by S. G. Rogers
****
Jon was vacuuming the living room when Sela returned from her sleepover, yawning and tousled. She walked in the front door with a pink overnight bag slung over her shoulder. Jon powered down the vacuum. “Hey, squirt,” he said.
“What’s up?” she asked. “It’s a nice day and you’re inside, doing housework?”
Mrs. Hansen heard Sela’s voice. She hurried into the living room with a dusting rag in hand. “Oh, good, Sela, you’re home. Jon, you’ve done enough. Put the vacuum in the closet and take your sister to The Beach Shack for lunch. The appraiser is due any second.”
She handed Jon money and then dashed away. Sela wrinkled her nose in confusion. “But I thought—”
“I’ll explain later,” he said.
****
Jon crammed a handful of hot, crispy, seasoned fries into his mouth. Sela took a pull on her chocolate malt, dejected.
“I can’t believe Mom is still going to sell the house,” she moped. “Dad’s not coming back, is he?” The last part was more of a statement than a question.
“He is if I can help it,” Jon replied, licking his fingers.
Sela gave him a sharp look. “Do you know something I don’t?”
“Not yet, but I think it’s all tied in with Ophelia.”
“Ophelia?”
“My ring.”
“Your ring’s got a name?”
“Never mind,” Jon said. “Mom knows about Yden, I’m certain of it.”
“So you believe me?”
“I do now. Look, Sela, Mom is trying to protect me by taking Ophelia away. I don’t know how much longer I can put her off. I need time to contact Dad’s foster parents. They might have some information that would help me.”
“Help you do what?” she asked.
“Figure out how to get to Yden.”
Sela gasped. “What if you can’t get home, Jon? What if you get stuck there, like Dad?”
“I overheard Mom tell Chaz that Dad has returned from Yden before,” Jon said. “When I find Dad and bring him back with me, it’ll be worth the risk. You have to get Mom out of the house this afternoon.”
“Okay, I’ll tell her I need to go shopping.”
“That’ll work.”
Sela grabbed Jon’s wrist. “Don’t go to Yden without telling me.”
“I won’t,” Jon promised.
Of course, that’s what Dad promised Mom, and look how that worked out, he thought.
Chapter Five
Sibling Subterfuge
The kitchen was in disarray when Jon and Sela returned. Mrs. Hansen had lugged the big, oversized cooler in from the garage, and she was filling it with perishable food.
“Are we going camping?” Sela asked.
“Actually, I’m cleaning out the refrigerator,” Mrs. Hansen said. “Having the appraiser over made me a little self-conscious about my housekeeping, so I decided not to put it off any longer.”
Sela peered inside the refrigerator and grimaced. “Eew. What an icky job.”
“What about the appraisal?” Jon asked.
“There’s a new wrinkle. The appraiser said I’d probably need to see a lawyer before I can list the house. The title is held by your father and me, and I can’t legally sell it without his signature.”
Jon and Sela exchanged a relieved glance.
“Mom, school is starting soon,” Sela said. “If I promise not to spend too much money, can we go shopping?”
“That’s a good idea,” Mrs. Hansen said. “Jon, you could use a few things. After I finish this, we should all go shopping together.”
“No!” Jon and Sela cried at the same time.
Mrs. Hansen gaped at them, surprised.
“What I mean is, I need your help with, um, underwear,” Sela said, whispering the last word. Her face flushed the color of the ketchup bottle in her mother’s hands.
“Underwear? You don’t need any underwear, Sela. Oh…I’m not sure you need that kind of underwear yet, sweetie. You’re not developed enough.”
“I’m going into middle school, Mom. You don’t want me to look different from the other girls, do you?”
Sela gave Jon a killer stare, daring him to laugh. Jon managed to keep a straight face.
“You two go on ahead. After I get my driver’s license on Tuesday, I can drive myself to the mall anytime,” he said.
“Okay,” Mrs. Hansen said. “Let me finish cleaning out the fridge, Sela, and then we’ll go.”
Jon swallowed hard. “I’ll do it, Mom.”
“How sweet, Jon.” Mrs. Hansen beamed. She handed Jon a box of cleaning supplies. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
Sela pointed at the refrigerator and pantomimed gagging. Jon stared at the appliance and sighed.
****
Almost two hours later, Jon wiped the last of the stainless steel polish from the refrigerator/freezer veneer. He peeled his thick yellow protective gloves off, tossed them under the sink and then lugged the now-empty cooler back to its storage place in the garage. With a worried glance at the clock, he headed for the office.
The door was locked.
“Rats.”
Jon had forgotten Chaz had changed the lock the day he’d hung the heavy bag in the garage. Months had passed since then, and although there were a few stray keys in one of the kitchen drawers, none of them was new. He suspected the office key was on his mother’s key chain. Frustrated and in a foul temper, Jon went out to the garage, strapped on his training gloves, and pounded the sawdust out of Fred Spencer.
