Time for Andrew: A Ghost Story

  "Didn't you see me jump?"

  Edward narrowed his eyes, increasing his resemblance to a rat. "Bull feathers. You fell, just like I did."

  I shook my head. "I thought you were drowning, I was trying to save you."

  "Don't make me laugh. I wasn't in any danger."

  Stunned by his ingratitude, I watched Edward haul himself onto the rocks. Water streamed from his shirt and trousers. Getting to his feet, he said, "Even if I had been, I doubt a little pantywaist like you could have helped matters."

  Turning his back, he started to walk away.

  An anger I didn't know I possessed raged through me. Scrambling after Edward, I grabbed his arm and made him face me. "How dare you be so ungrateful?" I shouted. "I risked my life to save you! A true gent would at least say thank you!"

  I was as astonished as Edward. Had I spoken? Or had Andrew? Part of me wanted to apologize, take the words back, turn and run, but the other part was in control. Clenching my fists, I raised them the way John had taught me.

  Edward backed away. I stepped closer, dukes up, ready to defend myself.

  "You lay a hand on me and 111 tell my father," Edward said.

  Sure it was a trick, I danced around him on my toes, eager to try one of John's punches. I wanted to make Edward's nose bleed, I wanted to give him a black eye, I wanted to knock him flat.

  "I'll say you pushed me off the bridge," Edward yelled. "I'll say you almost made me drown."

  I kept my guard up. Edward wasn't going to distract me with empty threats. I was Andrew, boy champion. I'd make Theo proud of me. I'd make Hannah glow with admiration. I'd show them all—even John. Like Frank Merriwell, I'd been pushed far enough.

  Suddenly, Edward bent down, picked up a handful of river sand, and hurled it in my eyes. Half-blinded, I flung myself at him. We rolled on the ground, grappling and yelling. While we struggled, Buster ran around us, barking. I hoped he was on my side, but I couldn't be sure. For all I knew he'd decide to take a chunk out of me.

  As things turned out, it wasn't Buster who bit me—it was Edward. When I felt his teeth sink into my shoulder, I hauled off and punched him so hard I thought I'd broken my hand.

  That was all it took. Squirming away from me, Edward scrambled to his feet. His nose spouted blood. "Your father will hear about this," he hollered.

  With Buster snarling and snapping at his heels, Edward plunged into the woods. Dazed, I sat on the ground and listened to him crash through the underbrush.

  By the time Buster came back, Theo had made his way down from the trestle. Crouching beside me, he touched my left eye reverently. "You're going to have a beaut of a shiner."

  I stared at my fists in disbelief. Were they mine or Andrew's? The hot sun beat down on my head, the coarse grass scratched the back of my legs. Nearby, the river rumbled and droned. Crows cried in the woods. I'd hit Edward, I'd made him cry and snivel and threaten to tell, I'd chased him away. Me—Drew. Or me—Andrew?

  "You really showed Edward," Theo was saying. "It was like old times. He won't bother us again, I wager."

  Theo flopped down on his back in the grass and grinned at me. Exhausted, I stretched out beside him. Buster dropped to his haunches and panted happily into my face.

  Gazing into his yellow eyes, I asked the dog a silent question. Who am IP

  Buster wagged his tail and licked my nose. I shook my head. "You're wrong," I whispered, "I'm not Andrew."

  Theo turned his head drowsily. "What did you say?"

  "Nothing." While the sun dried my clothes, I watched clouds shape and reshape themselves. An hour passed, maybe more. Theo was so quiet I guessed he'd fallen asleep. I was tired too, but every time I closed my eyes I saw Edward falling, I saw the river closing over him. Whether he'd admit it or not, I'd saved his life.

  Or had I? I wasn't really sure who had jumped off the trestle—Andrew or me.

  On the way home through the woods, Theo kept up a constant chatter about the fight, exaggerating it beyond all recognition. Weary of the sound of his voice, I interrupted him. "What if Edward tells his father? What will Papa do?"

  Theo's eyes traveled from my swollen eye to my torn shirt. His lip quivered. "We'll get the beating of our lives."

  I swallowed hard. "But you didn't do anything. I was the one who jumped in the river, I was the one who fought Edward. I'll take full responsibility."

  Theo kicked at a stone. "It won't matter to Papa. I was with you. That'll be enough for him."

