Peter’s father put his finger over his lips and motioned to everyone except Henry to move back into the kitchen. No need to disturb Henry.
I Knew It!
It was 5:00 a.m. Henry and Lina had long since gone home. Peter remembered watching the clock until almost 1:00 a.m. He could hear the faint clinking of glasses downstairs and recognized the smell of brewed coffee. Peter suspected that no one had slept very well. He recalled the night before, with everyone in the neighborhood scrambling to clear their homes of anything belonging in the sweets category. He looked out the window a few times, watching the neighbors scamper to the curb with their trash cans. A couple of them had talked nervously with each other as they stuffed cookies and donuts into the trash. Occasionally, some of the treats made it to their mouths in a desperate effort to get rid of anything that would give Goaltan a reason to strike. Peter couldn’t imagine a world without sugary confections. He didn’t want to imagine never being able to come home to fresh-baked cookies again.
He whispered toward the floor, where the Candonite children were curled up in sleeping bags. “You guys asleep?”
“No,” Angela replied.
“Been awake a half hour,” Joe answered.
Peter sat up in bed, still whispering. “Do you think Lina’s mom and dad will let her go to Goaltan?”
“No way! Lina’s mother was very upset when she came to pick her up last night and her dad said he was going to lock her in her room. Henry enthusiastically volunteered to keep watch,” said Angela.
“Papa’s Sweet Shop! I have to keep it safe. It will be my fault if it gets destroyed,” Peter said, ashamed.
“What are we going to do? I keep asking myself the same question over and over,” Joe said.
“Me too,” Angela replied.
“I know what I am going to do,” Peter said, lowering himself to the floor. “I have to find a way to get to Lina. Her parents took her home before I had a chance to talk to her alone.”
“Peter, what makes you think your parents are going to let you go? They didn’t like that idea either,” Angela reminded him.
Peter reflected on the night before. The phone should have rung several times. Papa and Nana would have called if they had seen the news. Lina would have wanted to talk to him for sure. He suspected it was like that all around town. Goaltan and his friends had found a way to stop them from using the phone lines. When Peter’s father had picked up the phone to call Papa, the line was dead. It sent a chill down his spine. There has to be a way, Peter thought.
Since the three of them couldn’t sleep, they headed downstairs. Peter’s parents sat at the table. “Hello,” they said with forced smiles. There was no “Good morning” greeting since it was not a very good one. His father quickly got up to whip up some eggs and toast. Peter’s dad made breakfast nearly every morning, unless he had an early appointment. On those mornings, Peter and his mother would have cereal and orange juice. Peter was surprised his father felt in the mood to make anything this morning. He looked around the table and everyone looked so tired. No one said anything. Instead they set the table and when that was done, fidgeted with placemats and napkins.
When the food was on the table and after his first bite, Peter asked anxiously, “Dad, what are we going to do? We can’t just let Goaltan destroy Papa’s Sweet Shop and all the other places in town he talked about.”
“I don’t know son, I don’t know,” his dad answered, not looking up from his coffee cup. It seemed strange for him to be drinking coffee out of a smiley-face mug that read, “Have a great day!”
Breakfast was very glum. No one said much. Everyone was too busy trying to figure out what to do and watching the clock closely. It was already 5:49 a.m., a little over an hour until Goaltan would start smashing things up.
Peter watched the minutes turn on the clock. Suddenly there was a knock at the door that scared everyone. Joe knocked over his milk and Peter’s mom quickly wiped it up. Who could it be? Lina? The police? Goaltan? Peter looked at his dad for advice about what to do next. Peter’s dad paused for a moment and then got up from the table and headed to the door. Peter’s mom put down the rag she was holding and grabbed her husband’s hand as he walked past. She squeezed it and he returned the squeeze and smiled a half smile. Everyone held their breath as the door opened. They listened carefully.
“What a relief! Mom and Pops, you’re here!” Peter’s dad called out louder than normal for everyone to hear. All right! Nana & Papa! Peter immediately felt a little safer knowing they were there. Papa always knew what to do in any situation.
