Tremolo

by Aaron Paul Lazar

  I confided to my parents about seeing Frank Adamski in the rainstorm, and after that we were under the watchful eyes of one of our parents at all times. The police reinitiated a search for Adamski in Waterville and Oakland. It seemed to me that they’d nearly given up in the long and futile search for Sharon.

  We rode the horses, but were instructed to stick to the Andersons’ pasture. Each time we rode, my father read John D. MacDonald novels under the shade of the oak tree while we cantered around the pasture.

  On Wednesday, we constructed jumps from old galvanized buckets, tree stumps, and smooth logs from the forest floor. Starting low, we leapt the horses over the jumps and worked up to a height of two feet by Friday. One of us was assigned to the jumps, raising the bars with various odd articles that we found around the barn, or replacing the knocked-down logs. The other two rode until they tired, and then we switched places and started all over again.

  Sir loved to jump. I held on tight, and he took off like a rocket toward the rickety contraptions we’d set up around the pasture. I grabbed a handful of his mane as he surged toward a jump, then leaned forward and hung on as he hurtled through the air. While we cantered around the field, I found myself wondering about Sharon Adamski.

  Did she find another family? Did they adopt her? Maybe she pretended to have

  amnesia to conceal her identity…

  I dismissed the last idea with a shake of my head, assuming any potential rescuers would have heard about the girl with the long blonde hair who’d been missing for weeks.

  Finally, after several hours of riding, my father waved to us from the tree and we headed home for an afternoon of swimming.

  We’d just arrived back at camp when Oscar Stone hailed us from the pathway. He smiled primly, walking with a confident easy stride in our direction. Smoothing his long silky hair, and after a few exchanges of pleasantries, he asked, “Would you children care to accompany us to the Waterville fair? William and I are heading out just after dinner. He assures me it’s a…” he looked at my father and winked, “a ‘blast,’ which I assume means a great deal of fun.”

  My mouth dropped open in surprise and I glanced at my father. I could sense his hesitation as he considered the safety of the situation. His eyes narrowed and he stroked his chin.

  “Please, Dad? Please?” I begged, tugging on his arm.

  “Pretty please with sugar on top?” echoed Elsbeth sweetly.

  “I’ll keep a real close eye on them, André,” said Oscar.

  My father smiled indulgently and nodded. “All right. But you’ll have to stick with William or Oscar, son. You need to promise me.”

  I wheeled around, grabbing the twins’ hands. “Oh, I will. I promise, Dad. Come on, guys, let’s go ask your folks.”

  We raced down the hill together, bubbling with excitement.

  Chapter 49

  “You sit on the inside,” I shouted to Elsbeth. The three of us scrambled into the Tilt-A-Whirl dish and snapped the bar over our laps.

  Siegfried sat in the middle and I took the outer position that I knew would bear the weight of both twins. But I was the oldest, so I knew it was the right choice. The remaining saucers quickly filled with chattering youngsters.

  “Here we go,” Elsbeth said. Her voice rang with excitement.

  The machine began to whirl around, and our pod swung in slow circles, building momentum as the giant platform sped faster and faster. I gripped the metal bar tightly. Siegfried and Elsbeth slid against me, squishing me into the end of the pod.

  My hands were sticky from the pink cotton candy I’d wolfed down ten minutes earlier. A giddy sensation spiraled in my stomach while the background of the park blurred in dizzying colors. We swung in circles, spinning and tilting up and down until our insides were deliciously rattled.

  Tears of laughter streamed from our eyes and our bodies slammed against the metal bar when the car plunged and dipped. Several times, I thought I might fly out of the car and my laughter nearly turned to shouts of fear. But as hard as the centrifugal force pushed me up and around, I remained securely inside the pod while it swooped around the platform for the last slow twirl.

  Elsbeth’s face turned green. I wondered if it was due to the corn dog and candy apple she just demolished, or the popcorn we all shared before that. She pushed herself out of the seat and took my hand. I helped her onto the platform.

  “Danke, Gus.”

  We balanced over the swaying deck and pounded after Siegfried down to the ground level, where Oscar Stone sat on a white metal bench, rewinding his thirty-five millimeter camera.

