Abby in Wonderland

by Ann M. Martin

  I needed to find an answer — and I was afraid of what the answer might be.

  That evening, Mallory called to tell me about the beach party the BSC members had thrown at the Pikes’ house. I was glad to hear from her and to have something take my mind off my worries about Gram.

  Technically, Mallory, Jessi, Mary Anne, and Dawn weren’t baby-sitting, because Mr. and Mrs. Pike were at home. But the senior Pikes were staying in their bedroom, leaving my friends in charge of the party.

  That afternoon, while Anna and I were working on Wonderland in our grandparents’ yard, Dawn, Mary Anne, Jessi, Mallory, and the Pike kids created a beach setting for their party.

  Apparently, they did a great job transforming the backyard. From the way Mallory described it, the result was a cross between Sea City and a tropical paradise.

  A little asking around had produced three more borrowed kiddie pools. Nicky came up with the bright idea of draping the garden hose over a branch of the apple tree and letting it pour into one of the pools, creating a waterfall effect.

  Dawn insisted that he keep the flow to a trickle so they wouldn’t waste water. “It’s going into an empty pool,” Jessi pointed out. “If we wanted to fill this pool we’d use the same amount of water. We’ll turn it off when it’s full.” Even Dawn couldn’t argue with that.

  Vanessa had found some pink flamingo lawn ornaments and staked them around the backyard as beach birds.

  As you may have suspected, her plan to capture a seagull never panned out. But Dawn had found her mother’s CD of beach sounds, which included the cries of seagulls along with the crash of waves. She plugged her boom box into an outdoor outlet and put everyone in the mood by playing the ocean sounds while they worked.

  The triplets dragged two beach umbrellas from the garage and set them up. Beach towels were spread out around the pools. Pails and shovels were tossed into the sandbox.

  Vanessa and Margo set out cookies, popcorn, and lemonade on a picnic table, with a large hand-drawn sign marked REFRESHMENT STAND.

  Next to one of the pools, Nicky piled three milk crates on top of one another. He drew a large red cross on a piece of poster board and propped it against the crates.

  “What’s that?” Mallory asked him.

  “The lifeguard station,” Nicky replied, in a voice that implied it should have been obvious to her.

  “Who’s the lifeguard?” she asked.

  Nicky pulled a pair of very dark sunglasses from the pocket of his shorts and put them on. Then he produced a silver whistle on a lanyard from under his T-shirt and blasted it.

  “I guess you’re the lifeguard,” Mallory said wryly. “Silly of me to have asked. Remind me not to drown.”

  Just before four o’clock, when the party was scheduled to start, Mr. and Mrs. Pike strolled into the yard. “Wow!” Mrs. Pike said, gazing in all directions. “What a fantastic job.” Then she went back inside.

  Each kid had been given permission to invite one or two guests. They began arriving promptly at four o’clock.

  The first to arrive were Stacey and Charlotte Johanssen. Stacey had been baby-sitting for Charlotte, who is good friends with Vanessa Pike. Behind them came Jessi’s sister, Becca, who is also friends with Vanessa and Charlotte. (Aunt Cecelia dropped her off.)

  Claire had invited Hunter Bruno, Logan’s five-year-old brother. Logan brought him, and naturally Mary Anne was thrilled to have Logan there.

  The triplets had invited friends from their soccer team. Kristy arrived with her youngest brother, David Michael, whom Nicky had invited. And Marilyn and Carolyn, the Arnold twins, arrived as Margo’s guests.

  Dawn ejected the tranquil ocean sounds CD and loaded Mr. Pike’s Beach Boys CD into the player. When the opening notes of “Surfin’ U.S.A.” blasted from the speaker, a beach party mood settled on the crowd.

  Mallory and Jessi made their way to the middle of the yard with trays of small hot dogs wrapped in baked biscuit dough. (Mrs. Pike had prepared them.) “Who wants a pig-in-a-blanket?” they shouted. Everyone crowded around them.

  It wasn’t time to barbecue yet, so Mallory walked toward the sandbox, where Claire and Hunter were building a sand castle. Everything was going well, she thought as she surveyed the scene around her. Kids were playing, laughing, and eating. What a change from the depressing scene Mary Anne and Dawn had encountered the last time they were there.

