Tiger by the Tail (9 page)

“But why did you give it to him today, with the gun,
in front of the police?” I asked in confusion.

“Had to. If I hadn’t shot him with a dart like I did, the police would have been suspicious that I wasn’t an expert. Besides, didn’t you feel a lot better thinking he’d been drugged?” Mr. McCurdy asked.

“So you tricked us,” I stated.

“I think of it as protecting you. The calmer you are, the calmer the tiger is, and the calmer the tiger is, the safer you are,” Mr. McCurdy reasoned.

“Makes sense.” Nick nodded his head in agreement.

As we came to Mr. McCurdy’s driveway he didn’t slow down. We continued down the road in the direction of our farm. He slowed down the car and turned up our laneway.

“Don’t you want us to help you get Buddha back into his cage?” Nick asked.

“I’ll be okay, but thanks. Thanks, to both of you, for everything. I’m much obliged for all your help. If it wasn’t for the two of you, that old tiger would be dead.”

“That’s okay. Thanks for the drive home,” I replied.

We said our good-byes and climbed out of the car.

“In case you’re interested, I’ll be home tomorrow if anybody wanted to drop on in, maybe with some muffins,” he said smiling.

“Any special kind?” I asked, returning his smile.

“I’m partial to oatmeal, but the kind of muffins isn’t nearly as important as the kind of people you share
them with,” he answered.

He drove away and we waved until the big car disappeared from view. Nick and I walked into the house.

“Wait until we tell Mom what we did today!” Nick said.

“Are you crazy, we can’t tell …” My sentence trailed off as I saw the big grin on his face and realized he was just putting me on.

“Just like eating pretzels, Sarah, just like pretzels,” my brother said as he opened the door to the cupboard.

“Good morning.” My mother yawned as she pushed through the swinging door and came into the kitchen.

“Morning,” I grumbled.

“Certainly smells good. What’s cooking?” she asked.

“Oatmeal muffins are baking in the oven and I’m making blueberry pancakes for breakfast,” I answered, without turning away from the stove.

“I hope Mr. McCurdy appreciates your baking.”

“He does.”

“Are you making enough pancakes for everybody?”

“Don’t I always?” I flipped the four pancakes that filled the frying pan.

She stretched and yawned loudly. “I’m tired. It was late when I got in.”

“No it wasn’t. It was early. Early in the morning, like two-thirty.”

“It wasn’t that late,” she protested. “It was only two-fifteen. I know because I woke Erin up to send her home and she left before two-thirty. When did she put you to bed?”

“I don’t get ‘put to bed’,” I said indignantly. “I went to bed at the regular time. I just couldn’t sleep. I never can sleep until you get in.”

“You’ve got to try. It’s not fair to me to have to come home early when I’m on a date.”

“Gee, I wouldn’t want to be unfair to you,” I muttered under my breath.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing.” I used the flipper to take the pancakes out of the pan and added them to the stack on a plate on top of the stove. I picked up the bowl of batter. I gave it a stir and some of the blueberries bobbed to the surface. I took a scoop and poured four more puddles of batter into the pan.

“Do we have any more of that real maple syrup?” Mom asked.

“Yes,” I answered coldly, “we do.”

“Sarah … don’t be mad at me.”

I felt her arms slip around me and she gave me a big hug. “Thank you for helping to keep things together.” She turned me around. “It’s good to know that I can always count on you. Reliable, dependable Sarah.”

I smiled. If only she knew. “Thanks.”

“I wonder if the paper’s arrived,” Mom said. “I’ll check.”

As Mom walked out one door, Nick walked in the other.

“Muffins?” he asked.

“Oatmeal muffins and blueberry pancakes,” I answered.

“Can I have a muffin before we get there this time?”

“You can have a few. I baked an extra half dozen. But first, wash your hands.”

I took the final batch of pancakes out of the frying pan and turned off the burner. Nick strolled to the kitchen sink and rinsed off his hands. Mom walked back into the kitchen, her face hidden behind the paper.

“Let’s see what our horoscopes are for today,” she announced as she took a seat at the table.

“Mine first!”

“Okay. Nicky … hmmmm … Taurus, the bull.”

“I always thought the bull part fit.” I laughed as I opened the oven to remove the muffins.

“Exciting things are about to happen. Be prepared for an adventure,” Mom read.

“Are you sure that isn’t yesterday’s paper?” Nick asked.

I shot him a dirty look.

“What?” Mom asked.

“Oh, nothing. What does Sarah’s say?” he asked.

“I don’t believe in horoscopes,” I said. “You always told me you didn’t either, Mom.”

“Things change. There’s nothing wrong with a little fun.”

