Allison O'Brian on Her Own Page 12

  “I’m so sorry, Heather,” Allison said. “I thought you were drowning.” Heather began to laugh, and before long Allison saw the humor, too.

  “Well, you should have seen your face, Allison,” Shirley laughed. “It was whiter than a sheet when you jumped. You looked ridiculous!”

  Allison glared at her. “Sure, you can laugh. You were supposed to be keeping an eye on Heather! For all you knew, she could have drowned.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

  “Come on, Allison,” Heather said. “I think I’ve had enough swimming for now. Besides, I’m freezing.”

  “Yeah,” Andrew agreed. “Hey, it looks like Grace started a bonfire on the beach. Race you, Winston!”

  Within minutes they were wrapped up in blankets and towels, huddled around the fire for warmth. Allison made sure to keep a safe distance between her and Shirley. She didn’t know how much longer she could control her tongue. Soon the fog started to roll in and the air became cool.

  “You kids better go get dressed,” Grace advised. “Then we can roast some marshmallows.”

  After they got into warm clothes, they laughed and joked around the fire. Before long the marshmallows were gone. It appeared that Shirley wasn’t about to leave Andrew’s side. Allison wondered whether he liked it or not, and to her dismay it almost seemed as if he did. Heather and Grace were chuckling about the “drowning incident,” and suddenly Allison felt like the odd man out. She wandered down to the water’s edge and picked up a smooth stone, then threw it as far as she could over the curling tops of the waves. Would she ever fit in anywhere?

  “Grace, I could ride in back with the boys,” Shirley offered. Her eyes were on Andrew, where he was waiting in the back of the truck with Winston. “That way you three could have more room in front.” Heather and Allison listened from inside the jalopy, and Grace looked doubtful.

  “Why not?” Andrew suggested. He extended a hand to Shirley and pulled her into the back of the truck, then hopped back out. “You look beat, Grace. Maybe I should drive and give you a rest. Winston, you share that blanket with Shirley, okay? It gets windy back there.”

  Before Shirley could say anything, Andrew closed the door behind Grace and hopped into the driver’s seat. Right next to Allison. He grinned at her and started the engine. At first she felt a little uncomfortable, but then she wished the ride would last forever.

  They dropped off a windblown and bedraggled Shirley at her grandmother’s, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Andrew hopped in back with Winston, and Grace drove from there.

  “Grace?” Heather asked. “Could Allison come home with us and spend the night—for my birthday, I mean?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Heather. Allison might be tired of us, you know—”

  “I’d love to!” Allison exclaimed, but then she remembered her grandfather. “But I’d have to check with Grandpa to see how he’s doing. . . .” Allison didn’t want to disappoint her. She hoped Grandpa wouldn’t mind.

  “Would you?” Heather begged. “I’ve never had anyone spend the night. It could be like a real slumber party. I’ve read about them but never been to one. It would be such fun! How about if we drop you off and you can check it out with your grandfather.” Heather squeezed Allison’s hand as they pulled up to the house.

  “Okay, then I’ll give you a call, Heather.” Allison climbed out and waved.

  Allison rarely used the front door. It was so much homier to come in through the kitchen, and Muriel didn’t seem to mind.

  “Home already?” Muriel asked. She carefully slid a loaf of risen bread into the old black oven. “Your grandfather’s resting in the den, dear.”

  “Is he all right?” Allison asked, suddenly filled with dread.

  “Oh sure, he’s fine. Just tired. He’s trying to be good, but sometimes he overdoes it.”

  Allison tiptoed to the den door and peeked in. Grandpa was stretched out in his easy chair, feet on the hassock and newspaper spread across his lap. The heavy drapes were drawn back, and the afternoon light poured in the bay window.

  “Well, lassie, are you going to just stand there gawking or come in and tell me about your picnic?” Grandpa looked at her from the corner of his eye.

  Allison laughed and flopped down on the big couch. She leaned her head back and sighed.

  “It was an almost perfect day.”

  “Almost?”

  “Yes. Heather is about the nicest girl I’ve ever known. Grace is wonderful. Winston is hilarious and Andrew is very nice, too.”

