Better to Wish

by Ann M. Martin

  Abby dropped her eyes.

  “Actually, I agree with Fred,” Zander went on. “I felt like screaming, too. I thought Mr. Sampson would never stop talking. Now come on. Gather up your awards, if you can carry them all. I’ll walk outside with you.”

  “But everyone’s going!” said Rose, and Abby heard a whine creep into her sister’s voice. “Everyone.”

  Rose was thirteen and, in Abby’s opinion, too old to whine. It certainly wasn’t helping their case.

  “I’ve already said no,” Pop replied. “Don’t ask me about this again.”

  “But my costume is half finished. I’ll bet no one else is going to be Tiger Lily!”

  “I told you no last night when your costume was only a third finished. Why is it half finished now when I already told you that you can’t go to the party?”

  Rose shrugged. “This is so unfair!”

  “Rose,” said Pop, “come here.”

  Rose hesitated. She was standing in the doorway to the dining room, where Pop was seated at the table with Mama, while Ellen served them breakfast. “Never mind,” she said hastily. “Sorry.” She turned away. “Sorry,” she said again.

  Abby followed her sister up the stairs to her room. “Don’t antagonize him like that. Why do you do it?”

  “I want to go to the Halloween party! There’s never been a Halloween party here before, and I don’t want to miss it. Just think of all the costumes.”

  “I queen,” announced a voice from behind them, and Abby turned to see Adele, still in her nightdress, standing sleepily in the hallway. “I queen,” she said again.

  Abby bent to pick up her sister. “Sorry, sissy,” she said. “We can’t go to the party after all.”

  “But I queen!”

  Abby let out a sigh. She had heard tales of kids dressing in costume and going door-to-door in their neighborhoods on Halloween night, collecting candy. But trick-or-treating hadn’t reached Barnegat Point yet. Halloween was barely celebrated. This year, however, a Halloween party for all ages was to be held at the high school. The guests were going to attend in costume, and there would be games and prizes and bobbing for apples. Abby, Maureen, and Darcy, sophomores now, had planned to dress as the Three Musketeers. Now Athos and Porthos would have to go without Aramis.

  “Buy why won’t Pop let us go?” wailed Rose, throwing herself dramatically on her bed. “Halloween is on Sunday but the party is on Saturday. It isn’t as if we’re asking to go to a party on the Lord’s day.”

  “He just doesn’t approve,” Abby replied, setting Adele on the floor. “It’s Halloween — witches and spirits and black magic. That sort of thing. So you’d better be quiet about this unless you want to get into trouble. Pop has said no a hundred times already.”

  “I don’t care. I’m going to sneak out,” said Rose, sitting up suddenly. “I’m going to finish my costume after school today and sneak out tomorrow night. Pop won’t know.”

  Abby glanced at Adele.

  “Oh, she won’t say anything,” said Rose.

  “She might. Anyway, how are you going to sneak out? Go out your window and jump down from the second story? You’ll kill yourself.”

  Rose turned away. “I’ll think of something.”

  After school Abby met Rose at the corner of Haddon and they walked the rest of the way home together.

  “So,” said Rose, “did you tell Darcy and Maureen that you aren’t going to the party?”

  “Yes.” Abby kicked at a stone.

  “Are they mad?”

  “Sort of.”

  “So come with me tomorrow. You don’t have to stay home from the party, Miss Goody Two-Shoes.”

  Abby shook her head. Then she stopped in her tracks. “What’s Pop’s car doing in the drive?” she asked. “Why is he home now? It’s only three-thirty.”

  Rose turned pale. “You don’t think Adele told him about my plan, do you?”

  “I don’t know. Probably not. And maybe nothing is wrong. But still.” Abby began to run. When she reached the porch, she bounded up the steps and flung the front door open.

  “I’ll bet it’s just something silly,” said Rose hopefully from behind her.

  But Abby found Mama sitting on an armchair in the parlor, crying, Pop standing next to her, looking grim. From the kitchen Abby could hear tight, anxious voices, and in a flash she was at the edge of the pond on that snowy December day again, watching Sarah fall unstoppably through the ice.