“There’s a difference between fun and …” I stopped short as I turned around to look at Mom. I couldn’t see her behind the paper. All I could see was the front page of the paper and on that page was a large colour
photograph. I was too far away to make out the faces on the people, but I could clearly see a tiger. I closed my eyes and said a small, silent prayer; “Please, please, don’t let that be us and Buddha.”

“Now, my horoscope is interesting,” Mom said. “‘Surprising things will happen. These surprises will change the way you see people.’ Interesting.”

I moved closer, carrying the plate of pancakes. I could now see clearly. There we were on the front page of the paper. I put the plate on the table. Nick reached for the pancakes and I grabbed his arm. He looked up. I pointed, dumbly, to the picture. His jaw dropped.

“What do you think about that, Sarah?” she asked.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know what to say.

She lowered the paper, the picture folding up so I couldn’t see it anymore.

“Sarah, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” She turned to my brother. “Nick! You look the same!”

“We’re just … hungry,” he said.

“Yeah, hungry. Why don’t you put down the paper so we can eat,” I suggested.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t be looking at the paper when I could be looking at the two of you.” She folded up the paper and put it down on the table. The picture was face down.

“Since Sarah made the pancakes, you and I should set
the table, Mom.”

“That’s thoughtful of you, Nicky. I’ll get the plates while you get the cutlery and glasses.”

“Do you think we could use Nana’s plates?” my brother asked.

“Nana’s plates?”

“Yeah. The ones in the dining room.”

“That’s a lot of work for now. Let’s eat and we can use them for dinner,” Mom suggested.

“Please, Mom. Sarah made us special blueberry pancakes. We should do something special too,” Nick pleaded.

She smiled. “How can I say no when you ask so nicely? I’ll go and get them.”

Mom rose from her seat. She pushed through the doorway to the dining room and the door swung shut behind her. Instantly Nick picked up the paper and sprinted across the length of the kitchen and out the other door. I ran after him. By the time I was through the door he was already upstairs. I caught up to him in his room.

“What does it say?” I asked.

“Read it for yourself,” he answered.

I peeked in over his shoulder.

“ESCAPED TIGER RECAPTURED,” read the headline.

Mrs. Mollie Lahnsteiner thought she was seeing things when she went out to hang her laundry and saw a tiger stalking her two small children as they played in the backyard. Without thought for her own safety, she charged the full-grown tiger and hit it with the laundry basket. The startled tiger ran for shelter in the family barn while Mrs. Lahnsteiner grabbed her two children, Brendan and Jordan, and retreated to the safety of the house, where she called police. Heavily armed police quickly sealed the area, trapping the beast in the barn.

Police contacted a world-renowned tiger expert, reported to be Professor Angus J. McCurdy. Accompanied by two unnamed children and a chimpanzee, he arrived on the scene. Using a tranquilizer gun, Professor McCurdy subdued the tiger before leading it away to a specially constructed vehicle (story continued on page 2).

“Wow!” I exclaimed quietly. “Wow!”

“Nice picture, isn’t it? Well, at least I look okay. Your hair looks funny,” Nick said.

“Are you crazy? Forget whether you look good!” I practically screamed. I grabbed the paper from his hands. “Come on, we have to get back downstairs. We have to tell Mom.”

“Tell her! And you’re calling me crazy? We can’t tell her. She’ll kill us,” he yelled.

“What choice do we have? She’ll see the front page of the paper and we’ll be dead.”

“I can just about guarantee that she’ll never see this paper again,” Nick replied.

“What good would that do? Somebody else will see the picture and tell her about us.”

“Yeah, our picture, but not our names. We’re the ‘unnamed children’,” he said.

“Don’t you understand? Our pictures are on the front page of the paper!”

“I know, Sarah, but nobody for two thousand kilometres around here knows who we are. Who do you think will recognize us?”

I thought about what he’d just said. “Well, what about Erin? She knows us.”

“You’re right, she does know us, but she doesn’t know anything else. Do you really think Erin even reads the papers?” Nick asked.

“What’s to stop Mom from getting another paper?”

“We won’t let her leave the house,” he answered.

“We can’t keep her trapped here forever.”

“We don’t have to. Just for today. By tomorrow there’ll be another paper with another picture on the front page and this one will be history.”

“Do you really think we can get away with it?” I asked.

“We have to.” He took the newspaper from my hand, crumpled it up into a ball and stuffed it under his bed. We raced back into the kitchen, but weren’t in time to beat Mom back. She was setting the table with Nana’s
dishes.

“Where were you two?”

“Um … in the washroom,” I lied.

“Both of you? At the same time?”

“We were washing our hands, you know, so we could eat,” he added.

“Didn’t you already wash your hands? Right there at the kitchen sink.”

“Yeah but that was kitchen water. I wanted to use washroom water to wash with,” he tried to explain.

“Nicholas there is no difference between the water in the kitchen and water … you were kidding, right?”

