The Pike River Phantom (11 page)

Charlie unclenched his fists. “That's okay,” he said, “forget it.”

“I'd be glad to,” Jake said cheerfully, “but you don't know my aunt Marie. Now she's sorry, too. She asked me to pick you up this morning and deliver you to her house so she can apologize herself.”

There were two houses Charlie never wanted to see again. One was Katya Torin's. The other was Mrs. Fisher's.

“She doesn't have to apologize,” he protested, backing away again. “You tell her it's okay.”

“She wants to talk to you herself.” Jake glanced at his watch.

“I don't want to—” Charlie began, but his protest trailed off when he saw Grandma Lou's expression.

“Charlie,” she scolded, “where are your manners? Marie Fisher is an old friend of mine. She may be a little prickly at times, but if she's ready to apologize to you, you must give her the chance. And have breakfast later,” she added. Grandma hated to see anyone miss a meal.

Charlie gave up. He was trapped between the two of them, Grandma annoyed and pleading, Jake Fisher wanting to get this over with so he could go to work. He left the house with dragging feet, hardly hearing Grandma's promise to make pancakes when he returned.

Once they were in the truck and on their way, Jake relaxed. “Don't look so worried, Charlie,” he teased, “My aunt doesn't bite. Not often, anyway. Say, do you like to swim?”

Charlie shrugged. “Don't know how.”

“I won five medals in Central Wisconsin competition when I was in high school,” Jake said, as casually as you could say a thing like that. “I teach a class of kids out at the lake on Saturday mornings.” He glanced at Charlie. “You've got a good build for swimming. Interested?”

“I don't know if I'll be around,” Charlie said. “I might—I might be away.”

The pickup swung onto Cutler Street and then into the driveway at six two-one. Charlie shrank back against the seat.

“Well, you think about it, kid,” Jake suggested. “You'll meet some guys your own age. Have a good time. We won't meet this Saturday because it's the Fourth, but next week …”

Charlie nodded and slid out of the truck. “Thanks for asking me,” he said. “And thanks for the ride.” All he wanted was to get this visit over with as quickly as possible.

Mrs. Fisher was in her kitchen when Charlie came up to the door. She let him in, looking tinier than ever in a crisp housedress and apron. There were cookies on a plate on the table, and a tall glass of milk.

“Sit down,” she ordered. Her thick glasses flashed in the sunlight. “Eat.”

Charlie sat, choosing a chair with its back to the hall closet where he'd been imprisoned. He thought Mrs. Fisher sounded cross, and not in the least apologetic. But when she sat opposite him at the table, he saw that her wrinkled cheeks were flushed a bright pink.

“Are you all right, boy?” she demanded. “Is the bump on your head givin' you trouble?”

“No, ma'am.” Charlie bit into a cookie. It was double chocolate chip, his favorite kind in all the world. He took another one. Mrs. Fisher might be a tiger, but she could bake.

“My nephew Jacob is a good boy,” she said in a voice that dared him to argue. “He says you made an honest mistake comin' in here the way you did. He says he might have done the same thing—might have thought there was monkey business goin' on—if he'd been in your shoes. Jacob says you did a brave thing, comin' in when you thought I might be in bad trouble.”

Charlie didn't know how to answer, so he kept quiet.

“Have another cookie.” Mrs. Fisher pushed the plate closer to him. Her handbag appeared as if by magic on the table, and she took out a checkbook. “How much are those candy bars you're sellin'?”

“One dollar.” He hoped Rachel wouldn't object to a one-dollar check.

“I'll take fifty,” Mrs. Fisher said, and her cheeks became pinker than ever. “What do you say to that, boy?”

Charlie nearly choked on his cookie.

“I'll take 'em out to the Veterans Hospital for a Fourth of July treat,” she explained, pushing the check across the table. “I go out to the hospital every Saturday—been doin' that for twenty-three years. You get the candy here this afternoon, you hear? It'll be a nice holiday surprise for my boys.”

Charlie could hardly believe this was the same person he'd been hating for over a week. “I'll bring an extra bar for you,” he said shyly. “No charge. Mrs. Schwanke told me you like chocolate.”

