A New Fear (11 page)

Nicholas stiffened.

She stepped up to the counter and began chopping tomatoes. “Do not worry,” she said. “I like Fears just fine.”

She glanced over at him. “Of course, not everyone in my family does.”

Nicholas watched the saw’s teeth bite into the wood. The saw had an endless appetite.

That is why you must pay attention, Nicholas ordered himself. All morning his eyes had wandered away from his work and over to the other men He studied their faces, trying to decide if one of them had thrown the rock.

Ike fed another board to Nicholas. Nicholas and Ike were working by themselves today. Jason had teamed up with a man whose usual partner was sick.

Nicholas felt the board quiver as it met the saw. When the end of the board slid through the blade, Ike whistled.

Nicholas glanced up. Ike rubbed his stomach. Nicholas smiled. Ike was hungry. Nicholas nodded and turned off the saw.

“I will meet you outside!” Ike yelled as he picked up his lunch.

Nicholas grabbed his small cardboard box and headed after Ike. Today Betsy had drawn arrows through the red hearts. He hoped Jason did not notice.

Nicholas paused by the pile of wood he and Ike would cut that afternoon and checked each piece carefully. Ike had explained what could happen if a saw jammed on a knothole. And Nicholas did not want to take any chances.

He ran his fingers over one of the boards. The wood was good quality, smooth and fine. This is the type of wood that should be used to build houses on Fear Street, Nicholas thought.

He continued outside and found Ike sitting on a log. Nicholas dropped down beside him. “Is Jason eating with us?”

Ike shrugged. “He said he had something to do.”

“Do you think it bothers him that I live in the boardinghouse with Betsy and her mother?” Nicholas asked.

“That depends,” Ike answered. “What did she pack her sweetheart today?” Ike asked.

“I am not her sweetheart,” Nicholas grumbled.

“She thinks so,” Ike said, his green eyes sparkling. He grabbed the box and peeked inside. “Mmmmmmmm. Fried chicken. I would be happy to be her sweetheart if she cooked like this for me.”

Nicholas gave Ike a piece of chicken, and they ate in silence—enjoying the food and the warm sun.

“Why don’t we change places?” Ike suggested when they finished lunch. “I will work the saw and you feed me the boards.”

“All right,” Nicholas agreed as they returned to their station. “I checked the wood for knotholes before I left. I knew you were going to do it—but I wanted to check them, too.”

“Turning into an old lady like Jason,” Ike scolded. “I am kidding,” he added. “It is smart to check things yourself.”

Ike took his position beside the saw. “Watch for splinters as you feed me the boards,” Ike advised. “They can hurt like crazy.”

Ike flipped the switch. The saw whirred to life.

Nicholas picked up a plank and began guiding it toward Ike and the saw.

The whizzing saw bit into the wood.

Then it came to an abrupt halt.

Ike scowled. He put some pressure on the wood.

It did not budge.

Ike leaned closer.

The saw jumped free. It tore through the wood.

Ike uttered a long, deep moan of pain.

Blood sprayed into the air. It spattered across Nicholas’s face. Soaked into his shirt.

Nicholas leapt over to the saw and shut it off.

“Get them for me! Get them for me!” Ike shrieked.

“What?” Nicholas yelled back. “I do not know what you want.”

“My fingers!” Ike howled.

Chapter 21

N
icholas crouched down beside the saw. Blood gushed from Ike’s hand, turning the sawdust on the floor bright red.

Nicholas heard Ike moaning. He groped through the wet sawdust. Searching, searching.

“My fingers!” Ike yelled again. Someone else shouted. The saws stopped one by one. Feet pounded up beside Nicholas.

Nicholas continued to search. The sawdust flew into his eyes, making it hard to see.

Then he saw them. All three fingers had flown to the other side of their worktable.

Nicholas stretched out under the table. His face pressed against the bloody sawdust. He could just reach them.

He jumped up, the fingers in his hand. They still felt
warm. “I have them, Ike! I have them all,” Nicholas shouted.