Nick smiled and sat down at the table. My mom sat down beside him. I passed the plate of pancakes to my brother who passed them to Mom and then they circled back to me.

“Mom, do you think we could just hang around the house today?” Nick asked.

“I was thinking that maybe we could go into town and get groceries.”

“Can’t that wait until another day? Couldn’t we just spend some time together, the three of us?” Nick asked.

“We’ll see,” Mom answered.

Nick broke into a smile. He’d told me that whenever Mom said “we’ll see” it meant it was a sure thing. I took a forkful of pancakes and stuffed them into my mouth. They weren’t hot anymore, but they were still warm. Just
as I went to pour on the maple syrup the phone rang.

“I’ll get it,” Nick yelled as he jumped to his feet.

Mom grabbed his arm. “Sit down. I jump for phones all week long. I want to sit and enjoy a breakfast with my two favourite people.”

“But what if it’s important?” Nick argued.

“Nothing’s more important than this time together, just the three of us. Besides, the answering machine will pick it up.”

Nick retook his seat.

“I just can’t believe we have an old fashioned answering machine,” Nick said.

“And a phone with a rotary dial as well,” I said.

“I think they’re sweet because they belonged to your Nana.”

After the seventh ring we heard the machine click and spring to life in the other room. I listened to our greeting and then the beep. I half-expected the person to hang up before the beep. I always did because I hated to leave voicemail messages. “Ellen …”

I recognized the voice. It was my mother’s sister, Aunt Elaine, calling long distance. She lived half a continent away.

“I couldn’t believe it when I opened my paper and saw a picture of Sarah and Nicholas walking with a tiger. The picture made the wire services and apparently is on the front page of papers across the country. I know you
moved to find new adventures, but this is unbelievable. Give me a call.”

There was dead silence. Mom’s face turned white, like all the blood was draining away.

“Could you pass the syrup,” Nick asked.

Mom looked at him in disbelief. “What did you say?” she asked my brother.

“The syrup, could you pass it? It’s right by your elbow.”

“Is that all you can say?” she asked, her voice getting strained and pinched.

“Please?” he asked.

In a burst, the colour returned to her face and it became beet red. She opened her mouth but no words came out. She pushed the plate of pancakes away from her, slowly and deliberately. Then she folded her hands in front of her. She glanced quickly around the kitchen.

“Where is the newspaper?” she asked quietly.

“What makes you think that we know —”

“NOW!” she yelled, interrupting Nick.

He popped up from his seat, and scurried out of the room, leaving me and Mom alone. I looked over at her. She gave me that look, that “parent look,” the one I hadn’t seen for a long time. I looked away. We didn’t have to wait long as Nick returned carrying an armful of paper. Mom straightened it out and then started sifting through the pages. She found the front page with the picture on it and pressed it flat so she could read the
crinkled text. She looked at the picture and then looked up at me. Her eyes were wide with shock. She put her head back down to read the story. I watched her as her eyes moved back and forth across the page. She turned the page to read the “continued” part.

“Good pancakes, Sarah,” Nick said.

I glanced over at him in total disbelief. He was eating away like nothing was wrong.

“Explain this to me. How could this happen?” my mom demanded.

“Nice picture, isn’t it?” Nick commented.

“Be quiet. Sarah, explain this to me this instant! I want to know how you could let this happen. I leave you to care for your brother and you put both him and yourself at risk. I am disappointed in you. Very, very disappointed!”

“I’m sorry,” I started to say, but then stopped. “
You’re
disappointed in
me
?”

“Yes, disappointed in you. I would expect something like this from your brother or even your father, but not from you.”

“So,” I swallowed hard. “So, if they did it, then it would be okay?”

“Don’t be silly, Sarah!” she replied with her voice getting louder. “It wouldn’t be okay if anybody did what you two did.”

“I am so sorry I disappointed you,” I said, imitating
my mother’s voice. “It’s so unlike anybody in this house to disappoint anybody else.”

“Don’t you talk to me like that!” she shrilled. “I expect you to be more responsible.”

“Yeah, right,” I answered under my breath. I was thinking about how “responsible” it was for her to drag us halfway across the country and turn our lives upside down.

“Don’t talk to me with that tone of voice!” my mother ordered.

“I’m sorry, I just need to …” I got up and started walking away.

“Sarah! Come back here and sit down this instant! I’m not finished talking to you!” Mom yelled.

I thought about what she said, but turned and ran through the door, up the stairs and into my room, where I buried my face in my pillow. I waited in my room, listening in silence. Part of me wanted her to leave me alone and the other part wanted her to come up and try to talk, but I knew she wouldn’t be coming. My mother’s way of dealing with any disagreement was to ignore it and hope it went away. One thing she said, though, was very right. I did need to talk. I just didn’t need to talk to her.