Blown Away! Read online

  Mom kept her hands on her hips. “No!” she said to Dad. “Jake needs to go to church.”

  “Sometimes helping your neighbor is just as important as going to church. Maybe even more important,” Dad answered.

  With a sigh, Mom threw up her hands in defeat and went back to slicing potatoes.

  That night everyone except Star was quiet at the dinner table, but after a while Dad got Mom to smile again. No matter what the situation, Dad could always make Mom smile.

  I woke up Sunday morning to the deep clanging of the bell that hung in the steeple of the Methodist Church. It was a reassuring sound that echoed throughout our little town. The church, a prim white building, stood on the shore, next to the town graveyard. Boats from other islands arrived on Sunday mornings so people could attend services at our church, which was the only one for miles around.

  Mom was already up and dressed and brushing Star’s long hair when I came into the kitchen. “Ow!” Star whined as Mom came upon a knot. “Mara doesn’t hurt me when she brushes my hair!”

  Mom sighed. “I’m going to cut your hair short like Bessie’s. I can’t go through this every day.”

  “Will Bessie be at Sunday school?” Star asked.

  “Of course. The Ashburns are always there,” Mom said with a meaningful look at me. “There are biscuits and sea-grape jelly on the table, Jake. Help yourself. But eat in the kitchen. I don’t want—”

  “Grape jelly on your rug,” I filled in.

  “It’s the finest thing in this house—the only valuable thing I have,” Mom said in that suffering voice she used whenever she felt put-upon. “And I’m still upset you’re not attending Sunday services with us today.”

  “It’s just this one Sunday, Mom,” I said. “Sharkey needs help.”

  As I headed up the road, I was surprised to see Mara smiling and waving to me from her porch. She was dressed for church, wearing a flowered dress that looked freshly starched and ironed. Her dark red hair was curly this morning, and a palegreen headband held it back from her face. “Hi, Jake!” she called eagerly as she ran up the embankment to the road. “Are you going to church?”

  “Not today,” I answered.

  Mara smile faded. “I was hoping you’d be there. I thought we might have a picnic afterward. But I guess you’ll be busy.”

  “I’m going to help Sharkey today. But I’ll probably be starving by one o’clock or so.”

  She grinned. “Come to my house around one. We can have a picnic down by the water.”

  “Okay! “I agreed.

  At that moment a horse-drawn cart came rumbling onto the road. No, not horse-drawn, I realized. It was mule-drawn! Jewel was harnessed to Sharkey’s wagon, which was loaded up with fencing. Sharkey walked in front, leading Jewel with a rope tether, and trotting in front of them were Rudy and Ginger.

  “Looks like a circus!” Mara said with a laugh.

  “Hey, Jake!” Sharkey yelled when he came closer. “Since you’re not dressed for church, I can use some help over at my place.”

  “I’m coming!” I called back, and turning to Mara, I explained, “Sharkey’s going to build a corral for Jewel and Rudy today.”

  “Oh, good! Then Aunt Edith won’t be able to blame Rudy for taking her hens. But do you really think there’s a panther around these parts?”

  “I sure do. Panthers will come right up on the porch if they smell meat cooking in a kitchen.” This had never actually happened to. anybody I knew, but I’d heard the stories, and Mara listened intently to my every word.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Just ask Miss Edith. I’m sure she knows those stories.”

  Mara’s eyes widened. “Oh, my. I wouldn’t know what to do if I came across a panther.”

  “Anyone could be in danger, especially if the cat is hungry,” I warned her. “So keep on the watch!”

  “Oh,” Mara gasped, clapping her hand over her mouth. “That is scary!”

  I was laying it on thick. I had never heard of a panther hurting anyone, but it sounded exciting.

  “Come on, Jake!” Sharkey yelled. He and his troupe were way up the road and heading onto the path that led to his place.

  “I’m coming!” Turning to Mara, I clawed the air near her face. “Grrrr! Watch out for panthers, Mara,” I growled.

  Mara laughed. “Stop teasing me!” she scolded.

  “You don’t need to worry. You’ll probably never see one!” I called out as I left.

