Megan's Island

by Willo Davis Roberts

  “You carry that stuff,” Ben said, “and Sandy can get that box. I’ll manage the rest.” He was giving orders, as usual. For once Megan didn’t care. She wasn’t thinking about Ben at all, only about herself and Sandy, and wondering what was going to happen next.

  Twilight fell slowly across the island. Sandy and Ben set out the checkerboard after Megan declined to play a game of Clue. She knew she’d never be able to concentrate on any game. Instead she decided to go for a walk by herself, so she could think.

  “Remember you don’t want to be seen from the mainland, in case that guy comes back tonight instead of tomorrow,” Ben warned.

  Megan didn’t bother to answer. She was already walking away. She sort of wished the island were bigger, now, though before she’d liked it the size it was. It was a relief just to get away from the boys, to be able to stop worrying about how she looked, or if she cried, or what Ben thought about her being scared.

  “You’re safe out here,” he had pointed out to her only a few minutes ago.

  There was a lot Ben didn’t know, and she couldn’t pretend to be interested in some stupid game while she was thinking about all of it.

  For a long time Megan sat on the little beach in the cove, listening to the call of a loon, seeing an occasional fish jump. Thinking didn’t seem to help anything, and after a while she simply let herself drift, not trying to figure it out, not trying to think of a solution. Solving the problem was out of the question anyway, until she knew what the source of the problem was. Mostly what she hoped was that her mother had a good explanation for what she had said and done, one that would prove she was the kind of person Megan had always felt her to be.

  It was nearly dark when she finally made her way back to the tree house. The boys were just putting away the checkerboard.

  “Have a cookie,” Ben said, and even that sounded like an order.

  Megan was hungry. She hadn’t eaten much of Grandpa’s chicken and salads. She took a cookie from the package Sandy offered.

  “It got too dark to see,” Ben told her through a mouthful of chocolate chip crumbs. “I didn’t think we should light the lantern. Even if it sits on the floor, they might be able to see the glow of it on shore. We’re going to go to bed and tell ghost stories, okay? And just in case of an emergency, we’re going to sleep in our clothes.”

  “In case we have to move fast,” Sandy supplemented, putting the game box on one of the shelves.

  Megan didn’t participate in the ghost-story telling. In fact, she didn’t really listen to them. She hoped that Grandpa Davis was right in thinking he could handle that man if he came back.

  Sandy and Ben were still giggling when she fell asleep. She woke later, feeling chilly, and zipped up her sleeping bag, then slept until the sun was well up in the sky.

  While Megan fixed sandwiches for breakfast—they’d already decided not to risk being detected by building a fire that would send up a column of smoke—Ben looked over to the shore with his binoculars.

  Just as Megan handed him a sandwich and juice in a cardboard carton, Ben yelped.

  “He’s back,” he said. “The guy in the white car, with the Illinois plates—he’s back!”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Breakfast was forgotten.

  Megan knelt between the boys, conscious of the fact that only a thin fringe of boughs and leaves hid the trio from anyone who might have been looking their way.

  Even without the binoculars, Megan was sure the car was the same one, the one that belonged to the man from Illinois. A detective, Grandpa Davis thought, who had searched them out on behalf of a grandfather they had not known existed until yesterday.

  “Grandpa’s coming out to meet him,” Sandy reported unnecessarily.

  “He’s inviting the guy inside. He must not seem dangerous.” Did Ben sound disappointed?

  Megan had lost none of her own apprehension. The three of them sat waiting, tense and expectant, for what seemed a long time and probably was no more than ten minutes.

  Then Grandpa and the man came back into the yard. They exchanged a few words, the man got into the car, they talked a bit longer, and the man drove away.

  Not exciting at all, Megan thought. She wished she could have overheard what they said to each other.

  Grandpa stood alone in the yard until the car had gone. He looked out across the lake toward them, but gave no sign of seeing them. Then he walked back into the cottage and let Wolf out into the yard, where the dog ran wildly around, smelling the ground and the canoe, looking for them. Discouraged, Wolf finally lay down near the red canoe, big head drooping onto his paws as he stared mournfully out over the lake.

