The Penderwicks in Spring

by Jeanne Birdsall

  Up Gardam Street they went, calmly enough except for Cilantro suddenly forgetting what the wagon was, and barking at it. But Batty got him back under control and was almost feeling good about her dog-walking skills when, just as they reached the Geigers’ house, Nick appeared on the doorstep, calling out hello. Duchess, thinking he was calling hello to her, lunged toward him. Cilantro, thinking the same thing, lunged away from him. Then the situation worsened. Ben came flying out of the Penderwicks’ house, as though he’d been watching out the window in case Nick appeared—which he had been—and the addition to the scene of a shrieking boy caused Duchess and Cilantro to change directions, but oppositely, until Batty, hopelessly snarled in the two leashes, her legs bound together, toppled over onto the wagon. As she fell, she realized that this was the stupidest possible way to first see Nick, as he would be certain to link her inability to keep upright with her lack of ability at sports.

  As Nick and Ben came over to rescue her, it was Cilantro rather than Duchess who Batty feared would have the heart attack, as he tried frantically to run away, tightening even more the leash wrapped around Batty.

  Until Nick planted himself in Cilantro’s path and spoke quietly but firmly. “Sit. Stay.”

  To Batty’s surprise—and Cilantro’s, too, she thought—he sat, and so did Duchess, the whole fat redness of her. And they stayed.

  “How did you do that?” asked Batty.

  “Talent.” Nick gave her the smile that Rosalind always called the irresistible Geiger grin, except when she was annoyed with Tommy (and then she didn’t call it anything at all). “Ben, you hold the dogs’ collars, and I’ll get your sister out of her mess.”

  “Yankee-Echo-Sierra, Sierra-India-Romeo,” said Ben.

  “No, no, none of that Sir stuff. Not while I’m on leave. Call me, I don’t know, how about Mr. Fabulous?”

  “Good grief,” said Batty.

  “Good grief yourself.” Nick unhooked both leashes and unwound them, freeing Batty. “These are your new clients? Mom told me you started a dog-walking business.”

  “Actually, I wanted to do dusting and companionship, but nobody needed me for that. I didn’t think I should walk dogs, because of—you know.”

  Nick understood. “I’m sorry about Hound. That was a sad day when I heard.”

  Batty tried to imagine Nick feeling sad about Hound in the middle of fighting a war.

  “Weren’t you—” She paused, feeling awkward. “I mean—you weren’t too busy to think about home?”

  “Some days home was all I thought about. Not you, necessarily, you understand.” There was Nick’s grin again, and the air was cleared.

  “When can we start playing basketball?” asked Ben.

  “Not while it’s snowing. We’ve got lots of time. I’ll be home until the first Sunday in May.”

  “But that’s my birthday!” said Batty. “You can’t leave on my birthday!”

  “You really can’t,” said Ben, who would have said that about any day if it would keep Nick with them longer.

  “I won’t leave until after your party, okay? The army can do without me for an extra twelve hours.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And for your birthday present, I’ll help train you in whatever sport you’ve selected.”

  “I’ve told you a million times that I don’t want a sport.”

  “Sure you do. Sports build character.”

  Batty thought she already had plenty of character. But there definitely was something she didn’t have. “Can you teach me how to make the dogs obey?”

  “First you have to believe they will obey you. It’s all a matter of self-confidence. Go ahead, tell yourself that you’re the boss, then give them a command.”

  I’m the boss, thought Batty.

  “Duchess, Cilantro, lie down,” she said.

  They ignored her.

  “I’m the boss,” said Batty out loud. “Lie down. No, Duchess, no.”

  Duchess was jumping up on Ben, trying to lick his face.

  “I’m definitely not the boss,” said Batty.

  “We’ll work on it later,” said Nick. “Right now I’m getting out of this crazy snow and going back to sleep.”

  But he wasn’t allowed to sleep just yet. While Batty pulled away the dogs, Skye and Jane, with Lydia swinging wildly between them, burst out of their front door and flew across Gardam Street to pounce on him and smother him with sisterly affection.

  When Batty got back home after the dog walk, she heard lots of banging coming from upstairs. She ran up and found the source—Lydia’s room, where Skye and Jane were assembling the new big-girl bed that had just been delivered by a truck.