  “Are you okay, Elsbeth?” I asked.

  “Yup. I’m okay. Just a little sick in my stomach, that’s all.” She pushed her wild hair back from her face. Her mother had pulled it up in a ponytail with a red ribbon, but she’d removed it as soon as we arrived at the fair. The thick dark curls created a halo around her heart-shaped face.

  “Are you gonna throw up?” I asked.

  She shook her head emphatically. “Nope. Hey. Let’s go on the Ferris wheel next.”

  Oscar nodded his approval and patiently rose. We followed him to the Ferris Wheel.

  When we reached the line, Oscar said, “I think I can handle this one, children. I’ll be right behind you in the next car. Wait right here for me when you get off, okay?”

  We agreed and moved up in line. Finally, after several groups of people were loaded, it was our turn. We scrambled onto the green car swaying on the loading platform, were safely latched inside. We watched below as Oscar was directed into a red car by himself. He began to take pictures of us as soon as he was airborne, flashing many shots in a row and shifting his camera this way and that. Finally, all of the cars were filled and the huge wheel began to turn.

  Night crept slowly over the fairgrounds. Festive lights blinked in reds, pinks, and greens from every pavilion. When we reached the top, we could see for miles. I recognized the glimmer of a nearby lake and enjoyed the view of the surroundings while we circled round and round.

  Elsbeth sat between us. Her face was flushed with excitement as she swung her legs back and forth. She chattered happily about everything. Apparently, her nausea had passed. Oscar’s flash continued to go off as we frolicked above him, leaning down and making silly faces for him to photograph.

  When we finally finished, we walked between rows of gaming tables, stopping here or there to try our luck. Elsbeth won a pink stuffed poodle after tossing a penny into a glass jar. Oscar excused himself and sat down under a tent, handing us over to William and Betsy when they met up with us.

  We sashayed along the long line of vendors, following the two teens. I had been surprised when Betsy came with us, and was envious of William’s position as her escort. I watched surreptitiously when he tried to hold her hand. She pulled it away and laughed as if nothing happened, skipping forward toward the next attraction.

  The hawkers were loud and grating, their microphones squawking as they competed for customers against the blaring sound of the generators. We moved down the long line of vendors. The crowd changed from young families with cranky children to an older crowd of teens and adults. People teemed between the stalls as we tromped over asphalt sticky with cotton candy and gum. The smell of popcorn filled the air. Although we’d already had some earlier, I looked longingly at the popcorn counter, but regretfully realized I already filled my stomach to its capacity. If I ate another bite, I’d throw up.

  Betsy tripped over a bundle of thick black wires and landed in William’s arms. He smiled at her, held her far too long, and then released her. She blushed and looked down at her feet.

  I couldn’t take it any more. I shoved between them. “Betsy! Can we go see the sideshows? Please?”

  Betsy looked at the tent that advertised a bearded lady. She tilted her head thoughtfully for a moment, then gave in. “Okay. I don’t think it would do any harm.”

  Excited to enter the realm of the unbelievable, we each paid five cents for our tickets an
d began to walk through the maze of pitiful creatures sitting alone in their tents.

  The bearded woman was tiny. Obviously suffering from some glandular condition, her dark black beard hung six inches down from her chin. She wore a blue and white polka dotted dress and white pumps. I stared, looked away, and stared some more.

  Feeling ashamed, I pushed onward toward the next exhibit.

  Elsbeth stuck to me like glue and held my hand as we were whisked past people whose deformities were terrible. Betsy realized her mistake by the time we saw the man with three arms and tried to hurry us through the rest of the exhibit. When we finally erupted from the tent, we walked in silence for a while toward the darker end of the fair. I breathed in the fresh air, feeling rotten inside. Why did I want to see those unfortunate people? Both Elsbeth and Siegfried looked disturbed, and I felt responsible.

  We walked along under the stars in silence. The tents turned into adult gatherings where cards were the game of the evening. Smoky air swirled around the tables and the atmosphere suddenly darkened to that of a back alley in the city.

