It wasn’t hard to find the old hemlock, which rose above the oaks and maples. About two feet off the ground, a broken stub of a branch protruded from the trunk, giving Effie a first step. She put her right foot on it, reached for a branch above her, and started climbing.
Soon she was breathing hard and moving steadily. When the tree limbs thinned out, she stopped and admired the view. By then she was above the other trees, looking at Moriah’s roof and below that at the highway. With her knees, she stabilized her body against the trunk, yanked the scarf from around her waist, waved it free, and tossed one end straight up till it caught a branch above her.
Then, fast but careful, she climbed down—hoping very hard that Moriah would look in the right direction soon.
To her surprise, Boris was on the ground waiting for her, his ears on high alert.
“Hey, Boris. Good dog. Thanks for looking out for me,” Effie said.
Boris wagged his tail. Then the two of them walked out of the woods and back toward home together. They were almost across the field when Boris raised his head and Effie heard a voice. “Hey! Wait up!”
It was Moriah, with E.J. trailing behind.
Oh, thank goodness, Effie thought, and for a second she wanted to cry. It was good that she wasn’t Effie on her own anymore. It was good to be part of a team.
Breathing hard, Moriah caught up. “What’s the emergency?”
“Emergency?” E.J. repeated. “Cool! What kind?”
“The kind where we uncover clues,” Effie said. “And Moriah, I’m sorry I—”
“I’m sorry, too,” Moriah said. “Maybe you didn’t mean to insult my pa?”
Grateful for an easy out, Effie said, “I didn’t.”
“Well, I didn’t mean to pitch a hissy fit either,” Moriah said.
E.J. made a sour face. “Girl stuff—bleah!” he said.
“Where are your folks? How come you could answer the signal so fast?” Effie asked.
“They had to go out of town today,” Moriah said. “Something they were all excited about—I don’t know what. They won’t be back till late. Luke and Adam are in charge, but they don’t care what we do.”
“Moriah.” Effie stopped in her tracks. “Your folks aren’t down in Johnstown, are they?”
“Yeah, I think so. Johnstown,” Moriah said. “How did you know?”
Effie didn’t answer right away. Her mind had kicked into high gear. Aunt Clare and Uncle Ted were in Johnstown. That was where the mystery heirs had gone to court over her great-grandfather’s estate. Did the Yoders have something to do with the court case? Could the Yoders be—?
“Come on!” E.J. tugged Effie’s arm. “Are we gonna uncover clues now, or what?”
“Yes,” said Effie. “Sure we are. Sorry.” She started walking again, and while she walked she explained about the shed.
E.J. was one hundred percent enthusiastic at the prospect of entering forbidden territory.
Moriah was not. “If there’s something your aunt and uncle don’t want you to see, maybe you shouldn’t see it,” she said. “Maybe it’s inappropriate for children. Grown-ups know best, Effie.”
Effie did not want another fight. She wanted Moriah on her side. She spoke carefully. “In some families the grown-ups probably know best,” Effie said, “but not necessarily in my family.”
Meanwhile, E.J. was all over the word “inappropriate.” “What if it’s a dead body?” he aked.
Effie had to laugh. “I don’t think so. My aunt and uncle don’t even kill spiders.”
“Aw, too bad,” said E.J., “but let’s go take a look.”
CHAPTER
27
The shed that had once been Gus Zook’s workshop looked like an oversized shoe box with a pitched roof and a front porch. It was covered with ropy vines, living and dead. Its paint was faded and peeling.
Still tugging Effie’s arm, E.J. said, “Come on. Let’s do this, okay?”
“Why are you in such a hurry?” Effie asked. “Do you really think we’re going to find a body?”
“Maybe,” E.J. said, “and also Moriah promised me berry juice.”
Effie stepped up onto the rickety porch and crossed it on tiptoes, avoiding holes and broken planks. Whatever creatures lived under there, she’d rather not pay them a visit feet-first. In three steps, she was trying to twist the rusty doorknob, but no go.
“Window?” Moriah said. “We could pry the boards loose with a crowbar.”
