Part One: Peter
Thursday July 29, 2004
The whole world seemed to have descended into shades of grey, Peter reflected as he went about his daily work. There was no challenge to it, as there had been at the bank, just a monotonous routine. Life just did not seem as attractive as it had previously.
The shabby little house was dimly lit as he prepared his evening meal that night. Even food had little appeal, especially since this food came out of a can. If I was at home, he mused, Helen would have something good in the oven. There’d be at least three different vegetables, too. Suddenly, the food in front of him seemed even less palatable and the only thing stopping him from throwing it out was his gnawing hunger.
Depressed beyond anything he remembered, Peter sank down at the rickety kitchen table and took a mouthful of cold casserole. The awful stillness was at that moment broken by the ringing of the telephone.
“Hello,” he answered it, wondering who could have called him.
“Dad, it’s Brian.”
As if I wouldn’t recognise my own son’s voice, he thought, rather bitterly.
“How are you, son?” he asked, with an enthusiasm that wasn’t quite real.
“Fine, Dad,” Brian replied. “Are you keeping well?”
“Yes, I am,” he said, while wondering what to say next.
“I’d like to come out and see you, if that’s all right,” his son continued. “Tomorrow, if possible.”
“Of course. Any time you like.”
“Great, Dad. Expect me around ten.”
The conversation concluded and Peter returned to his meal feeling more hopeful than he had since losing his job at the bank.
It was nearing ten the following morning when Peter saw his son’s car approaching. The dreariness of this place had never been more evident to him than when he realised that he would have to show it to someone from the family.
The car drew up to the security gate and Peter rushed over, eager to see his son. By the time he was almost there, however, he had seen Brian’s passenger: Helen.
No, he thought. I can’t see her, not like this. He’ll have to take her back.
Brian smoothed over the difficulty with typical ease, a trait which Peter viewed with quiet pride, even as it was his undoing. Moments later, the car had eased through the gate and he had carried his wife inside the house.
It was almost an hour before she awoke. He chatted quietly with his son, nervous the whole time about what was really wrong with Helen. He had, of course, seen her this tired before on many occasions. Mostly when she was pregnant, though, an unsettling little voice kept saying.
Finally, Helen awoke. Peter joined her in the bedroom and shutting the door. Brian would have to amuse himself.
“Peter,” his wife said. “I’ve got something I have to tell you.”
He sank down next to her and braced himself for the words that he knew were coming next. As she said them, he was transported back to another time and another place.
Nineteen-year-old Peter Belden was all set for another date night with his girlfriend, Helen Johnson. He had planned that they would maybe see a movie and then spend the rest of the evening curled up together in his apartment. The very thought made him smile.
“Let’s just go straight back to your place, Peter,” Helen said as she got into his car. “I’ve got something I have to tell you.”
Even in the dark, he could see that this was something serious. She was fidgeting nervously with the edge of her sweater and she had not even leaned towards him for a kiss, yet.
“Okay,” he said, evenly. “We’ll do that.”
The whole way there, Helen silently fidgeted and Peter kept his eyes on the road. ‘That’s it,’ he thought to himself. ‘I’m dumped for sure. I could’ve sworn that she was the one.’
A few minutes later, the two had entered his apartment and Helen had refused his offer of a drink. Peter felt certain that his suspicions were confirmed and sat awkwardly opposite Helen as she struggled for composure.
“Peter,” she said, tears beginning to fall. “I’m pregnant.”
For what seemed like hours, he sat there, completely unable to find something to say to her. This was so completely unforeseen, so different from the scenario he had imagined, that he had no response for it.
“What are we going to do, Peter?” Helen asked, a little hysterical. “My father is going to kill me! Do you have any idea what my parents went through to let me go to college?” She was crying in earnest now. “Oh, what are we going to do?”
“How do you feel about marriage?” he asked, more bravely than he felt.
Suddenly, Helen’s arms were around him. “You’d do that for me?” she asked, breathlessly. “You’re not going to just leave?”
Peter took a deep breath. “I love you, Helen,” he said. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” she replied, tears still coursing down her face. “I love you, Peter.”
In front of him, his wife of twenty-one years was once again crying and telling him that she was pregnant. Once again, Peter had very little idea of what to do or say and this time there was no obvious answer.
He gently touched her face. “I’m so sorry, Helen,” he said, trying to wipe the tears away with his thumb. “I don’t know what to do this time.”
“Come home,” she whispered. “I need you.”
