Welcome to Camden Falls

  Flora, smiling now, continued searching through the box. Here was a War Mothers and Widows Official Certificate of Identification. Here was a marriage license, a United States Naval Reserve (Inactive) identification card, a photo of a smiling woman that had been sloppily cut from a larger photo (a pair of chubby baby hands reached out to the woman from the left edge of the picture), and here was a letter to Theodore Davis from President Harry S. Truman himself.

  Flora turned back to the School-Days Memory Book. She didn’t know who Sarah Matthews was, but she liked this item the best. She settled down to read it, leaning against a tattered steamer trunk, and thinking, sometimes, of her mother. She thought that her mother must have liked the attic, too. It was quiet, almost silent, although dim and a bit dusty, and she could imagine her mother sitting up here. Maybe her mother had come here when she needed to escape from her little sister, or when she was at odds with Min. Maybe she even looked through the School-Days Memory Book. Flora ran her hands over the pages, pages that her mother might once have turned. And she now understood that here in her new home, her Camden Falls roots could be revealed to her.

  On an afternoon toward the end of July, when the sultry weather had cleared, the air was cool and clean and smelled of roses and iris, and the last of the bridal veil petals clung to the sidewalks, Min closed the door to Needle and Thread and locked it carefully. “There,” she said. “Another day.”

  “And a good job well done,” added Ruby, which was something she had heard Min say.

  “Yes, a good job well done,” repeated Min.

  Another workweek had ended. It was Saturday, and Liz and Rick would manage the store the next afternoon. Gigi had left moments earlier. Now the locking-up had been done, and ahead of Min and Flora and Ruby stretched Saturday evening and all day Sunday.

  “What shall we do tonight?” said Min.

  “Could we get pizza for supper?” asked Ruby as they passed the window of College Pizza.

  “I don’t see why not,” replied Min, and in they went to order a large pizza and a salad.

  Later, they carried their supper home, Flora bearing the salad, Min carrying the pizza, and Ruby holding tight to Min’s purse. They crossed Aiken Avenue, passed the first three Row Houses, and turned up their front walk.

  “No one in sight,” commented Flora.

  “Everyone’s probably out in their backyards,” said Min. She was about to add that this was a perfect night for barbecuing when the toe of her shoe caught on the top step of the stoop and she stumbled and fell forward onto the granite. The pizza crashed against the front door, then dropped to the stoop, the box lid springing open.

  Min let out a cry.

  “Min!” exclaimed Flora, and in her surprise she dropped the salad, which spilled across the top step.

  Ruby gasped. “Are you okay?” she asked her grandmother.

  Min sat up. She was cradling her left wrist in her right arm. “I — I think so. No. I don’t know. My wrist —”

  Flora plopped onto the step next to her grandmother.

  “You’re sitting in lettuce!” shrieked Ruby.

  “I don’t care.” Flora looked at Min’s wrist. “Can you move it?” she asked.

  Min slowly bent her wrist backward, then forward. “Yes. But it hurts.”

  “A lot?” asked Ruby.

  “Quite a bit.”

  Ruby and Flora peered at Min’s wrist.

  “It looks all right,” said Flora.

  “But it feels funny,” said Min. “And, oh dear, our supper is ruined.”

  “Don’t worry,” replied Ruby. “I think we have hot dogs in the fridge. We can have hot dogs tonight.”

  “And I can make a fresh salad,” said Flora. “Come on. Let me help you up.”

  Flora took charge. In no time, she had settled Min in the living room and cleaned up the front stoop. Then she and Ruby made supper.

  “Do you think you can eat, Min?” asked Ruby.

  “Yes. If I can eat one-handed.”

  “You really can’t use your left hand?”

  Min tried switching her hot dog from her right hand to her left. She winced. “No. It hurts too much.”

  “I think you should go to the doctor,” said Flora.

  “The office is closed,” replied Min. “It’s Saturday night. Besides, look — my wrist isn’t swollen or black and blue.”

  But by bedtime, her wrist was swollen. And she couldn’t move it.

  “That’s it,” said Flora. “We have to go to the hospital.”