Effie’s heart sank. They’d have to get a crowbar from the garage. They’d have to get something to stand on. It would take a while. Her aunt and uncle wouldn’t be gone forever. Annoyed, she grabbed the knob again and shook it, and what do you know? The knob came off in her hand.
“Take that, you old doorknob!” E.J. cried. “Oh boy, oh boy. Push hard, Effie! You might be wrong! There might be a body!”
The hinges squealed when Effie pushed, but the door opened wide—no teetering piles of junk in its way. Since the windows were blocked, the only light came from the doorway, but it was enough to reveal a sparsely furnished space.
A slanted table for drawing. A stool. Bookcases. A desk with a filing cabinet. A bulletin board. Framed pictures. Yellowed, spotted papers with crinkled edges tacked up here and there. A 1977 wall calendar open to August. The picture was a convertible sports car.
Except for dust and decay, the room was so well preserved it almost seemed that Gus Zook might come back any minute, and if he did, he would be gray and dust-covered too.
The girls were creeped out. E.J. was delighted. “Spooky!” he cried, and edged by them. “What are you waiting for? Let’s look around!”
All that little-kid energy broke the spell. Effie and Moriah breathed again, embarrassed to have hesitated. By the time they stepped inside, E.J. was already opening drawers.
“Awww, it’s boring!” he said. “Pens and rulers and . . . what’s this thing?”
“A protractor,” said Effie, “for measuring angles.”
“And what’s this?” E.J. held up a squat little bottle he had found on the table.
“For ink,” said Moriah.
“Cool,” said E.J., but he had already moved on.
The lights didn’t work, and it was hard to see. Effie used her phone as a flashlight to study drawings on the wall behind the slanted table.
“The lost plans,” she murmured, “the gap in the record. It’s here.”
“What?” Moriah asked.
“These look like plans for new inventions,” Effie said out loud. It was hard to make sense of the diagrams, especially in the poor light, but she could read the titles, all of them written in her great-grandfather’s small, neat print: Steam-Powered Jet Engine, Bicycle Seat Belt, Automobile Umbrella, Dogs’ Ear Cuff.
“Wait—what’s the last one?” Moriah looked over Effie’s shoulder at a drawing of a dog eating from a dish, his floppy ears squished under a band around his head and neck.
“It doesn’t look comfortable,” Moriah said.
“If I was a dog wearing that, I’d be embarrassed,” said E.J. “It’s dumb.”
“It is not!” Effie leaped to her great-grandfather’s defense. “It’s clever. The band keeps the dog’s ears out of his food, so they don’t get dirty. That’s good, right?”
Moriah looked at the next drawing. “A seat belt for a bike wouldn’t keep you safe,” she said. “It would only guarantee that you and the bike crashed together.”
“All these ideas are dumb,” said E.J.
“Hey—you take that back!” said Effie. “You guys are insulting my . . . Oh.” Effie stopped, realizing she was defending her great-grandfather the same way Moriah had defended her father the day before. Effie had never met Gus Zook, but she still felt family loyalty.
Moriah must have understood. “Sorry, Effie,” she said.
“No.” Effie took a breath. “You guys are right. They are bad ideas. But you know what else? I feel sad for my great-grandfather. He was out here all by hi
mself in his workshop, trying to come up with something good—as good as a barf bag. But the best he could do was a headband for dogs.”
There were more papers on the wall, not plans but phrases written in fancy letters, calligraphy. Effie trained her flashlight on a few:
The parent teaches the child to know lovable from despicable.
Fate cares more about your wrongs than your rights.
A man’s beard signifies his special place in the natural order.
“I know those. They’re precepts!” E.J. said.
“So you were right after all, Effie,” said Moriah. “Your great-grandfather must’ve inspired BFA, some of it at least. But it was my pa’s idea to call them precepts. Did you read the last part of Gus Zook’s story at the museum?”
Effie nodded. “Just today.”
“Do you remember it says something about a civilization ‘united, hygienic, and content’? I recognized that. It’s a precept too,” Moriah said.
E.J.’s thumb had been in his mouth. Now he removed it. “Number twenty-three.”
Effie looked down at E.J. “How old are you again?”
“Four, but I’m short for my age,” said E.J.