  We were almost home. On the hill above us, the house was a tall, dark shape silhouetted against the sunset. I wished I could make time race ahead, but nothing shifted, nothing shimmered. I didn't see Aunt Blythe, I didn't see Andrew, just Hannah running down the path to meet us.

  "Papa's in a real temper," she said. "What have you two done now?"

  "Edward told on us," Theo whimpered. "We're going to get a whipping, Andrew."

  Hannah stared at my eye. "Have you been fighting with Edward?"

  For a moment, Theo forgot Papa. "You should've been there, Hannah." He clenched his fists and swung at the air. "Pow! Bam! Biff! Andrew punched the living daylights out of Edward. He made his nose bleed, he—"

  The sound of Papa's voice stopped poor Theo in mid-sentence. Belt in hand, he stood on the porch waiting for us. "Step lively," he called. "The longer you keep me waiting, the angrier I become."

  Mama laid her hand on Papa's arm. "Please don't be too hard on them. Andrew's health is still precarious, and Theo's merely a child."

  Hannah squeezed my shoulder. "Be brave," she whispered before she followed Mama into the house.

  Brave, I thought, brave— yes, I was as brave as Andrew now. I'd jumped off the bridge. I'd fought Edward. This time, I'd take my whipping without crying.

  Papa frowned at me. "Ned tells me you dared Edward to jump from the trestle. When he refused, you pushed him into the river and then fought him like a savage. Is this true?"

  "It was an accident, sir. Edward lost his balance and fell. I thought he was drowning, so I jumped in after him."

  "And the fight?"

  "Edward insulted me. I lost my temper."

  Papa turned to Theo. "Do you agree with your brother's account of the incident?"

  "Yes, sir," Theo said. "Edward is a liar and a bully and a coward. He's the one who should be whipped, not Andrew and me."

  "That's enough, Theodore." Papa paced back and forth as if he were in court. "Although bad enough in itself, it is not the fight alone that displeases me. After Emmet Burden drowned, I forbade you to go to the trestle. I presume you both remember my proscription?"

  Even though I didn't, I knew better than to say so.

  "Yet you went there anyway."

  "Yes, sir."

  For a few moments, Papa rested his case. Swinging his belt against his palm, he considered Theo and me. With each slap, my heart beat faster.

  "To summarize," he said at last, "you disobeyed me. First, you endangered your lives on the trestle. Secondly, you fought with your cousin a week to the day after I punished you for the same offense. I told you then and I tell you now, I will not tolerate such behavior."

  Papa took a deep breath. "Bend over, Andrew."

  I clenched my teeth and shut my eyes. Gripping the railing so hard my knuckles turned white, I took six lashes without flinching or shedding a tear.

  After Papa finished with Theo, he slid his belt back into his trousers. "Stay off the trestle, both of you. And avoid your cousin. I don't enjoy these punishments any more than you do."

  "Yes, sir," we said.

  "Now, wash your hands and make yourselves presentable," Papa said. "Dinner will be served in five minutes."

  At the table, Mama heaped mashed potatoes on Theo's and my plates. She also made sure we had the best slices of tomato and very few lima beans.

  Papa frowned. "You know the importance of discipline as well as I do, Mildred. Boys must not be coddled."

  But I noticed he gave Theo and me the drumsticks he usually
reserved for himself.

  While Papa talked about his day in court, I relived my fight with Edward. What a lousy, stinking, ungrateful coward he was. Hateful. Underhanded. Sly and dishonest. A tattle-tale. What branch of the family tree had produced a rotten apple like him?

  A creaking noise in the hall distracted me. I looked up from my plate. An old man in a wheelchair scowled at us from the doorway. "What are you doing here?" he asked. "Get out, all of you. This is my house now."

  I jumped up from my chair. "Great-grandfather," I cried. "You're, you're—"

  The room spun, and Edward vanished. To keep from falling, I gripped the table. My glass tipped over. A stream of water ran across the cloth.

  Mama caught me in her arms. "Help me, Henry," she cried, "the boy's about to faint."

  Movement, voices, lights—everything blurred and ran together. Clinging to Mama, I sank into a well of darkness.

  Chapter 20

  I woke up hours later. Downstairs, the clock was striking twelve. Midnight—time to do something. I gazed at the ceiling, trying to remember what it was. Overhead, the attic floor creaked, groaned.

