Don't Let the Wind Catch You

by Aaron Paul Lazar

  A face appeared in my mind's eye. Gentle, wise, soft eyes.

  Millie Stone.

  Chapter Fifty-one

  After dinner, my father brought me to the living room and motioned to the couch. I sat straight as a board, hoping he had good news about me visiting Tully.

  "Your mother and I talked. She's not happy with the whole thing, but she agreed that as long as you're supervised, you can visit Mr. Tully."

  I jumped up. "Really?"

  "Whoa, there. Sit back down." He glanced towards the kitchen where my mother stood without humming her usual tunes at the sink. It had been a strained dinner. Polite. Quiet. Awful.

  "It's taken a great deal of strength for your mother to acknowledge your friendship with Mr. Tully. She loves you, son, and wants you to be happy. She's trying hard not to let her past get in the way. You will need to be very nice to her. Extra special nice."

  I perched on the edge of the cushion. "Oh, Dad. I will. I will. When can we go?"

  He picked up the phone that sat on the side table and dialed. "First you're going to call him and see if it's okay."

  "Me?" I started to sweat. I rarely called anyone but the twins.

  "Yes, you. I spoke with Eudora earlier and asked if it would be okay. She said he's weak, but he wants to see you." He handed me the receiver.

  I pressed it hard against my ear and played with the cord with my free hand.

  "Information Desk."

  "Um. Can I please speak with Mr. Tully? Zachariah Tully?"

  "Hold on. I'll connect you."

  The phone rang four times before Tully picked up. His voice sounded hoarse, as if he'd had tubes down his throat. I hadn't ever seen anyone after surgery, but imagined him with tubes and wires coming out of everywhere. My hands grew clammy.

  "Hello?"

  "Mr. Tully? It's me, Gus."

  "Oh, thank God. Dear boy, I need to ask you a favor."

  My heart thumped in my neck. "Of course. Anything. But please, tell me if you're okay first."

  He coughed for a long time, and then finally answered. "They say I'll be fine in a few months. I have to stay here for two weeks, though. And go through some kind of darned rehab. Eudora's been doing all the talking with the doctors."

  "I'm glad she's there with you, Mr. Tully."

  "I'm tired, boy. Can we make this short?"

  My cheeks flushed. "Of course."

  "Listen. I need you to check on Penni. I haven't heard from her or sensed her since the fire. She's usually too afraid to come with me into the village, so she's probably floating around the house wondering what happened to me."

  I thought back to the first day we'd met, when he'd been arguing with Penni about coming into town with him. Since yesterday, I'd pictured her by his side in the hospital, but I'd been way off base. "Sure I will. I'll head over there in the morning, if you want?"

  "Good."

  "Is that all?"

  "No, there's one more thing. And this is very important, boy. Crucially important."

  "What is it?"

  "I need you to hide my metal box. You know the one."

  "Of course. The one with all the pictures in it."

  "Right. Hide it under my porch, or somewhere Eudora won't find it. I can't have her—"

  "What?"

  "I don't want to break her heart, Gus. Just do as I say. And don't look inside, okay?"

  "Okay."

  "Promise?"

  I crossed my heart, even though he couldn't see me. "I promise."

  "Good. Let me talk to your father, if he's there."

  I handed the phone to my father and listened while it seemed Tully explained that he'd asked me to tend to a few things at his place. "Why, I'm sure that would be okay, Mr. Tully. Gus can keep an eye on your place while you're laid up. Eudora's got enough on her hands, doesn't she?"

  After a few more minutes, they hung up. My father stared at me.

  "Well, it seems you have a job to do. He wants you to close all the windows and stack the rest of the wood under the eaves to dry. He was about to move the pile when you three went looking for that document."

  "I'll do it for free."

  "Of course you will, son." He patted my head. "Do it tomorrow morning, and I'll take you to visit him after dinner. Sound like a plan?"

  "Yup." I started to head upstairs, but he grabbed my hand as I passed.