  Betsy pulled her sweater closed and shivered. “I think we ought to turn back.”

  “Let’s just walk to the end of the line and then turn around,” William said, drawing away from us.

  We hurried behind him, feeling increasingly uneasy. Motor homes and house trailers were parked at the end of the line, each facing diagonally toward the walkway. Several had electric lights inside and awnings strung out over their side doors, creating verandas over tables and chairs. Although many trailers were unoccupied because their owners were running the fair games, several were home to a bunch of rough-looking characters.

  I shivered when we passed the last of the trailers and pulled on William’s sleeve. “C’mon, William. We’ve gotta go back.”

  “Yeah, okay. Guess there’s not much else to see.”

  We pivoted around and my skin crawled. I stopped for a moment and listened, imagining footsteps behind me. I looked back and saw nothing but dark shadows and house trailers. Exasperated with myself, I shrugged and moved along quickly behind my friends, hurrying to catch up to them.

  A group of four men loomed out of an opening, laughing and grinning. They stood side by side, blocking our way. About the age of my parents, or older, the leader had a shaved head and small mustache. He leered at Betsy, his liquor-laced breath poisoning the air between us. “Look at thees one, mes amis. She’s a pretty jeune fille, n’est-ce pas?”

  Betsy twisted away from his hand when he tried to lift her chin to his face.

  He smiled wickedly, revealing a row of uneven brown teeth. “How about a leetle kiss, mon amour? Just one leetle kiss to pass through?”

  William stood stock-still, his face drained of color.

  I shot a look at him and prodded him with my elbow. “Do something!” I hissed.

  Finally jolted out of his state, he moved forward and stood tall before the offensive man. “Let us pass. My father is right over there and will call the cops if you give us any trouble.”

  “Yeah,” I said, moving up beside him, “let us through or there’ll be trouble!” I pushed Betsy behind me, shocked at my own bravado. I’d been aching for a chance to show Betsy how grown up I was and found myself staring the man in the face. I didn’t flinch.

  He looked down at me, growled, and then laughed, turning to his friends. “Ah, hell, they’re just leetle enfants. No fun here. Leetle babies.”

  We hurried past them when they dispersed, breaking into a run. Just as we were about to pass the final trailer and re-enter the hawker’s aisle, someone grabbed me from behind and pulled me around a corner. A large hand clamped over my mouth. I tried to scream, but could only manage a muffled “Phlop,” and was dragged farther into the dark recesses of the carnival campgrounds.

  “Why are you following me, you little weasel?” he snarled, “Haven’t you had enough?”

  The pressure on my mouth released slightly. I recognized the stench of Frank Adamski, the smell of old sweat and alcohol. I struggled in his grasp until he pushed a sharp knife tip into my neck. “Yell and you’ve had it, you little piece of crap. I’ll run this knife right through your neck.”

  I nodded and he removed his hand.

  “I’m not following you,” I gasped. “You’re following me.”

  He slapped my face hard, then pressed the knife tighter against my skin, dragging me backwards. “Your testimony could put me away for life. You’ve seen too much, you little bastard. Way too much. It’s over. See you in hell—”

  William and Siegfried came at Adamski with the force of bulls while Elsbeth shrieked for help at the top of her lungs. The strength of the attack knocked him down and the knife clattered to the ground. Carnies streamed toward us from their trailers. I put my hand to my neck, feeling a warm trickle run down my skin. Shocked into action, Adamski mumbled nervously at the approaching crowd, and then heaved to his feet and bolted into the darkness.

  Chapter 50

  Three days later, I lay with the twins on the floor of my grandparents’ cabin playing Tiddlywinks.

  Grandpa leaned over and took a swig from his Narragansett beer. He wiped froth from his mouth with the back of his sleeve, set the green bottle back on the T.V. tray, then attacked one of the twin lobsters on his plate. The aroma of the seafood was tantalizing.

  I’d eaten hotdogs earlier, but eyed the red crustaceans eagerly with stomach growling.

  “Didn’t you have your dinner?” my grandmother asked, splintering a claw in half with a pair of silver nutcrackers. She plucked a chunk of white meat from the claw, dipped it in the dish of clarified butter, and raised it to her lips. An expression of delight crossed her face.