When Sela and Mrs. Hansen returned from their shopping trip, Jon was finishing a marathon session with the jump rope. As they pulled into the garage, he came to a reluctant stop. Sela emerged from the Volvo with a shopping bag, gloating over her new purchases.
“You need help carrying stuff in?” Jon asked his mother.
“If you don’t mind, Jon. There are bags in the trunk,” she replied. “I’ve got to enter these receipts in the checkbook before I forget.”
Mrs. Hansen went into the house. Sela gave Jon a questioning look, but he shook his head.
“I can’t get into the office. It’s locked and I think Mom has the only key,” he whispered.
“Leave it to me.”
She shoved her bag into Jon’s hands and followed her mother into the house. Mystified, Jon gathered the rest of the shopping bags from the back of the Volvo and took them upstairs to Sela’s room. When he returned to the kitchen, his mother and sister appeared to be searching for something.
“Jon, the refrigerator looks beautiful,” Mrs. Hansen said. “But I can’t find my keys.”
His eyes slid over to Sela, who jerked her head toward the garage.
“Um…do you think you left them in the car, Mom?” he suggested.
“I don’t remember leaving them in the car. I could have sworn I dropped them in my purse,” Mrs. Hansen said, confused.
“I’ll go check the garage,” Sela volunteered.
“I’ll go with you,” Jon said.
Once in the garage, Sela showed Jon the keys in her pocket.
“Great. Can you distract Mom a little longer while I unlock the office?” he whispered.
“It’s already been done,” she said, waggling her eyebrows.
Sela opened the Volvo door, paused a few moments, and then slammed it shut. “I found them, Mom,” she called out.
She ran back into the house, with Jon at her heels.
“They were on the dashboard,” Sela told her mother, laying the keys on the counter.
Mrs. Hansen sighed with relief. “Thanks, sweetie. I must have a lot on my mind.”
Jon gave Sela an appraising look. She was even sneakier than he’d thought.
“Hey, Jon, come see the present I brought you,” Sela said with a surreptitious wink.
They dashed upstairs into Sela’s room, where her purchases lay on her bed. She began to paw through the pile.
“Did you really buy me a present?” Jon asked.
>
“Well, no, it was a gift with purchase,” Sela admitted. She handed him a small notebook with a sketch pencil attached. “I thought you might like it.”
Jon examined the notebook, which was bound in leather-stamped vinyl. The fine paper inside was easily torn out, and the book fit neatly in his pocket.
“I love it, actually. It’s perfect,” he said, pleased. “Thanks.”
He drew a cartoon of a winsome, adorable puppy and gave it to his sister. “Here you go. My first official piece of art from my new sketchbook.”
“Ooh, Jon, I want a puppy exactly like this one!”
“It’s a good thing I didn’t draw you a horse,” he said. “Mom would never have forgiven me.”
“Speaking of Mom…” Sela tiptoed over to her door and closed it. “What’s the plan?”
“I’ll get what I need from the office after everyone has gone to bed.”
“Don’t forget to lock the door again when you leave. You can lock it from the inside and pull the door closed. I know because I checked.”
“Wow, Sela, you’re really good.”
She shrugged with nonchalance. “Watch and learn, big brother. I’m the best of the best.”
“Mmm. I’m going to have to keep my eye on you.”
“So, what about Ophelia?” she asked.
“Hopefully, Mom will forget about her.”
Sela snorted with derision. “Mom never forgets about anything.”
****
Mrs. Hansen ordered in Chinese food for dinner. While they were eating, Sela took Jon’s puppy drawing out of her pocket. “Look what Jon drew for me, Mom.”
Mrs. Hansen took a moment to admire the drawing. “I know I’m probably biased, but I think your artistic abilities are truly outstanding, Jon. I guess art camp this summer was time well spent.”
“Thanks, Mom. I enjoyed it a lot,” he replied.
“I’m at art camp this week, too,” Sela said. “Arts and crafts at the YMCA.”
“Jon, I’m dropping Sela off in the mornings. Can I count on you to walk her home? The camp is over each day at noon,” Mrs. Hansen said.
“No problem. I don’t have my driver’s test until late Tuesday afternoon.”
“Does Jon get to drive the Lexus when he gets his license?” Sela asked.
“No. Chaz is going to help me trade the Lexus in for a good used vehicle so Jon will have something of his own to drive,” Mrs. Hansen said.
A look of anxiety crossed Jon’s face at the mention of his father’s car. “You wouldn’t have to trade the Lexus in if Chaz sold his Jeep to me, would you?”
“That old thing?” Sela scoffed. “I’d rather walk.”
“I like the Jeep. Maybe Chaz can drive the Lexus and take over the payments while Dad’s gone. I think he needs a new car anyway,” Jon said.
“That’s a very good idea, Jon. Has Chaz been looking for a new car?” Mrs. Hansen asked.
“Not exactly. But there’s this girl on his radar, and she doesn’t seem the Jeep type.”
“Chaz has his eye on a girl? It’s about time,” Mrs. Hansen said.