  "And remember. Be extra special—"

  "—nice to Mum. I know. I won't forget." I'd already planned a few nice things I could do for her. Make her a card. Help her with the dishes. There were lots of little things I could do to help her out and let her know I was thankful for her leniency.

  "That's my boy." He settled in his chair, opened his Agatha Christie book to the bookmark, and shooed me away with his hands. "Now go work on that summer reading list."

  Chapter Fifty-two

  I arrived at Tully's cabin at eight-thirty the next morning. Mr. Marggrander had impulsively taken a day off from work and had whisked the twins and their mother to Stony Brook State Park for a picnic and swim in the river. They'd invited me, but I declined, knowing I had business to tend to at Tully's.

  I slid from Pancho's comfy back and tied him to the usual bushes near the woods. He reached up high, ripping leaves from the maple tree that hung overhead. I chuckled, realizing we had a lot in common. His legs might have been covered in fur, but they were as hollow as mine. He never stopped eating.

  The air still carried a faint scent of wet, charred wood. I hadn't realized the fire at the homestead would permeate the woods so completely with such an intense smell. Although the sun shone overhead and the trees lay still in the windless morning, I had a hard time forgetting my rain-soaked flight on foot and horseback just two days ago. A shiver ran up my spine, but I squared my shoulders and patted Pancho's rump. "Be good, now. Don't get into any trouble out here."

  He ignored me, munching on leaves with his eyes closed.

  I tromped toward the front door, then stopped dead halfway there. I looked up to the treetops, on the roof, and around the property. "Penni?"

  Nothing.

  Inside, I went straight for the box. Tully had left it on the bottom shelf of the side table near the couch, and it looked untouched as far as I could tell.

  I hefted the cool metal in my hands and stared at it.

  What did Tully so badly want to hide from his sister? How could a bunch of old photographs be the cause of so much fear?

  As sorely tempted as I was to peek inside, I stopped myself. After screwing up so bad with my mother over the past few weeks, lying to my parents, and basically feeling like a rotten sneak, I had to be harder on myself. I needed to stay true to my word.

  I shoved it under my arm, walked back out to the porch, and slammed into Eudora Brown.

  She toppled backwards, lost her balance, and slid to the ground. I landed across her stomach, and the box went flying, sending photos shooting across the porch floorboards.

  She raised a hand to her head and opened and closed her eyes a few times, dazed. "Gus?"

  "It's just me, Mrs. Brown. Sorry."

  I scrambled off her and began stuffing the pictures frantically into the box, with my back to her. I got them shuffled inside and slid the box behind a rustic barrel that held kindling. She rose slowly, dabbing a handkerchief against a small scratch on her arm. Thankful she was distracted, I turned to help her up and prayed she hadn't noticed the box.

  "Are you okay, Mrs. Brown?" I led her inside to the couch. "I didn't mean to ram into you like that. I guess I wasn't looking where I was going."

  "It's okay, dear. Just shocked me, is all. I didn't know you'd be here."

  I gulped. Did she think I'd been stealing stuff?

  "Mr. Tully asked me to stop by." I said it in a whiny voice that embarrassed me the minute the words escaped my lips.

  "Oh, honey. I know. I just didn't know you'd be here this early in the morning. I was going to check out the place to be sure there wasn't anything that wo
uld spoil or attract animals. I didn't know if Zak had left any food out, or…" She got up and puttered around the cabin as if she hadn't ever seen it. "Oh, my. He really is living the life of a hermit, isn't he?"

  I didn't think she was actually talking to me. She muttered the words and seemed to be pouring over the utensils and food cabinet with morbid fascination. "No refrigeration? No electricity? How am I going to take care of him in such a place?"

  She opened the big black woodstove and chuckled. "I remember this very same stove from our childhood. He must've moved it from the big house. Miracle it still works."

  "He keeps the place really clean though, doesn't he?" I felt the tug to defend Tully. He liked living like this, and didn't seem to feel he was missing out on anything important.

  "Oh, he does. It's neat as a pin. He always was a tidy fellow."