“Also smart,” said Effie.
“I know it,” said E.J., and he replaced his thumb in his mouth.
The sun had sunk by this time and shone through the open doorway. Effie looked at her phone—4:05. For all she knew, her aunt and uncle were home by now. “We should go,” she said. “We can come back, but we can’t tell anyone.”
“You promised berry juice,” E.J. reminded his sister.
“I know I did, E.J. I—,” she started to say, but she was rudely interrupted by a tremendous noise—part crunch, part crash, it made the rickety building shake.
“Wh-wh-what was—,” E.J. stammered, but his voice was drowned out by a succession of thumps overhead, and then a high-pitched, unhappy ble-e-e-eat, followed by Boris, right outside, barking up a storm.
“Goat on the roof,” Moriah said calmly.
“What?” Effie said.
“Watch out!” Moriah said, no longer calm, as—crack—the ceiling splintered, then—pat-patter-pat—pieces of wood and tar paper rained down on the floor.
After that, a leg came through, a big black one with a hoof on the end that proceeded to dangle and kick hopelessly while Effie, Moriah, and E.J. dodged, making every shrill, freaked-out sound a person threatened by a goat leg can make.
Effie said, “Alfred!” as if the mean black goat was falling through the ceiling on purpose. Then more bits and pieces came down, followed by a second leg, then two more legs, a tail, and the rest of Alfred too.
When the goat hit the floor, the shed shook again and a framed photograph fell from its place on the wall. Helpless against the general destruction, Effie at least managed to save that.
While Boris barked, E.J. yelled, and Moriah insisted, “Let’s get out of here!” Effie looked at the photograph in her hand. It showed a woman wearing a skirt and jacket. She had a hat on her head and a smile on her face. She looked sophisticated and happy. She was black.
Effie took all this in at a glance, but it was the inscription that made her heart go thud. She had thought no more surprises were possible that day, but she had been wrong.
And there was one more surprise to come.
None of the kids heard the grown-ups calling from outside till one of them appeared in the doorway. Backlit by the sun, her blond hair formed a halo. Effie looked up and feared for a split second that the vision was an angel.
It wasn’t, though. It was her mother, live and in the flesh.
CHAPTER
28
Poor Alfred.
For a long time, he had wanted to break the latch on his gate and make a run for it. That afternoon he had finally succeeded. He could have gone anywhere, but where he went was the end of the driveway. The shed there had looked sturdy enough, its roof a perfect place from which to survey his expanded domain.
What Alfred didn’t know was how many summers and winters that roof had endured. It was plumb worn out, not sturdy anymore, and its collapse was such a shock that Alfred underwent a transformation. From that moment on, he ceased to be irascible, ornery, and aggressive and became instead docile, affable, and retiring.
The humans didn’t catch on right away, but Boris did and nipped at Alfred’s heels, herding him out the door, off the porch, and back in the direction of his pen.
Everybody else, meanwhile, was hugging and crying. In fact, there was such an abundance of gladness that it splashed over to E.J. and Moriah, who were invited for hors d’oeuvres on the front porch. For the time being, it didn’t matter that they were Yoders. Everyone was welcome.
“I don’t mean to be a pill,” E.J. said as they all walked down the driveway toward the yellow farmhouse, “but Moriah did promise me berry juice.”
“What?” Effie looked down to see that E.J. was gripping her hand. She hadn’t even noticed. Her heart was full at the same time her mind was working fast. Johnstown. The precepts. The inscription on the photo. Even her own good throwing arm—and Moriah’s and Mr. Odbody’s too.
If she was right, she was finally face-to-face with the truth.
And it was unbelievable.
“Berry juice?” E.J. repeated. “Hello-o-o?”
“Sadie,” Effie said, “Mr. Odbody’s grandmother.”
E.J. frowned and dropped Effie’s hand. “Never mind. I’ll get berry juice from someone else.”
It took a while for the chairs on the porch to be dusted off and shifted, for people to sit down, for Uncle Ted to slice cheese, get out crackers and olives, plate the raw vegetables, and locate the extra napkins in the pantry. Meanwhile, Aunt Clare made drinks, which Moriah helped distribute. There were plenty of cherries. E.J. got one in his berry juice.