  Grandpa nodded. “You didn’t mention Shirley.” Allison looked at him and he grinned and winked. “That’s all right, you didn’t have to.” Allison sighed in relief—Grandpa understood.

  “Shirley’s father, Daniel, is a good man. But he married a very ambitious woman who leads him about by the nose. Poor Dan. Shirley takes after her mother.” He smiled at her before continuing.

  “Allison, would you tell Muriel I’ll take my dinner in here? I’m afraid I fiddled in my workshop a little too long today. Think I’ll eat and turn in early. That way we might be able to make it to church in the morning. Haven’t been in some time, and I want to show off my granddaughter.” He winked.

  “Uh, Grandpa, Heather asked if I could spend the night—kind of like a slumber party for her birthday. But I didn’t promise her. I can call and make it another time.”

  “Slumber party?” Grandpa folded his paper and peered at her over his reading glasses.

  “Well, yes, that’s when girls spend the night together . . . just for fun.”

  “I don’t suppose they do much slumbering, though.”

  “Not much,” Allison laughed. “Would you mind? I can be back in time to join you for church.”

  “Or you could just meet me there, since Grace and her brood go, too.” Grandpa grinned and picked up his paper.

  Allison walked to the side of his chair, leaned over, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He looked up at her and smiled, his eyes glistening. “Thanks, Grandpa. I’ll see you in the morning.” Allison dashed for the phone.

  “I can come, Heather!” She held the receiver away from her ear while Heather squealed, then raced upstairs and threw some overnight things in her bag. Oh yes—church, she thought. She folded the peach rayon suit and wished she had something more appropriate for a fourteen-year-old. She was getting tired of Marsha’s clothes.

  Downstairs the smell of baked bread filled the kitchen, and Allison’s mouth watered.

  “Muriel, maybe it’s too bad Heather invited me for dinner. It smells awfully yummy in here.”

  “Well, Heather’s a sweet little thing, and I think it’s nice you get to spend some time with her. If you wait a few minutes, one of these loaves should be ready and you could take it to Grace for a hostess gift.”

  “Good thinking, Muriel. That’s the best kind of hostess gift. It’s like having your cake and eating it, too.”

  Muriel chuckled. “Do you need George to drive you over? He’s been to town running errands, but he should be back any minute.”

  “No, that’s okay. Andrew’s picking me up.” She glanced out the window at the driveway.

  “That Andrew . . . he’s awfully nice.” Muriel gave Allison a sideways glance and Allison blushed. “I’d say Grace was as lucky as those kids when they found one another.” She wrapped the bread in a heavy linen tea towel and handed it to Allison.

  “There he is, Muriel. Thanks for the bread. See you tomorrow.” Allison zipped out the door, and Andrew put her bag in the back of the truck.

  As they drove out, Allison noticed George carrying a large wooden box up the driveway. “That’s odd,” she commented.

  “What’s that?” Andrew asked.

  “Oh, nothing really. Just Muriel said George was in town running errands, but I wouldn’t think he would’ve walked.” Allison remembered the list in the shed.

  “No, I doubt it. I just saw him coming up from the dock as I drove in. He’s probably been ou
t fishing or something.”

  “Oh sure,” Allison said. “I didn’t know George liked to fish. Maybe I can get him to take me out in the rowboat sometime. Grandpa didn’t seem to want me to go out alone, although I do know how to handle a boat in the tide. I spent most of my summers on Cape Cod.”

  “Really? I’d love to learn more about boats and fishing, but I’ve never gotten around to it. How long do you plan on visiting your grandfather, Allison? Maybe you could give me a lesson or two.”

  “That’s a good question. I’m not really sure how long I’ll be able to stay.” She decided to confide in Andrew and filled him in on some of the details of her escape.

  “Are you serious? You actually traveled by yourself all the way from New York without your mother’s permission?” He shook his head in amazement.

  “Well, under the circumstances, I just did what I had to do.” Allison gave him a sidelong glance as they pulled into the driveway. What did he think of her now? She wanted to continue their conversation, but she was interrupted by Heather’s greeting.

