ahead. It was the sudden opening of the cars door that caught her attention. She looked around for a place to hide and found a shrub growing by the sidewalk. She scurried behind it just as one of the Bremmer twins stepped out of the Cadillac. Well, Brother, she said, holding the car door firmly open, this is a fine mess of greens. Gretchen. It had to be Gretchen. You promised Dr. Aiken and the young people, Gretchen went on, and just half an hour ago you promised me, and now youre sitting in that car as if you were glued to the seat. Now, Sister, came Gertrudes voice from the back of the car, be patient. You know how long it took you to persuade me. Brother has to think things over. Humph, Gretchen snorted. He has been thinking things over since dear Poppa died. Thats time enough. Brother, youve controlled things far too long. I dont know about Sister, but no matter what you do, Im taking my third of Poppas inheritance away from your management. Im going to invest it in the town. And whats more, Im going to start wearing trousers, and Im going to buy a big TV set and a brand new car, maybe a little Bluebird just like Maggies. You can have mine, Maggie prayed. Just get your broth-
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er into that meeting. Gretchen! You wouldnt! The voice was Ivy Bremmers. Oh, yes, she would, Gertrude said. And shes been working on me. Well, Brother, Gretchen went on, well either do it together or Ill do it alone! Mr. Bremmer said, Please, Sister, you frighten me. Whats gotten into you? Thats easy. Its the young peoples courage. Mr. Bremmer seemed to choke, and then he coughed and said, All right, all right. But do we have to rush things? Our little town is just as it was when Momma and Poppa were alive. Dont you want to keep it that way? Gretchen thumped the car door impatiently. Absolutely not! Its unnatural. Twisted Creek is starting to smell like stagnant water. But why are we going over all this again? You agreed to come to the meeting with Gertrude and me, so, Brother, take the lid off the bucket and do what youre supposed to do! Oh, my! Ivy said. Sister! Gertrude scolded. Dear, dear, from Mr. Bremmer. Gretchen started toward the church. There was a hurried consultation in the car. Maggie could hear the agitated murmur of three voices. Wait! Mr. Bremmer called. Well all go in together. Maggie pushed deeper behind the shrub and watched the Bremmers leave their car and walk slowly to the door
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of the church. In a moment she would go in, too, but right now she had to sort something out. The young peoples courage. The phrase hovered in the air about her. I guess running away doesnt take much courage. Its staying and doing what you can that does. I think thats what Gretchen meant. She frowned. I really ran away when I came up here. From Mom and Jase and from the sadness in my life. I guess Gretchens been running away, too, and now shes not going to. Shell buy that car, all right. Shell learn to drive and scare everybody off the streets. Maggie waited until the door closed behind the Bremmers, and then she slipped quietly into the hall. Some seats had been cleared in the front row for the Bremmers, and they were sitting down as she took her place next to her grandfather. Well, they came, she whispered. Yes, he answered. Well get him to listen now that hes here. What are they going to ask him to do? Restart operations at Silvergate Mine. It was a stupid move to close it in the first place. Jorge swears its still loaded with good ore. If Bremmer does that, everything else will fall into place. The telephone company will deem it worthwhile to expand their Melville switching station and bring in more lines. Cable TV will follow. And all the other things, Maggie said. Like a hospital for the miners and their families. Something will work, her grandfather said. If not the mine, then just repairing the road and opening up Moose Lake to fishing. That would do it, too.
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Dont waste your time on Old Boulderon Mr. Bremmer, Maggie said. Work on the twins. They own twothirds of everything, and Gretchens already on our side. Her grandfather grinned and patted her arm. You didnt know when you made friends with Gretchen how much you would be helping Twisted Creek, did you?
Mr. Bremmer, between a pair of purposeful sisters, was about as threatening as a small dog on a leash. He agreed to meet with a committee made up of Greg and Cat, Marcus Tate, the owner of the hardware store, Dr. Aiken, and Mrs. Gilliam. It was right after Mrs. Gilliam had been suggested that Maggies grandfather stood up. It seems to me, he said, that the Bremmer interests also should be represented by a womans point of view. I, therefore, suggest that Gretchen Bremmer sit on the committee. There were a couple of snickers in front of Maggie, but they were lost in the general applause. Gretchen, looking as pleased as the cat who ate the canary, nodded her acceptance. Greg, fighting back a grin, set a date for another gathering in mid-June and closed the session. Maggie thought of the coming meeting and knew she wouldnt be there. She hadnt realized it then, but listening to Gretchen outside, she had come to a decision. Once the school year was over, she was going home.
Chapter Sixteen
Thank you for getting up at the crack of dawn to see me off, Grandpa. Maggie was standing by the open door of The Bluebird as she spoke. The school semester had come to an end. This was the day she was leaving. And youll take care of the potted herbs that Gretchen gave me, wont you? Amparo will, her grandfather said. She likes that kind of thing. Use the basil, Grandpa. Otherwise, itll get leggy or go to seed. Well, I guess thats it. Id better go so I can make it home by dark. She smiled at him and got into the car. Ill call Mom as soon as Im down the hill and can use my cell phone. Thanks, Grandpa. Thanks for everything. She turned the key in the ignition and the engine sprang to life. Goodbye, she said, swallowing hard to keep the tears at bay. Her grandfather bent over and kissed her. Ill expect another visit soon. Its your turn, she said. Ill be looking for you. She backed the car down the driveway, waved, and swung onto Pine Street. Darned tears! Driving by Community Church, she thought of the