When at last everyone had settled and had a chance to breathe, Effie’s mother spoke. “I suppose you’re wondering how I got back so fast from the Pacific.”
Effie said, “Not really.” For her, it was enough that her mom was there. The details could wait.
Molly Zook looked surprised and a little disappointed.
“I’m wondering,” Moriah said politely.
“The US Air Force,” said Effie’s mom. “Specifically, Air Mobility Command. The joke is that AMC means ‘airplane maybe come,’ but I got lucky. I had to fly commercial from St. Louis, but the connections were good. There was only one seat, so Effie’s dad—Mr. Starr, I mean—stayed behind to do some mop-up.”
“That’s very interesting,” Moriah said politely.
“I thought so,” said Molly. “Would you like to hear about how I was rescued? Sharks were involved. Effie?”
“I want to hear all about it, Mom,” Effie said. “But not right now. Right now I have some questions.”
“Oh dear,” said Aunt Clare.
“Are you okay, Effie?” said her mom. “You seem distracted. Whose photo is that? Did it come from the workshop?”
“The shed,” Aunt Clare corrected her.
“It is not a shed,” said Effie. “It was never a shed. It was Gus Zook’s workshop. And you and Uncle Ted closed it up because you didn’t want anybody to know how dumb his last inventions were.”
“Oh dear,” said Aunt Clare.
Uncle Ted sighed. “Your great-grandmother wanted to protect Gus Zook’s reputation, Effie. She locked up the shed after Gus Zook died. Till you came, we had half forgotten it was there. But with all the, uh . . . controversy lately, it seemed like a bad idea for you to be poking around.”
Moriah shifted uncomfortably in her chair, pushed it back, and stood up. “Come on, E.J. We should go. Thanks, everybody, for the—”
“No, Moriah, you shouldn’t go,” said Effie. “Please stay. We’re all family, after all. Right, Mom? Right, Aunt Clare?”
“Oh dear,” said Aunt Clare.
“Clare? If you say ‘oh dear’ one more time, I will scream,” said Effie’s mom.
; “My sentiments exactly,” said Uncle Ted.
“Well, what do you want me to say?” said Aunt Clare.
“The truth would be good,” Effie said. “I will start. Moriah, your parents went to Johnstown to a court hearing today. They were there because your dad was trying to claim his part of Gus Zook’s estate. He is Gus Zook’s grandchild, just like my mom and Aunt Clare are. And you and E.J. are his great-grandchildren, just like me.”
“I’m a Zook?” E.J. scratched his head. “I thought I was a Yoder.”
“You’re a Zook and a Yoder both,” said Effie. “And if you don’t want to faint from surprise, you better take some deep breaths, because that is only the start.”
Effie held up the photo she had rescued from the workshop and read the inscription out loud: “ ‘For Gus, All my love in spite of everything, Sadie.’ ”
E.J. made a face. “Mushy stuff—bleah.”
Moriah sat back down. “It makes sense,” she said slowly. “Our grandma—my dad’s mom—is biracial. It doesn’t come up because she pretty much looks white, but it’s not a secret. Once I asked her to tell me about when she was little, and she said she didn’t like to talk about it. But I know she had a brother. After she got married, she didn’t see him or her mother, either.”
“And she was from Johnstown, right?” said Effie.
“She was,” said Moriah.
Aunt Clare sighed and shook her head. “Now that the judge has decided, that reporter from Harrisburg will put it all in the paper tomorrow. Do you want to explain, Molly? Or shall I?”
“You’re doing fine,” said Effie’s mom.
Aunt Clare took a breath as if her speech would be a long one. “Moriah’s grandmother was born at the county hospital along with a twin brother. Their mother was Sadie Pendleton, and their father—as you know by now—was Gus Zook.
“For a while, Sadie and the twins stayed on their family farm—the one next door where the Yoders live now. In effect, they were Gus’s second family. I guess he tried to keep them a secret.”
Effie remembered how people in Penn Creek knew all about her even before she met them. “How do you keep such a big secret in such a small town?” she asked.
Effie Starr Zook Has One More Question Page 10