  “Come in, come in. Grace said dinner’s almost ready. Andrew, will you put her things in my room?”

  “Certainly, Your Highness.” He bowed and winked at Allison.

  “Thank you so much. You may kiss the royal hand later,” Heather laughed.

  Allison marveled at how effortlessly Heather made her way through the house. First she showed Allison the living room. It looked so cozy with overstuffed furniture in bright floral slipcovers all clustered around the fireplace. Above the fireplace hung a large, dark oil painting. It seemed such a contrast to the colorful surroundings, and yet it captivated Allison with its intensity and what almost seemed like rage. It depicted a small white lighthouse with a steady beam that sliced through the darkness of a wild and violent storm. It looked a lot like the Jenson Light, although she’d never seen the lighthouse close enough to know for sure.

  “Dinner’s ready,” Grace announced, breaking the hypnotic trance the painting seemed to hold on her.

  “I almost forgot,” Allison turned away. “Muriel sent over some fresh-baked bread.” She handed the warm bundle to Grace.

  “Mmm, smells good,” Winston said, licking his lips.

  They sat at the big oak dining table and bowed their heads to pray. Allison was getting used to this tradition. It was nothing like Miss Snyder’s cold, formal prayers back at Oakmont. It reminded her more of how Nanny Jane used to talk to God, and it gave her a warm, peaceful feeling inside.

  “Pass the potatoes, Mum,” Winston said almost as soon as Grace finished.

  “Say please,” Grace corrected with a smile.

  “Delicious roast, Grace,” Andrew commented. Allison nodded in agreement.

  After the meal, Grace brought out a pretty pink cake with fourteen candles burning brightly. They all sang loudly, and Winston assisted in the candle blowing.

  “Do you know what color it is?” Winston asked.

  “Pink!” Heather exclaimed.

  “How did you know?” Allison asked in amazement. “Was it the smell or something?”

  “No,” Heather giggled. “Grace already told me, silly!” They all laughed.

  Afterward Winston listened to the Green Hornet on the big radio in the living room while Andrew helped Grace with the dishes. The girls slipped off into Heather’s bedroom to visit. Heather had a phonograph and a pretty good collection of seventy-eights. They listened to Bing Crosby and Glenn Miller and then some more lively tunes.

  “You know, Allison, I know it’s kind of old-fashioned now, but I always wished I could learn to jitterbug.”

  “Really? Maybe I could teach you.”

  “You’re joking! Do you really know how? Teach me!”

  “I can try. My friend Patricia at school was really good at it—her big sister even won a dance contest once. And Patricia taught me. Let’s see . . . Allison searched her brain for ideas on how to teach Heather. First she tried to explain the steps, but it was just too complicated.

  “Maybe we should just try it,” Heather suggested. So they picked out a good record, then stumbled and fumbled and collapsed in giggles occasionally. Finally Heather caught on.

  “Heather, you’re doing swell!”

  “Once you get the hang of it, it’s really fun. But do I look ridiculous?”

  “No, you don’t. To be honest, you looked a little goofy at first, but that’s just normal. Now you’re almost perfect.” A knock at the door interrupted their dance number.

  “What’s going on in here?” Andrew asked. “Sounds like a herd of elephants doing the cha-cha.”

  “Allison’s teaching me how to jitterbug!”

  “You’re joking,” Andrew said. Grace and Winston peeked in behind him.

  “No, it’s true!” Heather’s cheeks were flushed with excitement. “Look, we’ll even show you!”

  “Uh, I don’t know . . . Allison suddenly became self-conscious at the idea of performing, especially in front of Andrew.

  “Oh please, Al,” Heather begged, pulling Allison out to the living room. Andrew quickly rolled up the carpet and scooted the furniture back.

  “Now, nobody better laugh,” Allison threatened. Grace started the music and the girls began. Heather only stepped on Allison’s toe once. After a few quick lessons, they were all jitterbugging. The next thing Allison knew, Andrew had taken her by the hand.

  Winston, who was jittering like a broken washing machine, suddenly spun himself right into the phonograph and jolted the needle across the record in a loud, angry scratch.

