Tremolo

by Aaron Paul Lazar

  “Gus! Wait a minute!”

  I stopped and turned. She ran lightly down the path, her ponytail bouncing in the sun. She smiled broadly and held out a paper bag. “Your grandfather forgot to give you these,” she said breathlessly, offering the grease-stained bag to me. Her pink lips stretched into a huge smile.

  I stammered with heart fluttering.

  She stood with one hand on her hip, poised to turn. Her uniform pulled snugly about her slim waist.

  I remembered tying the apron strings for her and the feeling of the white silky fabric against my shaking fingers. My legs trembled dangerously. I longed to blurt out my feelings, but was betrayed by my foolish, clumsy mouth.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, shifting the cat to one shoulder as I reached for the bag stuffed full of donut holes.

  Her fingers brushed mine and she smiled again. She tilted her head as she slowly tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “No problem, honey.”

  Light flashed in her eyes. My face muscles sagged in adoration. She turned and trotted back to the dining room.

  She called me honey, I thought, sauntering down the path toward the lake.

  The water shimmered and blinked in the distance under the hot afternoon sun. I shifted Ivanhoe around and managed to reach into the bag to grab one crusty donut. I popped it in my mouth, speculating about my feelings for Betsy. I kicked a stone and dug for another donut. Ivanhoe snuggled against me. I turned and watched Betsy flounce around the corner of the building. My heartstrings pulled with sweet agony.

  I wondered if this torture was what they called true love.

  Chapter 42

  “Goodbye. See you soon.”

  The screen door closed behind me and I bid Mrs. Jones goodbye. A broad smile played across my face. Plucking long, fuzzy hairs from my shirt, I headed down to Wee Castle.

  She’d been so relieved at the recovery of her precious cat that she wept for joy. She hugged and blessed me, pushing a ten-dollar bill into my hands against my vehement protests. Finally, I promised to share it with the twins and skipped down her porch steps, waving to Barney as I left. He stood tall and vigilant, nodding almost imperceptibly from the shadows in the pines.

  Shadow met me at the cabin steps, sniffing my hands and shirt. I squatted down beside him so that he could thoroughly inhale the cat-smell, then surreptitiously fed him a donut hole. He wolfed it down and looked at me for another, his tail wagging slowly.

  “Okay, just one more,” I said, reaching into the bag.

  “Gus?” My mother’s strained voice came from inside the house. “Gus? Are you out there?”

  Something’s wrong.

  “Mum?” I ran up the steps and burst into the living room.

  “In here… I’m in the bedroom. Don’t come in. I just need you to go get Dad or Grandpa. Tell them I need to go to the hospital.”

  The color drained from my face. I stood rooted to the spot.

  “Gus? Did you hear me?”

  I tossed the bag of donuts on the kitchen table and ran to her door, pressing my lips against the crack. “Yes, I heard you, Mum. I’ll be right back with help.”

  I spun and bolted out of the house. My legs churned faster than I’d ever pushed them. I leapt over the roots, up and down the steps of the boardwalk, sped around the living room, charged up the hill past the shower building, and pounded across the office porch into the empty dining room. Bursting into the kitchen, I found my father and grandfather sitting at the black and white enamel table with two security guards and June. She was crying again, sobbing loudly.

  My lungs ached. I doubled over, trying to catch my breath. “Dad!” I gasped.

  He rose from his seat and hurried over to me. “What is it, son? What’s wrong?”

  “Mum’s sick. She needs a doctor.”

  “What?” The color drained from his face.

  I motioned for him to follow. “Hurry.”

  “What’s wrong with her, Gus?”

  I trotted alongside him. “I don’t know. She wouldn’t let me into the bedroom.” I choked back tears.

  His lips compressed into a tight line. In a flash, he barreled down the hill, leaving me in his dust.

  I followed, sprinting a dozen feet behind him. We reached the cabin in less than a minute.

  He ran toward the bedroom. “Wait here, son. I’ll let you know what’s happening.”

  I stopped and watched him burst into the bedroom. Fear quivered in my gut. I swayed and breathed hard. A drop of sweat slid down my neck and moistened the collar of my shirt.