  “What’s wrong?” Abby whispered. She took off her coat and let it slide to the floor. “Where’s Adele? Where’s Fred? What’s the matter?”

  “Girls, come here,” said Mama. She pulled a hankie from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “Your father has something to tell you.” She glared at Pop, then reached for Abby’s hand. “Sit, sit.”

  Abby glanced at Rose and sat awkwardly on the edge of a horsehair sofa, pulling Rose down next to her. “What is it, Pop?”

  Pop cleared his throat. “I took Fred to a school today.”

  “You took Fred to a school?” Rose repeated. “What school?”

  “A very nice school where he can live with other children like himself.”

  “Live?” Abby gasped, and looked again at her mother’s eyes, swollen and puffy. Now she knew the reason for her tears. “Live?”

  “There’s a farm on the property where the children grow vegetables,” Pop continued, “and there are yards to play in, and beautiful dormitories. The teachers have been specially trained to work with the feebleminded. They’ll know just how to deal with Fred.”

  Abby jumped up from the sofa and cried, “But nobody knows how to take care of Fred like Sheila and I do!”

  “It’s a better place for him,” said Pop.

  “Better than his own home? Pop, he’s never spent a single night away from us. How could you just give him away?” Abby turned to her mother. “How could you let him?”

  Mama bowed her head. “I didn’t know he … I didn’t know what was going to happen.”

  “You did this in secret?” exclaimed Abby. She got to her feet, but Rose shoved her back onto the couch and stepped toward Pop.

  “Tell us about the classrooms at this school,” said Rose. “Tell us what kind of learning Fred is going to get.”

  Abby yanked Rose’s hand, but to her surprise Pop regarded his daughters evenly. “He’ll learn what he can learn. And he’ll be with other people like himself.”

  “How old are these other people?” asked Rose.

  “Fred’s age all the way up to adult.”

  “I’ll bet there aren’t many other five-year-olds who get sent to institutions,” muttered Abby.

  “This is a school with —” Pop started to say.

  “You mean an institution,” Rose interrupted him.

  “This is a school with a dining hall and playgrounds. And nurses and doctors. They’ll work with Fred. So will the teachers. He’ll learn to walk and talk, maybe even read.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us about this wonderful school before now?” asked Abby.

  Pop frowned at her, but before he could say anything, Rose asked, “Where is the school?”

  “In Powell.”

  Powell. Sixty miles away.

  Mama stood and brushed her hands briskly down her front, as if she were wearing an apron, which she wasn’t. “I insist that we bring Fred back immediately,” she said, addressing the fireplace.

  “No,” said Pop.

  “What’s the name of this school? I’ll go there myself and bring him home.”

  “How? You don’t even know how to drive.”

  Mama spun around and faced Pop. “Mike will take me there. Or I’ll take a train. I’ll find the school even if you won’t tell me its name.”

  “Nell,” said Pop, “I simply don’t understand why you would want to deprive Fred of an opportunity like this. Weren’t you listening to me? This is a beautiful place — hills and barns and lots of children for Fred to play with. You want that for him,
don’t you?”

  “Fred’s never been away from home. He doesn’t know anyone but us. He must be terrified.” Mama put her hand to her throat.

  “How could you do this without even letting us say good-bye to him?” asked Rose.

  “It was better this way,” Pop replied. “Surely you can see that. I didn’t want to upset him.”

  “Abby,” said Rose, “do something!”

  Abby frowned. “How many other kids there are Fred’s age?” she asked.

  “Plenty. Enough for a whole dormitory of five-year-olds.”

  “Do you really think Fred will learn to walk now?” Abby had spent an entire summer trying to teach him herself.

  “Definitely.”

  Rose gaped at Abby. “You’re taking Pop’s side? He took away your own baby brother and abandoned him in a strange place —”

  “Rose,” said Pop, in a voice barely above a whisper. “Get upstairs right now.”

