Her high, piercing scream would have hurt a dog’s ears. Joey’s heart thumped wildly. It was the man who had looked at him this morning. Story scrambled to his feet and squeezed between Joey and the shelf. Glory’s scream stopped as she ran out of breath. As she prepared to scream again the man, who had put his hands to his ears and was grimacing in pain said, “Please don’t.”
His words distracted Glory and she stood silently with her mouth open. The moment to scream now gone, Glory turned and whispered loudly, “Joey!” She squeezed in with Story behind her big brother. The shelf rocked again and a little plastic figure sailed down in front of them on a parachute. They all looked up half expecting to see a tiny plane flying by. There was only the ceiling.
The man brought his hands down from his ears. “Thank you,” he said. “You better be careful over there. An elephant might drop on you.”
In unison Joey, Glory and Story took one step away from the shelf. It seemed in that room it could happen. The man’s voice was strong and soft at the same time. It had earnestness to it like when someone is telling you a secret. The man was very short, not much taller than Joey. He had a soft, round face. He wore round glasses with thick, Coke bottle lenses that doubled the size of his hazel eyes. His glasses flashed as they reflected the light from the window. The kids couldn’t decide whether to cry or to laugh.
“Now, what you young’uns doing in here?” he asked.
Nobody answered.
“Come on now. Speak up!” He made a strange sight with his clean blue overalls rolled up at the ankle, his hands on his hips, a band of graying hair around the back of his head. His big eyes darted from one child to another. “Am I going to have to hang you up by your feet until the blood runs out your ears?”
“We were just exploring,” squeaked Glory.
“And you just happened to choose my dream room, huh? How did you find it anyway?” His eyes narrowed and he lowered his voice. “Did someone give you a map?” He said ‘map’ as if it were a powerful word.
“We were just exploring the garage when we found this door,” said Story, taking courage from Glory.
The man cut him off, “You were exploring the garage?” He stepped forward and waved his arms. “Don’t you know that’s dangerous! There’s rats in there with big teeth.” He put two fingers up by his mouth to illustrate. “And the bats. Ohhhh, the bats. They’re so big they’ll take you out and hit you back and forth like a volley ball to warm you up before drinking your blood for dinner.” As he was saying this something small and black flew into the room through the open doorway. Glory, whose courage didn’t extend to bats, screamed again.
The man threw his arms over his head and dived to the floor. Joey and the twins did the same. Joey was the first to dare peek. He saw it was just a little sparrow trying to get through the window.
“It’s just a sparrow,” he said, as he sat up on his knees. “See.” He pulled Glory’s hands away from her face. He had to do this twice before she would look. Story looked from between his fingers.
“Gee whiz. You scared me!” said the man as he got up off the floor. Joey thought his face was a little red. “Actually, that is not a sparrow, but a dark eyed junco.” He cleared his throat trying to get his dignity back. Walking to the door he whistled twice and pointed out the door. The bird turned from the window and flew out. “Windows confuse’em so.”
“How did you do that,” asked Joey.
“What?”
“With the bird?” said Joey.
“Oh, we have an understanding.” He walked a few steps farther into the room looking around. “So, what do you think of her,” he said with a sweep of his arm. “Isn’t she a beaut.”
The kids got back to their feet. Glory accidently touched the shelf. She jumped away from it.
The train, which had been dutifully making its rounds about the miniature countryside jumped off its tracks and came to rest in the little pond along side a tiny building that said, “Marlin’s Bait Shop.”
“Well,” said the man. “The Twelve-O-Clock is going to be late today.”
“Who are you,” asked Glory.
“Who, me?” He cleared his throat importantly. “I’m Beezer,” he said. He held out his hand to shake and Glory shook it.
“Well look at that,” he said, reaching up and touching her hair near her ear. “Chrysanthemum maximum.” He brought the flower down and handed it to her.
“It’s a daisy,” she said.
“You always carry one of those around with you?”
She shook her head and gently rubbed the flower against her cheek.
