Crandalls' Castle (5 page)

“Man, some people are lucky!” The voice was so close that she woke with a little scream. “What a life!” Dan said. “It must be great to lie around while everyone else is slaving.”

Charli scowled up at her cousin. He smelled like hamburgers even before he went to work, and today there were tight little worry lines in his forehead.

“I'm going to have a job pretty soon, too,” she retorted. “Uncle Will wants me to help him fix up the Castle. I'm resting so I'll be ready.”

Dan leaned against the tree trunk. “And what do you think you're going to do there?” he asked sarcastically. “Put on a new roof? Paint all the window frames?”

Charli hesitated. She didn't know what Uncle Will expected her to do. “There'll be lots of things—important things.”

“I'm going over there right now,” Dan said. He dangled a huge, old-fashioned key in front of her nose. “Just to see if it's as bad as I think it is. Want to come along?”

Charli sat up. She'd wanted to go inside the Castle as long as she could remember. “Does Uncle Will know we're going?”

Dan shrugged. “He's out somewhere, and he left the key on the kitchen table. Why would he care?”

They walked down Lincoln toward the gravel lane that led to Barker and the lake beyond. Charli started to say it would be quicker to cut through the woods behind the Crandalls' house and across the field, but she changed her mind. No matter what Dan said about Uncle Will not caring, this inspection was obviously supposed to be a secret.

When they reached the corner, she looked back and saw Sophia come out onto the Crandalls' porch with Mickey in her arms.

“There she is—that Sophia,” she said crossly. “She's spying on us.”

Dan snorted.

“Well, she might be,” Charli insisted. “She looks like a spy.”

“Don't be dumb,” Dan said.

Charli didn't know how to talk to him when he was like this. She felt like punching him, but he sounded annoyed enough to punch back.

The Castle came into sight, looming over the row of small houses that faced it. Its tall windows made a pattern of glowing rectangles on either side of the pointed roof. Charli felt a quiver of excitement. Sure the house might look kind of strange, but it was impressive and Uncle Will owned it.
Crandalls' Castle
had a splendid sound.

They walked in silence until they reached the cracked and pitted brick walk that led to the front door. The yard was tufted with weeds, paper scraps, and bits of glass. That would be easy to clean up, Charli told herself, but standing this close to the house she could see paint peeling from the siding and the trim. A broken drainpipe dangled from the eaves, and one of the shutters hung from a single hinge.

Dan groaned. “Man, it's even worse than I remembered!”

“It's not that bad.” Charli crossed her fingers. “Uncle Will wouldn't buy it if he didn't know he could fix it up.”

“He was sure he could fix up that boat two years ago,” Dan reminded her grimly. “Remember how that turned out?”

Charli bit her lip. “Aunt Lilly thinks the bed-and-breakfast is a good idea—”

“She never said so,” Dan retorted. “Mom just keeps quiet—it's what she always does when Dad has a brainstorm. Whatever he wants, that's fine with her. I'm the only one who'll tell him the truth—not that anybody cares what I think!”

Charli felt disloyal listening to this kind of talk. “If you're going inside just so you can find more nasty things to say, I won't go with you,” she told him. “You want to hate it!”

“I'm being honest.” Dan glared back. “Listen, Charli, the only reason Dad can afford to buy the place is because it's a total dump that nobody else wants. He's using most of his pension money for the down payment, and by the time he finishes his so-called repairs we'll owe everybody in town.”

“Not if we all help,” Charli argued. “You and I—”

“Count me out,” Dan said gruffly. “I've got a job, and if I don't hang on to it I'll never get to college. I probably won't go anyway—we'll have Crandalls' Castle instead!” His voice cracked. “Look, I've changed my mind. You go in if you want—I can see all I need to see right here.”

He held out the key, and Charli took it. College, she thought. College was a long way in the future, but it didn't seem so far off to Dan. He couldn't learn to be an engineer without college.