  “Stay where you are, Rose,” said Mama, just as quietly. “Luther, if we aren’t going to bring Fred home for good, then I insist that we visit him immediately.”

  Pop shook his head. “We aren’t allowed to visit for six months. That’s how long it takes the … students to settle in.”

  Mama sank back into her chair. Pop glanced at Rose, who ran upstairs. Then he knelt beside Mama.

  “Look, Nell,” he said, and placed his hand on her arm.

  Mama jerked away. “Don’t touch me. Do not ever touch me.”

  Abby tiptoed into the kitchen. She found Ellen and Sheila seated at the table. Sheila had pulled her apron to her face and was sobbing into it.

  “Fred is just like a baby. A baby,” cried Sheila. “You don’t give away a little baby.” Ellen patted her arm.

  “Where’s Adele?” asked Abby, and Sheila jumped.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. But where is Adele?”

  “Asleep,” Sheila replied, wiping her eyes. “She kept asking where Fred is and your father told her the fairies took him. She wore herself out crying.”

  Abby returned to the parlor. She found Pop standing next to the fireplace, staring out the window at the darkening street. “Where’s Mama?” she asked.

  Pop shrugged. “Probably in her room.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Abby said after a moment. “How could you do this behind our backs? You didn’t even let Mama say good-bye to Fred. Not even Mama. He’s her baby.”

  Pop turned. “I did what I thought was right.”

  “You did what you thought was easiest.”

  Pop whirled around and Abby fled up the stairs. She paused for a moment, and when she didn’t hear Pop’s footsteps behind her, she knocked on the door to Mama’s room.

  “Mama?” No answer. She opened the door anyway. Mama was seated in a chair, gazing out her window. A junco was perched on the bare branch of a tree.

  “Please go away, Abby.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I asked you to go away.”

  Abby passed the closed door to Adele’s room — the room that, until this morning, she had shared with Fred — and the closed door to Rose’s room, shut her own door, and sat on her bed. Maybe Fred would learn things at the school that she hadn’t been able to teach him. Maybe. But she would never, ever have done what Pop had done. He had given away a five-year-old, and he had broken Mama’s fragile heart.

  The new clothing store opened in Barnegat Point shortly after elderly Mr. Haworth closed his shop in January. Miss Amelia Compton, who had helped the ladies and young girls of Barnegat Point select their clothing at Haworth’s for nearly twenty years, refused the offer to work for Miss Irene Maynard, who had bought Haworth’s and immediately changed the name to Maynard’s. Miss Amelia said she had never worked for a woman and that she didn’t intend to start now. She added that it wasn’t natural for a woman to own her own business, and that, furthermore, Irene Maynard wasn’t actually Miss Maynard, but a divorcée — unlike Miss Amelia, who came by her spinsterhood honestly. Even worse, Irene Maynard used rouge, wore suggestive dresses and inappropriate hats, and occasionally smoked a pipe.

  Miss Amelia was extremely suspicious of Miss Irene Maynard, but the rest of Barnegat Point was fascinated by her. Everyone stopped by Maynard’s to take a look at the possible divorcée, if not to actually buy clothes from her.

  Maynard’s had been open for two months of dreary business when, on one of the first warm days of spring, Abby walked home from school alone, dawdling, missing Darcy and Maureen, who had both stayed home with colds, and daydreaming about Richard Lord, the new boy in her class. She passed the drugstore, noticing that Richard was there with two boys from Lewisport, passed the movie theatre, and then found herself looking in the window of Maynard’s. She studied the pastel-colored dresses on display, remembering the years when Mama had made new Easter dresses for her and Rose, and wondering whether she should go inside to try something on. She had no money for a dress, but surely Pop would want her to look nice in church on Sunday. He would give her the money for a new dress if she asked.

  The door to Maynard’s was flung open suddenly and Miss Maynard herself leaned out into the mild air. “Would you like to come inside and look around?” she asked Abby.

  “Oh, n —” Abby was about to say that she wouldn’t be able to buy anything just then, but instead found herself entering the little shop curiously.

