Allison O'Brian on Her Own

by Melody Carlson

  “Anyway, my brother, Rod, became a Christian in high school, and I thought it was funny because I just figured everyone was a Christian. You know, like if you lived in America, you must be a Christian. But I could see something was different about my brother, and he even got Dad to go to some church meetings with him. And then Dad began to change. He even quit drinking. It was amazing! And while that was really great, I still had a problem.” She folded her arms across her chest and looked out across the crowd of listening faces.

  “You see, I hated my dad. I know that sounds really awful, but it’s true. I hated him for ruining Christmas and birthday parties and embarrassing me in front of my friends.” She wiped a tear from her eye and shoved her hands into her shorts pockets, then took a deep breath and stood straighter. “Every time Rod tried to tell me about God, I wouldn’t listen. I didn’t want to hear it because I knew if I gave my life to God I’d have to forgive Dad. And I just wasn’t ready to do that.

  “Well, my dad’s a miner, and one day it happened—the thing we fear most in Dunnsville. The mine sirens went off and everyone ran down to see. There’d been a huge explosion and a cave-in. Forty-three miners were trapped inside—my dad with them. In my imagination I saw Dad pinned under a heavy beam, breathing his last breath. Suddenly, I was sorry for how I had treated him. I begged God to help him, to spare him. And then I realized, just like that, the hate was gone—completely gone! It was like it had all been erased, and all I could remember was the good things he’d done. I told God I was sorry and asked Him to spare Dad so I could tell him that I loved him.

  “It took thirty-five hours to rescue those men. Seventeen died, but Dad came out with just a broken leg. Since then I’ve let God direct my life. And, well . . . here I am.” Constance held up her arms like she didn’t know what more to say, and the campers burst into applause. Len led them in a short prayer, and then they sang a few more songs before returning to their cabins.

  “Constance, your story was so encouraging,” Sarah said as they prepared for bed.

  “Yeah, thanks for sharing it,” Barbara agreed.

  Allison appreciated Constance’s words, too, and wished she could think of something to say, but her tongue felt knotted. She lay in bed and replayed the words she’d heard at the campfire. She knew Constance had done the right thing by forgiving her father, but it hit too close to home when she considered her bitter feelings toward Marsha. How could she feel any different?

  Allison awoke to quiet moaning and blackness and wondered where she was. Someone was thrashing and groaning next to her. Then she remembered she was at camp and was sharing a cabin with several other girls. Sarah’s bunk was next to hers, and Allison lay stiffly in her bed unsure of what to do. It seemed hours before Sarah settled down and Allison finally fell back to sleep.

  The next thing she knew, sunshine poured in through the windows and the morning bell clanged without mercy. The cabin was unusually quiet and nearly empty.

  “Hey, lazybones,” Sarah called as she pulled on a sandal. “You ever getting up?”

  “Mmm . . . I guess so.” Allison rubbed her puffy eyes and stretched lazily. She slipped down from her bunk to discover Heather’s neatly made bed. “Wow, it must be late.”

  “She went to breakfast with Barbara,” Sarah said, pulling an orange jersey over her camp uniform. “I think she gave up on you.”

  Allison yanked on her clothes. “Well, Sarah, if you hadn’t kept me awake half the night—” She stopped mid-sentence when she noticed Sarah’s troubled brown eyes.

  “Did I wake you?” Sarah asked meekly.

  “Yeah, but it’s okay, Sarah. I was just teasing. Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

  “Sometimes I have bad nightmares, but I didn’t mean to disturb anyone.”

  “It’s all right. Forget about it. I need to hurry and catch up with Heather.” Allison didn’t even bother to comb her hair. Allison puzzled over how Heather could hide her blindness from Barbara and get to breakfast without any help. She quickly tied her neckerchief as she dashed for the dining hall with Sarah close by her heels.

  “Slow down, Allison. What is it? Are you starving or something?”

  Allison entered the dining hall and searched the room for Heather. On the far side of the room, she spotted a long golden braid and hurried over.

  “Hi, Heather,” Allison said almost breathlessly. “Why didn’t you wake me?” She glanced at Barbara curiously and then back to Heather. Several other girls from the cabin were already joining them.

