“No, ma’am, I didn’t,” Mac Darrow said. “But when I couldn’t find my way, I thought I’d never get out.” He studied space at the foot of the bed.
“You were lucky,” said Great-grandmother.
Silence, like a storm gathering, surrounded them. Pesty looked doubtfully at Macky; he stared defiantly at the floor.
Mrs. Darrow opened her eyes. Grinning, she greeted her son. “Mac, Macs, Ha-ha. Make tracks. Let’s go hunting. Ha-ha.”
Forlornly Macky smiled. He leaned over, kissed his mama’s cheek. Thomas never would’ve believed big Mac Darrow could do something so tender.
He turned to them and explained. “Mama, talking about travelin’ in the October-June time, like the season is now. Talking about a hundred, hundred fifty years ago. She must’ve heard tales. Just bits and pieces, I guess. If you listen good, you might can figure it. Sometimes I think I know, but then I don’t know.”
“Figure what?” Pesty said suspiciously.
“Figure out the time when the people had to separate each fall, and in winter and spring, too,” Macky said. “They couldn’t all stay in one place and feed everybody and all the horses. So they had to part company. But in the summer the bands got back together for the hunt or maybe to fight an enemy.”
“Your mama is—are you talking about—about Indians?” Thomas said.
“She’ll talk about sitting on the right. That’s the way most of the tribewomen sat, although I don’t know which tribe,” Macky said. “And which must mean some other women sat with their feet on the left, I guess.”
“Oh, shoot. Mama don’t mean nothing by that stuff!” Pesty said.
Said too quickly, it seemed to Great-grandmother Jeffers. She watched Pesty and then Macky and listened intently. It’s all mixed up, but it makes sense, too, she was thinking. Here we have a brother and sister at odds. Each has a piece of some lost puzzle. Pesty knows much. Macky is trying to discover.
“The Indian …” Thomas started to say “maiden” but remembered not to. At the same moment the picture on the wall across from him caught his attention.
Macky nodded with regard to the Indian maiden. “She’s hightailing it in all the stories. She’s running away, either from someone trying to run faster,” he said, “or from somethin’ else.”
Thomas listened while looking at the picture on the wall over there. There was something about it.
“And what Mama said about being an Eater. Well,” Macky said, “my Daddy says the Eaters was a band of Indians, and a band has related kin.”
The picture! Thomas was thinking. Look at it!
“But what does she care about that? She ain’t a Indian!” Pesty said.
“Well, who knows why?” Macky replied. “She sometimes tells about her people here, don’t you, Mama?” spoken gently to his mother. “Been here for ages. Wasn’t just Daddy’s people was part natives.”
“Who cares?” Pesty said, like a smart aleck.
I can’t just go over and look at the picture, can I? Thomas thought. “That’s a nice picture over there. Can I see it?” he said. He went slowly around the bed, so as not to disturb Mrs. Darrow. He acted only casually interested in the picture. It didn’t look like anything much up close. He didn’t know too much about painting. But he knew this was the kind you could buy ready-made in the dime store. It had a beige sky and a deeper brown earth. It looked somber.
I bet I could do that good, he thought. A horseman out in a track of land was what it was. There was a mean homestead to the horseman’s back and a rocky trail in the foreground. Then he felt Mac Darrow right behind him.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Macky spoke low, whispering in his ear.
“Looking at the picture,” Thomas said evenly. “I bet I could almost copy it, too.”
“Didn’t know you were some painter,” Macky said, his voice a menace.
“I’m not,” Thomas said. “But this looks like a piece of sculpture. I mean, look at the thick paint of the figure. Shouldn’t be that hard to carve the figure in one piece.” He didn’t care whether Macky believed him or not.
Maybe he thinks I’m on to something, Thomas thought. Else why did he come up behind me so fast? He’s afraid I’m on to something, if he knows what’s here.
Because it wasn’t the painting that had caught Thomas’s eye, to pull him up so fast out of his seat. It was two corners of the picture frame. Two triangles opposite each other, made up two of the four frame corners. Two right triangles with legs of wood, forming two right angles. The solid mass areas between the angles and their hypotenuses were almost entirely hidden under the painting. But the thin edges of the hypotenuses gave off a slight glint when he moved his head back and forth.