  I licked my lips, imagining the flavor. “Yup. I had supper, Gram. But it was at four-thirty. I’m getting hungry again.”

  The twins and I had been playing our game on the scratchy wool carpet for the last half hour. Although it was itchy to lay on, it was a low pile rug that provided a decent surface for snapping the plastic pieces.

  Siegfried plunked a blue chip in my direction, expressing a satisfied, “Ahh” when it sailed far in the air.

  I pressed a green plastic disk onto a yellow one, and made it pop across the carpet toward Elsbeth.

  My grandfather pulled three skinny legs from the body of a lobster and leaned over to hand one to each of us. Elsbeth wrinkled her nose in disgust, but Siegfried and I reached for them eagerly, trying to extract the tender meat from the tiny legs. I sucked on mine for a while, then finally cracked the shell and worked on that. There wasn’t much meat inside, but I enjoyed the slim morsels that I dug out and looked up at my grandfather for more.

  “Okay, okay. Here’s another one,” he said, feigning irritation. “I suppose you would eat the whole thing if I let you.”

  It was a Saturday night tradition. By the end of the meal, I’d usually finished off eight legs. Eagerly, I reached for the second one as Siegfried accepted a leg from my grandmother’s lobster.

  “Thanks, Grandpa. It’s good,” I mumbled, starting on the second piece.

  I scratched the side of my neck with greasy fingers. The injury I’d sustained at the hands of Frank Adamski was superficial, but it itched like crazy as it healed. I’d been plagued by nightmares for the past two evenings. Adamski attacked me over and over again in a variety of vicious manners. I never knew if it would be fire or knives, but either method forced me wide awake, frequently crying out for my parents. It was embarrassing, but my father told me it was to be expected after all I’d been through.

  Siegfried promised to sleep over this evening. I hoped that his company would drive away the demons for one night.

  After being interviewed by the police for an hour at the Waterville station Wednesday night, we’d spent a tense couple of days confined to the more populated areas of the camp.

  My grandfather cleared his throat and wiped his chin with a red and white checked cloth napkin. “Did you kids ever think about trying
to recover the hardware from my boat?” He took another sip of beer. “You know, the oarlocks, or the anchor?”

  I looked up at him and shook my head. “Uhnt-uh, I thought it was too deep out there, Grandpa.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not. The water near Big Blue is eight or ten feet deep.”

  Siegfried looked up with interest. “That could be fun,” he said, glancing back and forth between Elsbeth and me. “We haven’t been out on the boat for days.”

  My grandmother shot my grandfather a scowl. “Jean-Paul LeGarde. It could be dangerous, you old fool. You shouldn’t suggest such things. That water is way over their heads. They might drown, for goodness sakes.”

  She set her beer bottle on the side table with a thump and glared at him, eyes burning. Glowering at him, her lower lip began to tremble. She looked as if she might cry. “I’m sorry, but don’t you think we’ve had enough heartbreak around here? What with that maniac running around loose after our grandson, and the troubles poor Gloria had just a little while ago? We’ve really had more than our share, Jean-Paul.”

  He instantly smiled apologetically, reaching for her hand.

  She pulled it away and covered her face, trying to compose herself.

  “I’m sorry, Odette. Of course you’re right. It was a foolish notion. Don’t you kids even think about it, you hear?”

  “Okay. Sure, Gramps.” I was surprised to see such emotion from my normally stoic grandmother. I couldn’t remember ever seeing her cry, and felt an awful sensation in the pit of my stomach. I sat helplessly on the floor, not knowing what to say or do.

  Elsbeth jumped to her feet and walked to my grandmother’s side, stroking her arm. She whispered in a sweet voice. “Don’t worry, Mrs. LeGarde. We won’t go out there. We’ll keep Gus safe, I promise.”

  Grandma straightened, collected herself, and leaned over to give Elsbeth a hug. “Aren’t you the cunnin’ little one. Well, I worry about you twins, too. You all need to stick together and stay near the grownups, all right, honey?”