The Penderwicks at Last

  Most evenings they spent with Ben, shooting the alien movie. Alice became ever more believable as the alien, and Lydia learned to anticipate and follow Ben’s directions so well that she stopped noticing when he didn’t say please. The girls’ days were for everything else. Blossom saw a lot of them, as she ate oats and listened intently to the Lewis Carroll books, even the parts with no sheep.

  Buoyed by this success, Lydia tried to talk Alice into reading to the chickens, too. Alice refused, but did teach Lydia about gathering their eggs and changing their hay, a more practical way to get to know them. Lydia also learned to catch and carry Hatshepsut, who continued to break into the cottage to pursue her quest to reach the second floor. And one rainy day, the girls raided Natalie’s scrap box for even more treasures to weave, braid, and tie into colorful concoctions, with no purpose but to please. Natalie said that was one definition of art, and that pleasing was both important and enough. This gave Lydia a new way to think about her dancing, though she did wonder if dancing to please herself—rather than other people—counted as art. If not, she thought, maybe someday she’d learn to make real art with fabric and color, just like Natalie did.

  While that rainy day was one of Lydia’s favorite’s, Alice’s favorite days were less about creativity and more about recklessness. And about outdoing Jack, especially after he sent her the photo of his handstand on the ice at the hockey rink, his skates high in the air, while Marcel maneuvered a puck around him. That day, she shimmied up onto the roof of the greenhouse so that Lydia could take a picture of her up there. It was an excellent picture, and when Alice managed not to break the glass roof panels, she proclaimed her desire to conquer other heights. Lydia argued against this plan—she didn’t like heights—but gave in when Alice agreed to stay away from roofs more than one story high.

  The one-story rule kept the mansion’s roof off-limits, even though Alice was certain she could get up there by climbing out an attic window. But the porch roof of the cottage and a lower portion of the carriage house roof both turned out to be low enough for climbing, and Alice did. Lydia refused to join her, but she was willing to take pictures for Jack.

  The chicken house was low enough, even for Lydia. Climbing onto it meant waiting until the bench-and-table builders were on lunch break and not there to stop the madness. The chickens weren’t so lucky—since they stayed home for lunch, they were forced to witness this invasion. None of them were pleased, except for Hatshepsut, who climbed up next to the girls, and got herself into the picture sent to Jack.

  Eventually, there was only one remaining roof-climbing possibility, the Greek pavilion, but Lydia and Alice couldn’t agree on whether it qualified as being one story high.

  “There is the floor,” said Alice, pointing, “and there is the roof, and there is nothing in between. One story.”

  “But it’s an extra-tall story,” said Lydia. “And the roof is curvy and made of metal, so it will be slippery and hard to balance on. You said let’s climb up to touch the roof from below. You didn’t say anything about standing on the roof itself.”

  “I know I didn’t, but, Lyds, think of how I’d look up there, right in the center.” Alice struck a pose, feet spread, hands on hips, chin in the air, her ballet skirt billowing around her. Alice thought the ballet skirt added class to the photos.

  Lydia couldn’t deny that Alice would be an excellent addition to the top of the pavilion—like a Greek Peter Pan about to do ballet—but she didn’t want Alice to get killed, and she also didn’t want any harm to come to the Greek pavilion. This was Wednesday, and the wedding was Saturday, and Lydia couldn’t see her sisters getting married in a pavilion with a smashed roof.

  “The ladder is already right here.” Alice was kind not to mention that she’d been damaged in the process of getting the ladder to the pavilion, and that it had been Lydia’s fault. While the girls had scaled previous roofs by using chairs and ingenuity, a roof this high demanded an extension ladder. They’d secreted this one out of the cottage basement—almost, but not quite, getting caught by Cagney—and lugged it all the way here. Aluminum ladders aren’t heavy, but the long ones can be tricky to maneuver when the person at one end isn’t paying enough attention, which happened when Alice got whacked in the knees because Lydia had been distracted by a bobolink call.

  “Okay,” she said. “But only if we do it so that if you fall, it will be into a bush and not onto the hard ground.”