The picture frame triangles were probably the same as the ones the Darrows had made themselves and had placed in doorframes of the Drear house months ago. By that trick the Smalls suspected Darrows meant to show them that they could secretly enter the Drear house whenever they chose. They meant to frighten Thomas’s family into fleeing the house, and they had almost succeeded.
Mr. Pluto first told Thomas and his father that during slavery, triangles had been a cross reading for escaping slaves. Where a triangle fit in one of the four positions on the Greek cross would give the direction a running slave was to travel. If a triangle fit on the cross in the top left quadrant above the plane, or northwest, then the direction would be north. If it fit in the southeast quadrant, or lower right below the plane, then the direction would be south, and so on.
These two triangles are to be hidden forever in that picture frame, Thomas thought. But why? His heart quickened. I saw them fast because I know about triangles. Macky looked surprised out in the woods when I mentioned the triangles in the house. He didn’t know about them! Or maybe he knew about just these two in the picture. He wouldn’t know his mama wandered the house. But where would Mrs. Darrow get these triangles? And why do they glint yellow? … Does Macky think they are gold? Could they be? That’s it! That’s what Macky’s hunting! He knows about these two in the picture frame. He figures they might be gold. There might be more somewhere, and if he finds them, he’ll have treasure for his daddy and his brothers! That’s why he’s trying to find out something from Mr. Pluto. I bet that’s it.
Have to get out of here, wait for Papa to come home.
Thomas had been thinking quickly. Macky was still breathing down his neck, leaning around him to watch his expression. Thomas kept himself calm.
“Mr. Thomas, you like that picture?” Pesty came up to stand at his side. Macky eased off a little. “My mama made it,” she said, proudly.
“You mean, she painted it?” Thomas said.
“Uh-huh,” Pesty said. “She used to paint. Same picture all the time. But this the only one she ever put a frame to. Made the frame herself, too.”
Macky stumbled away.
“Mac, Macs, ha-ha,” Mrs. Darrow murmured.
He slipped out of the room without saying goodbye to anyone.
Must be real sad to have a mama who is crazy, Thomas thought, and regretted the thought. Macky loves his mama, and she cares for him. You can tell.
Pesty was looking at him. Does she know about these triangles hidden in the picture? he wondered. Does she know why they’re hidden; can she see the glinting? He wanted to say, “Pesty, what are they doing there?” But something held him back. Instead, he said, “Triangles, right triangles.” Testing her.
“What, Mr. Thomas? Try what?” she said.
“Never mind,” he said, not quite believing she didn’t know. He was beginning to believe she knew a lot more than she was telling.
Thomas’s mouth was dry. He sighed and swallowed. “Where’d Macky go?”
“Heard him go outside,” Pesty said.
“Then now’s the time to skedaddle,” he said. “Hey! Where’d Great-grandmother go?” Just that moment she came back in through the door. “Where’d you go?” he asked. “Where’ve you been?”
“I we
nt out to see who’s coming, just after Macky left. Thomas, I believe the misters are coming. We’d better get on back the way we came.”
Mrs. Darrow was up on one elbow, leaning forward toward Thomas and Pesty.
“Get gone!” she said. “My horse, get away!”
“She don’t want anyone close up to her picture too much, Mr. Thomas,” Pesty said. “She must’ve woke up and seen you.”
“I’m going, I’m getting away, Mrs. Darrow,” he said softy. “Great-grandmother, let’s go.”
“Yes,” Great-grandmother said. “Mrs. Darrow, we’ll come to see you again sometime. We’ll be real neighbors one day.” She smiled kindly on the sick woman.
Mrs. Darrow stared at them with her black, burning eyes. “I’m an old-time gardener,” she said. “I sit on the right side. Forever.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Great-grandmother. “Goodbye now, dear. We’ll see you soon. Maybe take a walk with you.”
“Take a walk!” said Mrs. Darrow, and she laughed uproariously.
Thomas led Great-grandmother Jeffers through the closet and into the tunnel.
“I’m going with you,” said Pesty. They heard a door slam in the house just as Pesty slid the closet door closed.