  Seconds later, Dad called me. “Gus? Get my keys from the kitchen.” He exploded out of the bedroom with my mother in his arms, wrapped in a pale green quilt. Her face was ashen and her eyes closed.

  I grabbed the car keys from the shelf in the kitchen and pushed them into his pocket.

  “Thank you, son. Listen, run up to the office and tell your grandparents I’m driving your mother to the hospital, okay? You’ll have to help them with the dinner shift. Do you think you can handle that, Gus?”

  “I guess so.” I followed him out to the porch. My eyes were riveted to my mother’s slack body. Her eyes were closed and she looked white as a sheet.

  He took the path to the alternate parking area on the far side of camp, where our station wagon was parked.

  I stood for a moment on the porch, watching him carry her effortlessly up the path.

  After he disappeared around the bend, I took a deep breath and ran back up the hill in search of my grandparents.

  ∞∞∞

  I nearly collided with them when I skidded around the corner of the living room near the sundeck.

  “What happened, Gus?” my grandfather asked. “You and your father took off like bats out of—”

  My grandmother shot him a warning glance.

  “Heck,” he said.

  Tears welled in my eyes. I swallowed hard and forced myself to remain calm. My grandmother put her arm around my shoulders and squeezed.

  I choked out the words. “It’s my mother. She’s sick. Dad’s bringing her to the hospital.”

  My grandmother’s face tightened. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “I don’t know. But Dad had to carry her up the hill.”

  They exchanged worried glances.

  “Now, don’t you worry there, sport,” said Grandpa with forced cheerfulness. “She’ll be in good hands. They took great care of me when I had my heart attack two years ago. They’ll fix her right up. You’ll see.”

  I couldn’t speak.

  My grandmother rested her hands on my shoulders and locked eyes with me. “I’m sure your father will call as soon as he knows something. Try not to worry. If we don’t hear from him by suppertime, I’ll call the hospital, all right?”

  “Okay.” Tears puddled in my eyes. My throat constricted.

  “Why don’t you play with the twins? We’ll call you when we hear something,” my grandfather said. “Look. There they are.”

  I turned to see Siegfried and Elsbeth emerge from their cabin. They waved vigorously and ran toward me.

  Chapter 43

  Elsbeth, Sig, and I sat on the Wee Castle porch steps and polished off the rest of the donut holes. The twins were elated that I’d found Ivanhoe, but their mood quickly dampened when they discovered my mother was on her way to the hospital.

  Siegfried draped his arm around my shoulders. “I’m sure she’ll be okay, Gus. Try not to worry.”

  I looked into his sincere blue eyes and nodded. “I’ll try.”

  Elsbeth took my hand and pressed it. “We’re here for you, Gus. Blood brothers. Forever.”

  My mind repeated the phrase again and again. Blood brothers. Blood brothers. Blood brothers. Strange how we didn’t care about the gender of the term. Elsbeth was really a blood sister, I thought.

  I tried to push away the vision of my mother’s pale and listless form.

  Elsbeth smiled at me and brushed a donut crumb from her lap. Her green shorts were wrin
kled. A thought flitted across my restless brain. My mother would insist on ironing them if Elsbeth was her daughter.

  I squeezed Elsbeth’s hand, released it, and stood up. “I’d feel better if I did something. Anything.” I turned and glanced toward the screen door. “Maybe I should straighten up the place? You know, make it nice for her when she comes back.”

  The twins jumped to their feet and nodded in unison.

  “Good idea,” Elsbeth said. “Let’s sweep, dust, and change the linens. We’ll have the place shining in no time.”

  “Ja. Let’s do it.” Siegfried said.

  I ran inside and into the kitchen, yanking open the utility closet door. Elsbeth grabbed the dustpan and broom and handed the mop to Siegfried.

  “I’ll make up the bedrooms.” I grabbed a pile of fresh sheets from the top shelf. They were white and stiff. I lifted them to my face and inhaled the clothesline, outdoorsy smell. It was cathartic.