Tears filled his own eyes. “I can’t,” he said, simply. “I have a responsibility here. And I need to provide for you.”
“We’ll get by,” she replied. “We always have before.” She yawned broadly. “I’m tired.”
“Lie down,” he said, gently guiding her towards the pillow. “I’ll lie next to you.”
Helen turned on her side, facing him. “Please, Peter, talk to your boss. See if you can come home.”
“Okay, I’ll talk to him,” he said, with finality. His hand slid down her body and rested on her hip. “Five children.”
“I know,” she replied, with a teary smile. “I can hardly believe it myself.”
“How did this happen to us, Helen?”
Her smile broadened. “We never were quite careful enough, were we?”
“You’d think we would have learned by now.” His voice was soft. “So, when do I become a father of five?”
“Mid February,” she said, quickly.
Try as he might, Peter could not keep the hurt from showing on his face. She’s probably known for weeks and didn’t tell me, he thought. Did Brian make her tell me?
“How many people know?”
Helen looked decidedly guilty. “Trixie and Brian.”
The hurt look deepened. “You told-”
“No,” she interrupted, quickly. “They guessed.”
Hurt was replaced by confusion. “How?”
Helen smiled, self-consciously. “I took a home test and then forgot and left it hidden in the bathroom. Brian found it and accused Trixie-”
“What?” Peter gasped, father instinct overwhelming him.
His wife laughed. “Don’t worry, Peter. She’s fine. She guessed right away, of course. She managed to convince Brian that it belonged to someone her own age-”
“You mean, Honey or Diana,” he interrupted, aghast. I’m too young to be a grandfather, he thought to himself. Not by any of my children!
“It took him weeks to figure it out, but last night the pieces came together for him and, well, here we are.” By this time, her husband was looking positively grieved. “I’m sorry, Peter. I should have told you as soon as I knew.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I found out the day you lost your job.”
His mouth dropped open and he stared at her. It’s been six weeks, he thought, stunned. When was she planning to tell me?
“I’m sorry, Peter,” she repeated. “Can you forgive me?”
He shut his eyes and thought for a few moments. “I forgive you,” he said, softly, drawing her closer. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too,” she sighed softly. “We have terrible timing, don’t we?”
“The worst,” he agreed. “I don’t know how we do it.”
“I feel so silly,” she confided. “Brian will be twenty-one before this baby is born.”
“Never mind that,” he replied. “You look fabulous, and you know that once you’re over this beginning part you’ll feel good, too.”
“I hope so.”
Later that afternoon, the peace which had settled over them came to an end. Helen renewed her request that he return to Crabapple Farm and Peter lost his temper.
“What sort of man do you take me to be?” he asked, angrily. “I gave my word, Helen. I won’t go back on it.”
“If you’d consulted me before you took this job-”
“If you’d told me that you were pregnant-”
She turned away, hiding the tears which were threatening to fall.
“Helen,” he pleaded. “Please don’t ask me again.”
“Why not?” she asked, turning back to him with renewed anger. “It wouldn’t make you any less of a man for you to put your family first. Just quit. Find something else. I need you at home.”
“I can’t do that, Helen,” Peter replied. “I gave my word that I’d be here six months and that’s what I intend to do.”
From the doorway came the sound of Brian clearing his throat. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
How much did he just hear? Peter wondered as he tried to reign in his anger. Glib, meaningless phrases seemed to flow out of his mouth.
“Why don’t you let Moms stay here a night or two?” Brian suggested. “She looks pretty tired right now.”
Stay? he thought. Here? In this dump? Aloud, he said, “Of course, if you’d like to, Helen.”
His wife smiled gently and Brian went outside to get her overnight bag.
“Let me have a word with him, alone,” Peter said to her.
He followed his son out to the car, noting the surprise on Brian’s face as he realised that he was not alone. Suddenly, he did not know what to say. When did he become a man? he wondered, silently. How long have I been the father of an adult?
“I want to thank you for what you did, son,” Peter said, quietly. “It means a lot to me that you cared enough to make this happen.”
Brian looked down at his feet. “That’s okay, Dad,” he said. “I just did what I’d want done if I was in your position.”
Peter was stunned, but tried very hard not to show it. What have I done? he asked himself. They look up to me and this is the example I’m setting. We’ll settle this tonight.
As soon as Brian had left, Peter stated his intention to Helen.
“We’re going to find a way around this tonight,” he said, firmly. “I won’t rest until we’re both happy.”