Peter had not yet had a chance to talk to his grandparents. Papa had just dropped him off at home after he returned from Maple Town. No one then had believed him about his adventure, though Peter was almost certain Nana had been to Maple Town in her youth. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to find out.
Peter ran into the living room and threw his arms around Nana. She was giggling when she embraced him, so happy to see him. Peter said, “Nana, I have been waiting forever to ask you a question.” She smiled slyly as if she knew what the question would be. Peter continued, “Have you been to Maple Town? Have you seen the Candonites?”
Nana answered matter-of-factly, “No, I have never been to Maple Town.” Disappointment spread across Peter’s face. He was certain she had been there.
“I have been to Honeyville, though,” she quickly added. “I believe it is the next town over. And yes, Peter, I have seen Candonites!”
“I knew it! I knew it! You did sign the guest book!” Peter felt like he had won a zillion bucks.
“At first, I didn’t remember Honeyville,” she continued. “Your Papa was telling me about how you told him that I had been to Maple Town and seen the Candonites. You see, Peter, that was so long ago and no one believed me. Everyone told me it was a dream, a very imaginative dream. Your great-grandmother even told me to never speak of it again, because she was afraid people would think oddly of me. I began to believe them. I never spoke of it again. Soon it did become a dream to me and regretfully, I forgot it entirely. It wasn’t until I saw the news this morning that I remembered a smidgen of my adventures. And now I remember a little bit more.” Nana smiled, warming Peter’s heart.
“I am sorry I didn’t believe you Peter. Please forgive this old man,” Papa said, bending down to Peter’s face.
“I forgive you, Papa.”
“Thank you, Peter,” Papa said, pushing his glasses back on the bridge of his nose.
Joe and Angela entered the room. Papa looked as though he would fall over as he slumped down onto the arm of a recliner in amazement. Nana had a very different reaction, jumping with delight and clapping her hands. Peter had never seen her jump before. He didn’t think she could. Nana moved closer toward the children to take a better look. “You smell as I remembered! You look as I remembered! So simply wonderful, you are!” She kissed both of them on the forehead as if they were her own grandchildren. Everyone in the room chuckled except for Papa, who was still staring with his mouth hanging wide open.
“Are you okay, Papa?” Peter asked.
It took Papa a moment to respond. His mouth formed into a half smile. “I will be. Papa needs a moment to let this all sink in.”
Just then Peter’s dad exclaimed, “The TV! You said the news was on.” He scrambled for the remote.
“Yes, it came on earlier. Every channel has that dreadful Goaltan and his monstrous minions. What did he call them again?” Nana asked.
“Peblars,” everyone answered in unison.
Peter’s dad turned on the TV. Goaltan was once again taking up most of the TV screen, with a crowd of Peblars behind him. It was strange to see them standing in the intersection of Harrison and Bernard, a short driving distance from his house. Peter and his mother went to the local farmers’ market almost every week, crossing through that intersection. Now what roads were they supposed to take? Peter thought. In addition to fruits and vegetables, they would buy three delicious scones with warm boy
senberry jam, one for each member of his family. He thought about the nice lady who ran the stand, Margaret. Every once in a while if they arrived late in the day, she would throw in an extra scone. If Goaltan got to her stand that would make Peter very upset.
Goaltan was talking now. “Human boy, I won’t settle for just the girl. I want both of you.”
Everyone in the room started looking around. What did he mean? He didn’t know where Lina lived, did he? The camera panned wider. There at the end of Goaltan’s wide reach was Lina, his brawny hand gripping her shoulder. She spoke softly straight into the camera. “Sorry, P. I only meant to case out the joint. I didn’t mean to get caught.” She looked so small and fragile in his clutch.
Goaltan mocked her. “Yes, she is soooooo sorry. She never meant to get caught. Silly girl!”
“You shut your veggie hole! You won’t get away with this!” Lina tried to kick him, but his grip kept her from doing so.