  She was helping the little kids with their castle when suddenly — SPLAT! A yellow water balloon burst open on her knee, spraying her and the kids nearby too.

  “Hey!” Hunter shouted. Claire threw herself on the sand castle to protect it and wound up accidentally squashing it instead. Mallory looked in every direction but couldn’t locate the source of the balloon.

  She didn’t have to wait long to find out where it had come from. Within minutes, balloons began raining out of the apple tree. The triplets had climbed into the tree with garbage bags full of water balloons.

  Margo leaped up from her refreshment stand and raced into the house. She reappeared with a cellophane bag of balloons not yet blown up. “Come on, everybody!” she shouted. “Get them back!” In an instant she was distributing balloons to the others, who used the hose and pool water to fill them. As fast as they could fill them, the kids hurled the balloons up at the triplets in the tree.

  Mallory glanced at Jessi, Dawn, and Mary Anne. “Is this okay?” she asked them. On the one hand, the kids were having fun. On the other, someone might get hurt.

  “I don’t know,” Dawn admitted.

  While they were deciding what to do, Adam pulled the garden hose up from the lowest branch of the apple tree. He began aiming it at his attackers. The kids cried out as they were showered with hose water from above. It didn’t stop them from launching their balloons up at the triplets, though.

  “We’d better stop them,” Jessi said reluctantly.

  Mallory nodded. “I think so too. Something is bound to go —” She couldn’t complete her sentence because her jaw had dropped in horrified surprise.

  Mrs. Pike, alerted by the commotion, had come to her bedroom window and opened it to see what was going on. Unaware, Adam had attempted to blast David Michael, who stood just below the window. His aim was too high, and he soaked his mother instead.

  Dripping wet, Mrs. Pike stood at the window for a moment, wearing a look of complete surprise. Then she was gone.

  “Uh-oh,” Dawn said to Mary Anne.

  “Okay, that’s enough,” shouted Kristy, who’d seen what happened. She waved her arms like a basketball ref calling a violation. “Out of the tree, guys.”

  Adam, Jordan, and Byron were down in a flash.

  It took Mrs. Pike a little longer than Mallory expected to appear in the yard. But when she did appear Mallory cringed. Mrs. Pike’s face was stern and unamused. Would she make them stop the party?

  “Byron, Adam, Jordan, over here,” she commanded. Obediently, the triplets lined up side by side facing her. “I have only one thing to say to you,” she began.

  The boys hung their heads.

  With a quick movement she whipped something out from behind her back. It was one of those huge water blasters, a Super Soaker.

  “Got you back!” she cried gleefully as she sprayed her sons.

  “Aw, Mom!” Adam yelled as he tried to shield himself from the stream of water.

  Laughing, Mrs. Pike retreated into the house, still firing off ribbons of water.

  Another water balloon was launched, and the water fight started all over again.

  While Mallory was relating the events of the barbecue beach party, I was listening, but also deciding whether to tell her my suspicions about Gram. I desperately needed to talk to someone about it. Ever since I’d uncovered the breast cancer pamphlets, I’d been unable to concentrate on anything else. It was driving me crazy.

  Talking with Anna or Mom would betray a secret. (I know how angry Gram was with Aunt Leah and therefore how she felt about people who betrayed secrets.)
>
  Since Mallory wasn’t there, and wasn’t part of my family, she’d have been a good person to tell. Still … I couldn’t do it. For one thing, Mallory is only eleven.

  “So, the kids had their beach vacation, after all,” Mallory concluded. “Now Kristy’s looking forward to the beach. She can’t stop talking about coming out to see you.”

  “I can’t wait to see her,” I said. Maybe I could talk to her when she arrived.

  All the next day, Wednesday, I just wanted to run to Gram and hug her. There must be some way I could help her through this. But how? I felt helpless, and it was completely frustrating.

  Because I lost my father, I know how terrible it is to lose someone you love. But his death had been fast. There had been no warning. Gram Elsie was different. Something horrible might be coming but there might be time to stop it, if I only could figure out what to do.