She turned back to the Castle and continued the argument in her head. It was going to be all right. Uncle Will would make a lot of money with the bed-and-breakfast, and then Dan could go to any college he wanted. The important thing was to get started.…

She went up the brick walk but hesitated at the front door. If Heather or Carissa were with her, exploring would be an adventure, but going inside alone was different. She turned the key over uncertainly and then slid it into the keyhole. She had to do it. If she went home now, it would be like admitting Dan was right.

The key turned and she stepped into a dim entranceway tiled in black-and-white squares. Straight ahead, a wide staircase led to the second floor. The wooden steps were dented in the middle like the steps in her school. On either side of the entrance there were long rooms where sunlight lay across the bare floors in dusty patches. The room on the left had a fireplace at the far end, and next to the fireplace there was a chair partly covered by a shabby quilt. The room on the right, probably the dining room, was a little smaller and completely empty.

The air in the old house was stuffy. Charli let the door click shut behind her, shutting out the sound of kids playing across the street. Silence settled around her like a blanket. She crossed the checkered tiles on tiptoe and looked around the living room.

There was no other furniture except the chair, but a window seat stretched below the row of windows facing the street. The room had a funny smell, like dead flowers. Dead something.

She was about to turn back when a movement caught her eye. The expanse of wall opposite the windows was no longer bare. Against the dingy wallpaper lay the shadow of a cradle, as sharply outlined as if it were painted there. Her astonishment deepened to panic as the shadow grew larger and darker. And there was something else.…

For a few seconds she was too terrified to move. Then she turned and ran toward the door. The key slipped from her sweaty fingers, but she didn't stop to pick it up. She didn't dare.

She crossed the street, cut between two houses, and was racing across the field toward Uncle Will's house before she let herself think again about what she'd seen.

There was the shadow of a cradle, but no cradle. The shadow had kept growing and darkening. And then it had rocked, as if an invisible hand were moving it.

Chapter Eight

SOPHIA'S JOURNAL

My Crandall bedroom is full of boxes and stuff, but there are two nice big windows. When I go to bed I look out at treetops and stars. Lincoln Street is quiet—nothing like Madison or Sacramento. Of course, the quiet disappears as soon as the sun comes up. Footsteps thump down the stairs, the kids yell, and Will drives off in his old truck with the horn blaring “Yankee Doodle.” I dress fast and try to ignore the butterflies flapping around in my stomach. Just be invisible, I tell myself. Watch what you say. Same old thing.

This morning Lilly had already started making sugar cookies when I got downstairs. Her hands darted around, sifting, mixing, rolling out dough, as if they had done it all a thousand times, which I suppose they had. Mickey hung on the leg of her jeans and reached for the mixing bowl until I picked him up. Then he pulled on my braid instead.

“He loves you, Sophia,” Lilly said casually, as if it was a little thing. “I think it's remarkable how patient you are with the boys, when you must have a lot on your mind. First your great-grandmother gets sick and then you move here—everything happened so fast. Your head must be whirling.”

“I've moved around a lot,” I said. “I don't mind.”

She looked at me with a doubtful expression. “Well, I hope you'll let us know if there's anything special we can do to make you feel at home while you're here. What would you be doing at home this summer?”

I pressed my face into Mickey's soft curls. “Charli—says we're supposed to help fix up that house you're buying—that Castle.” I'd decided I might as well talk about it—let her know how I felt.

She looked startled. “Good heavens, only if you want to do it!” she exclaimed. Her hands flew over the sheet of cookie dough, cutting out stars and diamonds and half-moons. “I know Will has mentioned a job to Charli, but she's alone a lot during the day, and he thought she'd like to earn a little money. You make up your own mind what you want to do.”

Since Charli told me we were both going to work for Will this summer, I'd had this tightness in my chest, as if I'd swallowed something that wouldn't go down. The moment she said I could make up my own mind what I wanted to do, the tightness loosened. Lilly couldn't lie if she tried.

“I'd rather help you around the house,” I said. “I can look after Mickey and the twins—”

I stopped, jolted by a picture in my mind. The twins were supposed to be in the sandbox, building mountains around the dishpan lake, but the sandbox was empty. I was sure of it, even before I ran to the window with Mickey in my arms.