  I ran up the road to catch up with Sharkey and passed through the shade from the overhanging trees. Could a panther be lurking in those dark shadows? I wondered.

  11

  MARA’S SNOW

  That morning Sharkey and I dug postholes around an area next to his house. It wasn’t very big, but it would give Jewel a place to move around and stay out of trouble. Rudy sniffed and checked out the holes we had dug. Jewel, who stood nearby, constantly switched her tail and blinked her eyes to rid them of flies. Sharkey stopped occasionally to wipe Jewel’s eyes and face with some kind of ointment that would repel the flies. I couldn’t help but notice how gentle he was with her.

  Sharkey picked up his shovel and dug once again into the dirt. “Did you see Jewel pulling that wagon? She knew just what to do as soon as I hitched her up.”

  “She’s strong, hauling that cart full of timber so easily,” I agreed, laughing. “Of course, you wouldn’t have needed a cart full of timber if you hadn’t bought the mule.”

  Sharkey smacked me in the seat of my pants with his shovel. “Get to work!” he ordered in his gruff voice.

  After we finished digging the holes, we poured wet cement into them and set the posts into the concrete. “Let’s take a break until the cement dries,” Sharkey said. He stood back and looked at our work. “This plot of land will be fine. There’s enough room for Jewel and Rudy to roam around.”

  “And still stay in one place!” I added. “There’s a panther prowling near the town. It killed one of Miss Edith’s chickens, but she thinks Rudy and Jewel are responsible.”

  “A panther must be very hungry to come that near to town.”

  “That’s why she’s so sure Rudy killed her hen. But I saw the tracks, and they were like the ones we saw here.”

  Sharkey took the shovels and carried them to the lean-to shed where he kept his tools. “They won’t blame my animals once they’re confined to the corral,” he said. “Miss Edith should get her chickens contained in a safe place. Raccoons eat chickens too. I’m surprised she hasn’t lost birds before this.”

  “I’ll tell her. I’m going over there now for a picnic while the posts are setting.”

  When I arrived, Mara was waiting on the porch with a picnic basket in her lap. Her aunt sat in the rocking chair.

  “Did you hear the latest, Jake?” Miss Edith asked. “Mike Robinson’s dog, Ripper, was killed last night. To be truthful, I lived in fear of that dog, and I hated its constant yowling, but I wouldn’t have wished such a horrible death on any beast.”

  I went up onto the porch. “What happened to it?” I asked.

  “The Robinsons were up in Tavernier for the night and left Ripper chained as usual. I heard barking, but of course I didn’t pay any attention, because that dog never stops. Well, last night the only thing different was that the barks were mingled with a few yelps, but I wasn’t going near that dog to see if anything was wrong. When the barking stopped, I forgot about it.”

  “This morning the Robinsons found the dog dead in their yard—still chained,” Mara said.

  “What killed it?” I was afraid to hear the answer.

  “The Robinsons blame Sharkey’s dog, and they’re fit to be tied, Jake!” Miss Edith exclaimed. “I’m sure he killed Henny Penny, too.”

  “I don’t believe it was Rudy. He’s too smart to get into a fight with Ripper. Rudy would have lost the fight. And Rudy’s not mean. He hasn’t chased any of the chickens, has he?”

  “Well, no,” Miss Edith admitted. “Actually, I�
�ve only seen him once or twice, heading down to the Ashburns’ house.”

  “That’s because Rudy has become acquainted with their dog, Ginger,” I said. “They play together. Ginger comes up and visits Rudy at Sharkey’s place, too.”

  “I’m sorry, Jake, but I can’t afford to lose any more chickens. If I catch that dog on my property, I’ll have to call the Audubon.”

  “Don’t worry, Miss Edith,” I said. “Sharkey’s building a corral for Jewel and Rudy today. He says you should think about getting a house for the chickens to keep them safe from other predators, though.”

  “I’m telling you, no panther has ever prowled around here in all the years I’ve lived in this house,” she said.

  I was about to argue when Mara nodded toward the door. “Let’s go,” she whispered.

  We took a path that led to the waterfront, passing under thick branches of trees. I stopped by the trunk of a gumbo-limbo and pointed to the smooth bark, which was scarred with scratches. “Look at this,” I said.