  “Not roses, though,” said Alice. “They have thorns.”

  Lydia found a hydrangea bush that would do, one heavy with blue-and-purple blooms. It would be a shame to smash the flowers, but at least the bush was at the back of the pavilion, where it wouldn’t be seen during the wedding ceremony.

  “I’m ready now,” said Lydia. “I’ll steady the bottom of the ladder.”

  “Thank you. Now I will climb. ‘I will climb and not fall’ would make a good motto.” Lydia had told Alice about her search for a personal motto, and Alice had eagerly joined in, translating her own choices into pretend Latin. “Climbiamamius and not fallimakius!”

  Lydia liked the part about not falling but was still nervous as Alice went up the ladder enthusiastically, not a good thing when you’re wearing a long ballet skirt.

  “Steady, Alice, stay in the middle of each rung.”

  “Lydia isimus my friendimus!”

  “Slow down, the ladder is shaking!”

  The top of Alice’s head was now level with the pavilion roof, which put Alice’s feet at just about a normal one-story height.

  “Take a picture, Lyds,” she said. “Before I get onto the roof.”

  But Lydia refused to let go of the shaky ladder, clinging to it with both hands. This meant she couldn’t operate the camera, and also that she was directly beneath Alice and couldn’t see anything but layers of ballet skirt. Alice leaned sideways to give Lydia a better view of her, the ladder swayed dangerously, Lydia screamed, and Alice straightened back up.

  “You have to come down now,” said Lydia.

  “But once I’m on the roof, you can let go of the ladder and take the picture.”

  “I’ve changed my mind about you going onto the roof. You’re going to give me a heart attack.”

  “Please, Lydia. Just think how impressed Jack will be.”

  “Jack will not be impressed if you break your limbs, which is the most likely outcome.”

  “I can see so much from up here. There’s Blossom.” Alice turned her head. “And Mom is on her way to the carriage house—sewing time.”

  “Please come down, Alice.”

  “Not yet.” She looked toward Bobolink Meadow One and the lane to the mansion. “Here comes a man on a motorcycle.”

  A motorcycle! “Does it have a sidecar?”

  “Yes, and some guy’s in it. Wait a minute, I’m not sure—that is, whoever’s in the sidecar is wearing a helmet, and he’s got a crazy big nose.”

  “Come down, Alice!” shouted Lydia, almost tipping the ladder with her urgency. “No longer a request! Down, now!”

  Alice was on her way down already—spurred to action by Lydia’s vehemence.

  “Why?” Down and down and down. “What’s happening?”

  “Just hurry. Hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry! That’s got to be Wesley—he rides a motorcycle—and the guy with the big nose is Hitch!”

  LYDIA WAS THRILLED THAT her destiny with Hitch was changing. Not the part about loving then losing him—she was still going to lose him—but at least now she had the chance to bestow a final farewell. If she could get to Wesley before he dropped off Rosalind’s present and left again. Lydia didn’t think destiny would be so unkind, but wasn’t willing to trust in anything, not with a kiss on Hitch’s nose at stake. Spurning the paths that wandered idly across Bobolink Meadow One, she plowed right through the long grasses, taking the most direct route to the Arundel ent
rance. She pushed herself to run her fastest and encouraged Alice to do the same. And both girls shrieked as they ran—Alice’s shrieks were superb—imploring Wesley not to leave until they reached him.

  Victory! When the girls came charging out of the meadow, they saw—

  Not Wesley—that was true. But his motorcycle was there, pulled over to the side of the lane, and so was Hitch. Hitch, still in his sidecar, his giant solemn face topped by a safety helmet. Lydia threw herself onto him and kissed his big nose.

  “I love you, I’ve missed you, I’m so glad to see you,” she cried. “Alice, Alice, come meet him! I know he’s big, but he’d never hurt anyone.”

  Alice was hanging back. “I know that. It’s just— Do you think he’d mind? He’s never met me.”