“And you,” he said looking at Story. “Do you know how to use that thing?” Story still had the sword in his hand. Beezer went to the shelf and picked up another sword just like Story’s. “Arrrrr,” he growled in pirate brogue. Story grinned and attacked. They sparred back and forth until Beezer gave Story an opening. Story struck home. It was Beezer’s turn to die. He rocked forward, then backward holding his stomach. “Arrr, Henrietta, he’s killed me. Avenge my death.” Then he fell on his back, dead.
Beezer sat up, smiling. Story, completely won over by this stranger, stepped over and hugged him. Joey was uncomfortable with this.
Growing a little more serious as he got up, Beezer said, “Now I know this room doesn’t look too dangerous to you, but you’d do well not to come here without me,” Beezer said.
“Why’s that?” Glory asked, unafraid of Beezer anymore.
“You just never know what’s going to happen,” Beezer said. “The wrong movement, the wrong word—it could be a disaster.” Beezer looked around him as if he were in a pit of snakes.
Glory and Story started laughing. Joey didn’t think Beezer was trying to be funny.
“You mean if I stomp my foot—” Glory said,
“—and I yell abracadabra . . .” added Story.
“No, don’t!” yelled Beezer, holding out his arm to stop them.
It was too late: Glory’s foot came down and Story yelled the magic word at the top of his lungs. With a roar and a flame the four foot tall rocket tipped a little, lifted off the floor, and shot through a window pane with a crash. It continued at an angle up into the sky. It flew higher and higher leaving a white trail of smoke until it eventually disappeared from sight.
“Now you’ve done it,” Beezer exclaimed, his hands on his head.
Glory and Story stood just for a moment with eyes wide and mouths open, then they ran around the table and out the door. Joey started to follow them.
“Just a minute, Joey,” Beezer said.
Joey froze.
Beezer, shading his eyes with his hand, stood staring through the window up into the sky. He snorted once, then broke into a rolling laugh. “It gets ‘em every time,” he said.
Joey was confused. Beezer had just lost a beautiful rocket, there was a hole in his window, and he acted as if it were a joke.
“I’m sorry about the rocket,” Joey said, quietly. We’ll find a way to pay for it.”
“That’ll be difficult the way things are now, won’t it?” Beezer asked.
“What do you mean?” Joey asked. What did Beezer know about his family?
“Never mind,” Beezer said. “Anyway, the rocket will be back down.” He looked closely at Joey and changed the subject.
“I thought you might like this.” He handed Joey an adjustable brass ring that had the letter ‘J’ on a round plate in the front. Joey stared at it, his mouth hanging open. His father had given him that ring when he turned nine. He had lost it on a family outing to Emerald Lake in Idaho. He had searched the bank of the lake where they had picnicked but hadn’t been able to find it. He thought it was gone forever. He took the ring from Beezer’s hand.
“Where—” Joey began.
“I found it by the truck last night. I figured it must be yours.”
That just can’t be, Joey thought. Joey stared at the ring unable to speak.
Beezer, after a moment’s silence, sa
id, “I’m the fix-it man around here. Been with the mansion for a long time. Tell your mother I’ll come introduce myself this afternoon, okay?”
Joey slipped the ring on his finger, looked at Beezer, and nodded. “Okay,” he said.
“It’s your lunch time. You’d better go.”
Joey nodded again and walked out the door.
“Try to keep your little brothers and sisters out of my room,” He called. “I’d hate for a ship to sail away.”
Joey looked over his shoulder and nodded. Short, bald-topped Beezer with the coke bottle glasses stood silhouetted by the sunlit windows behind him. In the mixture of light and shadow Beezer didn’t look completely of this world.
Chapter 4
Joey squinted at his watch as he left the darkness of the garage. It was 12:30. Joey let the screen door slam as he ran across the porch and into the kitchen. Mrs. Johanaby was waiting for him. He knew the look on her face. He had seen it a lot since Mr. Johanaby had died. Joey had the nicest mom in the world, but lately his mom could go from happy to angry as quickly as a snap of the fingers.