His wife looked confused. “What did he say to you?”
“He said something like, ‘I did what I’d want done if I was in your shoes.’”
Helen smiled, warmly. “He has such a compassionate nature. I’m sure he’ll make an excellent doctor.” She looked sharply at her husband. “You didn’t see it that way, did you?”
“I was suddenly confronted by the fact that the baby who caused us so much trouble is now a man, older than I was back then.” He paused. “Further to that, I saw for the first time what sort of example we’re setting for all these children of ours and I was ashamed of myself.”
“So, what are we going to do?” she asked. “Neither of us wants to budge an inch from our position.”
“Maybe we could find a compromise,” Peter suggested. “Is there some way that we could both get what we want?”
“I want us to be together,” Helen said, with a thoughtful frown. “You want to honour your commitment to this job. We both want to keep the farm.”
“Could you stand to live here?” he asked, his voice holding little hope.
She looked around the shabby living area, with its mismatched decor and worn out fittings. “It’s not so bad,” she pronounced. “It’s a lot nicer than that apartment we lived in when we were first married. I’m sure that I could make it home for us. But what about Bobby? I don’t want him to have to move schools for such a short amount of time.”
“I wonder if he could stay with someone,” he mused. “Do you think the Lynches would mind having him for weekdays for the duration?”
“Peter!” Helen cried. “How could you even suggest such a thing?”
“Why don’t we ask him what he wants?” her husband suggested. “He’s old enough to have an opinion.”
“Then, what about the farm? I don’t think it should stand empty for all that time.”
“House-sitters?” Peter asked. “See, it’s not impossible, Helen. We could work it out yet.”
By the time that Helen was ready to go to sleep, they had settled that she would telephone Bobby in the morning and that Peter would start looking for someone to house-sit the farm.
Part Two: Mart
Friday July 30, 2004
It was still early morning when Mart was awakened by a quiet tapping on his bedroom door, closely followed by Brian’s head poking through the partly opened door. What’s he doing here? he wondered, slightly puzzled, as he said that he would be right down. Has he had a fight with Jim already? He had expected his brother to stay in Winter Rock until college started. Downstairs a few minutes later, he was even more puzzled to see Jim.
Something’s wrong here, Mart thought to himself. What aren’t they telling me?
Bobby, of course, was delighted to have Jim stay with him and did not care what the reason was. Mart had little opportunity to ask, however, since he had to be at work early that morning. It promised to be a long day.
At half-past five that afternoon, he walked back into the kitchen at Crabapple Farm to find that the only people there were Jim and Bobby.
“Hey, Mart,” Bobby called. “Guess what we did today.” Without waiting for an answer, Bobby started listing his activities for the day.
Mart listened with half an ear, anxious to find out where his mother was and what she had been doing, but unwilling to upset Bobby. Eventually, the stream of words slowed and then stopped.
“Sounds like a busy day,” he remarked. “You wouldn’t have the energy for catching practice after all that.”
“Are you kidding?” his younger brother asked. “Let me get my stuff.”
Bobby raced upstairs and Mart seized the opportunity.
“So, what’s this all about, Jim?” he said, speaking quietly so that Bobby would not hear. “Where are Brian and Moms?”
Jim looked uncertain, but quickly explained, “Brian got worried about your mother and he took her to see your dad.”
“She has been kind of tired,” Mart said, as Bobby raced towards them. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “She’s not sick is she?”
“I don’t think so.”
Mart was intrigued by the odd look on Jim’s face, but had no time to ask him about it.
The next opportunity he had to find anything out was not until after Bobby had gone to bed. He cornered Trixie in the kitchen while she was cleaning up.
“Okay,” he said in what he hoped was a menacing voice. “What gives?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she replied, her tone bland.
“What’s all this intrigue about?” he persisted. “What’s wrong with Moms?”
“There’s nothing wrong with Moms.”
Mart thought hard. If there’s nothing wrong, he wondered, what’s the matter?
“Okay, then,” he tried, “what’s different?”
“I can’t tell you. I promised.”
“It seems like everyone knows, except me,” he said, angrily.
“I’ll give you a clue,” Trixie said, after a long pause. “Do you know what Brian accused me of?”
“Yes, but what’s that got to do with-”
“Just make sure you act surprised when she tells you, okay?”
She left the room, leaving Mart staring after her, open-mouthed.