  Andrew—it was time to meet Andrew.

  Slowly, I eased out of bed. My knees were weak, my head ached, nothing seemed solid—not even the floor beneath my feet. I felt as insubstantial as the moonlight slanting through the windows.

  The first thing Andrew said was "What happened at the trestle?"

  "Edward fell," I said. "He almost drowned."

  Andrew grinned. "It's a pity he didn't."

  It was no joke to me. Suddenly angry, I leaned toward him. "Do you know who Edward is?"

  Startled, Andrew backed away from me. "Of course I do. He's my cousin, you nincompoop."

  "He's also Aunt Blythe's father. He's Dad's grandfather. He's my great-grandfather."

  Andrew's eyes widened. "Are you telling me Edward is the old man in the wheelchair?"

  "Yes."

  "Is that right?" Andrew shook his head. "Lord A'mighty, I never would have guessed. He must be close to a hundred years old. That means—"

  Still mad, I interrupted Andrew's speculations. "If my great-grandfather had died when he was twelve, where do you suppose I'd be?"

  I paused a moment to let him think about it. Then I said, "I wouldn't exist, Andrew—neither would Dad or Aunt Blythe!"

  He hugged his knees close to his chest and stared silently at the candle. It was a tiny stub of wax now, barely big enough to give any light.

  "What we're doing is dangerous," I said. "Things are happening that weren't supposed to—like Edward almost drowning."

  Without looking at me, Andrew shifted the marbles around, making new patterns in the ring. Although his face was hidden, I saw a tear hit the floor, then another.

  "You've given me a whole summer, Drew," he said sadly. "Maybe it's time to go home now and take my chances like everybody else."

  "Do you mean you give up?" I stared at him, more disappointed than I'd believed possible. "We don't have to play ringer anymore?"

  Andrew raised his head and scowled at me. "Of course I'm not giving up! Just because I cried doesn't mean I'm a pantywaist coward like you."

  Getting to his feet, Andrew toed the pitching line. "We'll lag as usual," he said. "Don't think I intend to lose either. You have to beat me fair and square, those are the rules."

  Andrew aimed his aggie carefully. It rolled to a stop half an inch past the lag line. Holding my breath, I threw mine after his. It landed a hair closer.

  "You go first," Andrew said.

  I'd shot three marbles out of the circle when a sound startled me. Hannah was standing at the top of the steps, staring at me. "Andrew, what are you doing out of bed? You're ill, you need to rest."

  I crouched beside the ring, speechless with surprise, but Andrew jumped to his feet. "Hannah," he cried, "Hannah."

  Although he was right in front of her, Hannah didn't see her brother. She walked through him as if he didn't even exist.

  "I've been lying awake worrying about you," she said to me. "When I heard noises, I thought you and Theo were up here. But you're all alone."

  Andrew clung to his sister. "He's not alone, I'm with him. Look at me, Hannah, please look at me."

  Unaware of anything but the cold, Hannah shivered. "Lord," she whispered, "I'm freezing. You'll catch your death in this draft, Andrew."

  When I neither spoke nor moved, Hannah dropped to her knees and gazed into my eyes. "You're in a trance," she whispered. "For heaven's sake, wake up."

  Finding my voice at last, I said, "Can't you see him?"

  "See who?" Pale with fright, Hannah stared at me.

  I pointed at Andrew. "He's standing right in front of you!"

  "Have you taken leave of your senses?" Hannah grabbed my shoulders and shook me. "There's no one in this attic but you and me."

  Andrew was crying now, hanging on to his sister, begging her to see him. But Hannah was too scared by my behavior to see or hear anything but me. Deaf to Andrew's sobs, she pulled me to my feet. "You must go back to bed."

  "No," I shouted. "Not yet! I have to finish this game." I couldn't leave Andrew, not now, not when I was finally winning.

  Hannah released me so suddenly I staggered backward. "I'll fetch Papa!" she cried.

  Andrew threw himself at her. "Hannah, stop, you're ruining everything!"

  I grabbed his arm. "Let her go. We don't have much time!"

  Casting a last terrified look at me, Hannah ran downstairs, calling for Mama and Papa.

  Andrew turned to me, his face streaked with tears. "Quick, Drew. Shoot four more marbles out of the ring!"