  Lydia should have remembered that Hitch could have this effect on people. Her dad called him Canis regalis, “royal dog,” and even in his goofy helmet, Hitch maintained his stately air.

  “I’ll introduce you. Hitch, this is my friend Alice. Alice, this is Hitch, and he’s very affectionate. I promise.”

  That was enough encouragement for Alice. She kissed Hitch heartily, and then also mentioned to Lydia that there was a man lying down on the ground, on the other side of the motorcycle. And so there was.

  “Hi, Wesley,” said Lydia. “I’m glad we caught you. Did you hear us shouting?”

  “Couldn’t have missed it.” He looked up at her, crinkling the corners of his eyes. This, Lydia knew, meant that he was smiling on the inside. “Is this the entrance to Arundel?”

  “Yes, the pillars are.” Bundles of all shapes and sizes were stowed on the motorcycle and in the sidecar. She wondered which held Rosalind’s gift. “What are you doing down there?”

  “Checking the clutch cable.”

  Wesley was always checking something on this ancient motorcycle. He’d once had a better bike but had sold it to pay the vet for removing Hitch’s ruined leg.

  “This is my friend Alice. She lives here.”

  “Hi, Wesley,” said Alice. “I like your dog.”

  He nodded his agreement.

  “He never says much,” Lydia whispered to Alice. “Don’t take it personally.”

  “I won’t. It’s nice when people don’t talk all the time.”

  “Wesley, can we let him out of the sidecar?” Lydia wanted to make the most of her short time with Hitch.

  “He’d like that.”

  Lydia showed Alice how to unlatch the sidecar door, and out stepped Hitch, who stretched, then made it clear that he’d like them to take off his helmet. His grunt of thanks afterward, and the way he shook his ears, compelled Lydia to kiss those ears while Alice lavished affection on his nose; then they changed places and kissed him some more. Meanwhile, Wesley sat up long enough to produce a dog bowl from one of his bundles and handed it to Lydia, along with a jug of water for Hitch. The girls shared the task of filling the water bowl, splattering a few drops on Hitch during one of the jug transfers, but he was patient with them, and glad to quench his thirst.

  “Lyds,” said Wesley.

  He’d stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans. There were no crinkling eyes, and his shoulders drooped.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “The clutch cable is broken.”

  Lydia didn’t know what a clutch cable was, or how one could break. But Wesley did all his own motorcycle repairs. She’d once watched him replace the muffler. He’d let her hand him the tools, though a few times she had to fight Hitch for the privilege.

  “You can fix it, can’t you?” she asked.

  “Only if I find a replacement.” Wesley was soon on his phone, talking to someone named Charlene.

  Alice whispered to Lydia. “If he can’t, they have to stay here. They can sleep in Jack’s room.”

  Lydia had already had this thought and dismissed it. Batty didn’t want Wesley at Arundel and Wesley didn’t want to be here. That had to override any private longings for an extended visit with Hitch.

  Now there was a new problem—Flashvan was headed toward them, blundering its way down from the mansion. Its menacing swerves indicated that Ben was driving. But Lydia wondered if it could be Batty, losing control of the steering wheel because she’d just spotted Wesley. If it was Batty, Lydia wanted to get to her before she got to them, to explain the situation. She started running up the lane, hoping that whichever sibling was driving was paying enough attention not to run over her.

  The van stopped, squealing and shuddering, and without hitting Lydia. It was Ben.

  “Wesley’s here,” she said, climbing in.

  “I see him, and I heard you two yelling for him a few minutes ago—so I grabbed this fancy transport to come say hello. By the way, Alice can really shriek, can’t she? Like sonic distortions of the universe.”

  “His clutch cable is broken.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “He’s trying to find a new one. What should we do if he can’t?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Alice wants them to stay— Ben!” He wasn’t paying attention. “Hello! This is a possible crisis!”

  “I just had a genius idea, Lyds. Wouldn’t it be great to put Hitch into the last scene of the film, when Alice is dying? The huge dog mourning the little alien?”