  “He’s gone,” Sandy said, relieved.

  Megan shook her head.

  “Grandpa didn’t hang out the blue shirt to signal for us to come ashore,” she said.

  The day passed slowly. They kept only an occasional eye on the cottage. Holding binoculars was hard work if they did it for more than a short time, and nothing moved along the lake shore.

  They ate, then Megan tried to read but couldn’t concentrate. Finally she took out the birth certificate and studied it, more convinced than ever that it was her own, that she was not Megan Collier at all but some stranger named Margaret Anne Kauffman.

  “What’s that?” Ben demanded when he finally noticed.

  She hadn’t wanted to talk about her latest discovery; to put her suspicions into words would make them all more real, and she didn’t want them to be real. She wanted to be the person she’d always been, didn’t want a mysterious grandfather who hired detectives, didn’t want to be a girl whose picture was flashed on television screens with the words HAVE YOU SEEN THIS CHILD?

  Yet maybe Ben and Sandy could explain her discovery away, she thought. Maybe if she told them, they would think of some other explanation.

  They didn’t. Ben read through the birth certificate, nodding. “Same date, same initials, names like your parents’ names. It’s from a hospital in Rhinelander, Wisconsin. Is that where you were born?”

  Megan was getting a headache. “I was born in Wisconsin, I think. I don’t remember that anyone ever told me which town.”

  “It all fits,” Ben said. “Boy, this is crazy! You must have some idea of what it all means.”

  “I don’t. Only that Mom kept moving us around, and now it looks as if it might be because this other grandfather has been trying to find us.”

  “Maybe he’s a millionaire, and we’re his heirs,” Sandy suggested.

  “Why would Mom run away from him for that reason?” Megan asked reasonably. “There has to be more to it than that.”

  “Was my birth certificate in the package, too?” Sandy wanted to know.

  “I didn’t see it. I suppose it might have been; I didn’t go over everything. Or else Mom kept papers like that in something else, and grabbed mine and put it in with other stuff by mistake, because she was in a hurry. I’m pretty sure she didn’t intend for me to see it.”

  They talked about it for a while, and nothing either of the boys said made Megan feel any better. Finally, she had to change the subject before it all made her really sick.

  “Where were you born?” she asked Ben.

  “Duluth,” Ben said promptly. “It’s the only place I ever lived, until now.”

  Megan sighed. “We’ve lived in so many places. Gone to so many schools.” No, that was getting back on the wrong subject. “What’s it like, going to just one school, in the same place, all your life?”

  “Well, as a matter of fact . . .” Ben hesitated, reaching down to scratch a scabbed-over mosquito bite on his bare ankle. “. . . I’ve been to three schools. I got kicked out of all of them, so I had to go to different ones. It was one of the things that made Lawrence mad, because he had to drive me to the last one.”

  Sandy regarded him in awe. “Are you kicked out now?”

  Ben shrugged. “I guess so. Maybe Dad will let me live with him and go to school wherever he is, but I don�
�t think he’s decided yet where he’s going to be this winter. He’s rented the cottage through September, because here at the lake is a good quiet place for him to work. I doubt if he’ll spend the winter here, though. I think the road gets closed because of snow, and he wouldn’t want to walk in from the county road with supplies and everything.”

  “What did you do to get kicked out?” Sandy demanded.

  Ben gave him a defiant look. “Last time, I was caught smoking in the boys’ bathroom.”

  Megan couldn’t help herself. “That sounds stupid.”

  Ben grinned. “Smoking, or being caught?”

  “Both. Everybody knows smoking is stupid. It gives you cancer and heart trouble and all kinds of nasty things.” Then curiosity got the better of her. “Did you like smoking?”

  He had scratched off the scab and now a trickle of blood ran down his ankle. He ignored it. “Nah, not really. I guess you’re right, smoking’s stupid. It tasted terrible, and I nearly strangled when I inhaled.”