“Joey Johanaby!” started his mother. “Will you look at your brother and sister. There’s grease on their hands, clothes, faces, and in their hair. They tell me they’ve been in a dangerous old garage where there are time bombs, rats, bats, strange rooms, and loony old men. I entrusted you with their safety and I nearly lose them to who knows what, the very first morning. And what time did I tell you to bring them in to lunch?”
“Twelve o’—”
“Twelve o’clock, that’s right,” interrupted his mother. “And what time is it now?”
“Twelve-thir—”
“Twelve-thirty,” his mother said. “I was worried sick. I couldn’t see you kids anywhere. I went out and looked but had to rush back in because cheese sandwiches were on the grill. They burned. Well that’s just the way we’ll have to eat them. Now go clean up, and then hurry back to the table. I should make you all take baths.”
Joey didn’t just have to listen to his mother, but he had to watch Glory stick her tongue out at him while Story shook his finger at him as if he were Mrs. Johanaby. Sometimes he hated them.
They rushed to the bathroom and washed up. When they finished, the bar of soap was black. Dirty streaks ran down the outside of the sink. The towel lay in a stained heap under the towel rack. Joey was hungry but he knew his Mom would be angry if she found the bathroom like this. He rinsed the bar of soap until it was pink again and scrubbed the sink with a towel until it was clean. He threw the dirty towel in the clothes hamper and ran down the hall to the kitchen. Everyone was sitting around the table waiting when he came in.
“Are you trying to set a new record for late today?” asked his mother.
Joey slid into his chair and mumbled, “I had to clean the sink up.”
“What was that?” asked Mrs. Johanaby.
“Nothing. I’m sorry I’m late,” Joey answered.
Mrs. Johanaby stared at him, the hardness in her face softening. “You’re a good boy, Joey,” she said, with a sigh. Then, looking round the table she said, “It’s good to have you all here.”
Mrs. Johanaby dished up tomato soup while Joey and Story used their spoons to scrape the burned part of the bread off their grilled cheese sandwiches. Glory ate hers the way it was. She liked burned grilled cheese sandwiches. A black ring of buttery, burned bread crumbs formed around her mouth.
“So, are there really rats in that garage?” asked Mrs. Johanaby.
“Well, there could be rats in the garage,” said Joey. “I mean, it looks like a place rats would like to live, but I didn’t see any.”
“What about what Beezer said?” asked Glory.
All the kids were silent at that question. Mrs. Johanaby looked at each of them.
“Who is this Beezer?” she asked.
“He’s this man who has a room out in the garage,” Joey said.
“You mean they are not making him up?” Mrs. Johanaby looked alarmed.
“I don’t think so,” said Joey. “I mean, I saw him too.” The room and Beezer had been so fantastic that Joey actually wondered if any of it was real. He looked down at his spoon hand and saw the ring Beezer had returned to him. Yes, he must be real.
Mrs. Johanaby followed Joey’s eyes and saw the ring. Her mouth dropped open. “Didn’t you lose that ring in Idaho?” she asked.
“Beezer found it,” Joey said. “He says it was by our truck.” Joey could see the same thoughts of disbelief going through his mom’s head that went through his own.
“Let me see,” she said. Joey held his hand up. Mrs. Johanaby fingered the ring and looked closely. She touched the ring as if it were her husband’s face. Suddenly she came back to herself. “Is he still there? Did he threaten you? I’m calling the sheriff!” She started to get up.
“No, Mom!” All three kids spoke at once. Their earnestness stopped her.
“He’s okay. And besides, he says he comes with the house,” Joey said.
This statement made Mrs. Johanaby think.
“Just a minute,” she said.
She left the kitchen and came back with a paper in her hand. “It does say here that there is a caretaker for the mansion. I remember the lawyer telling me now. It’s strange because part of the agreement for us to inherit the house is that we can’t fire the caretaker or make him move. He must have been pretty special to Aunt Winocha.” Mrs. Johanaby sat down pursing her lips in thought. “So you met this caretaker and his name is Beezer. What did this Beezer say about the rats?”