“You don’t have to come,” Thomas whispered. “Maybe you should stay with, your mother, see that she doesn’t make a slip.”
“They don’t pay attention to her,” said Pesty. “She’s probably already asleep again. Here, I’ll lead.” She squeezed by Thomas and Great-grandmother.
“Let’s go!” Thomas said.
“Give her the flashlight,” Great-grandmother said.
“No, ma’am, let Mr. Thomas hold the light,” Pesty said. “So’s you-all can see the way. I don’t need no light.”
Be glad to get back to the house, Thomas thought, relieved that Pesty was leading them. So much to tell Papa! Hope he and Mama won’t be mad at me. Lucky! I’ve got Great-grandmother on my side.
14
WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT the little fellows could be so rambunctious? That Mrs. Small, her arms full of groceries in the kitchen, would have a moment’s distraction. Often now the boys got away from her, running off like two wild pups. They were only going upstairs to see Great-grandmother and Thomas. And probably Pesty was with Thomas still as well. Shortly before, Mrs. Small had stepped up onto the front veranda and instructed Billy to take her key from her purse.
“Want to see Gray-grahma!” Billy had said, finding the key for his mama.
“Well, you’ll see her in a moment,” Mrs. Small had answered. She took the key, braced the groceries in her arms, and turned the key in the lock. “Now push, Buster,” she had told her stoutest little son. They had entered the hall, and she’d called, “Grandmother Rhetty, we’re home!” She thought she heard faint talking upstairs as she went on to the kitchen to set the bags down and put the groceries away.
She was thinking about how the boys seemed to like the nursery school. They could attend six half days or three full days a week. She thought she’d let them try it. I’ll talk it over with Walter. She thought of Thomas and Mac Darrow then and smiled to herself. With the twins in school, Thomas would have more time to make new friends.
Walter came home before she could gather the boys and go pick him up. He’d gotten a ride from someone at the college. Had his papers and books, his briefcase. “We stopped at the store,” he said in greeting.
Martha smiled. “Walter, I shopped, too,” she said. “I bought hamburger and chicken and cookies.”
“Chicken and lamb chops and cookies,” he said. “Well, hello!”
“Well, we can use everything,” she said.
Just then Thomas bounded down the stairs. “Papa, Mama, you will never guess in the world what happened!” he exclaimed.
“Thomas, is Great-grandmother coming?” his mama said, thinking her little boys must have Grandmother Rhetty in tow.
“I’m right here!” Great-grandmother Jeffers called. “I’m just not so fast.” Martha Small imagined that Billy and Buster were on either side of her, helping her carefully down.
But who would have thought the two little fellows would be in the exact spot to see something of what Thomas said their folks would never guess? Billy and Buster had got away from their mama when she came in with her arms full of groceries. They climbed upstairs in search of Great-grandmother, only to find her bedroom empty. They’d stood there for a moment, peeking in at the clutter.
“Gray-grahma,” Billy said, “not here.”
It was Buster who ran over to Thomas’s room, to find that she was not there either. Together the boys went to their own room. Finding it empty, they closed the door behind them. Billy banged on the door. “Come in?” he said, imitating the way his mother answered whenever they knocked on her door.
“Come in?” Buster mimicked. They giggled.
Billy ran down the hall, knocking on closed doors. “Come in? Come in? How you do? Yes. Tank you. Please.” Peals of laughter from the boys. Inspired, Buster banged on the very last door, and it swung slowly open.
“Oooh,” Billy whispered. Buster put his arm around him. Billy wrapped his arm around Buster. They stood there, looking in at the darkened bedroom. They couldn’t remember ever being in this room before. Just a bedroom. They strutted in like marchers they’d seen at Street Fair Day. They didn’t remember what the day was called. But they remembered the band playing, the smell of popcorn. How remarkable it was that their nearly identical minds would sort out the same experiences for both to remember! They grinned twin grins and jumped up on the bed. They stepped high across and up and down the striped bedspread.
Until the moment they heard muffled sounds there, coming from the bedroom wall where there was a fireplace. Talking, getting closer, louder, from behind the wall. Without hesitation they hid themselves. They slid off the bed to the floor behind. In the shadows of the corner there, they hid and watched, peeking under the bed. Buster crawled under, and Billy followed, scooting on his stomach up beside his brother. They held each other’s hand. And looked out from beneath the bedspread that hung a couple of inches above the floor.