  “What do you suppose made those claw marks?” Mara said.

  “Rudy, of course. He loves to climb trees!” I said sarcastically.

  Our worries about the mysterious scratches diminished when we reached the clearing near the church and cemetery. It was beautiful with the bright sky and shining water.

  The church service had been over for a while, and it was quiet along the waterfront. We went to the wharf, took off our shoes, and dangled our feet in the warm water. “Watch out for sharks,” I said. “Your toes make good shark bait.”

  Mara pulled her feet in, and when I laughed, she poked me. “There you go again. I never know when you’re kidding.”

  She pointed to the Ashburns’ wharf down the shoreline. “What is that enclosure they have under their dock?”

  “That’s a kraal,” I answered. “When they capture big turtles, they put them under there until they’re ready to eat them. Sort of like a corral for turtles.”

  “I see. Kraal. Corral.”

  “When we have a big cookout here on the island, someone usually cooks up a turtle for soup.”

  “Kind of sad for the poor turtles,” Mara said.

  We ate tuna sandwiches with slices of tomato and then delicious twisted pastries sprinkled with cinnamon sugar. “These are pierniki ” Mara told me. “Polish cookies.”

  “Miss Edith makes great Polish food that she brings over to us sometimes. We look forward to her golabki and babka ” I knew the Polish names for the cabbage rolls and cake that Miss Edith shared with us, and I wanted to show off to Mara.

  “Many of the coal miners are of Polish descent,” Mara explained. “And there are miners from Wales and Ireland, too.”

  She and I shared a small pineapple that Mara had cut into pieces. “Aunt Edith has her own little pineapple garden. Isn’t that amazing? I didn’t know they even grew in North America.” She wiped the juice from her chin with a napkin.

  “What kinds of fruit grow in Pennsylvania?” I asked.

  “Strawberries and blueberries in the summer, and apples in the fall.” She sighed. “I miss Pennsylvania—well, mostly I miss my daddy. I can’t believe he’s gone.” Mara was quiet for a long moment. Then she said, “I don’t miss the coal mines, though. There’s nothing pretty about coal mines—except after a snowfall. That’s when the fresh snow covers the black culm banks, and everything is white and clean.”

  “What are culm banks?”

  “They’re mounds of slate and pieces of unusable coal that are just left there once they’ve been picked over,” she explained. “They’re hideous—except when the snow covers them. Then we go sledding on them.”

  “Star said you wrote a poem about the snow.”

  “It’s very short. Would you like to hear it?”

  “Sure.”

  Mara cleared her throat and closed her eyes.

  Silent snow covers yesterdays.

  For a moment, the past disappears.

  How long, this shining, new place?

  Only for a day.

  She opened her eyes and smiled tentatively.

  “Is that it?” I realized too late that this was a stupid thing for me to ask.

  “Yes, that’s it.” She turned and gazed out to sea.

  “I—I meant … it’s short.”

  “I told you it was short.”

  “I like it, Mara. I just need you to explain it.”

  “If you need an explanation, you will never understand.”

  “Mara, I’ve never seen snow. So I need to … think about it. Would you say it again?” I pleaded. “Please?”

  “No, Jake. Forget it.”

  We sat silently, the only sounds the buzzing of bees and the splashing of small waves against the dock.

  “Mara, aren’t poems supposed to rhyme?” I asked.

  “No! Not all poems rhyme.” Then she turned to me. “It’s okay, Jake. You don’t understand poetry, just as I don’t understand … fishing.”

  “Please tell me the poem again. Please.”

  Mara recited the verse once more, and I realized that her poem was something like a riddle.

  After I thought about it for a few minutes, I said, “Your poem is kind of sad, as if good things happen only for a little while.”

  “That’s it, Jake. It’s about the fresh snow and how it covers the black, ugly culm banks. Then the snow melts, and everything goes back to the way it was. Nothing has really changed after all.” She looked out at the sea again as if something were out there. I looked too, but there was only the sea and the sky.