  Walking briskly into my parents’ bedroom, I laid the pile of linens on the chair beside the door. But when I turned toward the bed, I froze. The floor and bedspread were covered in blood.

  My knees wobbled.

  It was everywhere.

  A black splotch circled my vision. My stomach rolled. I backed up slowly, bumping into the ladder back chair in the corner. I sat, then put my head down and forced myself to breathe deeply.

  After several precarious moments, my head cleared. Again, I stared at the bed in horror.

  The window was wide open and the yellow curtains blew in the breeze, attracting my attention.

  A terrible thought hit me. Had Frank Adamski attacked my mother? I raced over to the window and forced myself to look outside, fearful I’d find him standing with knife in hand against the building.

  The woods were quiet between our cabin and Number Fifteen.

  Slowly, I breathed in a deep lungful of fresh air and turned to face the blood. My stomach churned again.

  What happened? Did she accidentally cut herself?

  Feeling queasy again, I backed toward the door and collided with Elsbeth who was about to enter the room. I spun toward her to shoo her away, but her eyes widened, riveted to the red bedspread and pools of blood on the floorboards.

  She screamed. It was shrill, an ear-piercing shriek. I tried to calm her but she flailed in the air, batting me away. After the shock wore off a little, I patted her hand and attempted to guide her out of the room. She suddenly backed up to the wall, her eyes still huge and her mouth working noiselessly.

  Siegfried raced into the room.

  “Was ist los?” he asked breathlessly, staring at his sister.

  She began to sob. It was loud and hysterical, punctuated by frequent gulps. Her eyes were glued to the blood.

  Siegfried’s glance followed hers. His faced drained of color. His mouth dropped open and he glanced around in fear. “What happened? Was your mother attacked?”

  “I don’t know.” Hysteria crept into my throat.

  A face appeared in the bedroom window. Another surge of adrenalin raced through my heart. But I quickly realized it wasn’t Frank Adamski. It was my grandfather.

  He leaned in the windowsill. “What in tarnation is going on in here? Are you kids okay?”

  Elsbeth pointed to the bed with a shaking hand. “Look.”

  My grandfather’s face lost all its color. He looked at me with concern, then motioned for me to approach him. “Why don’t you come up to the dining room now. Let’s bring the twins back to their cabin and then we’ll try calling the hospital from the office.”

  “Okay.” I shepherded the shaking twins out the door and walked them over to their cabin.

  My grandfather spoke with Mr. Marggrander in the far corner of the porch, who immediately whisked the twins inside.

  We headed up the hill.

  “What do you think happened to her?” I asked.

  He put his arm over my shoulders as we walked, shaking his head. “I’m not sure, sport. But we’ll get to the bottom of this. Try not to worry.”

  Again, people telling me not to worry. How could I not?

  I pushed the thought down inside and gave my grandfather a brave, shaky smile. “I’ll try, Gramps.”

  Chapter 44

  We finally got through to the hospital at four-thirty. The woman at the desk explained that a doctor was examining my mother as we spoke, and that she’d ask my father to give us a call when he was able. My grandfather was unable to wrest any more details from her, even after explaining that their son was anxiously awaiting news.

  He shook his head in disgust and called her an “old battle-axe” after hanging up and heading back inside to serve the evening meal. He’d asked me if I wanted to eat, but I was still full from the donut holes.

  I sat on the office steps with Shadow curled at my side, nodding good evening to each guest as they emerged from the dining area. The sky darkened and a spirited wind began to wail through the pines. I’d been straining to hear the ring of the phone for the past hour and was starting to wonder if my father would ever call.

  Mr. Peterson strode across the porch, leaned over me, and stubbed out his cigarette in the tall receptacle that housed a sand ashtray.

  The acrid smell of smoke stung my eyes. I pulled back involuntarily and nodded goodnight to him.

  He waved briefly and put an arm around his plump blonde wife as they hurried toward their cabin.

  Shadow raised his snout and sniffed. The sky over the lake had turned a disturbing blackish-purple. Billowing clouds raced across the water and fat drops of rain began to fall. Tree branches swayed ominously overhead. Slowly at first, the drops splatted against the dry ground. It puffed up little dust clouds in response. The rain quickened and the gentle plopping of the drops created a rhythm reminiscent of a melody in counterpoint.

