by Deborah Heal
“Wow,” Merrideth said.
Abby leaned in closer. “It’s just like the photograph on Beautiful Houses—down to the cows drinking from the pond.” She pointed out a large building with a smokestack that stood beside the pond. “And there’s the colonel’s mill.”
The accompanying biography of Colonel Miles made a big deal about the mill, explaining that Miles had bought, at great personal expense, the first steam mill in the area. He had built his house in 1843, and then other businesses, stores, and houses had grown up around him and his mill. He had convinced the Chicago & Alton Company to lay the railroad through the little settlement, donating his own land for the depot. By 1855, the little village had a population of five hundred citizens.
The biography was effusive in praising Colonel Miles, describing him as “one of the most substantial and estimable gentlemen that has claimed Macoupin county for his home; brave, patriotic, broad minded, God-fearing, zealous. He is known as thorough, competent, honest and able, a man held in the highest esteem by all.”
And it listed his children as Samuel, Frank, and Charlotte.
“Whoever wrote the software must have had access to this book,” Abby said. “But I still don’t get how Mrs. Arnold knew all this. After all, she can’t read.”
“Well, duh. She’s from the olden days.”
Abby chuckled. “Yes, but not that olden. She’s ninety-two, not one hundred and seventy.”
All that was interesting, but it didn’t shed any light on why the town had disappeared. They looked but could find no other helpful books. And when they questioned the librarian, she hadn’t even known the town ever existed.
They might as well go home and time-surf back to Miles Station. Maybe the computer programmer knew what happened to the town.
Abby slammed on the brakes.
“What’s wrong?” Merrideth squeaked.
Abby pointed out the side window. “There’s a Tropical Frost.” With its distinctive blue siding, white shutters, and gingerbread trim, the snow cone stand looked like a playhouse for children. “I think we need a treat after all our work at the library.”
Abby and Merrideth got in line behind several teenage girls who were flirting outrageously with the guy behind the counter. Naturally, Abby tried to get a look at him, but he was so tall his face was shielded from view by the awning over the window. Finally, after confusion about who ordered what and nearly spilling a grape ice on one teen, the attendant gave them their change and the girls moved off, whispering and smiling back over their shoulders.
As she and Merrideth stepped up to the counter, the object of the girl’s fascination leaned down. It was John Roberts.
She should have known. Probably every female he met got all fluttery and faint. She wanted to ask him what he was doing there. Didn’t high school kids work summers at places like Tropical Frost? And he was definitely no high school kid.
“Abby,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
“I saw the stand and just had to stop.” She had a horrible thought. What if he thought she had stopped because of him, like the giggling high school girls? “I love snow cones,” she said forcefully.
Merrideth looked with interest at Abby and then John. She swiped at her bangs and studied the list of flavors posted high on the wall behind him. “Don’t you have Pineapple Passion? At home that’s what I always order.”
“Oh. Sorry,” he said, turning to glance at the sign behind him. “I guess we just have plain pineapple.”
“Oh, all right,” Merrideth said grudgingly. “I’ll take plain pineapple.”
“Okay. Coming right up.” He turned expectantly to Abby.
“Is your vanilla Coke good?” What a stupid question, she thought. How could it be anything but good?
“Oh, yes. We have the best. You know how some people make it too vanilla-y and some don’t put enough in? Well, ours is just right.” The expression on his face told Abby that he realized he sounded lame too.
“That’s what I’ll have then,” she said.
Smiling, he straightened and turned away from the window. She saw that he had traded his dress clothes for jeans and a black T-shirt.
“I can’t believe they don’t have Pineapple Passion,” Merrideth grumbled. “That’s about right for a hick town. In Chicago—”
“What?” Abby said, pulling her attention back to Merrideth. “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”
“Well, it’s true.”
“Well, when in Rome…”
Merrideth looked like she was about to ask what that meant, but John was back. He handed them their orders. “Are you new in town?”
Abby handed him a five-dollar bill. “Yes. We are.”
“So who’s your friend there?”
“Oh. Sorry. This is Merrideth.” Then she found herself saying, “I used to work at a Tropical Frost when I was in high school.” As soon as the stupid words were out of her mouth she wished she could take them back. He was probably embarrassed working a minimum wage job.
“And where was that?” he asked.
“I’m from St. Louis, and Merrideth is from Chicago.”
He handed Abby her change. “Oh,” he said blankly. “I thought you were sisters.”
“Actually, I’m just here for the summer for Merrideth.”
“So you’re the babysitter,” he said, leaning on the counter.
Merrideth frowned and wiped her mouth with her hand. John kept his eyes trained on Abby, but pulled a wad of napkins from the chrome napkin holder and handed them to Merrideth.
“No, not exactly. Merrideth will be a sixth grader this fall. She doesn’t need a babysitter.”
“I guess she’s too old for that.” He looked puzzled.
She smiled. “I guess you could say I’m sort of a Jane Eyre.”
“Oh, I get it—like a governess.”
“Yes, that’s right.” Abby grinned. “And the house is very old, the kind that might have an innocent governess and assorted ghosts and dangerous strangers.”