“I do.” Mrs. Fisher looked relieved now that she'd said what she had to say. She even smiled. “I do, indeed, boy. Have another cookie.”

A half hour later he was home again, the check folded so that the tip stuck out of his shirt pocket. Rachel waited at the front door. She was very pale, and there were bluish circles under her eyes.

“Grandma's making pancakes for your breakfast,” she reported. “What did Mrs. Fisher say? Did she apologize?”

“Not exactly,” Charlie replied. He whipped the check from his pocket and waited to see her reaction.

It wasn't what he'd expected. “That's great,” she said, almost listlessly. “That's really good, Charlie. Mr. Carly will be happy.”

“How about you?” he demanded, irritated at her indifference. “Aren't you happy?”

“Sure I am. It's just that I have other things on my mind now.” She followed Charlie into the kitchen, where Grandma Lou was pouring pancake batter into the skillet. When Grandma turned away from the stove, she was smiling so joyously that for a moment Charlie thought Mrs. Fisher must have telephoned ahead to announce her good deed.

“Isn't it marvelous news, Charlie?” Grandma exclaimed. “Aren't we proud of our girl?”

Charlie turned to Rachel for an explanation, and read the answer in her eyes before she spoke.

“I've won,” his cousin said softly. “Mr. Cochran, the chairman of the Parade Committee, came while you were gone. I've been chosen the Sunbonnet Queen.” Her lips trembled. “Great news, huh, Charlie? Just the best!”

CHAPTER 15

Charlie woke to the sound of firecrackers. He rolled over and looked out at a lead-colored sky.

“What do you say, sport?” His father sat up and yawned. “You ready for the big celebration? You've never seen a Pike River Fourth of July. They do it up right.”

“Looks like rain,” Charlie said. “Maybe they won't be able to have the parade.”

His father poked him in the ribs. “Don't be so downbeat, Charlie. A little rain never hurt anything. Rachel will still be the queen, and Grandma and Grandpa will work the hotdog stand the way they did when I was a kid. And I'm going to win the guitar-playing contest. Rain or no rain.”

Charlie was startled. “Win the guitar-playing contest?”

“Why not?” His father searched the closet for clean slacks and a sport shirt. “It won't do any harm to try. I guess I can fake it a little. Maybe there'll be a pretty lady judge who goes for short stocky guys that smile a lot.”

Charlie got out of bed and stretched. It was just like his father to enter a contest he couldn't possibly win. Not that he was a terrible guitar player, but he certainly wasn't a very skilled one. Losing wouldn't bother him; he'd just laugh and say it had been a great experience.

“You going to be there, kid? Two-thirty—the band shell in the park. I could use a cheering section.”

“I might be busy,” Charlie said. “I promised Grandpa I'd help at the hotdog stand for a while.” He had enough to worry about today without watching his father fall flat on his face in front of most of Pike River.

Grandpa and Grandma were already at the table when they entered the kitchen.

“Maybe Charlie knows,” Grandma said, as they pulled up their chairs. “It's certainly beyond me what's going on in that child's head.”

Grandpa Will winked at Charlie over his cereal spoon. “Your grandmother thinks Rachel isn't as pleased as she should be about being the Sunbonnet Queen,” he said. “You know any reason why that might be so?”

Charlie slouched in his chair. He couldn't explain what Rachel must be feeling today. He was still searching for something to say, aware that the family was watching him expectantly, when there was a step in the hallway.

Grandma gave a little gasp of delight. “Oh, my dear, come here and let us see you!”

Grandpa Will put down his spoon. “Well, well,” he said, “if this doesn't bring back memories!”

Rachel came into the kitchen and walked slowly around the table. She was dressed in a long gown of soft brown material with a white collar and cuffs. Her sunbonnet was a lighter brown, and it had a white ruffle around the edge of the brim and a crisp white bow at the nape of the neck. Her hair fell in a rich coil over her shoulders.

Charlie thought she looked beautiful.