  That day, I saw her sitting with an open letter, frowning. “What’s wrong?” I asked as I perched on the arm of the chair she sat in. My voice was probably a little too anxious, but I don’t think she noticed.

  “Oh, another person saying he can’t come,” she replied with a sigh. “This is the third refusal I’ve received since you asked me about it the other day.”

  Anger shot through me. The nerve of these people, saying no to Gram’s party! “Who is it? And why isn’t he or she coming?” I demanded.

  “Oh, this is from Uncle Izzy, Grandpa’s brother,” she told me, waving the letter. “He says he has a convention to attend. I received a letter from your cousin Jean yesterday saying she can’t find a sitter she trusts. I don’t understand why she can’t bring her kids.”

  “Why don’t you call her and tell her it would be okay?” I asked.

  “I can’t call everyone to twist their arms into coming,” she objected. “If they wanted to come, they’d find a way. Maybe they just don’t want to come.” As she said this her expression grew sadder and sadder. “Who knows if I’ll ever see the family together again.”

  I looked hard at Gram Elsie. Her eyes are so dark, like Mom’s, that it isn’t usually easy to read her thoughts there. Still, I thought I saw something in them now that I hadn’t seen before. What was it? Sorrow? Loneliness? Fear?

  “This party seems more important to you than in other years,” I observed.

  “It is, Abby,” she admitted. “And there’s a reason.”

  My body tensed. She was going to tell me about her illness. No matter what, I was determined to stay calm and listen. I couldn’t upset Gram by becoming upset myself. “What’s the reason?” I asked with a slight croak in my voice.

  “Perhaps it’s because I’m getting older. When you reach a certain age you start thinking about family in a different way. If we old-timers don’t bind the family together, pass on the traditions and the history, then who will? I feel it’s part of my responsibility as a senior member of this family.”

  “Oh,” I said in a small voice. I felt let down that Gram hadn’t taken me into her confidence as I’d expected. But I also felt an odd sort of relief. Maybe those pamphlets had nothing to do with Gram. As long as I didn’t know for sure that Gram had breast cancer, there was still a chance I was mistaken.

  Grandpa Morris came in from the outdoors. The smear of dirt on his T-shirt and the trowel in his hand told me he’d been gardening. “Elsie,” he said to Gram. “I was looking at the dining area of Wonderland, to the left of the throne. I’m wondering if it’s going to be hard for people to maneuver around that column when they try to reach the buffet table.”

  Gram set her letter down on the coffee table beside me. “You might have a point,” she agreed, standing up from her chair. “Let’s go take a look.”

  She went out again with Grandpa, but I didn’t follow. Instead, I sat awhile longer, thinking about the conversation we’d just had.

  Gram had said she wanted to see everyone again just because she was getting old and the family was her responsibility, but I didn’t buy it. She wasn’t that old. She wasn’t even the oldest relative. Why should it be her job?

  No, I felt sure there was another reason. She wanted to see everyone this summer because she had a specific reason for thinking that she might not have another summer. As much as I didn’t want to believe that, it was the only conclusion I could come to.

  My gaze drifted down to the letter beside me. My Dearest Elsie, it began. Your parties are always such an event and it’s marvelous to see the family, but this year I regret that business calls me away to …

  I put the letter down. Here I was, reading a piece of personal mail addressed to somebody else. Not knowing if Gram was all right was making me do desperate things.

  Then it hit me. There was something I could do for Gram. I could make sure all these no-show relatives turned up. Nothing else I might do would make her happier.

  It even occurred to me that if everyone came, it might lift Gram’s spirits so much that it would help make her well. I remembered another of Mom’s self-help audiotapes by some guy who claimed to have used laughter to cure himself of cancer. He said a good mental attitude was an important part of a person’s cure.

  Where would I begin? Glancing again at Uncle Izzy’s letter, I saw that it was typed on letterhead with his business phone number on it. It was a weekday. Maybe I could reach him at work.

  Mom, Anna, and Corley were at the beach. Gram and Grandpa were outside. This might be a good time to try. Who knew when I’d have the house to myself again?