“Let’s go home, Abby. I’m hot.” Merrideth’s cone had dripped onto her T-shirt, and she wiped futilely at the spots with the wad of napkins.
“Merrideth,” John said, “would you like extra pineapple syrup?”
“Okay,” she said, handing him her paper cone.
“So, where is this old house?”
“Miles Station,” Abby said.
“Oh, sure. That runs east of town, doesn’t it?”
“Not the road. The town.”
John looked puzzled.
“Come on, Abby. Let’s go.”
“Be sure to come back tomorrow,” he said quickly. “We’re having a sale…buy one, get one free.” He seemed to be making it up as he spoke.
“Maybe,” she said. Maybe it was a bad idea to get involved while she was on assignment.
“See you, Abby.” John flashed her a smile. It was a friendly smile, not at all flirtatious, but with his brilliant white teeth against his tanned face, it was a killer smile all the same. And just as she’d told Kate, she had trouble breathing.
“We have to go so Abby can call her boyfriend,” Merrideth said, grinning slyly.
John stopped smiling.
“I’m not leaving so I can call my boyfriend…I mean, I don’t have a boyfriend, and you know it, Merrideth.” She felt her cheeks flaming. Now he probably thought she was one of those brazen, pushy females who chased guys, the kind he probably had to fend off constantly.
“I mean, the reason we have to go is because I have to get this brat—I mean girl—home so we can get back to our school work.”
“You said you were going to call your friends,” Merrideth said, grinning. “And I bet some of your friends are boys, right?”
“Goodbye, John,” Abby said, tugging on Merrideth’s arm. She steered her toward the car. “Come on, let’s hurry. I know how much you love long division. Or maybe we should discuss participles.”
She couldn’t resist taking one lit
tle peek back. John was standing there, arms folded across his chest, watching them go. His smile had returned.
There was another postcard from Kate when they got home. A picture of Big Ben was on the front. Kate had mailed it right before her flight home from London. Abby read it aloud to Merrideth:
My Dear Poppet,
I say there, I’m having a smashing time, except, by Jove, everyone drives on the wrong side of the street, don’t you know. And the tour guide—a bit barmy but still a jolly good chap—locked the luggage in the boot of the car. Then the lift wasn’t working so we had to walk up three flights. The room was posh, but we had to share the loo down the hall. I’m sure the waiter (a cheeky bloke) thought I was a blooming idiot because I didn’t know what bangers and mash are, but our tour guide explained everything so that even a Yank from across the pond could understand.
Love, Kate
Merrideth didn’t get it, but Abby laughed, imagining Kate doing Brit-speak.
Merrideth went from very good to horrid in under thirty seconds when Pat announced at dinner that she would be away for a three-day real estate seminar in St. Louis. She was leaving in the morning and would be gone until Friday.
Pat tried to explain to Merrideth that this was a good opportunity to improve her skills, which would lead to more sales and thus, more commissions, and that really she had no choice if she wanted to keep her job. Through all her explanations, Merrideth sat sullenly unresponsive.
When Pat promised to take her to the State Fair in Springfield when she got back, Merrideth said sarcastically, “Wow, Mom. What a treat. You’re really getting into this rustic scene. Only, I’ve got an idea. How about taking me to see Dad, like you promised.”
“Merrideth, I don’t have time to get into this with you,” Pat said, rising from the table. “I’ve got to go pack.”
“That’s the problem. You don’t ever have time.”
“I’m sorry,” Pat said tightly, her face growing red. “I’m doing the best I can—without any help from your father, I might add. I promised we’d go and we will, but not now.”
“I’ll call Dad and he’ll come take me to live with them. Sylvia’s nicer to me than you are.”
Pat slapped her.
Abby couldn’t tell who of the three of them was most surprised. Merrideth’s eyes grew wide and she put her hand over the red handprint blooming on her cheek.
Pat’s face seemed to crumple, and the angry red staining her cheeks blanched to white. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Merrideth stood, her chair toppling backward. Pat tried to take her arm, but Merrideth wrenched out of her grasp and staggered from the room.
Abby started after her and then stopped. A voice inside her head was babbling warnings, “There’s your temper again. Don’t do it. Don’t yell at your boss.” But her résumé seemed really unimportant at the moment.
“You do know, don’t you, that Merrideth calls him every night? I’d be happy to take her to see her dad. So why won’t you let me?”
“There’s more to it than you know, Abby. You don’t understand.”
“I understand that a girl needs her father.”
“I know what you must think, but it’s not because of Sylvia. She entered the picture after we left.” Pat sighed and pushed her hair out of her face. “Two years ago, Brad’s buddies got him involved with drugs. It started out with pot, just using it at first. But later he was selling it. I hated it, but he just laughed it off when I pleaded with him to stop.
“Don’t worry. Don’t worry,” he told me.
“Oh.” Abby blinked. “I didn’t know…”
“Then I discovered they had gone from pot to meth. They were actually cooking meth in a shed in our backyard. He could have blown us all sky high. So there’s no way on earth I’ll allow her to go up there until I have the time to supervise a visit.”