A few days later when his mother returned, Mart had no trouble being surprised by her news. He had been so sure that Trixie was mistaken or that he had misunderstood her hint that he had disregarded the whole conversation.
“Can we have a little talk?” Helen said to him, soon after getting home. “I’ve got something that I have to tell you.”
She led Mart into the study and asked him to sit down. For several long moments she said nothing.
“What is it, Moms? You can tell me,” he prompted gently.
“I’m- I’m-” she began. “I’m expecting another baby.”
Mart’s mouth dropped open. Trixie was right, he thought, amazed. “When?” he asked.
“In February, about the seventeenth.” While he was still staring blankly, she continued. “The other thing I need to talk to you about is the arrangements that your father and I have made. Bobby and I will both be staying here, most of the time, until around the time school starts. Then, Knut and Gloria will be coming to take care of the farm. Bobby is going to stay with the Lynches during the week and at Poughkeepsie on the weekends.”
She patted his hand in a comforting manner. “Your father’s contract ends at the end of December and we’ll come back to live here.” She smiled softly at his still-stunned expression. “It will be all right, Mart.”
Just over a week later, Mart was faced with a dilemma. Honey had invited him along on a trip up to Winter Rock with the intention of surprising Jim and Brian. What Honey did not know is that Mart had plans for those two days already and he did not want anyone to know. A chance conversation with an old school friend had given him an idea and he had asked for a day off work with the intention of carrying it through.
If I say I’m busy, I’ll risk someone becoming suspicious, he thought, an image of Trixie’s mystery-solving expression coming to mind unbidden. But if I go, I won’t get another opportunity like this. Heaven knows I can’t afford too many days off work. At that, he sighed deeply and put the matter out of his mind for the time being.
In the end, it was Di who convinced Mart to go to Winter Rock. He valued her friendship above any scheme he might be cooking up and she offered a powerful incentive.
“Come with us,” she said, gently rubbing his arm. “We can take some time, away from the others, and have a talk about giving our relationship another go.”
That settles it, Mart thought. I can work on things here any time. This might be my one chance to make things right with Di.
So, on the Sunday afternoon when Diana made an excuse to the others, Mart followed her willingly. They got into the car and were soon headed away from the house, onto the main street and towards the edge of town.
“Where are you taking me?” he asked, lightly, trying to cover his nerves.
“You’ll see,” she said, with a smile.
In a few minutes, they came across a large park dotted with shady trees, which sloped away towards the lake. Diana parked the car and they got out.
“I’ve got some things to say to you,” she said, “that I wasn’t really comfortable with talking about in Sleepyside where we might be interrupted at any moment.”
Here it comes, Mart thought, with dread. I’m about to hear the list of my shortcomings, once again.
They walked along a path which led towards the water, past playground equipment and laughing children. Mart watched Diana closely as they walked, waiting for the first blow. It was not until they had almost reached the edge of the lake and sat down on a park bench that she spoke again.
“When we dated before,” she said, seeming to measure her words, “there were a few things which really bothered me.” She continued quickly when she saw the look on his face. “I’m not going to go through them, again. You know what they are.”
“I can’t change who I am,” he replied, looking at his feet. “I won’t pretend to be someone I’m not; not even for you.”
“I’m not asking you to,” she said, gently touching his face. He turned his head to look at her. “I just want you to tell me what it’s all about. If we’re going to have a relationship, it needs to be one where we talk to each other. Really talk. I need to know what you’re thinking.”
“You mean, you want to know why I made the choices that I made? Why I decided to come here, rather than Cornell, like we planned?”
“That would be a good start,” she replied, starting to warm up. “And, before you make any more decisions, you’d need to actually consult me. Your choices affect my life, too. It’s only fair if you tell me your plans before you execute them.”
“Okay, I admit that was a mistake,” he said, “but there are things that I have to take into account that you don’t even know about; things that could have a big impact on my future. Sometimes, I might just have to make those changes. I might not have any choice.”
“What do you mean?” Di asked softly, suddenly pale.
Mart looked away. “I can’t tell you. At least, not here and now.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to tell you, Di. I want there to be an ‘us’ but I have other responsibilities.”
“But you’ll tell me sometime?” she asked.
“I promise,” he said, seriously. “But it’s got to be somewhere private, where no one can overhear. It’s not something that I want other people to know about - especially not… well, anyone, really.”
“Well, I guess that’s something,” she replied. “But, in the meantime, do me a favour. Leave the whole ‘honorable’ thing to Jim and Brian, okay?”
