The Time Fetch (21 page)

“Did your aunt make that?”

“She makes one every year.”

“I’m going to bend down to look inside. I want you to hold tight to my hand.”

“What?”

“Just do it.” Feenix grabbed Edward’s hand and held on tight. She bent down and peered inside.

He knew what was in there already. He’d seen it that afternoon. Three marzipan witches. One was tall and thin as a broomstick, one was round and shriveled like an old apple, and one wore a bright red kerchief. It had given him the creeps. Feenix stared and stared and held on to him so tightly his fingers started going numb.

Someone else had bent down beside her to take a look. “
That
is a marvel,” said a strangely familiar voice.

Feenix abruptly let go of Edward’s hand and stood up.

It was Mr. Ross.

He was beaming at them. “Well, here you are, at last. My young seekers. That was quite a storm, wasn’t it? What a night! Did you hear the wind? I was beginning to wonder if we were going to make it through. But we did. Now, with a little luck, the days will get longer and the spring will return.”

“Luck? Won’t that just happen automatically?” Edward asked.

Mr. Ross laughed. “Probably, but then again, you never know. Let us waste no precious time and hustle ourselves over to that table. ‘Time and the world are ever in flight,’ as Shakespeare said, and I hear our hostess is a wonderful cook.”

He turned as if he didn’t doubt they’d follow.

“Who could have invited him?” Edward whispered in an agony of apprehension.

“I did,” Feenix whispered back.

“What? Why?”

“Your aunt said we could bring whoever we wanted. And I had a really fun idea. Now I want you to go with Mr. Ross to the table and, whatever you do, keep him there till I come back.”

“Listen—” he began angrily, but she was already gone.

A fun idea? This was not a good sign. What was she up to? Wasn’t it bad enough the way she always made a fool out of Mr. Ross in school? Now she wanted to do it in Edward’s own house?

Nervously, Edward watched her disappear into the crowd. There was no way he was going to go along with one of her fiendish schemes, but he couldn’t leave Mr. Ross on his own, either. What if he ran into Aunt Kit?

Mr. Ross wanted to taste everything, and he piled his plate high. Edward was afraid that he was going to have to distract him with chitchat about gravity and cell division, but there was no need. Mr. Ross was completely focused on the food.

“Spanakopita! The filo is so thin and crisp. Black-eyed peas! I wonder if she actually makes these blintzes herself. I’ll have to see if she’ll give me the recipe. Do you know who our hostess is? Could you introduce me?”

Edward hesitated. Edward hemmed. Edward hawed.There was that whole problem with the truth again. Although he knew that it was no more solid than anything else. “Oh, well, sort of. I mean I saw her earlier. She was very busy. Very busy. Strange lady. Better not to bother her. Probably in the kitchen somewhere.”

“The kitchen? Now which way is the kitchen?” Holding his overflowing plate in his hands, Mr. Ross turned around. Edward turned with him.

He saw, to his horror, that Feenix was sailing toward them not only with a sly grin on her face but with her arm intertwined with Aunt Kit’s.

Edward motioned to her desperately to back away, hoping Mr. Ross wouldn’t notice.

Feenix ignored him and kept right on coming.

As she drew near, she said, “Why do you keep flapping your hand like that, Edward? You look like the Energizer bunny. Mr. Ross, this is our hostess, Kit Walker, Edward’s aunt.”

Mr. Ross looked at first delighted and then puzzled. “Edward’s aunt?” He looked at Edward. “But you didn’t mention—”

Edward was glaring at Feenix. “Oh, sorry, didn’t I? Yes, this is my aunt. I live with her. Long story.”

“Mr. Ross is our science teacher,” Feenix announced to Aunt Kit.

At this news, Aunt Kit stopped where she was. She studied Mr. Ross’s face as if she were trying to read something there.

Edward groaned inwardly, although Mr. Ross didn’t seem the slightest bit fazed.

Edward held his breath, waiting for his aunt to say whatever fruit loopy thing she was going to say about the ignorance of scientists. Before this could happen, Mr. Ross reached out and took hold of Aunt Kit’s hand and lifted it to his lips.

Whooaa, dude,
was Edward’s startled thought.

“May I say that you are a culinary genius?” Mr. Ross said. “May I tell you that I am transported? Everything is wonderful—the soufflé, the blintzes, the black-eyed peas. This rye bread—” he let go of her hand and raised the half-eaten slice, “this bread is pure magic.”

At these words, Aunt Kit bristled. “Oh no, I assure you. I never use any outside enhancements like that in my baking. It’s simply practice and more practice.”

Mr. Ross looked puzzled for a moment. Then he smiled. “You are too modest. This is the work of an artist. Someone with a gift not bestowed on the rest of us mere mortals.”

Edward saw that a faint blush had risen to Aunt Kit’s cheek. “You are most kind. You’re interested in cooking?”

“A dabbler. A mere dabbler. I hesitate to ask, but I wonder if—”

“Yes?”

“Are you one of those artists who prefer not to share recipes or might I inquire . . . ?”

“This recipe was passed on to me by my grandmother. I believe that passing knowledge along is one of the Great Purposes.”

Edward saw Mr. Ross’s ears quiver with excitement. “Well, of course! Sharing the knowledge we gather. We are of like minds on this! If there’s a reason for being here, that’s got to be it!”

Edward was dumbfounded.