They saw the fireplace move around. And there were Thomas and Gray-grahma being carried slowly from the other side. Well, this must be some game. Hiding behind a wall. Hide-and-seek! They knew not to laugh. They knew how to play.
Billy covered his mouth to keep in the giggle that was bubbling up inside him. So did Buster, as Thomas helped Great-grandmother Jeffers down from the fireplace hearth.
“Whew!” they heard Gray-grahma say. “Nice to be back inside, Thomas, isn’t it?”
“It sure is,” Thomas said. He turned back to the wall with the fireplace that had brought them into the room. As he pushed the place there above the mantel, the fireplace moved, went slowly around, and disappeared. And the one that had been there when the boys came in swung around again.
A slow grin spread over Billy’s face.
“I hear Mama downstairs!” Thomas said. “She’s home!” And he could also hear his papa’s low rumble of a voice.
Thomas ran out of the room, yelling for his papa and his mama all the way. His brothers, wide-eyed under the bed, listened and waited.
Great-grandmother Jeffers went out, breathing somewhat hard now. It had been quite a walk she’d taken. She closed the door behind her.
The boys still could hear Thomas. Heard him holler, “… you will never guess in the world …” They were all alone. Peeking from under the bed, Billy watched the bottom of the closed door. But nobody came back to find him and Buster. This was hide-and-seek, so they waited for a moment longer.
Finally Buster scooted out from under the bed. Billy followed. “Shoot,” Buster said. “Find us? Come in?” he added, grinning.
Billy didn’t want to play knock, knock, come in. He knew where there was another game. He looked at the fireplace for a long time. Buster came up next to him. He looked over at the fireplace and back to Billy.
There was a lon
g, silent moment. Billy grinned from ear to ear again. He put his arm around his brother. “Merry-go-round!” he said.
Buster stared at him. He caught on. “Oh! Go! Go!” he exclaimed.
“Merry-go-round!” Billy said again. They marched up to the fireplace, climbed up on the hearth. Billy slapped at the stones. He’d seen Thomas do the slapping. Be big, like Thomas. He had to hold on to the mantel, slap above it, standing on tiptoes.
Buster started hitting the stones, too. “Ouch,” he said. “Come in”—murmured with a touch of pain.
Billy found the stone that could be pushed in. He hit it and felt it give. He pushed it, and the wall swung around. “Whee!”
Buster held on. It was a queer merry-go-round he was on. He knew the happiness of a merry-go-round they’d ridden sometime, and it had been fun. So this one must be fun. “Whee,” he said, halfheartedly as they came around to the darkness.
“Come in!” Billy said, stepping down from the raised hearth.
“Nuh-uh,” said Buster, holding on.
“Come on!” Billy commanded.
“No!” Buster said.
“Hey, you guys!” Someone spoke to them in the dark.
“Pessy!” Buster said.
“Yeah!” Pesty said. “I was just making up my mind if I would come on over. I come on back with Thomas and Great Mother. Here, take my hand, Billy. Buster, you hold on to Billy—do you want to play?”
“Yeah!” Billy said.
“Wanna go home,” Buster said plaintively.
Billy took him by the hand.
“Now walk careful. It’s a stairs,” Pesty told them. “Take a step, one at a time.”
Carefully Billy stepped down. He turned in the dark to his brother. “Take a step, Bus,” he said. Buster did as he was told, but he still wanted to go home.
Then they were in the room with the one lantern glow, the perfect room from another time. Slowly the boys grew out of sorts in the evening light of wine-colored velvets and pale pink silks of the end table skirts. Buster, sensing the strangeness and smelling the ancient underground, began to cry. Hearing Buster cry made Billy whimper. Soon both boys were moaning and crying. They climbed up on the secret bed because it seemed familiar. But its sagging tick pallet did not make them feel much like marching. They got down, stumbling around, feeling lost even though Pesty was right there, watching over them. They put their heads together and bawled in earnest.
Mystery of Drear House Page 8