“Same outfit the queen wore when I was a kid,” John commented. “You'd think they'd jazz it up a little. I mean, you look great, kid, but when I think of a queen I think of—well—”

“The Rose Queen in Pasadena?” Rachel smiled at her uncle. The blue shadows under her eyes were still visible beneath a fine dusting of powder. “This will always be the Sunbonnet Queen's costume, Uncle John. That's part of the tradition. Mr. Cochran came over yesterday afternoon and brought three brown dresses in different sizes. Grandma shortened this one just a little—otherwise it fit perfectly.”

“I don't suppose it's the same dress I wore,” Grandma mused. “Not after all these years. But it certainly looks the same. The Sunbonnet Queen represents the women who came across the country in covered wagons, John. She isn't supposed to look as if she's entering a beauty contest, for heaven's sake.”

“Well, sure,” John said agreeably. “Anyway, you look terrific, Rachel. Prettiest Sunbonnet Queen ever—I'll bet on it.” He ducked his head, aware that he'd made another mistake. “Except for you, of course, Ma. You must have been the best of 'em all.”

“Your mother looked exactly the way Rachel looks today,” Grandpa Will said. “I never realized how much alike they are. Must be the costume, I guess.”

Rachel shot a nervous glance at Charlie from under the deep brim of her bonnet. But when she spoke again, her voice was steady. “I have to leave right now,” she said. “I'm supposed to be at the square early because the newspaper wants to take pictures while the parade is getting organized.”

Grandma looked worried. “Breakfast first,” she warned. “You can't stand up on that float for an hour or more without breakfast. You might faint!”

“I was up early,” Rachel said. “I had cereal an hour ago.”

“Then Grandpa will drive you to the square,” Grandma said. “Or Uncle John.”

But Rachel shook her head. “I'm going to take my bike,” she said. “I don't need a ride.”

“Your bike!” Grandma exclaimed. “You're going to ride your bike wearing that costume! You'll fall—and if you don't fall you'll probably get rained on. Look at that sky! Your costume will be all wet before the parade even begins.”

Charlie had heard this kind of argument between his grandmother and his cousin before, but there was an extra edge in their voices today.

“I won't fall, Grandma,” Rachel said firmly. “I never fall. I'll hitch up my skirt. And it's not going to rain until later. I listened to the forecast while I was getting dressed. It may not rain at all.” She kissed Grandma Lou on the cheek, waved to the others, and drifted out of the dining room.

“Hey, I'll go with you,” Charlie called after her. “We can walk—it's not so far.” Grandma nodded vigorous approval.

“I don't want you to.” The front door opened and closed. She was gone.

“You see!” Grandma said. “She's not her usual cheerful self at all. She wanted so much to be the Sunbonnet Queen, and now she acts as if she's only doing it because she has to. I just don't understand.”

“Well.” Grandpa looked puzzled, too. Then his face cleared. “The girl's nervous,” he decided. “That's all it is. Riding on a float, presiding over the games in the park—that's a lot to think about. She'll be fine once the day gets under way.”

“I hope so,” Grandma said. “I wish we hadn't promised to spend the
whole
day at the hotdog stand. I'd like to be with her when the parade begins. Let her know her family is behind her …”

“She knows that.” Grandpa pushed back his chair. “Finish up, everybody, and let's get ready to go. We might as well ride to the park together, and then we can go our separate ways.”

Charlie waited for the others at the back door. He wanted to get to the square as quickly as possible, but he had to do it without letting Grandma know he was worried. No matter what Rachel said, she needed him now. He was the only person in Pike River who knew about Katya Torin, and he wanted to be close to the queen in case there was trouble.

The streets and sidewalks were crowded with people on their way to the parade. Most of the children carried balloons or small United States flags. With the car windows open, the sounds of firecrackers and band music could be heard.

“That's probably the Middle School band,” Grandpa commented. “They're playing the school song. They've got a lot of reasons to be grateful to you, Charlie.”

John reached over and mussed Charlie's hair. “My son the salesman,” he said. Charlie ducked away, pleased.

“I think we should just swing through the square and see how things are going,” Grandma said. “I can't stop wondering …” She didn't finish the sentence, but Grandpa Will turned the car down a side street that led to the square.

They had gone a block when a motorcycle policeman motioned their car over to the side of the street. “You can't drive into the square, Mr. Hocking,” he said. “We're turning back all traffic till the parade gets under way.”