  “Why did you do it, then?” Sandy asked, puzzled.

  “Because it was against the rules.”

  “That sounds like a dumb reason,” Megan commented.

  “Yeah, well, when you break the rules,” Ben told her seriously, “they call your folks. You know. Make them come in to school and talk about you. I thought maybe if they had to come in, somebody would realize . . . you know.”

  “No,” Megan said. “I don’t know. What? I wouldn’t want my mom to be called in to talk about me.”

  His smile was brittle; Megan had the feeling that it could shatter, like fragile glass. The way, she thought suddenly, Mom’s favorite salad bowl had shattered when she dropped it. Megan knew, now, what had probably caused her to do it; she’d been frightened by seeing a picture of Megan and Sandy on TV, and the caption HAVE YOU SEEN THESE CHILDREN? That was why they’d left in such a hurry, because Mom was afraid the neighbors would see the picture and recognize it, too.

  Ben was answering her statement. “That’s because your mom already talks to you, right? She doesn’t act as if you aren’t there except when she says, ‘For heaven’s sake, use your fork,’ or ‘Ben, it’s time to go to bed.’ Your mom doesn’t have a boyfriend, or a new husband, that resents every bit of attention she pays to you. Your mom doesn’t shut you out, as if you weren’t even part of the family.”

  Megan just looked at him, and Ben had the grace to blush.

  “Well, usually, I mean. What’s going on now is different. She’s kept secrets from you, but it was to protect you, not because she doesn’t care about you.”

  “I’m sure your mother cares about you, Ben. She got worried when you were late getting home from the beach, didn’t she, or they wouldn’t have called the police.”

  “She was mad when I saw her. More mad than worried. Lawrence was even madder. I think he’d have hit me if she’d let him.”

  “If she didn’t let him,” Sandy said helpfully, “it must mean she cares some.”

  Ben hadn’t considered that, apparently. And he’d decided he didn’t want to talk about himself anymore, the same as Megan had decided.

  “Let’s go swimming,” Ben said. “We’ll wait outside while you change first, Megan.”

  “What about Grandpa’s signal? Maybe we can go ashore soon.”

  “And maybe it’ll be hours before he puts up the signal for that. Maybe the guy is coming back. After all, he didn’t get what he came for, did he? Come on, there’s no sense in dying of boredom while we wait.”

  He had a point. Megan allowed herself to be persuaded, though she was anxious to return to the cottage and find out what had happened. She put on her swimsuit, then waited for the boys, and they all headed for the little cove.

  The sand under their feet was soft and warm; the water was still pretty cold. Still, after they’d been in it for a few minutes, Megan decided she wasn’t going to turn blue after all. For a short time she was able to enjoy the splashing and cavorting around.

  As soon as they came out of the water, however, she was the first one back at the tree house, snatching up the binoculars as soon as she’d reached the platform.

  There was the cabin, and there was the area where Grandpa had stretched the clothesline, and there . . .

  She turned excitedly to the boys, who were climbing the ladder behind her.

  “The signal is out! We can go home!” she cried.

  They didn’t even wait to get dressed, but scrambled to the ground and ran toward the boat.

  * * *

  Grandpa and Wolf were waiting for them on the beach. Wolf barked his welcome, swimming out to meet them. Sandy had to push him off to keep him from trying to climb into the boat, and when they disembarked the dog leaped around them, licking whatever part of any person he could reach.

  “Who was he?” Sandy asked eagerly, turning toward Grandpa Davis. “Was he a detective?”

  “Yes,” Grandpa said. Megan noted uneasily that he didn’t look either relieved or happy. “His name’s Jules Picard, and he’s from Chicago, just as I thought.”

  Megan was once more very tense. “And was he hired by . . . our other grandfather, to find us?”

  “Yes. He didn’t make any bones about that.”

  “What did you tell him?” Ben demanded.