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meeting that had been held there over one month ago. That had been the big moment, but lots of little things had happened since then. Spence had become a regular at Grandpas house. Sometimes he came for supper, sometimes to do homework or to walk Cat and her down to The Pink Polly. Nicky, finally, had been persuaded to give up the sling for her arm. She went to the clinic three times a week for physical therapy. Mrs. Carpenter was praying for an early recovery. Maggies mother wrote that she and Jase had joined a cooperative garden project a couple of miles from home. They were committed to working in it four mornings a month, and they were counting on her. Maggie laughed when she got the letter. Of course, they were counting on her. What did her glossy mother know about gardens? It was her dad whod had the green thumb. Her mothers beautiful hands had never touched a vegetable outside of a supermarket. But Jase and Mom were doing it for her, Maggie knew, so she had written to thank them. Right after the meeting at Community Church, Gretchen talked Jim Pilziger at the gas station into giving her driving lessons. It wasnt long before Jim took her down to Melville to buy a car. The kids swore that Jim had dark, black hair before the lessons started; now it was streaked with gray. Maybe it was Gretchen who inspired her, but Maggie had found the courage to set up her easel near Main and
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High Streets. It hadnt been so bad; passersby had been interested and very friendly. The painting she completed was carefully wrapped and stored in the back seat. The Last Year Party, held a week ago, was an all-day picnic at Elk Meadow. Cat organized the food: baskets of fried chicken, bowls of potato salad, chocolate cake, and soft drinks courtesy of Gretchen Bremmer. Nance planned the activities. There were the usual silly races and guessing games, and near the end, there had been a treasure hunt for the seniors. Late last week, notices had been posted all over Twisted Creek, warning that the road down the mountain would be under repair from late June till the end of the summer. And last night Spence had brought her a silver chain with a pendant hammered into an indefinite shape that he swore was a mountain poppy. The pendant was ore from the Silvergate Mine. Now, Maggie turned the corner onto Main Street. The shades were drawn in the shop windows, and the doors were bolted shut. The lonely hush of early morning hung over the town. Soon she was on the highway, leaving the village behind. The cool air brushed the side of her face as she added speed. In the meadows the tall grass was starting to yellow. Nothing, she thought, ever stays the same. So whats new about that? Ive known about that since Mom and Dads divorce, havent I? And so far asher thought remained incomplete. A car was pulled onto the shoulder ahead of her. Spence
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stood beside it, waving his arms for her to stop. She brought The Bluebird to a halt in front of his car and got out. Spence turned to face her, but made no move to come closer. He just stood there, his hands jammed into his jeans pockets, a little furrow deepening between his eyes. For what seemed a long time they didnt move. Finally, she said, Hi, Spence. He grinned and said, Hi, Maggie. I came to say goodbye again. I hoped you would. Im glad. I came because last night I didnt say how much it hurts to see you go. I know, she said, her voice just above a whisper. Im going to miss you terribly, too. Spence pushed the hair off his forehead and with a halfhearted smile said, It wont hurt as much if you make me a promise. Promise youll never forget me. I would hate it if you did. I wont. You know I wont. And every one of those promises I made last night, Ill keep. Ill write, honest I will. And Im coming for a visit at the end of the summer when the roads are all fixed. But youre coming down to L.A., too. Remember? I remember, believe me. And youll be the first one I call when we get a phone. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair in a futile attempt to keep it off his forehead. Guess youve got to go. He walked over to her, opened The Bluebirds door, and when she was inside,
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closed it. Then he leaned into the car and kissed her. Bye, Spence, she said. Ill never forget you. She started the motor and pulled onto the road. She knew she would always remember the look on Spences face the night he defended her against Mr. Bremmer. And the way hed brought up a chair for her the first day of school. Spence had been her friend from the beginning. After a while she glanced in the rear-view mirror. He was standing by his moms car, watching her go. When the road curved and she lost sight of him, she felt an aching emptiness. No, she would never forget him, nor any part of the past three months. She looked over her shoulder, hoping for one last glance of the village, but all she could see were the snowy caps of the mountains. Twisted Creek was behind her now. Ahead of her lay the descent from the high mountain valley. And, at the end of the day, home.
Also by Ofelia Dumas Lachtman

Big Enough / Bastante grande Call Me Consuelo Leticias Secret Pepita Finds Out / Lo que Pepita descubre Pepita Talks Twice / Pepita habla dos veces Pepita Takes Time / Pepita, siempre tarde Pepita Thinks Pink / Pepita y el color rosado The Girl from Playa Blanca The Summer of El Pintor Tina and the Scarecrow Skins / Tina y las pieles de espantapjaros
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A Good Place For Maggie by Ofelia Dumas Lachtman

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A Good Place for Maggie

Ofelia Dumas Lachtman

Arte Pblico Press Houston, Texas

To Lois, June, and Alice, whose friendship has enriched my life.

Ofelia Dumas Lachtman