  "Er. I'm supposed to stack some wood. I guess I'll just head out and—"

  She flipped her fingers at me with an absentminded gesture. "Of course. You do what you came here for. I'm just trying to get the lay of the land. They said he can recuperate at home in a few weeks, but I'm not sure this is going to work. I think I'll have to find some other accommodations."

  I shook my head, knowing Tully would fight it. He wouldn't live in somebody's guest room or a nursing home or even a hotel. He needed to be in his woods with Penni.

  She followed me to the door, and checked the latch. "No locks. My goodness."

  A white piece of paper fluttered from the porch. Horrified that I'd missed a photo, I ducked down to retrieve it and shoved it in my pants pocket.

  "Drop something?"

  "Uh. Yeah. Just one of my baseball cards." There I go again. Lying through my teeth. But it was for Tully's sake, so I didn't feel too guilty. I hurried around back to the woodpile and started bringing loads up to the porch with a rusty old wheelbarrow I found leaning against it. It had a big hole in the side, but if I stacked the logs just right, they didn't fall out. After twenty minutes, Mrs. Brown emerged with a book under her arm. She wandered back toward me.

  "It looks like Zak was reading this. Huck Finn. Used to be one of his favorites as a boy."

  I nodded toward the book, remembering Penni flipping the pages. It seemed like years ago since we'd first found the cabin and "met" her. I smiled. "It's a good story."

  "I thought I'd read to him at the hospital today."

  I dropped the load of wood I'd been carrying into the wheelbarrow and rubbed my hands on my jeans. "He'll like that."

  "Well." She turned toward the house, then back to me. "I was going to say ‘lock up when you leave.' But I guess that's pointless."

  "I'll be sure the doors and windows are shut up nice and tight, Mrs. Brown."

  "Okay. Thank you, dear. I'll see you and your father at the hospital later. Bye for now."

  She walked carefully over the rutted yard—the weed-infested expanse couldn't be called a lawn—and made it to her car.

  I couldn't help but remember the night it had been parked in our driveway with her husband's dead body inside. I shuddered, and realized the woman had more courage than I'd ever have. Braving that car was probably one of the easier challenges she'd had over the past fifteen years. A heck of a lot easier than being tortured and held captive by a bunch of monsters.

  I lifted a hand to wave goodbye. When her car was safely out of sight, I loaded the last bunch of wood onto the porch and knelt down to get the box. "That was close." I wiped my brow. "Too close."

  I found two loose boards on the far side of the porch. I swung them aside and wormed my way inside. Sunlight filtered through the cracks in the boards overhead, and something small squeaked and scuttled away from me. I caught sight of a striped black and red fuzzy body just as the chipmunk squeezed through a crack on the far side, chittering the whole way. A few old burlap bags lay folded against a round pine beam near the back. Wiping away the cobwebs, I wedged the box beneath the bags and shoved them back a little further. Nobody would find it now.

  When I poked my head back outside, I scanned the area. No one for miles. Just me, Pancho, and—

  A wail pierced the silence, whooshing through my ears and head as if I had swallowed the sound.

  "Penni!" I scrambled outside and looked around for her. The front door rapped back and forth, back and forth. I ran up the steps and smiled. "You're back!"

  I shouted the words as loud and clear as I could, afraid she wouldn't understand. "It's okay, Penni. Tully's okay. He'll be home soon."

  Inside, the top of the coffee pot rattled furiously. Curtains lifted and fell. A magazine twirled, then fell to the floor.

  "It's okay. Tully's coming home in a few weeks. He was sick. But they made him better. With, uh. Medicine. Understand?"

  I sat down on the couch to watch her antics, hoping maybe she'd show herself to me again. The handle of the pump worked up and down until water poured into the sink, filling the basin with cold spring water. I walked to the kitchen area and smiled. "Wow. You can do just about anything, can't you?"

  I leaned down, intending to unplug the drain so it wouldn't overflow. The pump handle stopped as suddenly as it had begun its frenetic movement. With a start, I saw an image in the basin of water. Filmy at first, it wavered and wobbled with uncertainty. I touched the water, gently, with my forefinger. "Penni?"