  “I told him it was true you’d been here, but that now you were gone. Without actually lying, I gave him the impression that your mom had come and taken you away, and I could truthfully state that I didn’t know where she was. He assured me that he wished to cause no trouble—he says your grandfather doesn’t wish that, either—and that he’d probably be in touch with me again after he’d reported to your grandfather. He wants me to persuade your mother to talk to him, at least. I think maybe that’s what she ought to do, and put an end to this everlasting running and hiding. It’s quite possible that Daniel actually has had a change of heart. After all, he’s past seventy, and he can’t expect to live forever. Maybe it’s true that he really does want to mend his fences while there’s still time.”

  “What’s mend his fences mean?” Sandy asked uncertainly.

  “Make amends for problems he’s caused in the past. Make friends of his enemies. Make his peace with the world—and his grandchildren—before it’s too late.”

  “Are we his enemies?” Sandy asked, looking worried.

  “No, but he and your mother had a falling out, years ago, and . . . well, there I am again, trying to explain what your mom has said she wants to explain. The thing is, I’m not sure Mr. Picard believed me, about your mother having taken you away. He probably went into town to call Daniel and give him a report. I waited a few hours to see if he’d come right back, and he didn’t, so I thought I’d better call you in. If we hear a car, though, get out of sight until I can decide what to do next. Until I’m sure what your mother will want to do, I’d rather they think you really aren’t here.”

  Megan was trembling again. She ignored Wolf, who was affectionately licking her bare thigh. She couldn’t wait until her mother came to know anything, and it wasn’t fair that she should be expected to.

  “Is our grandfather’s name Daniel Kauffman?” she wanted to know.

  For a moment she thought he wouldn’t answer. “How did you learn that?” he asked at last.

  And then she told him about the document she had found among her mother’s papers. “It’s my birth certificate, isn’t it?”

  For a long time there was silence. Even Wolf stopped jumping around and sat down, watching their serious faces.

  “Oh, dear. Karo, love, if you want to do your own explaining,” Grandpa said, as if Mom were there to hear him, “you’d better show up pretty soon. You’ve put me in an impossible position. This isn’t fair to anybody.”

  “I’m . . . really Margaret Anne Kauffman,” Megan persisted. The sick feeling was back, stronger than ever, and she felt as if she might throw up.

  Grandpa’s reply was indirect. “We called you Meg. That’s sometimes a nickname fo
r Margaret. And when your Mom decided it would be better to change it, she called you Megan, because it was as close as she could come to your real name.”

  Sandy moved closer, as if to draw comfort from Megan. She felt the warmth of his arm as it touched her own.

  “Did she change my name, too?” he whispered.

  Grandpa sighed, and then seemed to make up his mind. “All right,” he said. “Let’s sit down, let me get off this foot. I’ll try to make you understand some of it, enough, I hope, to last you until your mom gets here. Here, on the porch will do.”

  At last, Megan thought. Finally someone was going to tell the truth.

  She felt sicker than ever, though, and she wondered if she really wanted to hear the truth. Maybe it would spoil everything for them all, would take away everything she’d thought their family had in the way of love and trust and affection.

  She almost cried out—No, don’t!—but the words were stuck in her throat, and she sank onto a step beside Grandpa’s knee and waited for him to begin.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sandy sat two steps below Megan, looking up at his grandfather. “Grandpa? Am I somebody different, too?”

  Grandpa seemed to be having trouble figuring out where to begin. He stretched out the foot with the cast on it, trying to get more comfortable. When he spoke, his voice was gruff.

  “Your name was Andrew. When you were a toddler, we called you Andy. That got changed to Sandy, so it would sound different, yet not so different we couldn’t remember to say Sandy.”

  From the look on his face, the news that his name had been changed didn’t make Sandy feel any better than it had made Megan feel.

  “And Mom’s name is really Caroline,” Megan said, when Grandpa stopped speaking and couldn’t seem to get started again. “Not Karen. That’s why you call her Karo.”

  Grandpa grimaced. “It’s hard to call your daughter by a name that’s different from the one she grew up with. I always started with Caro. I wouldn’t remember Karen until I’d already said it wrong to begin with, so I finally gave up and settled for something halfway between the two names.”