“Excuse me?” he asked, his face showing his confusion at the apparent change of subject. “What, exactly, is the ‘honorable’ thing?” He frowned, thinking of Jim’s recent behaviour towards his sister. And, what does it have to do with Jim? he silently added.
Di looked thoughtful. “How do I put it into words? I guess, it’s like how Brian treats Honey,” she explained. “And how Jim would treat Trixie, if she’d let him. Kind of a ‘don’t get too close in case we accidentally touch inappropriately’ thing. You know; how to treat a ‘nice’ girl, nineteen-fifties style.”
She laughed at the look on his face as he tried to process her description.
“How about we make it like a game,” she suggested. “Multiple choice. Question one. You see that I’m upset. Do you, (a) tell Honey; (b) say, ‘Is something wrong, Di?’ in front of a dozen other people; or (c) take me into your room to ask in private?”
What an opportunity! he thought, suppressing a grin. Watch out, Di.
“B?” he said, pretending to be tentative. He could barely hold back his laughter at her frown. “A?”
“The answer was C,” Di said, her face and voice stern. “Honorableness must be catching. If you were thinking about what I needed, rather than what other people would think, you would have got it right away. Let’s try it again. All seven of us are at home and you want to kiss me. Do you, (a) take me into your room; (b) take me into my room; or, (c) find a motel which rents rooms by the hour?”
This one’s even better, he thought. “None of the above?” He could see the first glimmer of understanding in her face. “I want an option that says ‘Just kiss you, passionately and in front of everyone.’”
“Mart!” she cried, slapping him. “Can’t you ever be serious?”
“Probably not,” he murmured. He took her hand and looked into her eyes. “Except that I really do want us to try, again.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “How do you feel about being kissed in a public place?”
“You mean here?” she whispered back. “Oh, where is the clubhouse when we need it?”
Mart laughed, remembering many a ‘clandestine meeting at the clubhouse’ as they had come to be known. He took her hand and led her a short way up the hill to a picnic shelter, which had partitions through the middle. From here, there was no one in sight.
“This will do,” Di whispered, looping her arms around his neck. She gave him a slow smile. “Kiss me, and we can make up.”
He was only too happy to comply.
Half an hour later, they returned to the house, feeling the need for more privacy than the picnic shelter could offer. Behind him, Mart could feel the curious looks of the other Bob-Whites as he and Di disappeared into one of the empty bedrooms.
“Now, where were we?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her and leaning against the door.
“I think it was something like this,” she murmured. Their lips met and the minutes slipped away until, finally, Mart pulled away. “What’s wrong?”
He pulled back, but maintained contact with her. “There’s something we need to talk about, but I can’t tell you here,” he whispered. “I’ll tell you one day soon, though. I promise.”
“I need to know what this is about,” Di said, a small frown appearing on her face. “So, you’d better make it soon.”
As the weeks wore on, Mart became more and more worried about his mother. There were only a few weeks left until he and Trixie would be leaving for college and he wondered how she was going to cope with Bobby and the farm alone. The arrangement with Knut and Gloria had met with a hitch and the young couple would not arrive for three weeks after Mart and Trixie had left. Their mother had decided to stay, rather than leave the farm empty for that time.
“Are you going to be okay, Moms?” he asked one Saturday, after Trixie had left for work. “When we’re gone, I mean.”
“I’ll be fine, Mart,” she replied. “It’s only for a few weeks. Besides, I’m feeling much better now that I’m in the second trimester. By the time it gets worse again, your father and I will both be back.”
“But what about the housework?” he persisted. “And the garden?”
“We’ll be fine, Mart,” she repeated. “Thank you for worrying, but you don’t need to. Bobby will have to help around the house, but there’s nothing stopping us from living very well here by ourselves.”
“Okay, Moms,” he said. “Just tell me if you need anything, though, okay?”
“Deal,” she said, smiling. “On the condition that you stop worrying about me so much.”
The end of August arrived and Mart and Trixie began preparing to leave for college. They were both quite worried about their mother, but she would hear nothing of it.
“Your father had to spend time away just before Trixie was born,” she said. “I coped then and I’ll cope now.”
“He did?” Trixie asked, intrigued. “I didn’t know that. Where did he go?”
“To your Uncle Andrew’s place in Iowa,” her mother replied. “It was something of a family meeting, actually. Your grandfather Belden used to hold them fairly often. That was the last one before he died.”