  “It’s okay, Al. I decided to come with Barbara for breakfast.”

  Monica was sitting next to Barbara and rolled her eyes at Allison. “Allison, take it easy. Can’t Heather sit with someone else for a change? What are you two—Siamese twins joined at the hip?” Allison smirked at Monica’s sarcastic humor.

  “What’s going on, Heather?” Allison whispered, scooting in beside her friend.

  “I’ll tell you later,” Heather answered. She felt the table for her fork but didn’t pick it up. Just then Miss Campbell stepped forward to lead them in prayer.

  After breakfast, Allison dumped their plates and led Heather away from the dining hall and over to the dock.

  “Relax, Al,” Heather consoled. “It was bound to happen.”

  “What—what do you mean?”

  “Barbara knows.”

  Allison groaned and threw a stone out into the smooth lake. She watched as the tiny circle became another and another and soon the round ripples spanned to the water’s edge.

  “I got up this morning,” Heather began slowly. “I had to use the bathroom. Everyone was asleep—or so I thought. I got dressed and tried to make my way over alone. You know, I’ve been counting and everything. Somehow I messed up and turned too soon and ended up in a bush. Barbara was on her way back to the cabin, and she pulled me out. It wasn’t hard for her to figure out.”

  “Oh no, do you think she’ll tell?”

  Heather didn’t answer. Instead, she whirled around and there stood Barbara on the dock behind them.

  “No, Allison, I’m not going to tell,” Barbara declared. “Anyway, who’d care? But if it’s that important to keep this thing a secret, I’m game.” Allison sighed and smiled at Barbara.

  “See, Allison. I told you not to worry. Thanks, Barbara.” Heather smiled. “Actually, it feels good to have someone else know—sort of a relief.”

  “I can help out, too,” Barbara said. “I’ve never known anyone who’s blind. I think it’s kind of exciting. But we better get back for cabin cleanup now.”

  After the ritual cleaning, the girls went to Chapel and then to the craft shack again. This time they attempted to create pine needle baskets.

  “This is too meticulous for me,” Allison moaned. Her fingers had become sticky from the sap, and the needles in her basket stuck out like a wrinkled porcupine. She looked over at Heather’s tiny, neat basket. “Well, you certainly are a crafty person, aren’t you? Everything you make turns out just about perfect.”

  “Yeah, isn’t she just sickening!” Monica exclaimed. “Is there anything you can’t do, Heather?”

  “You’d be surprised, Monica.” Heather giggled without looking up.

  “Why don’t you go on ahead to the archery range, Allison,” Barbara suggested with a confidential nod. “We’re signed up for the next session. I think I’ll stay and see if I can get some pointers from Heather.”

  “I’ll join you,” Sarah said. “So far none of the girls in our cabin have beat me at target practice. Are you up for the challenge?”

  “Sure, I’ll give it a shot,” Allison said, laughing at her own pun. “I haven’t held a bow for a while . . . not since Camp Wannatonka.” Allison filled Sarah in on all the awful details of her old camp as they walked over to the archery range. Some high school girls were still finishing their archery session, so Allison and Sarah sat down on a log bench to wait.

  “Monica can be pretty snitty, can’t she?” Allison c
ommented.

  “You’re telling me. She can be a pain in the you-know-what. But her biggest problem is she’s boy crazy. Not that I don’t like boys, but if you get alone with Monica it’s all she talks about.”

  Allison laughed. “I haven’t hardly noticed a boy since we got here—except for John Stewart, and he’s just a friend.”

  “Better watch out for Monica, then. She thinks John’s about the best thing since sliced bread!”

  “Don’t I know it. I suspect that’s how we ended up in Spruce Cabin to start with.” Allison looked up at the hill behind the lodge where she and Heather had spent their first night, then she thought about Sarah’s nightmares the night before. “Do you have those nightmares a lot, Sarah?”

  Sarah nodded mutely.

  “I sort of understand how that feels, Sarah. My grandpa died recently, and I had these awful dreams the first few nights, but then they went away. . . .”