  Holding my breath I aimed. Click, click, click. An immie, a cat's-eye, and a moonstone spun across the floor, but I missed the fourth.

  Andrew knuckled down and shot at the scattered marbles. Of the seven in the ring, he managed to hit two before he missed.

  Downstairs I heard Hannah pounding on Papa and Mama's door.

  "One more, Drew," Andrew whispered.

  It was hard to aim carefully. Papa and Mama were awake. Their voices rose as Hannah tried to explain I was in the attic acting as if I'd lost my mind. My hand shook and the first marble I hit merely clicked against another.

  Andrew took his turn, hit three, and missed the fourth. "Send me home, Drew," he begged. "I don't care if I die when I get there."

  Two marbles were left—a carnelian and an immie, widely separated. Neither was close to my aggie. Even for someone as good as Andrew, it was a hard shot.

  Holding his breath, Andrew crossed his fingers and closed his eyes.

  I knuckled down and aimed for the carnelian. Click. As Papa tramped up the steps with Mama at his heels, the seventh marble rolled into the shadows. My aggie stayed in the middle of the ring.

  Andrew let out his breath and stared at me. I'd won—what would happen now?

  Chapter 21

  "What's the meaning of this?" Papa strode toward us. "You've disturbed the entire household, Andrew."

  Mama gripped his arm. "For goodness sake, Henry, don't frighten the child. Haven't you done enough damage? I told you not to whip him!"

  Papa made an effort to calm down. Taking a deep breath, he squatted in front of me. "What's troubling you, son?" he asked. "Surely a spanking didn't cause this."

  Aching with sadness, I put my arms around his neck. I'd won, I'd finally beaten Andrew. I'd thought I'd be happy, but I wasn't. "I don't want to leave you and Mama," I sobbed

  Papa held me tight. Now, now, he said. Where did you get such a silly notion? You aren't going anywhere.

  While Papa comforted me, Andrew climbed onto his fathers shoulders, piggyback style. No one saw him but me. No one heard him say, Hush Drew, you're shaming me in front of everyone."

  Ignorant of Andrews presence, Papa shivered. "Fall's coming. Feel the nip in the air?'

  Hannah and Theo were waiting for us at the bottom of the steps. "Mama," Theo whispered, "is Andrew sick again?"

  Mama s
hook her head, but Theo looked unconvinced. Slipping his hand in Hannah's, he watched Papa lay me on my bed.

  On the other side of the room, Andrew took a seat in the rocking chair. It was obvious he didn't enjoy being invisible. Staring at Hannah and Theo, he rocked the chair vigorously. When that didn't get their attention, he sang "I've Been Working on the Railroad" at the top of his lungs. But no matter what he said or did, he couldn't make his sister or his brother see or hear him.

  I knew Andrew was sad, but I was even sadder. When Mama leaned over to kiss me, I hugged her so tight she could hardly breathe. "I'll never forget you," I whispered.

  Mama drew back. "What did you say?"

  "Nothing," I mumbled. "I love you, Mama."

  She smiled. "Well, for goodness sake, you little jackanapes, I love you too."

  Smoothing the quilt over me, she turned to the others. "What Andrew needs is a good night's sleep. In the morning, he'll be himself again, just wait and see."

  "I hope so," Andrew said.

  Papa frowned. "No one will get any sleep, good or bad, with Buster making such a racket. I don't know what ails that animal."

  While we'd been talking, Andrew had gone to the window and whistled for the dog. Though the Tylers hadn't heard the loud two-fingered blast, Buster definitely had. His howls made the hair on my neck prickle. Even Andrew looked frightened. He backed away from the window and sat quietly in the rocker.

  "Edward told me a dog howls when somebody in the family is about to die," Theo said uneasily.

  Papa shook his head. "That's superstitious nonsense, Theodore. Surely you know better than to believe someone as well known for mendacity as your cousin."

  Muttering to himself, Papa left the room. Taking Theo with her, Mama followed, but Hannah lingered by the bed.

  I reached out and grabbed her hand. "Don't leave yet," I begged. "Stay a while."

  Hannah hesitated for a moment, her face solemn, her eyes worried. "Mama's right, Andrew," she said softly. "You need to rest, you've overexcited yourself again. We've got all day tomorrow to sit in the tree and talk."