  “Where’s Lydia?” Batty asked them.

  “Under the crib,” said Jane.

  “Did Nick scare her?”

  “Of course not. She fell in love with him immediately.”

  “She doesn’t like the new bed,” explained Skye. “See if you can talk sense into her.”

  Batty lay flat on the floor. Yes, there was Lydia hunched under her crib, clinging to the bottom of the mattress like it was a life raft.

  “Aren’t you excited about your new bed?” Batty asked her.

  “Lydia’s bed,” said Lydia, getting a better grip on the crib mattress.

  “This is your bed now,” said Skye, pointing at the big-girl bed with a screwdriver.

  “And it’s a pretty bed,” added Jane.

  The white wooden bed frame sat low to the ground and had violets sprinkled across the headboard. Even better, in Batty’s mind, was the long drawer that fit underneath. She dragged a reluctant Lydia out from under the crib so that she could see it.

  “Think of what you can keep in that drawer,” she said. “Books, toys!”

  “Your crown!” Jane slid the drawer out and in as demonstration. “It would be right there with you when you sleep.”

  “No me gusta,” said Lydia.

  Jane and Batty both looked at Skye. They recognized Spanish when they heard it, even if they didn’t know what it meant.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have taught her that one,” said Skye.

  “And it means?” asked Jane.

  “It means she doesn’t like it—i.e., the bed. But in my defense, we were discussing Flashvan’s bumper stickers at the time.”

  Batty grabbed Lydia, who was now trying to pull herself up into the crib.

  “I didn’t know she could climb in,” said Jane.

  “There’s so much we don’t know about her.” Skye took Lydia and hoisted her up high. “You’ll rule the world, right, Lydia? King Banana Head! ¡El Rey Cabeza de Plátano!”

  But Lydia wanted only the familiar comfort of her crib. Skye put her there while they finished up with the new bed, hammering and bolting and finally smoothing on fresh sheets and a new lavender quilt. When even these wondrous sights didn’t convince Lydia, it was soon clear she wasn’t ready to abandon her crib.

  “So I guess you have two beds, Lydia,” said Batty.

  “Lucky princess!” said Jane.

  Lydia covered her face with Baby Zingo. It took Iantha coming home to uncover her again, mostly by reassuring her that she could continue to sleep in the crib until she was used to the idea of a big-girl bed. Knowing Lydia’s tenacity, everyone agreed that could be never.

  Batty went to her piano lesson prepared to stay overnight at Keiko’s house. By then, school closings had already been announced for the next day, and the girls had convinced both sets of parents that a sleepover was thus not only reasonable but also a perfect opportunity to get lots of homework done.

  They did do some homework that night, a little math, plus making a list of examples of gerunds, trying but failing to top the one Henry had already come up with in class: “Studying grammar isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” They also read up on Babylon and its famous hanging gardens, on which they’d volunteered to give a brief verbal presentation on Monday.

  “Whoa,” said Keiko, staring down at one of t
he books. “Nobody knows if these gardens really existed! This is like studying the Kingdom of Wisdom in history class.”

  “But that would be fun,” said Batty. The Phantom Tollbooth was yet another book much too wonderful to wreck with a book report. “Anyway, whatever we do, we’ll be better than Henry and Vasudev. They’re going to say that beings from other star systems descended to earth to build the Great Pyramid.”

  “Still, maybe we should have picked Stonehenge.”

  “Ginevra is doing Stonehenge.”

  They exchanged woeful looks, picturing Ginevra getting extra points by making a tiny clay model of Stonehenge, with real grass and piped-in birdsong.

  “Yesterday Abby told me that Melle told her that Ginevra likes Vasudev,” said Keiko.

  “That doesn’t mean that Vasudev likes Ginevra,” said Batty.

  “Yes, it probably does.”

  Keiko had a point. There was a sweet cuteness about Ginevra, plus her extra-good behavior in school, that seemed to draw the boys to her. Batty didn’t know why. But she thought it too soon for Keiko to surrender the field, especially since Ginevra had just that day turned in two more book reports—causing Ms. Rho to tape another extension to the chart. While in her heart Batty knew that Ginevra was a nice person, she sometimes couldn’t help wondering if nice people could also be show-offs.