Aunt Kit was smiling at Mr. Ross. “Well, one of them,” she said.

“And food! What a wonderful area of study! I envy you. The great chain of matter and energy, each always transforming, one into the other. So fascinating. But how do you achieve this airiness in your bread?”

“Ahh,” she laughed. “That’s the great secret. You must use a flour with the correct level of protein. A hard spring wheat is generally the best. Those are the highest in glutenin and gliadin. Without the necessary amounts of these, the gluten will not form properly.”

Mr. Ross was riveted. “But this is fascinating. You’ve studied chemistry?”

“Chemistry is one way to see the underside of things. Yes, I have studied it in some of its aspects.”

This was mind-boggling news to Edward. Was she serious?

“Unfortunately, the labeling on store packaging is often inaccurate. You can, of course, call the flour company and inquire as to the protein content, but in my experience the answers given by customer service are often unreliable. Over time, I’ve learned which flours are likely to be most successful for which breads and pastries. I could also show you the water absorption test, which might interest you as a scientist.”

“Really? You would be willing to do that?”

“Certainly. Why not? Hands-on is always the best way. And I could show you some kneading techniques, too.”

“This is exceedingly generous of you. I would be honored and grateful.”

“How would next Tuesday evening be for you?”

Edward felt a sharp poke in his ribs. “Am I a genius or what?
”
whispered Feenix. She was laughing. Not in a fiendish way. She looked happy. Had she actually planned this? “Come on, Edward. Don’t be such a dork. Time to leave them on their own
,
” she said into his ear.

Feenix grabbed Edward’s arm and yanked him away from the table. He heard his aunt saying something about pie crust.

In the other room, the harmonica, the fiddle, and the piano were joined by a singer—a man’s voice, a little quavery at first, but then more and more sure of itself as it went on. Feenix pulled Edward in their direction. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go listen to the music.”

A big crowd had gathered around the piano. Feenix shouldered her way to the front, not releasing her iron grip on Edward’s arm. When she stopped, Edward saw that the singer was Brigit’s grandfather. He stood there, a little white-haired man, his feet planted apart, a glass of punch in one hand.

The holly and the ivy, when they are both full grown

Of all the trees that are in the wood, the holly bears the crown.

Edward could see Brigit standing nearby with her parents, watching and listening. Then, as the old man got to the end of the verse, he stepped into the crowd and took hold of his granddaughter’s hand. Brigit was so startled she didn’t seem to know what to do. Her grandfather pulled her with him to the piano and her face first turned pale, then it was flooded with a rush of pink.

“Oh no, the poor kid,” Feenix whispered in Edward’s ear. “Doesn’t he realize what he’s doing?”

Brigit stood there in all her silent flaming misery.

“It’s like watching Joan of Arc being burned at the stake,” Feenix said.

It was true, Edward thought, but since when had Feenix cared about anybody else being burned at the stake? The musicians played on, and Brigit’s grandfather kept singing and smiling away at her.

It was then that Edward noticed something else. Something that was out of place. Something that was seriously strange.

There was a piper playing, but where was he? Edward could hear him clearly. Maybe he was hidden somewhere in the crowd. Edward took a step backward to get a better look. As he did this, it was as if someone had taken hold of the volume knob and turned it all the way to the left. The music, and all the other sounds of the party, faded into silence. In the next moment, he felt the floor melt away beneath his feet. The walls of the house and the ceiling, too, appeared to expand and fly apart, revealing all the space between their gazillions of spinning atoms. There was nothing solid left to stand on. He was floating alone in the darkness. The clear, star-bright night went wheeling and turning around him. He could feel, more than hear, the faint cricketlike ticking of time. It came from everywhere at once.

How long he hung there, exhilarated and terrified, he wasn’t sure, but then, from somewhere far off, he heard the musicians and Brigit’s grandfather and a voice he was sure he recognized.

Oh the rising of the sun, and the running of the deer

The playing of the merry organ, sweet singing round the fire.

Edward took a step forward toward the music, and as he did, everything contracted and rushed inward. In another moment, the walls were coming back around him and the ceiling was lowering itself into place. To his enormous relief, the floor rose up beneath his feet.

Brigit and her grandfather were singing together, their voices climbing around each other, lifting up and up.

The crowd around the piano had grown bigger and the piper could no longer be heard. Feenix was standing next to him and over there by the fiddler was Danton, waving and smiling his big sunbeam of a smile.

Feenix gave Edward a sharp poke in the side, trying to get his attention. “Look at her parents, Edward.”

He saw that Brigit’s mother was crying. Her dad leaned over and dabbed at her tears with a crumpled napkin, but then he turned and kept his shining eyes fixed on Brigit.

Edward found he could only half concentrate on this scene. Something was bothering him about Feenix, but what was it?

Suddenly, he knew. It was like being struck—
ping
—right in the middle of the forehead with a pebble.

She had called him “Edward.”

Everything was the same and everything was different.

He felt eager to begin. Although begin what, he couldn’t have said exactly.

In here was warmth and candlelight and a richness of hours filling the rooms. Outside was the wind, tapping and rattling at the window, trying to get in.

Around them, the stars went wheeling through the night.

Edward heard his aunt’s clear, triumphant voice somewhere in the crowd. Beside him, Feenix began to sing. She was a little off-key, but he made no comment. Taking in a long breath of the warm and fragrant air, he, too, lifted his voice.

THE TIME FETCH

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