Peter’s mother gasped, followed by a series of worried replies from everyone around the room.
“Oh! No!”
“What was Lina thinking?”
“Poor Lina.”
“What are we going to do?”
Goaltan brought their focus back to the screen. “By the way, Mr. P, that is what I will address you as from now on, since your little girlfriend won’t tell me your name. How loyal. You have fifty-five minutes to show your face or I start destroying things around here!” The TV went black once more.
In other circumstances, Peter would have been embarrassed having Lina referred to as his girlfriend. However, there was no time for embarrassment. Peter didn’t know exactly what they were going to do but he did know he was going to save his best friend. She would do the same for him. She was so brave to even go out there in the first place to check things out. Peter wondered if Lina’s parents knew where she was. He pictured Lina’s mother yelling at Goaltan through the television set.
Peter predicted it wouldn’t be long until Goaltan found out who Peter was. All Goaltan had to do was scare some unsuspecting kid who went to school with Lina into telling him the identity of Mr. P. Lina would probably want to kick the kid for giving up the information, but it wouldn’t matter. Goaltan would have what he wanted.
“We have to do something!” Peter shrilled.
“I know we do, Peter, but what is the question,” Peter’s dad said.
Peter knew it wasn’t like they could ask Goaltan nicely to leave and let Lina go. There had to be a plan. And the plan had to be good and fast. Papa always had the answer, but one look at Papa and Peter could tell this time he didn’t.
“I wish I could remember more, Peter, maybe then I could help,” Nana said, looking like she was straining to remember. “The only thing new I have to report was that the little Candonite girl’s house I stayed at was named Alyssa. She was a beautiful light blue rock-candy girl. She was so nice. I remember her telling me that she was a rare Candonite. There weren’t many of her kind.”
Peter quickly piped up. “Goaltan is of the rock-candy race. I mean he was of the rock-candy race. Goaltan looks and smells as he does now because he was so filled with hatred toward the townspeople for banishing him after years of causing havoc in the town. He was so unforgiving that his heart became solid rock and the rest of him slowly turned into pebbles. He became a rotted Candonite and turned into a Peblar.”
“That is what the legend says and I believe it,” Joe added.
“Me too,” Angela agreed.
“Mom, try harder to remember and let us know if you remember anything of interest,” Peter’s mother said to Nana.
“I will, dear,” Nana answered.
“All this is too much for Papa to comprehend, candy people standing right here in front of me. This is beyond amazing! This is a long way from my small humble hometown in Germany.” Papa finally seemed a little more like himself. “Come. Sit down, all of you. We will sort this out.” He told Joe and Angela to sit on either side of Nana, hoping that it would spark memories to help her remember her trip to Honeyville.
“Not to rush, but we have only forty-nine minutes,” Peter reminded everyone, looking at his watch.
Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, Nana inhaled the sugary scents of the Candonite children. Everyone watched her, not daring to make a noise. For what seemed like forever she was silent. Her lips parted unexpectedly into a smile, the kind of smile you make when you haven’t seen someone you love for a very long time. For another long minute she said nothing.
“I remember!” Nana exclaimed, her eyes still closed. No one said anything for fear she might lose those thoughts. “Oh my goodness, I ate too many goodies that night. I overdid it and I certainly shouldn’t have. My mother had baked so many delightful things for the church bake sale, and said I could have two cookies before heading to bed. Well, I didn’t think that was fair. Why did the bake sale get to have all those goodies when I could only have two cookies? I didn’t care if my mother said eating too many sweets before bedtime would give me nightmares. I crept downstairs when my parents went outside to sit on the porch like they often do, my mother to read her book and my dad to search the skies with his telescope.”
“Mom,” Peter’s dad said, in a tone that reminded her there wasn’t much time for all the details.
Nana never opened her eyes while she continued. “When I was done with my delicious deceit, I was returning the kitchen to its rightful order when I opened the refrigerator. I could have sworn I never saw that little box in there before.”
Peter knew what Nana was about to say next. Similar experiences with a special delivery box had just happened to Lina and him.