  Miss Maynard held out her hand to Abby. “I’m Irene Maynard,” she said. The hand she offered was warm, and Abby held it for just an instant as she took in the sight of Barnegat Point’s newcomer. Miss Maynard was young, probably not ten years older than Abby, and she was wearing a polka-dotted dress cut low enough to fascinate every one of Abby’s classmates, male and female — and to outrage Pop. Her hair was piled high on her head, with wispy tendrils winding around her face. Abby studied its color long enough to decide that it was the result of an encounter with a bottle of bleach.

  Abby almost replied, “I know,” since everyone in town knew who Irene Maynard was, but she remembered her manners in time and said, “I’m Abby Nichols.” Then she added, “We used to shop here when this was Haworth’s.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you. Would you like to try on one of the dresses? The blue one, maybe? That’s a good color for you.”

  “I — Actually, I don’t have any money. I mean, I’d have to ask my father if I could buy the dress, and …”

  Miss Maynard looked Abby over from top to bottom, taking in her clothing (nicer, Abby knew, than the clothing of many of her classmates) and her schoolbooks. “Would you like to work here this summer?” she asked suddenly.

  “What?” said Abby.

  “Would you like a part-time job? I could use some help here. I’m running the store myself, which is fine while things are quiet, but in the summer I’m sure I’ll need another pair of hands.”

  “But I’ve never worked in a store,” Abby replied. “I’ve never had a job at all. I mean, except for working on the school annual, and that isn’t really a job.”

  “Are you a good student?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you organized?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “Do you think you could learn the job? Are you a quick study?”

  “Yes.”

  Miss Maynard smiled at Abby. “How old are you?”

  “I’ll be sixteen next month.”

  “Perfect. You have a job.”

  “I’d better ask my father for permission first.”

  “All right. Talk to him tonight and come see me again tomorrow.”

  Abby walked the rest of the way home, dreaming of being a working girl, even if it was just for the summer, and of earning her own money and getting a taste of independence. She’d be able to buy clothes without asking Pop for money, and she could spend all day in town working a cash register and never, ever telling little kids not to touch anything.

  Abby approached her house slowly. When she reached the lawn, sh
e glanced automatically at the window on the second floor, the one at the corner, facing the street. The shade was drawn. Abby sighed. She let herself inside, called hello to Ellen and Sheila, then climbed the stairs and knocked on her mother’s door.

  “Mama?” she said softly.

  When there was no answer, Abby cracked the door open and peeked into the darkened room. Mama was in bed asleep, still wearing her nightdress, breathing deeply and evenly. Abby closed the door again and tiptoed downstairs.

  She found Sheila and Adele in the kitchen, making cookies while Ellen started dinner.

  “Did Mama get up today?” Abby asked.

  “She has been asleep the whole long day,” Adele announced. “The whole long day.”

  Abby looked at Ellen, who nodded but said nothing.

  “Can I go outside now?” asked Adele.

  “As soon as I clean up this mess,” replied Sheila.

  “I’ll take her out,” said Abby. “It’s so nice today. Come on, Adele.”

  Abby and Adele walked hand in hand to the front porch and were sitting on the swing when Rose returned from school and ran into the house, announcing that she was starving.

  “Let’s play a game,” said Adele.

  “All right. What do you want to play?”

  Adele frowned. “Find Fred,” she said eventually.

  Abby looked sharply at her sister. “How do you play Find Fred?”

  “You get in the car and you drive around and around with Mike, and if you see any fairies, you ask them where they took Fred.”

  Abby pulled Adele into her lap. “You do know where Fred is, don’t you?” Adele shook her head. “He’s at school,” Abby reminded her.

  “You and Rose go to school and you come home every single day.”

  “But Pop took Fred to a special kind of school.”

  “Is he going to take me to a special kind of school?”

  “No. You can go to a regular school like Rose and I do.”

  “But why did Pop take —”

  “Abby! Hello!”

  “Hi, Wyman,” said Abby, startled, getting to her feet.

  “Hi, Wyman,” echoed Adele, even though she had never met the boy who was striding across the Nicholses’ lawn.