  “I’m sorry, Heather,” Winston apologized as the record played the same line over and over.

  “It’s all right, Winston,” Heather said. “I didn’t really like that song very much. Besides, I’m exhausted. Where’s a couch?”

  “And bedtime for you, Winston,” Grace announced.

  “Aw, Mum, can’t I stay up? It’s just getting fun!”

  “No, but if you hurry and get your jammies on, I’ll read you some more of Robin Hood,” Andrew offered, and Winston was off just like an arrow out of his hero’s bow. Grace and Allison soon set the living room right while Heather rattled some pots and pans in the kitchen.

  “Heather’s so amazing,” Allison commented. “She even knows how to help in the kitchen?”

  “You bet. We have everything arranged so she can easily find things. Andrew even typed spice labels on the Braille typewriter. I think the best thing for Heather is to live as normal a life as possible. In other words, we don’t baby her.” Grace fluffed a pillow and tossed it to the sofa.

  “Grace, you know—about my dad. I was just wondering if you could tell me a bit more, maybe tonight. . . .”

  “Grace,” Heather called. “Can you give me a hand in here?”

  “We’ll talk later,” Grace promised. “Let’s go see what Heather’s getting into.”

  In the pint-sized kitchen, Heather already had cocoa steaming on the range.

  “Smells good,” Grace said. “Want me to pour?”

  “Thanks,” Heather replied. “Actually, I was wondering about some popcorn.”

  “Hey, sounds like a swell idea,” Andrew said, appearing in the doorway. “Why don’t you ladies take your cocoa into the living room, and let me show you how a man can take care of himself in the kitchen.”

  Grace lit the fire in the fireplace, and the three sipped cocoa and visited happily like old friends.

  “Allison, do you want me to tell you more now?” Grace asked, nodding toward Heather questioningly.

  “Oh sure, I wish you would. Heather, I asked Grace to tell me more about my dad. She’s the only one who seems willing to talk about him. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “No. In fact, I was rather curious myself.”

  “Well, let me see . . . began Grace. “I already told you how we met in high school.”

  “Yes, Heather, they were sweethearts—can you believe it? Grace and my father!”

  Heather shook her head
in obvious amazement.

  Allison studied Grace; the way her hair shone in the firelight and the warmth of her deep brown eyes. She could imagine her father falling in love with Grace, perhaps even more easily than with Marsha. Andrew entered with the popcorn but said nothing. He sat silently on the floor by the fire and placed the gigantic bowl on the low coffee table. Grace looked at Allison again, as if to ask whether to continue or not. Allison nodded.

  “Well, it’s true we were sweethearts. James was a year older than I, but we continued to date even after he graduated. He worked with his father in the shipping business that year, but it was 1929—not a good year for business. Only a few years earlier, Riley had incorporated the shipping business and sold stocks in order to build the lighthouse.”

  Allison nodded. She remembered that part of Grandpa’s story.

  “Anyway,” Grace continued, “that fall when the market crashed, Riley’s stockholders—mostly locals—were furious. They wanted refunds on their stock. Riley did what he could for them and nearly sunk his shipping business in the process.”

  “You mean he sold their stocks back to them?” Andrew asked incredulously. “No one else would have done that.”

  “And it made it very hard on the O’Brians. He and James bitterly disagreed over it, and that’s when James decided to strike out on his own. He had always loved to paint, so he decided to go to New York and try to make something of his art. Our high school art teacher had told him about Greenwich Village, and it had been James’ dream to go there and live among the artists. I guess the problems with the business gave him the excuse he needed to leave Oregon.”

  “But what about you?” Heather asked sympathetically.

  “Well, I didn’t like the idea of James leaving. We even had a fight about it. It’s not that I didn’t want him to pursue his dream. It’s just that I felt Riley needed him right then more than ever. But stubborn old Riley wouldn’t admit it or ask James to stay. Mercury was brokenhearted, but she gave James her blessing and a bit of money to start him out.” Allison followed Grace’s gaze up to the dark painting above the fireplace. Grace’s eyes looked misty.