  “How are we going to get there?” asked Ruby. “I don’t think it’s safe for Min to drive with just one hand.”

  “I’ll call an ambulance.”

  “You will do no such thing,” said Min.

  “Then what should we do?” asked Flora. “You have to go, Min.”

  Her grandmother sighed. “All right. Call the Walters. Maybe one of them can drive me to the hospital.”

  Flora dialed Olivia’s number. “It’s their machine,” she said a moment later. “Should I leave a message?”

  “No,” replied Min. “Hang up, honey. Let’s see. Why don’t you call Dr. Malone?”

  Flora dialed the Malones’ number. No answer. And there was no answer at the Morrises’ house or the Fongs’.

  Min let out another huge sigh. “All right. Try the Edwardses, and if they aren’t home …”

  “If they aren’t home, I’ll call Gigi,” said Flora confidently.

  At the Edwardses’ house, Robby was sulking in front of the television. Shrek was playing, but Robby wasn’t paying attention, and every so often he would call out, “I want to go to camp!”

  Mr. Edwards was in the next room, trying to work. Finally, he stood up, set his papers aside, crossed into the den, and sat with Robby on the couch. “I’m sorry,” he said to his son. “I know you wanted to go to camp. But the camp closed.”

  “But why? I want to go swimming. I want arts and crafts —”

  “I know,” said his father again. “I know all these things. I understand.”

  Mr. Edwards tried to think about how to explain this turn of events to his son. Over the last few weeks, he and Mrs. Edwards had tried many times to make Robby understand that the camp had suddenly been discontinued, and that it had been too late in the summer to find another program for him. Robby refused to understand. He was mad, he was sad, he was frustrated, and he was at loose ends. Furthermore, his parents, both of whom had jobs, were in a bind. What were they to do for the rest of the summer? They’d been working at home more often than usual, and they had called on every sitter they could think of, but this did not solve the problem. None of the Edwardses was happy at the moment.

  When the phone rang, Mr. Edwards answered it as Robby jumped up and down in front of the television, flapping his hands and shouting, “I wanted to answer it! I wanted to answer it!”

  “Mr. Edwards, this is Flora Northrop,” said Flora, who then explained what had happened that evening. “So do you think you could drive us to the hospital?” she asked finally.

  “Oh, boy,” said Mr. Edwards, glancing at his son. “Yes, of course. But Robby will have to come with us, and he’s terrified of hospitals. My wife is working late tonight.…” His voice trailed off. “Listen, I’ll call Mrs. Edwards. Maybe she can meet us at the hospital later. I’ll be in front of your house in ten minutes, okay? Don’t worry, Flora. Everything will be all right.”

  And it was. Sort of. But not really, Flora thought later as she cast her mind over the long and troubling evening. Mr. Edwards and Robby arrived promptly, as promised, and helped Min into their car. Min sat in the front next to Mr. Edwards, and Flora and Ruby squeezed into the back with Robby. Even before they reached the hospital, Flora felt herself beginning to panic. The last time she had been on her way to a hospital was after the accident. She and Ruby had ridden in an ambulance then, but somehow this trip didn’t feel much different. And Flora’s mounting fear was not calmed by Robby, who kept shouting out, “Not th
e hospital! Not the hospital! I SAID, not the hospital!”

  Mr. Edwards parked near the emergency entrance. Inside, Min explained to the nurse on duty what had happened, while Robby howled in the doorway, “I am not going in there!”

  In the end, Ruby waited with Min and Mr. Edwards, while Flora sat on a bench outside the hospital with Robby. Her hands were shaking. What if, she wondered, this had been a much bigger accident? What if Min had been in a car accident? What if something much, much worse had happened? Much, much worse things could happen easily. They could happen quickly and they could happen when you were just riding along with your family, singing Christmas carols.

  After Flora’s parents had died, Min had been there to take care of Flora and Ruby. But if Min died, Flora and Ruby were out of grandparents. Flora put her head in her hands and tried to drown out the sound of Robby muttering, “Stupid hospital. Stupid, stupid hospital.”

  Half an hour later, with Min still waiting, Mrs. Edwards pulled into the parking lot. After a hurried conversation with her husband, she took Flora, Ruby, and Robby home. Mr. Edwards stayed behind with Min.

