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Bearer of the Pearls

Page 12

by Faust, Terry P. ;


  Jets rumbled and took off at the airport about three miles south. A car signaled its turn and waited at an intersection. A basketball slapped in an alley where a hoop hung over a garage door.

  It didn’t seem right that all these things kept going like nothing had happened. But life does that. The mess I had been in made a lot of trouble for a lot of people. It caused a lot of worry and cost money, especially for Aunt Mary and Uncle Craig. I imagined the last thing they hoped for when they took me in was a kid to screw up their lives.

  With a sinking feeling I remembered Aunt Mary’s words: “You’ll be taken care of.” These past months had been a test. Aunt Mary and Uncle Craig wanted to see how I’d do. Well, I’d lied, had my room destroyed, and been to the hospital, not to mention pissing off Ben from time to time. I couldn’t imagine how I could have done any worse if I’d tried. I think they planned to see how it went until school started and then decide what to do with me. It made sense. I was screwed.

  Aunt Mary and Uncle Craig made a big deal about supper. I thought that was a tip-off. They were going to give me the old heave-ho, though they’d be nice about it. All through the meal, Aunt Mary watched Ben and me and didn’t said much. I knew it was coming. Good-bye, Wendy. I supposed I’d go to some foster home.

  We had Ben’s favorite, tuna casserole topped with crispy, deep-fried onion rings. Aunt Mary smiled a lot, like she wanted to hide what was going to happen. I made a big deal out of being polite, passing stuff, and using my napkin, like maybe last-ditch manners might help. They’d been good to me. But I wished she’d stopped smiling and get it over with.

  Uncle Craig asked if the information his friend gave Ben about Iblis was helpful, and Ben said yes, then described what he learned, plus our trip to the creek. The genies, Cathal, and Her Ladyship were left out. He said nothing about the pearls.

  I sat back and listened, full of casserole. Might as well eat. Uncle Craig got into talking about our coming school classes like it was the most normal thing in the world. He was just easing into their decision to boot me, I could feel it. I was ready for the big kiss-off, and cool about it. Ben talked about the upcoming Labor Day River clean-up project. Kids and adults would spend a day picking up garbage. Turned out that Aunt Mary and Uncle Craig had helped to start River Day back in ancient history, when they were in high school. So, what else was new?

  “It’s a Preston family thing,” Uncle Craig explained about the clean-up.

  “Wendy,” Aunt Mary said, and I sat up a bit more. The food and quiet chatter had got me kind of dazed. “Would you join us?” she asked.

  “What? Me, cleaning up stuff?”

  Ben twisted his mouth around and raised a teasing eyebrow. “I don’t know, Mom. What does she know about cleaning up the river?”

  “Ben,” Aunt Mary said. “That’s not nice. I apologize for Ben. He’s teasing. What do you think?”

  My stomach tightened. I was not feeling as cool as I thought. I kind of panicked. “I don’t know about the cleanup stuff. I’m not much of a joiner. You wouldn’t want me along.”

  “Certainly we want you, Wendy,” Aunt Mary said. “You are part of our family. We’d love to have you with us.”

  “Cleaning up?” I said. “You want me to help clean up?”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Uncle Craig blustered. “Let’s communicate clearly.” He shot Ben and Mary a frustrated look and threw his napkin down on his plate. “Wendy,” he said, and made sure I’m looking right at him. “Mary, Ben, and I have talked about it. We just want you to know we all, unanimously, want you to stay with us.” He nodded to himself. “If you had any doubts about being welcome here, forget them. You have a home here for as long as you want.”

  Aunt Mary wiped tears off her cheeks and smiled. She got up and gave me a fierce hug, kneeling next to me. “Stay with us as long as you want, dear,” she said.

  “But I thought . . .”

  “In the future, you will, of course, stay out of my room,” Ben said.

  “Ben!” Aunt Mary said, but she could see he was just being Ben.

  They all had these happy, good-natured looks, which on Ben was spooky. I could hardly budge out of my chair between being so full and Aunt Mary holding me. They waited for me to reply. I looked from one to the other, not sure how to answer. When good stuff doesn’t happen to you all that often, you don’t get a lot of practice saying thank you. Whatever came out of my mouth was going to be so lame. But who cared?

  “Um, sure. I’ll give it a shot. I mean, thanks.”

  Twenty-One

  Werling’s Poem

  My love is blind, both she and me,

  To things that are and may well be.

  We see each other in distant ways,

  Does she know she fills my days?

  She spoke no word but cast a spell,

  Her eyes, her hair, her very smell.

  In private pain I watch her pass,

  I might as well be window glass.

  My sweetest work to make her see,

  How much in love we should be.

  The day will come when we agree,

  My precious, wonderful, everything . . . Wendy

  THE END

 

 

 


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