  “I wish mine would go away.” Sarah looked down. “But I don’t think they ever will. I’ve had them for years now.”

  Allison couldn’t imagine what could possibly trouble someone like Sarah. Still, she didn’t want to pry. Maybe she should try to change the subject. “Sarah, I’ve been wanting to tell you that I really like your accent. I can’t tell exactly where it’s from, but I think it sounds very elegant.”

  Sarah bit her lip and looked across the gleaming lake where tiny ripples sparkled in the sunlight like hundreds of diamonds. “You have a very good ear, Allison. In fact, you’re the first one at camp to notice. It’s Czechoslovakian. My mother was American, so I’ve spoken English since birth, but still it’s taken me years to lose that accent. My mother is always correcting my pronunciation.”

  “That’s so interesting, Sarah. So then is your father Czech?”

  Sarah nodded with a trace of sadness in her eyes. Just then the older girls finished with the archery range, and Allison and Sarah stepped up to pick out their bows. Sarah expertly held hers and shot the arrow with careful accuracy, very close to the bull’s eye. The next two were just as good. Allison shot and felt lucky just to hit the target. Sarah patiently gave Allison some tips, and Allison gradually improved.

  “This is fun, Sarah,” Allison said. “But you better not give me too much more help, or I just might beat you.” She shot once again, coming close to the center.

  “Yikes! I guess you’re on your own from now on.” They practiced until the lunch bell rang, then made their way to the dining hall.

  “I’m sorry if I was being nosy earlier, Sarah. I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to know more about where you’re from. It sounds so interesting.”

  “I guess some people might call it that.”

  “It sounds terribly romantic to be half Czechoslovakian. And I don’t know why you’d want to lose the lovely accent. How long has it been since you’ve been there?” Allison paused. “Surely you weren’t there during the war.”

  Sarah turned and looked at Allison, then slowly nodded.

  “Oh,” Allison said, the pieces of the puzzle finally coming together. “I guess that couldn’t have been much fun.”

  Sarah shook her head. “No, not much fun.” Then she spoke in a very quiet, serious voice. “Have you ever heard of Auschwitz, Allison?”

  Allison stared at Sarah and swallowed. “Of course . . . it was a horrible Nazi prison camp—they kept Jewish prisoners there. . . .” Her voice trailed off. “Surely, you weren’t—”

  Sarah nodded soberly. “I’m not supposed to talk about it, but sometimes I feel like if I don’t I’ll explode.”

  “You can talk to me, Sarah.” They had reached the area near the cabins, and other campers were clambering about.

  “Not now, Allison,” said Sarah. “But thank you.” They parted ways at the bathroom. Other girls chattered noisily as they got ready for lunch, but Allison washed her hands in silence, trying to absorb all she had just heard.

  “Hi, stranger.” Allison greeted Heather in the dining hall, trying to sound brighter than she felt. “Is everything going okay?” Heather’s sunny smile was answer enough. Allison wanted to tell Heather about Sarah, but she knew by the way that Sarah had spoken that this was something she should keep private.

  “Heather played her flute for us,” Barbara announced. “Constance made her promise to play at the campfire tonight.”

  “Ooh.” Monica faked a dramatic yawn. “That should be terribly entertaining.” Allison glared at her.

  “Hello, Allison,” John said from behind. “How are you doing? Bet you like Oak Cabin better than Spruce.” She turned around, and he handed her some letters. “I’m playing postman today, but from now on you will have to remember to pick up your mail at the main lodge. Looks like you and Heather are pretty popular. Miss Campbell said to let you know there’s a parcel for you, too.”

  Allison grinned. “Thanks so much, John!” She sorted the letters and handed some bulky ones to Heather. “Won’t we have fun during free time this afternoon, Heather!”

  Heather hugged the letters to her chest. “I can hardly wait!”

  “So, is John Stewart your personal delivery boy?” Monica asked sourly.

  “No, he’s just a thoughtful friend,” Allison answered.