“That wouldn’t have lasted long, though,” Mart said. “Maybe a week?”
“But Moms had a baby and a toddler and she was pregnant at the time,” Trixie countered. “That had to have been terrible, Moms!”
“It was quite difficult,” she agreed. “Actually, your father was away for over a month. They had a major disagreement over something that your grandfather wanted to do and it looked for a while that they would never work it out.”
“Dad told me about it,” Mart admitted. “It sounded pretty bad, actually. And it’s still causing problems for Dad now, I think, because of what Grandpa Belden put in his will.”
His mother sighed. “It will cause problems for a very long time yet, particularly for Brian and Mart,” she said. “That document has caused a lot of pain for everyone involved.”
Mart could see that his sister was interested in this piece of family history. She had that look on her face that Mart associated with mysteries. He could just about see the wheels turning as she formulated her next question.
“What was in the will, Moms?” she asked. “And why is it bad for Brian and Mart?”
“You’d better talk to your father about that, dear,” Helen said, with a smile. “I know that you’re disappointed in that answer, but he’s the one who should explain it to you.”
Everything was beginning to get settled in the house at Winter Rock. Trixie, Mart and Dan had finished working in Sleepyside. Mart thought that his sister had been reluctant to leave Bridgeman’s Books, but there was little she could do about it.
The girls had moved a few days ahead of Mart and Dan. They had been anxious to get settled well before the start of classes. Mart had tossed up whether to go with them or wait for Dan. In the end, his secret plans kept him back.
“I’m glad we’re going up together,” Dan said when they were underway. “There’s something that I need to talk to you about.”
Mart, in the driver’s seat, nodded to indicate that he was listening.
“It’s about Trixie,” he said. “I heard something that makes me think- well, I don’t know what to think. You know her better than anyone. If someone told you they saw her kissing some other guy, what would you think?”
“I’d think they were mistaken.”
“That’s what I said the first time,” Dan replied. “But, the evidence is starting to add up. I’m kinda wondering whether I should ask her about it.”
Mart frowned, thinking. “Leave it to me,” he said finally. “I’ll ask her, but I’m sure that she wouldn’t.”
“Thanks,” said Dan and left it at that.
By the time that Mart and Dan had arrived at the house, Trixie was already well established. She had found herself a job at an establishment called Porter’s Bookstore, which was so similar to Bridgeman’s Books that Mart shuddered with deja vu every time he went near it.
He was also disturbed to discover that her new boss was encouraging Trixie’s unnatural interest in Lucy Radcliffe novels that had typographical errors in them. When he arrived at the house, Honey and Trixie were howling with laughter over her newest acquisition.
“Oh, this one is the absolute best,” Honey said, as he walked in. “I can’t believe you actually have a copy of it.”
“I know,” Trixie replied, completely ignoring her brother. “I never thought I’d actually see one of these. I just love it!”
“Read it again,” Honey begged. “I just want to hear it one more time.”
“What is it now?” Mart asked, rather exasperated. “Lucy Radcliffe and the Typographical Enigma?”
“Oh, hello, Mart,” Honey said, her voice casual. “I didn’t see you there. Read it again, Trixie.”
Trixie smiled sweetly at her brother and began to read. “‘Now, all I needed was for the boat to arrive. I held tight to John. A strong wind was blowing and the sex was rough.’ Oh, is that an ‘x?’ I think it should have been an ‘a.’”
Mart’s face turned red as he coughed and gasped for air. “They published that in a kids’ book?” he said, as soon as he recovered himself.
Trixie and Honey were laughing too hard to answer.
It was more than a week before Mart found the time to ask his sister about what Dan had told him. “Where’s Trixie?” he asked Honey one evening when most of the Bob-Whites were at home. “I need to ask her about something.”
“She’s in her room, isn’t she?” she replied.
Mart said that he had just looked there, but decided to look again. Turning back towards her room, he saw Trixie exiting it. She was running her fingers through her hair, apparently trying to tame it.
“There you are,” he said. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. Can we go somewhere private?”
Before she could answer, there was a knock at the door. Mart went to answer it and was confronted by a pair of police officers asking for his sister.
“Beatrix Belden?” one of them asked her. “You are listed as next of kin for a James Frayne?”
“I guess I could be,” Trixie responded, puzzled.
Mart watched his sister’s eyes widen in horror as the officer said, “I’m sorry to inform you that Mr. Frayne has been found dead.”