  12

  JEWEL’S CORRAL

  Later, as we put our trash in the picnic basket to take home, Mara said, “Have you seen your mother since she got home from church?” I shook my head. “Then you haven’t heard. I’m going to be looking after Star and Bessie three mornings a week. It gives your mom and Mrs. Ashburn the mornings free to do things, and it will be a break for you boys.”

  This was great news. Mom—or more likely Dad—was actually doing something about my babysitting complaints!

  “When do you start?”

  “I thought I’d take them both for a little walk this afternoon, just to get them used to the idea.” We gathered our things and headed up the path toward Miss Edith’s house. “We can play hide-and-seek, and pick berries or something.”

  “Star will love it,” I told her.

  After walking Mara home, I headed back to Sharkey’s. First thing I told him was about the Robinsons’ dog.

  “I’ll bet Ripper put up one heck of a fight,” Sharkey said. “Was he eaten?”

  “I don’t know. Yuck!”

  “Usually a panther will bury its kill to hide it from other animals; then it’ll go back later to eat it again. But with Ripper being chained up, the panther wouldn’t have been able to drag him away.”

  “The bad news is that Miss Edith is sure it was Rudy who did it.”

  Sharkey shook his head. “Ridiculous.”

  The cement we had poured earlier had hardened in the hot sun, and we were ready to put the fence together. The rails were laid out on the ground. Once they were put into place, the post-and-rail fence would be about five feet high.

  “Do you suppose Jewel could jump the fence once you get it up?” I asked.

  “Of course not!” Sharkey barked. “She couldn’t jump that high without more running space.”

  “The fence won’t keep Rudy in,” I said. “He’ll wriggle under the rails and get out whenever he wants.”

  “It doesn’t matter about Rudy,” Sharkey said. “Rudy won’t leave without Jewel, and Jewel will be stuck in the corral.”

  “Miss Edith says she’s seen him heading down to see Ginger.”

  “How often did he do that? Once? Twice?” Sharkey frowned at me from under the broad rim of his hat. “Don’t be such a wet blanket, Jake. Pete Lowery brought this fence all the way from Tavernier, and by golly, it’s going to work or I’ll drop dead trying.”

  By late
afternoon we had the rails hitched up to the posts. One section was set up as a gate with a latch. A cone-shaped wooden pin fit into the shaft to lock the gate. Sharkey tried it several times. “No way this gate can open by itself,” he said. Jewel was already in the center of the corral. “She’s in here to stay.” He seemed pleased.

  Meanwhile Rudy had burrowed himself under the bottom rail. He stood outside the fence and paced back and forth, barking at Jewel, who acted troubled. Her long ears were thrust out in different directions. She trotted to where Rudy waited, and made strange snorts—a mixture of a horse’s whinny and a donkey’s bray.

  “Too bad, Jewel,” Sharkey said. “You’re stuck in there, so settle down.”

  The mule walked around the enclosure, slowly circling. Suddenly, like an awkward dancer, Jewel bounded over the top rail, all four of her hooves easily clearing it. She landed next to Rudy, who was waiting with his tail waving like a flag in the breeze.

  Sharkey and I stood there in our sweaty clothes, covered with dirt and cement dust, and blinked in astonishment. We’d spent the whole day erecting that fence. Now we realized it would never hold a mule that was able to leap over a five-foot rail from a standing position!

  “I’ll be danged!” Sharkey grabbed his hat and threw it on the ground. “I saw another mule high-jump like that once, but I never dreamed Jewel could do it! This corral won’t be much good for holding this mule.”

  “Well, it is a nice-looking corral, Sharkey,” I said, trying to look on the bright side.

  Rudy trotted over to Sharkey as if to say, What’s the next job on the agenda? He lapped at Sharkey’s hand, and his whole body wagged as Sharkey petted him. Sharkey bent down, and Rudy licked his face and beard.

  Meanwhile Jewel had meandered to a sea-grape tree whose grape clusters had become ripe. Some had fallen onto the ground, and she was gobbling them up contentedly.

  Sharkey picked up his hat and dusted it off. “I guess I’ll just have to get more timber and add another couple of rungs to the fence. All we need is a few more rails and Jewel won’t get out that easily again.”