  Flora and Ruby spent the night in the Edwardses’ guest room, sleeping in oversize T-shirts loaned to them by Robby.

  “Everything all right?” asked Mrs. Edwards when the girls were settled together in a double bed. She sat down in an armchair. “Do you want me to stay with you for a while?”

  “That’s okay,” said Ruby.

  “You look awfully worried. It’s probably just a fracture, you know. Your grandmother might even get one of those removable casts. It isn’t a big deal.”

  Flora forced a smile. “We’re okay. Really,” she said.

  “All right.” Mrs. Edwards tiptoed out of the room, leaving the door ajar behind her.

  Ruby jumped up, closed the door, and scurried back into bed. She inched as close to her sister as she could get and tucked her feet under Flora’s legs.

  “Your feet are freezing!” Flora exclaimed.

  “Well, the hospital was freezing.”

  “Put them somewhere else,” said Flora.

  “No. Flora? I’m scared.”

  Flora rolled over on her back, away from Ruby’s feet, and looked at the ceiling. “Me, too,” she said after a moment.

  “You’re not supposed to say that!” exclaimed Ruby. “You’re supposed to say, ‘Don’t be scared, Ruby.’”

  “But I am scared.”

  Ruby was silent. Flora could see her clasping and unclasping her hands. “What would happen to us now if something bad happened to Min?” she asked.

  “Nothing bad happened to her,” replied Flora.

  “I know. But if something did. What would happen to us?”

  Flora, who had been worrying about this very thing for hours, now felt grouchy as she heard the same questions from Ruby. She wanted to be able to tell her sister that everything would be all right. But she couldn’t. “Ruby, I don’t know what would happen, okay? I’m really sorry, but I don’t know.”

  “Would we always be able to stay together?”

  “Yes,” said Flora. “I’m sure about that. You will always have me and I will always have you.”

  “Okay.” Ruby tucked her feet back under Flora’s legs, and after a while, both girls fell asleep.

  When Flora and Ruby awoke the next morning, they tiptoed down to the Edwardses’ kitchen in their T-shirts.

  Mrs. Edwards smiled at them. “Good news,” she said. “Your grandmother’s at home. And she’s going to be fine. Her wrist is fractured, but not badly, and she’ll only need to wear a cast for a few weeks.”

  Ruby let out a giant sigh, as if she’d been holding her breath for the entire night, and in no time the girls had changed into their clothes, made the bed in the guest room, carefully folded Robby’s T-shirts, called “Thank you!” and “Good-bye!” over their shoulders, and charged back to their house.

  Min met them at the front door. “Look!” she said cheerfully. She held up her wrist, encased in its cast. “Already almost as good as new.”

  Ruby and Flora pounced on their grandmother, hugging her so hard she nearly lost her balance.

  “Gracious me,” she said. “What’s all this? Come. Let’s sit down — before I fall down.”

  Flora escorted Min into the living room, carefully guiding her by her good arm. She helped Min onto the sofa, even though Min said she could manage quite well by herself, thank you.

  As soon as Flora and Ruby and Min were settled, Ruby blurted out, “Min, if anything really, really bad ever happened to you, what would happen to Flora and me?”

  Flora thought Ruby could have said this a bit more tactfully, but she barely cared. She peered anxiously into Min’s face.

  “Oh, girls,” said Min, “don’t worry. You’ll always be taken care of.”

  Flora’s stomach tightened. Min hadn’t said how they would be taken care of. And that, she felt certain, was because Min didn’t know.

  On one of the very last days of July, the cool weather still gracing Camden Falls, Nikki sat cross-legged on a patch of dry earth in front of her house. Mae sat beside her, holding out a fistful of dog kibble.

  “Look, Nikki. Paw-Paw takes it right out of my hand. See?”

  Sure enough, the scruffy dog nibbled delicately from Mae’s outstretched palm.

  “That’s great, Mae,” said Nikki absently. Her mind was on the arrival of Mrs. DuVane, and her ears were pricked for the sound of tires on gravel.