  “Don’t give up on Vasudev,” she said.

  “I won’t, and there’s still Henry. Plus, Eric the sixth grader smiled at me in the cafeteria yesterday, except Kait Feldmann was standing next to me, so he could have been smiling at her. She’s awfully interesting and pretty, don’t you think?”

  “So are you. I’m sure he was smiling at you.”

  “Maybe. I’ve decided to give up on Ryan. Too much competition for movie stars, like from millions of people.” Discouraged, Keiko stared at the ceiling.

  “Don’t worry,” said Batty. “Maybe you won’t feel like getting a crush for years and years, and by then you’ll have met lots more possibilities.”

  “And maybe by then you’ll feel like it, too.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I know, I know. Musica anima mea est.”

  “Oh, Keiko, am I obnoxious about that?”

  “No, no. It’s—I don’t know—thrilling. Like you’ve dedicated yourself to a cause. Like being a Jedi warrior.” Keiko jumped up and rushed over to her closet. “That reminds me.”

  She pulled out an armful of long, glistening dresses of various colors and tossed them on the bed.

  “What are these?”

  “For your Grand Eleventh Birthday Concert! They’re my mom’s ancient prom dresses. She said you should wear whichever one you want.”

  Batty held one up to her, a silvery concoction with poufy sleeves. It was too long and had a few places that Batty wouldn’t fill out for several more years. “Keiko! I’d look ridiculous!”

  “Maybe they’re a little big.” Keiko held up a different dress, this one a deep royal blue. “Try this on anyway. Please.”

  They both ended up trying on several of the dresses, parading around until they tripped on them, which made so much noise that Mrs. Trice arrived and told them to settle down and get into bed.

  Keiko fell asleep immediately, but Batty lay awake for a long time, watching the snow and thinking about her birthday concert. It was now only seventeen days until her birthday, which meant sixteen until Rosalind came home, and only nine until Skye’s birthday. So nine days until Jeffrey came to visit and Batty could sing for him.

  Just thinking about it brought music bubbling up. She put herself to sleep by singing quiet lullabies into the pillow.

  THE SNOW FELL THROUGH THAT NIGHT and into the next day, smothering Gardam Street. The moment it stopped, and even while Skye and Jane shoveled the Penderwicks’ driveway, Batty was stomping away at the cold wet stuff, determined to get spring back as quickly as possible. She enlisted the dogs to help, coaxing Duchess to shove her way into the snow, her broad chest acting like a miniature snowplow and leaving behind a print that Ben and Rafael hoped was from a wormlike alien out of the Alpha Centauri system. Cilantro didn’t need coaxing. He took to the snow as his natural environment, bounding stiff-legged through drifts, except when a snowplow came to clear the street, which made him hide behind Batty.

  Then overnight the temperature zoomed up and water poured off the roofs and into the gutters and downspouts, along the driveways and into the street, where rivulets chuckled into the storm drains. Only the most stubborn snow was left behind, and the warm soaking rain that came next took care of that, and spring was back for real. Teensy mauve budlets appeared on lilac bushes, the forsythia were suddenly all bright, waving yellow, and when early the next week the first crimson azalea blooms arrived, Lieutenant Geiger woke up again and reentered life.

  Ben shadowed him, and Rafael, too, imitating the way he walked and asking innumerable questions about basketball and anything else they could think of, until the neighborhood was filled with loud chatter, bouncing balls, and running feet. Nick offered to get Lydia started on basketball, too, but she preferred dancing and thought he’d come home just to watch her twirl and leap. This he did with much patience, though sometimes from behind sunglasses, which made Batty wonder if he was staying awake through each recital. Skye and Jane he persuaded to rise at dawn for early-morning runs, and when they couldn’t keep up with him, he put them on a fitness regimen, which he supervised.

  Batty resisted all Nick’s attempts to get her involved in any sport or fitness programs, but she did work with him on dog-training. She wanted Duchess and Cilantro to be accepting her authority by the time Jeffrey arrived for Skye’s birthday, but the week passed and it was now Friday, with only one day left, and Batty had to admit they’d gotten nowhere.