“You don't have to check on them, dear. Those two won't be satisfied until they've turned all the sand into mountains. They're a lot like their father—determined.”

“But they aren't there,” I croaked. I dropped Mickey into his high chair and ran down the hall to the front door.

Toys dotted the patch of lawn as usual, but the twins weren't playing with them.

“They're good kids—they never go far,” Lilly said behind me. She was trying to reassure both of us.

“I know,” I said. I really did know they were close by, but where? Mountains, I thought, and ran across the lawn to the driveway.

The ladder leaned against the side of the house, its top resting against the roof. One of the twins—I was too frightened to be sure which—was three rungs from the top. He stared down at us, his eyes huge in his little face.

Lilly screamed, “Gene, what are you doing?”

“We're climbing a mountain,” Terry answered, as if we ought to be able to see that. He was on the ladder, too, but he'd gone up only a couple of steps. “Go,” he yelled to his brother. “You're almost to the top!”

Gene didn't move. He was finding out how scary it is to have a lot of empty space below you. I could have told him—I hate high places.

Lilly and I reached the ladder at the same time. She grabbed Terry and swung him away, then I started to climb. It was as if we were a team and didn't need to discuss it.

Terry yelled and struggled to get free, and Gene started to cry. The ladder wobbled under my weight.

“It's okay, Gene,” I shouted. “I'm coming up. Hang on tight and take one step down.”

“C-Can't,” he sobbed. “Can't!”

I felt like crying myself as the ladder shifted some more on the gravel of the driveway.

“He really can't,” Lilly said in a low voice. “He's too scared to move.” She was trying to steady the ladder with one hand while she held on to Terry with the other.

This is crazy, I thought. I can't do this! We need help.… I started to tell Lilly to call the fire department, but I stopped just in time. I didn't want her to let go of the ladder.

So what are you going to do when you get to the top? I asked myself. I couldn't carry Gene, and I couldn't force him to come with me if he didn't want to. He'd have to calm down first, which seemed pretty unlikely, given the way he was crying.

I took a couple more steps and looked up. His little sneakers were just above my head. His fists clutching the side rail were white under a layer of sand. He was flat against the rungs, as if he was glued there.

Two more rungs and I was right behind him. I prayed he wouldn't make a sudden move that would jar us both loose.

“Listen, Gene,” I said, “I know a really fun game we can play while we climb down. It's called Simon Says.”

He sobbed louder. “Th-that's a dumb game!”

Well, you're right about that, I thought, but it was the best I could do. My brain was a ball of fuzz.

“No, it's not,” I said. “Not the way we'll play it. There's a prize if you win. You do whatever I tell you, as long as I say Simon Says first. If I forget to say Simon Says, you
don't
do it. Then you get the prize.”

“Wh-what prize?” The question was muffled with tears, but at least he was listening.

I couldn't think, but Lilly could. “A chocolate fudge ice-cream cone, Gene,” she called. “Two scoops! Your favorite!”

I touched his ankle. “Simon Says step down with this foot.”

He didn't move.

“Come on, Gene, play.” I was really begging him now. My knees shook; I felt like throwing up. “Don't forget, two big scoops if you win. Simon Says—”

Very slowly, his left foot dropped down until his toes touched a rung.

“Good, Genie!” Lilly yelled. “That's wonderful.” She sounded hysterical.

Before he could change his mind, I went on. “Simon Says step down with the other foot.”

He did it, and I moved down with him. “Simon Says slide both hands down a little way.”

I held my breath as his fists tightened, loosened, and tightened again. We were actually on our way!

“Simon Says step down with this foot.… Simon Says step down with the other foot.… Simon Says …”

I looked over my shoulder and saw that we were still high enough for a nasty fall. Gene looked down, too, and I could feel him stiffen up again.

“Simon Says move your hands down.”

His hands barely moved, and he yelled, “Mommy, I'm scared!” There was so much panic in his voice that I knew the game was over.