“I’m so sorry,” Abby said. “I didn’t realize. I shouldn’t have said—”
“No, I’m sorry, Abby. Sorry you had to be sucked into our mess. And sorry I didn’t say anything ahead of time about the seminar. I guess I’m a coward. I knew she’d get upset, and—”
“You’re not a coward. In fact, you’ve been very brave. And don’t worry while you’re gone. I’ll keep her busy.”
“Thank you. I know I can count on you.”
When Abby went past Merrideth’s room on her way to her own, she heard Pat murmuring something soothing. If Merrideth responded, she didn’t hear it. At least no one was screaming or hitting.
Later that night, she heard Merrideth dialing the phone in the hall again. This time, apparently no one answered on the other end, and the phone was carefully replaced in its cradle. A sob escaped and hung in the darkness. Abby hoped for Merrideth’s sake that her dad hadn’t blown himself up.
“Merrideth?” Abby called softly from her bed. There was a soft flurrying sound. “Merrideth, come here.” At first, she thought she had left, but she heard a creak and caught a glimmer of white and knew that Merrideth stood just inside the door. Abby sat up in bed and leaned against the headboard. “Come talk to me,” she said, patting the sheets beside her.
Merrideth took two timid steps into the room. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t. I was just lying here thinking about that girl, Charlotte Miles, who used to live here. Did you ever wonder what sounds she heard at night a hundred and fifty years ago? Of course there wouldn’t have been the sound of planes overhead or cars on the road.”
Merrideth took another cautious step into the room and then sat at the foot of the bed. She laughed softly. “I guess she wouldn’t have heard the sound of phones in the night, either.”
“Listen!” Abby whispered. “There’s one sound she would have heard.” A train rumbled toward them from the north. Closer and closer it came, and then it was past, and the sound faded into the south.
“I guess you miss your dad a lot.”
“Yeah, and ever since me and Mom moved down to this place—”
“Mom and I,” Abby said automatically.
“Yeah?”
“What?”
“Mom and I what?”
“You should have said—Oh, never mind.”
“Well, of course I miss my dad ‘cause he’s so far away. But I shouldn’t have to miss my mom too. At least Dad has the excuse that he lives in Chicago.”
Abby remained silent.
“I know I should be grateful.”
“That’s true,” Abby agreed.
“I know I was a brat tonight. I shouldn’t have said that about Sylvia.”
“That’s also true. But, kiddo, I think it will get better when your mom gets her career off the ground.”
“I guess.” Merrideth sighed. “How about you? Do you miss your mom and dad?” She lay down on the comforter at the foot of the bed.
“Actually, I was surprised how much I missed them in college. I haven’t been home since Easter break, but at least St. Louis is not that far away from here. They told me to bring you for a visit sometime. They want to meet you.”
“I bet,” Merrideth said.
“I mean it. They do.”
“Do you look like your mom?”
“Mostly.”
“Mom says I look just like Dad,” Merrideth said mournfully. “And I know what she thinks of him.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t mean that in a bad way. After all, she married him, didn’t she?”
“I could exercise a million years and never be skinny like Mom. And I could study a million years and never be a genius.”
“Merrideth, you’re very intelligent. But even if you weren’t, you’re you. You don’t have to try to be your mom. And they don’t expect you to be a genius, either.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re beautiful and smart and you can have all the boyfriends in the world. I saw how the snow cone guy was drooling over you.”
“He was not.”
“Was so.”
“Well,
maybe slightly drooling. And I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Why not? You’re beautiful and really nice.”
Abby blinked in surprise. “Thank you. I used to have a boyfriend, but not lately.”
“What happened? Did he ditch you?”
“You’re really nosy, you know that? If you must know, I ditched him.”
“Really? Why?”
“He was only interested in one thing, and it wasn’t my personality. Do you know what I’m saying?”
“I think I understand. After all, I may be ignorant, but I’m not stupid.” Abby could hear the grin in her voice.
A companionable silence settled over the dark room and Abby had almost drifted off to sleep when Merrideth said, “Abby, can I ask you another question.”
“Sure.”
“Will you show me how to fix my hair like yours?”
“Of course, but—” Abby sat up straight. “I just had a brilliant idea. This weekend while your mom is gone to her seminar, we’ll have a seminar, too. A self-improvement seminar.”
“If you mean practicing my multiplication, no thanks.”
“No, silly,” Abby said, chuckling. “I mean a beauty seminar. We’ll do a complete makeover—hair and nails and clothes. When your mom comes home, we’ll surprise her with the new you.”
“Really?” Merrideth asked. Abby heard the doubt in her voice.
“Really,” Abby said firmly.
“All right.” While some doubt lingered, she seemed cautiously optimistic.
“But first we need to get our beauty sleep, kiddo, so get out of here.”
Chapter 12
Pat had already left by the time they got up the next morning. But she left a note on the kitchen table telling them to have fun while she was gone, and that she’d see them on Friday.
“That means we can play on the computer, right?”
“I don’t know…”
“And we don’t have to do math while she’s gone.”