Someone had wrapped a cloth around Ike’s hand. But the blood had already soaked through it.

Nicholas tore off his shirt and pressed it against the stubs of Ike’s fingers. Blood drenched the shirt in seconds.

Ike groaned low in his throat. Every freckle stood out against his pasty-white face.

“We will get you to a doctor,” Nicholas promised.

Without warning, Jason shoved Nicholas aside. “I knew we could not trust you,” he yelled. “This is your fault.”

Glaring at Nicholas, Jason rewrapped Ike’s bloody hand with his own shirt. “Go get the doctor,” he snapped at one of the other men.

Jason led Ike to a corner of the room and had him stretch out on the floor. He held Ike’s hand straight up.

Nicholas felt guilt wash over him.

Was it my fault? he wondered. Did I do something wrong? I checked the boards before we went to lunch. I checked the boards. They didn’t have any knotholes.

Nicholas noticed some of the other men giving him angry looks. They should not blame me. The same thing would have happened to me if Ike had been feeding me the boards, he thought.

A chill raced through Nicholas. He remembered the rock someone had thrown at him the day before. The rock with the note warning Nicholas he did not belong in Shadyside.

Did someone plant the board to cause the accident? Ike and I did not decide to switch places until after lunch. Did someone hope
I
would be hurt?

The next day, the sawmill felt too quiet. Even with the noise of the machinery.

The doctor did not know when Ike would be able to return to work. Or if he would be able to return at all.

Nicholas felt horrible. Ike was his first real friend in Shadyside. He made the job fun. And he was willing to teach Nicholas everything.

Nicholas would do anything to make it up to Ike. But there was nothing to do.

Nicholas had been assigned to work with Jason. Jason only spoke to him to give him orders. The other men did not speak to him at all.

Nicholas could hardly believe Ike would not come up behind him, teasing him about Betsy’s lunches. He did not know what he would do if Ike could never come back to work.

He knew most of the men blamed him. He blamed himself a lot of the time. He had checked the boards so carefully. But maybe he had missed the knothole.

He felt sick inside every time he pictured Ike’s hand. Or the way Ike’s face looked when he screamed for his fingers.

Nicholas searched the grain of each board Jason fed him. He wanted to be sure no one arranged an “accident” for him.

Around noon, Jason stopped feeding the boards and walked away without a word.

I suppose that means it is time for lunch, Nicholas thought. Very nice, Jason. He turned off the saw. The buzzing continued to ring in his ears.

Nicholas wandered outside and sat on the log he had shared with Ike the day before. He felt lonely.

I need Rosalyn here, he thought. I need someone to talk to.

He heard footsteps and glanced up. Mr. Manning walked toward him. Ruth scurried along behind her father.

Is he going to fire me? Nicholas wondered. Does he blame me for Ike’s accident, too?

Mr. Manning dropped onto the log. He exhaled a deep breath. “Have you met my daughter?” he asked.

“Yes, Father,” Ruth replied before Nicholas could answer. “I ran into him before he began working at the mill.”

Ruth glanced at him shyly, and they smiled at their secret joke.

“Ruth does all my paperwork,” Mr. Manning said. He clapped his hand on Nicholas’s shoulder. “She is a sharp girl. She has a head for numbers.”

Isn’t he going to ask me anything about the accident? Nicholas wondered.

“Do you know much about sawmills?”

“I am learning a little more each day,” Nicholas answered, still feeling puzzled.

Mr. Manning beamed. “Good. My grandfather built this sawmill. He passed it on to my father who passed it on to me. I will pass it on to Ruth when the
time comes. She will pass it on to her children. Do you like Shadyside?”

Nicholas blinked at the abrupt change of subject. “Yes, sir.”

“It is a good place for a man to settle down. If he can find the right woman.” He winked and tilted his head toward Ruth.

He wants me to take an interest in his daughter, Nicholas realized. That is why he came over.

“Mmmhmm,” Nicholas murmured. He did not want to offend his employer. But he did not want to encourage Mr. Manning either.