  “Nikki?” said Mae a few moments later.

  “What?”

  “I said, isn’t it too bad we have to keep Paw-Paw a secret?” She paused. “Aren’t you listening?”

  “I’m sorry,” said Nikki. “I guess I’m just thinking about the old — I mean, about Mrs. DuVane. That’s all.”

  “She’s coming today, right?”

  “Any minute now.”

  “And where’s she taking you?”

  “Into town to that sewing store. For some kind of lesson.”

  “I want to learn to sew,” said Mae.

  “Every time I get back from the store I’ll teach you what I learned, okay?”

  “Okay.… Nikki? Who’s going to watch me while you’re in town?”

  “Mom’s here.”

  Mae lowered her voice. “She’s asleep.”

  “Oh. Already?” Mrs. Sherman was having another bad day. “Well, you know the rules. If Tobias and I aren’t here, you have to stay on our property. So just … keep quiet so you don’t disturb Mom, and stay out of Dad’s way if he comes home. Maybe Tobias will be back soon.”

  At that moment, Nikki heard gravel crunching. Mrs. DuVane honked twice and waved gaily out her car window. “Hello, Nikki dear! Ready for your big day?”

  Nikki rolled her eyes, then kissed the top of Mae’s head before starting toward the car. “Hi, Mrs. DuVane,” she said flatly as she opened the door.

  Mrs. DuVane eyed Nikki’s dusty shorts and her smudged legs. “Is that how you’re going to go to the store?” she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she glanced at her watch, then said, “Well, you haven’t time to change. But next week, Nicolette, try to look a bit more presentable.”

  “Okay,” said Nikki. “I mean, yes, ma’am.”

  Nikki stared out the window as Mrs. DuVane drove into Camden Falls. She didn’t feel like speaking.

  Mrs. DuVane parked her car across from Needle and Thread. “Now remember, Nicolette,” she said as they climbed out of the Audi and closed the doors behind them, “this embroidery class is for adults, so you won’t be able to participate per se, but there are usually two or three other little girls here at the store, so maybe they can teach you some things while I’m taking the class. You can all learn from one another!” She added brightly, “Sewing is a very respectable pastime.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” mumbled Nikki.

  When Mrs. DuVane opened the door to Needle and Thread, a bell rang. Nikki stepped into the cool air of the store and was engulfed by the smell of n
ew fabric, of coffee, and of something sweet she thought might be cookies.

  “Hello, Mrs. DuVane,” called a woman from behind the counter. “You’re just in time for the class.”

  Mrs. DuVane smiled. “And I’ve brought someone with me,” she said. “This is Nicolette. I know she can’t take the class, but I thought she might enjoy looking around the store. Nicolette is very creative. Aren’t you, dear?”

  “I like to draw,” said Nikki, staring down at a piece of tape that was stuck to the floor.

  “Hey!” called a voice, and Nikki turned around. Sitting on some couches at the front of the store were three girls about her age, and spread on a table in front of them were squares of fabric, which the girls were cutting into shapes and arranging in patterns. “You’re Nikki Sherman, aren’t you?” said one of the girls.

  “Yeah,” said Nikki. She couldn’t believe her bad luck. This girl — Olivia Walton? Was that her name? — had actually said to her on the school playground just a couple of months ago, “You know, if you washed your clothes more often, they’d smell better.”

  Nikki had stared at her. This tiny little girl (she was in Nikki’s grade, but not in her class, and Nikki thought she might have skipped a grade at some point), this tiny little girl had had the nerve to tell Nikki how to do her housework. Let her try to wash clothes in a machine that didn’t work half the time. This girl probably didn’t even have to do her family’s laundry.

  When Nikki hadn’t been able to stop staring, Olivia finally said, “I — I didn’t mean anything by that. I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings. I just thought you’d like to know that there’s an easy way …” Her voice began to trail off. “… an easy way to, um, to improve your personal hygiene.”

  At this point, Nikki, disgusted, shook her head, turned around, and walked off. Her only wish then had been that she not wind up in Olivia’s class in the fall.

  And now here she was, facing Olivia and two of her friends. Worse, she was stuck with them for an entire hour.