She continued, “Those red words ‘Special Delivery’ were glowing curiously as I opened the box, and within moments I found myself in a world so wonderfully magnificent! Oh, the gorgeous blue-green grass and those funny pointing trees!”
“Mom, do you remember anything that might help us?” Peter’s dad pressed.
“Fast forward, dear,” Papa encouraged her.
“I’ll try,” she answered, her eyes remaining shut. She seemed to be concentrating harder. She didn’t speak for a couple minutes, then said, “I can’t, I can’t! I am watching it like a picture show.” She opened her eyes in disappointment.
“It is all right, Mom,” Peter’s dad assured her. “You just keep watching and fill us in if you see anything useful.” He peered down at his watch.
Nana seemed to like that idea. Peter didn’t blame her. Thinking of Maple Town and Honeyville would be a gazillion times better than thinking about Goaltan and his grimy hands on Lina. Peter would have to wait to hear the whole glorious story. Everyone except Nana faced the table. It was now or never.
Not So Happy Donuts
Peter, his dad, and Papa climbed into the SUV. The others stayed behind. No need for everyone to go and they certainly didn’t want Goaltan to find out that the Candonite children were in town. Originally, Peter was supposed to stay behind too. After he told his dad and Papa he had been to Goaltan’s castle and joining them now couldn’t be any more dangerous, they considered it. After he told them that Lina was his best friend and he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, they agreed to let him go.
The three of them still were not sure what they were going to do, but they already had a place to start. Peter looked behind his seat and saw all the goodies they had collected from the neighborhood garbage cans. No one who saw them doing this seemed to mind, probably because they were eager to get rid of the sugary treats. Peter looked out the back window as he saw Lina’s dad’s car barreling down the road straight for the driveway.
“Wait, Dad!” Peter called out.
The car stopped within inches of the SUV. Lina’s mother was scolding her husband in a foreign language as she exited the car. Peter could make out a few English words: “Kill us…Henry…car!” Peter knew she was upset by her husband’s driving. She touched her forehead, moved down to touch her lower chest, and onto both shoulde
rs and said, “Thank the good Lord!” She opened the back door and helped Henry, who wasn’t moving fast enough for her, out of the car. Henry had on earphones and was playing a handheld video game. He didn’t even look up. Lina’s dad exited the car. Peter thought to himself that Lina’s dad was one of those muscular guys you don’t know are buff until they have a short sleeve shirt on. Peter remembered Lina telling him he used to be in the Navy, some kind of an officer. Peter had asked Lina if he had ever arrested anyone and Lina swatted him on the shoulder saying, “Not that kind of an officer, silly!”
Peter’s dad told Peter and Papa, “Stay put. I will only be a minute.”
Peter watched, leaning out the car window.
“We don’t have much time. We have a plan we are hoping will work. It isn’t much, but it is all we’ve got. We have to go now and we could use all the help we can get,” Peter’s dad said urgently.
“Take Henry inside,” Lina’s dad said to his wife, pushing his blond hair out of the way to wipe some sweat from his brow. “I am going with them.”
“You bring me back Lina,” she told her husband, grabbing his hand.
He bent down to kiss her on her forehead and mustered a small smile. “I will.” He reached over and ruffled his son’s hair. Henry didn’t even flinch. He was too busy playing his game.
Inside the car, Lina’s dad introduced himself as Rod. Peter’s dad explained the plan to Rod as they drove closer to their destination.
No other cars were on the roads. Everyone was too busy staying out of sight. Everyone except for old man Rupert, who was in his garden, as he usually was, fiddling around with a stick of black licorice dangling out of his mouth. He looked up as they drove by. They didn’t have time to stop and tell him he better get rid of the licorice. Perhaps old man Rupert knew about Goaltan and didn’t care. He was best known by all the kids at school for being a frightening grouchy old man. Peter looked into some of the local business buildings and didn’t see anyone. It was so odd to see his normally bustling town so quiet. It gave him chills.
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