Jon grabbed an egg roll, hoping he hadn’t just put his uncle in a bad spot. “I don’t know anything for sure,” he mumbled.
“I’ll have to give him a call,” Mrs. Hansen said.
“Charlie has a girlfriend, Charlie has a girlfriend,” Sela chanted.
Jon cringed.
****
An hour after the sliver of light under his mother’s bedroom door had disappeared, Jon crept from his room. Navigating his way downstairs with a tiny key chain flashlight left over from Halloween last year, he retrieved the old wooden box and his father’s address book from the office. Once on the stairs, he doused the flashlight. He knew his eyes weren’t adjusted yet, but he noticed the red stones in his ring appeared to be glowing again.
What a peculiar optical illusion, he thought. It makes Ophelia seem magical.
When he made it back to his room undetected, Jon breathed a sigh of relief. After he’d dumped the contents of the box onto his bed, he discovered an old newspaper clipping hidden inside the folds of the fabric bag. To his dismay, it was an obituary for his dad’s foster mother, Helen Lewis. The obit was a long one, but as Jon skimmed through, he read Gary Lewis had predeceased his wife. Jon felt his hopes slipping away until he reached the end. The obit concluded with: “Helen and Gary Lewis are survived by their daughter, June Stilwell of Phoenix, Arizona.”
“So June is a name, not a date,” Jon said.
Chances were good June Lewis Stilwell was still alive, but would she be able to help? He opened his father’s address book and flipped to the “S” section, where he found her email address. Jon spent a few minutes trying to compose an intelligent message to Mrs. Stilwell, but the email began to sound too weird. Finally, he kept it simple and wrote:
Dear Mrs. Stilwell,
My father, Greg Hansen, lived with your parents as a foster kid. Can you tell me about him? Anything you can remember would help. He’s missing and I’m trying to find him. Thanks.
– Jon Hansen
After he sent the email, he hid the wooden box and address book inside an old popcorn tin and covered them with socks. A faint tapping on his door made him jump.
“Jon, I’m scared.” Sela’s voice came from hallway outside. “Will you stay with me?”
He guided his sister back to bed and sat with her until she fell asleep. He didn’t mind. Truth be told, Sela wasn’t the only one who was scared.
****
Mrs. Hansen wasted ten minutes the next morning trying to soap Ophelia off Jon’s finger. “This is unbelievable,” she muttered.
“It must’ve been the Chinese food,” Sela suggested. “Soy sauce is high in sodium.” She giggled, knowing full well Jon hadn’t used any.
“I told you to avoid sodium,” Mrs. Hansen scolded.
“You said salt,” he replied.
“You ate seasoned fries at lunch yesterday,” Sela offered. “Those were loaded with salt.”
Jon glared at his sister.
“You don’t seem to be trying very hard, Jon. I must get this ring into safekeeping,” Mrs. Hansen said, exasperated.
Jon hoped his face reflected the essence of sincerity. “Sorry.”
“If we can’t remove the ring the regular way, we’ll have to have a jeweler cut it off,” his mother said.
Ophelia conveyed her dissatisfaction with Mrs. Hansen’s plan by sending a quick, nasty shock up Jon’s arm. He grabbed his hand, silently grimacing with pain, but fortunately his mother had walked into the pantry. By the time she returned, Jon had stuck Ophelia in his armpit in retaliation.
“Won’t cutting through the metal ruin the value of the ring as an heirloom?” Jon managed.
Mrs. Hansen gave her son a level look. “You’d better make sure it doesn’t come to that.”
****
With Sela at camp and his mother at work, Jon spent the morning reviewing the motor vehicle manual. Although he checked his email every ten minutes, the only thing he received was spam. Patience was not his strong suit, so he was relieved when the time came to head for the YMCA. The day was gloriously beautiful, with buttermilk clouds drifting in the blue sky. A slight breeze kept the temperature comfortable. As Jon set off down the street, he took a moment to appreciate the absence of media attention.
“Ophelia, it’s good to be nobody again,” he told her.
With a spring in his step, Jon reached the YMCA a little early. He straddled a bench next to a flowerbed and whipped out Sela’s sketchbook to draw one of the roses. The intense red hues were so captivating, he wished he had some watercolors instead of a charcoal pencil. Nevertheless, he became so absorbed in the sketch he didn’t notice parents and kids had begun to drift out of the crafts camp. He dashed inside to find Sela waiting for him in the rec room. Her arms were folded across her chest, and her lips were pursed in a pout.
“You’re late,” she said.
“Sorry. I
got caught up in drawing a flower.” Jon flipped open his sketchbook to prove it.
Sela’s bad mood dissipated. “Nice. Looks like a photograph.”
She handed her brother a large paper grocery bag, stapled at the top. “Be careful. The stuff inside is delicate.”
“It’s your stuff. How come I have to carry it?”
Sela held up her tiny snack bag. “My hands are full.”
“Mmm. Funny how that works.”
“Did you reach Dad’s foster parents?” she asked.