  She showed herself to me this time with a combination of contour and light. A finely shaped nose and brow rose from the liquid, followed by round eyes and curved lips. An image appeared on the watery form, giving color to the statue-like specter.

  I sucked in my breath. The purity of her features and eyes made me gasp. She was beautiful. She rose a foot above the basin, her entire face, neck, and upper torso sparkling with water and light. One word escaped her lips, and then the image dispersed in soft droplets. "Tully."

  I found my voice again. "Penni. He's okay. Please don't worry."

  Had she heard me? Did she understand?

  Someone blew a stream of moist icy air toward me, placing a fluttery cool kiss on my lips.

  I froze, letting my breath out.

  "You're welcome," I whispered. I closed the door softly behind me and headed home.

  Chapter Fifty-three

  I felt a lot better about entering the hospital through the visitors' entrance than the emergency room. My father and I walked through the sparkling clean glass doors and headed for the elevator. I carried a bouquet of wildflowers I'd picked from our field. I knew Tully would be happier to see Queen Anne's Lace, buttercups, cornflowers, and even dandelions than some store-bought, fake-colored daisies.

  My mother had been quiet all day, busying herself in cleaning projects until the house sparkled and there wasn't even one dirty pair of socks left to wash. She usually kept it pretty clean, anyway, but today she moved the refrigerator out to wash the floor and wall behind it, dumped and rewashed everything in the silverware drawer, and even cleaned out the laundry room closet, where she found boots I hadn't worn since third grade.

  We got off the elevator on the fourth floor and approached the cardiac rehabilitation ward.

  "Room 413," I said. I pointed to a sign that showed rooms 410 to 430 to our right.

  Two attendants pushed an elderly lady on a gurney into a room, followed by a tearful procession of family. A scary assortment of men and women in johnnies walked the hallways pushing tall IV stands. I tried hard not to look at the needles poking in their arms, the bandages on their chests, or the occasional bare backside that peaked through their hospital garments. Didn't they know you could have two gowns to cover up the back?

  A hoarse barrage of yelling came from room 410. The man sounded like he was out of his mind, and when we shuffled past, I stared inside like people who slowed down to gawk at car accidents. I didn't want to look, but couldn't help myself.

  A nurse stood over him, speaking in soothing tones and playing with a small valve on his IV. Within seconds, he quieted. I swallowed hard and looked at my father. He didn't say a word, b
ut slid his arm through mine.

  I squeezed tight on the aluminum foil I'd wrapped around the wet paper towel that encircled the flower stems. "There it is." I whispered now, afraid I'd bother people trying to sleep or rest. My insides started flipping around like Mexican jumping beans on a roller coaster.

  What would Tully look like? Would he be all bloody and gross? Would I be able to see the stitches?

  I peeked into the room. One bed was hidden by a closed curtain. At the other, by the far window, sat Eudora Brown. I could just see the foot of Tully's bed.

  Huck Finn lay open on her lap. She looked up, pushed her glasses higher on her nose, and leaned down to touch Tully's feet. "You've got visitors, Zachariah."

  We crept closer, and he came into view. The man who lay in the cot looked familiar, and yet not. His usual ruddy complexion had paled, and blue smudges encircled his eyes. His long snowy beard had been neatly combed—which I'd never seen—and it lay atop a sheet that was tucked tightly around his body. I figured Mrs. Brown had been fixing him up, and that it probably drove him nuts.

  Tully was a man who needed to be free and unhampered by common practices. He didn't want to have his body encased in starched white sheets any more than he wanted all the poking and prodding they must've done to him. It showed in his eyes. They flooded with relief when I approached him and a broad grin stretched across his lips. "Gus, my boy. I'm glad to see you."

  I thrust the flowers toward him. "These are for you, Mr. Tully."

  Eudora leapt from her chair and gently took them from me. "I'll find a vase for them, Zak. Aren't they lovely?"

  "Gosh darn it, Eudora. Let me at least take a whiff before you whisk them away." He grabbed them from her, closed his eyes, and inhaled. "Ah… these smell like home."