  “Heel,” she said with little hope as the three of them wandered up Gardam Street, the dogs with their leashes tangled together once again. “But if you can’t heel, since you’re all twisted up, you should at least go in the same direction.”

  Yet they tugged and yanked, and Cilantro barked at a mailbox that he was certain had never been there before. At least there was no longer the complication of the red wagon—Duchess hadn’t needed it for several days now. If she wasn’t good at following Batty’s commands, at least she had lost weight. Her funny dachshund tummy was further off the ground, her harness now loose enough to slip and jiggle.

  When they reached the Geigers’ house, the two dogs finally decided to pull together, toward the front step, where Nick sat overlooking a large percentage of the Penderwick crew. Skye and Jane were doing sit-ups on the lawn, and Lydia danced around them, the sun glinting off her crown. Only Ben was absent, gone to Rafael’s house after school to dig up rocks and dream up a movie about basketball-playing aliens.

  The dogs gave quick identifying sniffs to Skye and Jane—and Duchess paused to give Lydia a big kiss—but Nick was their goal, their love.

  “Sit,” said Nick when they arrived, and the dogs sat. “Batty, if you can wait a few minutes, I’ll walk Duchess and Cilantro with you. We’re almost done here.”

  “Thank goodness,” said Jane, and flopped down flat, done with sit-ups.

  “I said almost done, Penderwick. Twenty more.” Nick rubbed both dogs’ heads, sending them into ecstasy.

  Jane didn’t move. “Nick, you’re killing me.”

  “Your sister hasn’t stopped. Get going.”

  “Aren’t you worn out yet?” Jane asked Skye.

  “Of course I am.” Skye determinedly bobbed up and down. “But I won’t give him the satisfaction.”

  “You’ll be glad I kept you in shape when you hit the temptations of college,” said Nick. “When Rosalind gets home, she’ll tell you I’m right.”

  “Lucky Rosalind, who won’t get home until you’re just about to leave again.” Jane went back to doing sit-ups.

  “Jane didn’t mean that,” said Batty.

  “Yes, she did,” said Skye.

  “No back talk,
grunts,” barked Nick, but with a side smile for Batty. “C’mon, let’s see you make these dogs obey.”

  “They won’t.”

  “They certainly won’t if you keep up that attitude. Try to make them come to you.”

  Batty handed him the leashes, then walked ten feet away. Their leashes weren’t that long, but she knew they wouldn’t listen to her, so it made no difference.

  “Duchess, Cilantro,” she said. “Come!”

  They continued to stare at Nick, but Lydia did dance over to Batty, proudly bearing a bright dandelion she’d plucked from the lawn.

  “Flower,” she said.

  “Is that for me?” said Batty.

  “No. Nick.” Lydia danced away, on the hunt for more dandelions.

  Batty turned back to the dogs. “Come over here, you monsters.”

  “Make them look at you first,” said Nick.

  “Duchess, Cilantro,” tried Batty. “Eyes to me!”

  When they wouldn’t even look at her, Batty gave up and went back to sit with Nick, marveling at his easy authority.

  “Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty.” Jane fell, panting, onto the ground.

  Skye also finished her sit-ups, though too proud to pant. “I can’t believe we made all those Welcome Home signs for Nick, can you, Jane?”

  “We did it because Ben missed him, not because we did.”

  “They don’t mean that,” Batty told Nick.

  “Yes, we do,” said Jane.

  “Twenty-five push-ups for insubordination,” said Nick.

  Groaning, Jane and Skye rolled over and started on their push-ups as Lydia brought Nick a fat handful of dandelions.

  “Lydia loves Nick,” she said.

  “And Nick loves Lydia,” he replied. “Give me your crown.”

  “She won’t,” said Batty.

  But Lydia took off her crown and handed it over, then watched as Nick deftly wove the dandelions around the spikes.

  “Lydia is a princess,” she told Duchess. “Snow White.”

  “Woof,” said Duchess.

  “And Cilantro can be a count,” said Batty, so that no one would feel un-royal.

  Finished with his weaving, Nick set the crown, now bright with living gold, onto Lydia’s glowing curls. “You’re definitely no Snow White with that red hair.”