  I pulled back and stood under the porch roof, then took a few steps backward when the storm increased in fury. Shadow followed and whined beside me.

  “You’d better come in, honey. Looks like it’s gonna blow real hard.” My grandmother stood behind the screen door, beckoning. Her short gray curls hung damp with perspiration. Faint smudges puddled under her eyes. June had been fired earlier, after a lengthy interview with Mrs. Jones’ guards. My grandmother had donned an apron and cap and waited tables with Betsy and Annabel in the packed dining room.

  “Can we please call again, Gram?” I pleaded. “It’s been hours since we tried.”

  “Okay, honey. Sure thing.” She trotted across the porch into the office.

  Shadow and I joined her inside, taking a seat on the hard oak chair on the other side of the desk.

  She untied her apron and laid it neatly on the desk, then sat down. Picking up the heavy black telephone handset, she pulled the yellow lined pad of paper toward her. She used the eraser end of an old yellow pencil to dial.

  When the hospital answered, she sat up straighter. “Yes, hello. This is Odette LeGarde, from the Loon Harbor Resort. I’m calling to inquire about my daughter-in-law. She was brought into the emergency room this afternoon.” Her no-nonsense, patrician voice usually brought immediate respect. She said the words anticipating cooperation, oozing with confidence and businesswoman finesse. She stressed the word “resort,” although Loon Harbor was more of a homey fishing camp than a fancy resort. “Yes, that’s right. Her name is Gloria LeGarde. My son André brought her in earlier. I’d like to speak with him, please.” She spoke firmly and smiled at me over the desk.

  I relaxed a bit and smiled back at her, listening to the wind howling outside.

  Without warning, the lights in the office dimmed and flickered. A loud crack sounded outside as a bolt of lightning struck nearby.

  My grandmother leaned forward and spoke louder into the phone. “André? Is that you? I can hardly hear you, son.”

  I sat forward. Goosebumps prickled on my skin.

  “What’s that? The doctor said what? What did you say?” She frowned into the mouthpiece and pulled the receiver away
from her ear. “Gosh darn it. I don’t believe this. It’s dead.”

  The lights flickered once more and finally blinked out.

  Although it was only six-thirty, the sky had turned black. Thunder crashed and the moist air smelled of ozone.

  I shifted nervously in my chair.

  “I guess this isn’t going to work, honey. I’m sorry, Gus. I really am.” She gave the phone a final, disgusted look and replaced the receiver cautiously, as if expecting the lightning to reach up and strike her.

  The generator kicked in, assuring safety of the frozen food in the Icehouse. The storm raged on, increasing in fury with each passing minute. It was going to be a bad one.

  Chapter 45

  My grandfather leaned forward and gripped the steering wheel. “Can’t see a dang blasted thing.”

  I wiped his red bandana across the foggy glass. “Any better?”

  Rain fell in torrents against the glass. The windshield wipers struggled to keep up.

  “A little bit. Thanks.”

  I settled back in the comfortable front seat of the Buick, straining to see the road. The trees bent sideways in the gale. A large branch flew through the air and smashed against the driver’s side window.

  “Wow. It’s really bad out, Grandpa. How much farther to the hospital?”

  He leaned forward another inch and squinted. “Hard to tell. I don’t even know where we are right now, sport.” He squinted some more. “Wait a minute. Can you make out that sign over there?” He slowed to a crawl and nodded toward a suspended sign swinging heavily in the wind.

  “Hold on a second.” I peered out the rain-spattered window. “It says ‘Seventh Heaven’. Isn’t that the Olsens’ camp?”

  “Ayah. Right you are. We’re almost to Route 11 now. At this rate we’ll get there in about forty-five minutes.”

  I looked at my Mickey Mouse watch. It was nearly seven. I sat up straight and peered through the window, watching for landmarks. Through the rain, the windswept trees bowed and thrashed along the roadside. I rubbed a patch clear on my window with my shirtsleeve and pressed my face against the moist, cool glass, wondering what had happened to my mother.