Nicholas gazed over at Ruth. She stared at the ground, her head bowed. He thought he could see a faint blush on her cheeks.

She is embarrassed, he thought. He felt sorry for her. What girl would want to hear her father trying to bribe a man into courting her?

Ruth raised her dull black eyes, as if she felt him staring at her. “Sorry,” she mouthed, shaking her head slightly.

Nicholas rolled his eyes, trying to show her he understood how parents could be.

“Ruth is my pride—”

“Father, have a sandwich,” Ruth interrupted. She pulled one out of a box and handed it to him.

Nicholas bit back a laugh. That is one way to keep him quiet, he thought. Keep his mouth full.

Ruth pulled out another sandwich for herself and offered one to Nicholas.

“No, thank you,” he said. “I have my own lunch.”
He pulled out his lunch box. Betsy had drawn some roses between the hearts. He felt silly letting Ruth and Mr. Manning see it.

Mr. Manning was too busy eating to comment. He consumed his sandwich in four bites. Ruth handed him another before he could ask for one.

Mr. Manning nudged Nicholas with his elbow. “You see, she knows how to look after a man.”

“Father—” Ruth began to protest weakly. She stopped and stared at her father’s face. “Are you all right?” she asked. She sounded frightened.

Nicholas turned toward Mr. Manning. His face had a greenish cast to it. And little beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. “You do look ill,” Nicholas said.

“Nonsense,” Mr. Manning grumbled. He pulled out a silk handkerchief and wiped away the sweat. “I merely ate too fast. Nothing to worry about.”

“Are you enjoying your lunch, Nicholas?” a high voice called out. Betsy. She rushed over, her blond hair bouncing on her shoulders.

Nicholas smiled at her. She wore a white dress with red polka dots. Ribbons and lace covered every available spot. Rosalyn would never wear a dress like that, he thought. She told him she thought they made girls look like big dolls.

And Ruth would look ridiculous in such a dress. The bright polka dots would only emphasize her shyness and her dead, black eyes.

But on Betsy the dress was perfect. “The lunch is delicious,” he told her. “Thank you for making it for me.”

“I like doing things for you,” Betsy told him.

Nicholas heard Mr. Manning give an annoyed snort.

“You look very pretty today,” Ruth said softly.

“Thank you,” Betsy answered. “It is sweet of you to say so.”

Betsy straightened the row of lace around one wrist and looked at Nicholas expectantly.

“Ruth is right,” Nicholas said. He did not want to hurt Betsy’s feelings. “It is a nice dress.”

I hope Betsy does not think I am flirting with her. I will make sure and tell her all about Rosalyn tonight, Nicholas promised himself. Perhaps they will even become friends when I bring Rosalyn to Shadyside.

“I am going to bake my special sticky buns just for you to have with your supper this evening,” Betsy told him in her usual mile-a-minute fashion. “And I—”

“Betsy!” Jason yelled. He leaned against a tree near the entrance to the mill. “Come here!”

She pouted. “Guess I better go see what he wants.” She winked at Nicholas. “Hurry home after work. My mother has gone to visit her sister, so the two of us can have dinner alone.—after I serve the other boarders.”

She ambled over to Jason. Jason glared over the top of Betsy’s head at Nicholas. Then he took Betsy by the shoulders and talked to her with a grim expression on his face.

Warning, her to stay away from me, I am sure, Nicholas thought.

*   *   *

Nicholas rushed out of the sawmill as soon as he guided the last board through the saw.

He could not wait to get away from the men’s hostile glares. No one had openly accused him, but he knew most of the other workers held him responsible for Ike’s accident.

Besides, Nicholas thought, Betsy wanted me to be home early.

He hurried to the boardinghouse and circled around to the kitchen door. The scent of yeast greeted him before he even opened it.

Nicholas grinned. It smelled as if Betsy had been very busy.

He shoved open the kitchen door and stepped inside. Waves of heat hit him in the face.

How could she stand to have the kitchen so hot? She must have had the stove on for hours.

“Betsy?” Nicholas called.