  “We can’t—” She stopped, overwhelmed with trying to figure out who would want what, who would stay where, what was best for Hitch, what was best for Batty, and what Charlene was telling Wesley at this very moment. She would let nature take its course, let the chips fall something, something, whatever that expression was. Her father probably had a Latin phrase for it. “I’m staying neutral.”

  “About?”

  “Everything. Let’s go see if Wesley found a clutch cable, and we will walk. I don’t trust you not to crash the van into his motorcycle, and then there would be extra problems.”

  “I thought you were going to stay neutral.”

  “Not about this.”

  When they reached the others, Wesley was getting off his phone, and Alice was taking photos of Hitch and explaining at great length her ongoing rivalry with Jack. When she finally took a breath, Hitch edged away to greet Ben the way he always did, with their own personal ritual. Hitch stood on his back legs, his one front leg draped over Ben’s shoulder, as Ben wrapped his arms around Hitch. And for long moments, the two stared at each other with mutual affection and respect.

  “Hey, Wesley,” said Ben when they were through. “Motorcycle problems?”

  “Some, yeah. I can have the part shipped as soon as I know where I’m staying. I’m sure there are campgrounds around here.”

  “Forget campgrounds,” said Alice. “You can stay in my brother Jack’s room. He’s in Canada, so you wouldn’t have to share.”

  “Batty wouldn’t like that,” he said.

  “It’s a big estate, Wesley,” said Ben. “If you and Hitch stay on the cottage side, you could never run into Batty. Of course, it would have to be her decision.”

  “And Alice’s parents’,” added Wesley.

  “My parents will say yes,” said Alice. “Lydia, they’ll say yes, won’t they?”

  “I’m staying neutral.” Though it was getting ever more difficult to pretend she didn’t want Hitch staying here. “Alice, don’t pinch me. I have to.”

  This got an eye crinkle from Wesley. “Is Rosy here?”

  “She’s coming tomorrow, with Skye,” said Ben. “And Skye and Dušek are getting married, too. Double wedding.”

  “That’s great. Good for Skye. How about Jeffrey, the guy who answered Batty’s phone. Is he here?”

  “It’s his house, so yes. He and Batty are putting together the wedding band.”

  Wesley gazed off into the distance, seeking some lost horizon.

  “Why don’t I go t
alk to Batty?” said Ben. “And Jane and Jeffrey. See what they think.”

  “Don’t forget my parents,” added Alice. “Tell them about using Jack’s room.”

  “I’m outnumbered here,” said Wesley. “Lyds, you sure you want to stay neutral? You could even this up for me.”

  “But she wouldn’t even it up,” said Alice. “She wants Hitch here—”

  Lydia interrupted. “Wesley, would you mind if Alice and I took Hitch for a walk while Ben is talking to people?”

  “We can take him to the cottage and show him Jack’s room,” said Alice.

  “Go ahead,” he said. “But don’t promise him he can sleep there. I don’t need any more opposition to my campground plan.”

  * * *

  —

  On the way to the cottage, the girls argued about Lydia’s neutrality. Alice said that Lydia should put her entire soul into keeping Hitch with them for as long as possible. Lydia tried to explain about her loyalty to Batty, and that took them on a conversational detour about loyalty to siblings—Alice wasn’t sure how much of it Jack deserved. Then there was another detour about whether dogs should sleep on bunk beds, and particularly on Jack’s. Because neither girl knew the answer to either question, Alice asked if Hitch could climb steps with only three legs, Lydia assured her that he could, and by then they’d forgotten their disagreement, and were happy to watch Hitch enjoying the new scenery and smells.

  Another thing they’d forgotten was the possibility of finding Hatshepsut on the stairs. They did. Not only was this one of her days for climbing, but she’d gotten farther than ever before, and had been positive she could finally reach the second floor. While she squawked furiously, horrified at the sudden apparition of Hitch, he seemed pleased to see her, cocking his ears in an attempt to understand chicken language. This further enraged Hatshepsut—she wanted to be feared, not understood—making her squawk louder than ever.

  “I’ll go get her,” said Lydia. “You hold him back.”