“He said there were rats so big in the garage that one of them could eat all of us and still be hungry,” said Glory.
“He said the bats would play games with us,” added Story.
“Games?” asked Mrs. Johanaby.
“Volleyball,” said Story.
“Oh, volleyball,” answered Mrs. Johanaby. Joey could see his mother trying to decide if Beezer were crazy, eccentric, or just full of tease. Joey was still trying to decide that.
“Is it true?” asked Glory.
“Well, I don’t think bats know how to play volleyball. Rats can get big and nasty but not that big.”
“I knew it!” exclaimed Glory. “Beezer’s just an old fart.”
“Glory, you don’t call anybody that,” said Mrs. Johanaby angrily.
“You called Grandpa Johanaby an old fart when he told his fishing stories,” said Glory.
“That’s . . . that’s different,” said Mrs. Johanaby.
“How—”
“It just is. Now I don’t care if this Beezer does tell stories, don’t call him that anymore. Understand?” She gave Glory that look that said ‘You better understand!’
Glory nodded reluctantly.
Joey, happy to see his sister getting it from his mom took a big bite of his sandwich and watched the cheese stretch from his mouth back to the plate when he set his sandwich down.
“Maybe Beezer tells stories,” said Glory, “but he’s real nice.” She brought the daisy from her lap and laid it on the table next to her bowl.
“Did he give you that?” asked Mrs. Johanaby.
Glory nodded.
“I wonder where he picked it.”
“He found it in my ear.”
“In your ear?”
Glory nodded. “He reached into my ear and pulled it out.”
“I should look harder when I clean your ears,” Mrs. Johanaby said with a smile.
Glory started giggling. Story rolled his eyes. He knew once his twin started giggling she can’t stop. True to form Glory giggled until red soup ran out her nose.
“Ugh!” said Story. “That’s disgusting.” He put his spoon down and said, “I don’t want any more soup.” This made Glory giggle even more.
“That’s fine,” said Mrs. Johanaby. “But don’t come crying to me when you’re hungry. And Glory, keep the soup in your mouth and out of your nose.”
It took three minutes of threats from Mrs. Johanaby befo
re Glory could stop giggling.
“Sounds like I need to meet this magic Beezer,” Mrs. Johanaby said.
“He seemed to know we moved into the house,” said Joey.
“He probably saw us move in,” Mrs. Johanaby said. She pressed her finger against a bread crumb on the table and put it in her mouth.
“I mean, he seemed to know it was us before we got here.”
Mrs. Johanaby raised an eyebrow quizzically.
“Anyway,” Joey said, not knowing how to explain, “he said he would come meet you this afternoon.”
“Meet me?” said Mrs. Johanaby. She looked uncomfortable. “Yes, of course we need to meet.” She spoke absentmindedly.
“He found my ring,” Joey murmured, still wondering how that could be.
The Johanaby children sat on the back steps just outside the screened porch, eating their ice cream cones. Story attacked his from the top, taking big bites and chewing the chocolate chips. Glory bit the bottom out of her cone and sucked her ice cream like it was a milk shake. This was risky. She had to keep up with the melting ice cream from the top and the bottom. Joey simply licked all the way around his cone catching the ice cream as it melted.
Story finished his cone first. He stood up, held out his arms and started spinning around while looking straight up in the sky. He turned tightly at first, and then started to stagger. Finally he tumbled dizzily to the ground.
“Ugh, the world’s still spinning,” he said lying on his back. “I wonder why that happens after you twirl.” He added. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Mom’ll be real mad if you throw up lunch,” said Glory. She had ice cream dripping down her chin and running down her arm.
“Hey, what’s that?” asked Story. He pointed to the cellar doors. He got up, staggered over, and began tugging on them.
“I wouldn’t mess with those,” said Joey. “They lead down under the house. It’s probably dangerous.”
“That’s what you said about the garage,” answered Story. “Come on Glory. Help me.” But even with Glory’s help they couldn’t lift the door high enough to open it.
Joey and the Magic Map Page 4