  With the letter in my hand, I hurried to the kitchen phone and punched in Uncle Izzy’s business number. I hadn’t seen him in awhile, but I could picture him — tall, like Grandpa, only balding, with his sparse remaining hair combed across the bald spot. The receptionist answered and I asked for Izzy Goldberg. “One minute,” she said, and then classical music came onto the line. I was on hold. Suddenly, I realized I should have planned what I was going to say.

  “Hello?” Uncle Izzy’s voice startled me.

  I cleared my throat and began talking. “Hi, it’s Abby Stevenson, your great-niece.”

  “Abby!” His voice was warm.

  “I’m calling about Gram Elsie’s party,” I began. “She doesn’t know I’m calling but …” I hesitated. I couldn’t tell him I was worried about her health. That wouldn’t be right. “I — I saw how disappointed she was today when your letter came. She said, um … ‘Without Izzy here it won’t be the same. He’s always the life of the party.’ ”

  All right, I admit it. It was a lie. She hadn’t said it. I don’t know if she even thought it. Honestly, I didn’t recall Uncle Izzy being all that lively. But Gram did want him there, and that was what mattered.

  “She said that?” Uncle Izzy asked, sounding very pleased. “What do you know?”

  “It’s very important to her that you come,” I added, which was true. He asked me to hang on a minute. The classical music returned.

  While I waited, I gazed out the kitchen window. I could see Gram and Grandpa rearranging some of the props we’d set up with Molly the day before. Gram bent over to push the throne back a bit. Grandpa practically leaped to her side. I could see from his gestures he was telling her he’d do it. To my surprise, she let him.

  I remembered that he’d insisted on pulling the wagon to the beach the other day. Again, she’d allowed him to help. For months Gram had been doing things for Grandpa, trying to keep him from straining himself. Somehow the situation had reversed. At first I’d thought it was because Grandpa was feeling better. Now I wondered if it was something more. Was he protecting her the way she’d been protecting him?

  Uncle Izzy returned to the line. “All right, Abby, you convinced me. I’m sending my assistant to the convention. Tell Elsie I’m coming.”

  Uh-oh. I couldn’t. “Since she doesn’t know I called, would you mind calling to say you’ll be there?” I asked. “She might feel funny if she knew I’d called to bug you.”

  “Certainly, dear,” he agreed. We chatted a little more
and then I said good-bye.

  I was standing there wondering how I could find some of the other phone numbers I needed when the front door opened. A thin, dark-haired woman came in, holding a baby.

  “Abby, hi!” Aunt Miriam sang out.

  For a moment, at least, I forgot my worries as I ran to sweep my cuddly, sweet, little cousin into my arms.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” I told Aunt Miriam as I cuddled Daniel in my arms. He’s not even a year old yet — and he’s adorable!

  “Thanks. I’m glad to see you too.” Miriam held me in an intense gaze for a moment. “Is there some reason you’re particularly glad to see me? Is everything all right?”

  Wow! Do I ever give myself away. I’ve been told you can see everything I’m thinking right on my face. In addition, I think Aunt Miriam is especially sharp. She often picks up on things that aren’t stated. Mom used to be like that before she became so devoted to her job. Now I think sometimes her head is so filled with work she doesn’t notice small, subtle stuff anymore.

  Anyway, Aunt Miriam’s perceptive remark only further endeared her to me. As I mentioned earlier, I haven’t known Aunt Miriam very long. I first met her when she was sick in the hospital. Back then, I didn’t know what to think of her. She’d dropped Daniel on our front porch and left. We didn’t even know who he belonged to until Mom figured it out.

  During the time Daniel was with us, I became super-attached to him. Then Miriam lived with us for a short while when she came out of the hospital. That’s when I got to know her a little. She was going through a difficult time, but she had a sharp sense of humor, which emerged more and more as she began to feel better.

  And she was very insightful. “Spill it, Abby,” she said lightly. “What’s been going on around here?”

  At that instant I was tempted to tell her everything. I even opened my mouth to say it. No words came out, though. My conscience must have stopped me.