  After Bible class, Heather and Allison picked up their package at the lodge. It was from Muriel. They slipped off to a secluded clearing in the woods to enjoy their letters and treats. Heather’s letters were typed in Braille so she needed no assistance. Allison read the letter from her father first.

  Dearest Allison Mercury,

  When I watched you pull out of Portland, I felt part of me being torn away. But my major consolation is knowing I shall now fight to win you back. Already my lawyer has given me great hope. He’s filed a case in New York, and we’re hoping it won’t take too long to get a court date. He’s sent letters and telegrams to Marsha requesting an out-of-court agreement. So far we’ve heard nothing, but it’s still early.

  Allison, I feel like I’ve been given a new life because of you. I still can’t believe it. Sometimes I pinch myself to see if I’m dreaming. Grace has been incredibly understanding. After all I put that poor woman through, I’m surprised she even gives me the time of day. Yes, my dear Allison, we are talking about marriage, but we both agree to do nothing until this dilemma with you is solved. We want everyone happily settled first. Besides, we all need time to get used to each other.

  Now for another piece of good news. I met my old high school art teacher. He runs a nice gallery in a large tourist town down the coast and wants to show my work. I have quite a bit, and Andrew helped me haul it from the lighthouse. He’s such a nice young man. I’ve asked him to take over the lighthouse for the summer. He and Winston are learning a lot about boating and fishing, and I’m learning some things about being a dad. Life would be perfect if only you and Heather were back with us. But it will happen soon. . . . I just know it.

  All my love,

  Dad

  “Allison, it sounds like they’re having such fun. Does it make you feel kind of jealous?” Heather asked.

  “Yes, a little,” Allison admitted. “It makes me angry at Marsha, too. It’s all her fault, you know. If she hadn’t butted in, we’d still be there. Are you sorry you came with me, Heather?”

  “Oh no! Not at all. I just miss them, is all.”

  Heather opened up her flute case and began to play. Allison opened Andrew’s letter next. It was a nice, friendly letter, describing all the new events in his life. He also said he missed her in such a way that her heart warmed toward him, and she longed to be there. She imagined rowing across the inlet with him, fishing and crabbing together. These were still new feelings for her, and she wished she had someone to talk to. It didn’t seem right to discuss her feelings for Andrew with Heather, his very own sister.

  Allison noticed they were surrounded by scores of pretty white daisies, and she carefully constructed a daisy chain crown and placed it on Heather’s head, then began one of her own.


  “It feels lovely, Allison.” Heather gently fingered the dainty flowers and picked up her flute again. “I shall play you a song of gratitude.” The graceful notes seemed to blend into the woods and harmonize with the birds. Suddenly, Heather stopped and laid the silver flute in her lap, cocking her head to one side as if she had heard something. As if on cue, the bushes rustled and John Stewart appeared.

  “Hello there, ladies,” he said. “Sorry to interrupt, but I heard such beautiful woodland music. I thought I’d discovered a hidden fairy glen.”

  “We’re rather clumsy for fairies.” Heather laughed.

  John stared at Heather as if seeing her for the first time. “Actually, Heather, I was wondering if we could practice a few songs together for the campfire. Len gave me permission to come find you so I could accompany you with my guitar—if you don’t mind, that is.”

  “You play guitar?” Heather asked, oblivious to the look of open admiration she was receiving from John. Allison couldn’t blame him as she watched her friend sitting in the soft green grass, her legs curled gracefully under her. Wispy blond curls cascaded around her pretty face, framed by the daisy chain. She really did look like a fairy.

  “Do you want to meet me at the dock around four? I’ll bring my guitar, and we can see what songs we might have in common.” His face grew slightly flushed, and he turned and disappeared as fast as he’d come.

  “Heather,” Allison whispered. “He really seems to like you—a lot!”

  “Oh, silly Al.” Heather smiled. “There you go again! Say, isn’t it time for the Snack Shack to open? I’m thirsty.”

  They tucked their letters away and headed back. Allison wondered if her suspicions were right this time or if she was just getting caught up in thoughts of romance because of her feelings for Andrew. Still, the way John looked at Heather was nothing like the way he’d looked at Allison before. It didn’t make her jealous, just extremely curious.