I shook my head and handed him his sandwich. He narrowed his eyes for a moment and then smiled and looked out at the water.
This was still a special place, I thought, maybe especially for me.
After we ate, we walked around the lake and talked, both of us revealing more and more of ourselves. Once in a while, we stopped and kissed. As we came around to our blanket, he asked me again if my family knew what really had happened here when the children were imprisoned.
“No, I don’t think so,” I said. “At least, not yet.”
He smiled quizzically but seemed to understand, to know not to ask any other questions about Foxworth.
Afterward, we drove for a while aimlessly. It was as if we both wanted to prolong the day. At my house, I saw that my father wasn’t home yet, but I didn’t invite Kane in.
Someone else was waiting upstairs in my room. I even imagined him looking out from between the curtains. He knew where I had been.
I thought I might be able to get in a dozen pages before my father came home.
For a while, I thought we no longer could keep track of time. Days floated into each other as if the clock had become gigantic, and seconds and minutes were so small they were no longer noticed. The leaves were changing to the yellows, browns, and reds that told us fall was here. It seemed to happen overnight. Never before had that had such a stunning effect on the four of us, more so on Cathy than on the twins and me.
“We’ve been here two months!” she whispered, mostly to herself, as we stood by the window. “Two months!”
I could feel the tension building in her and knew that if I didn’t do something, say something, immediately, she might burst into hysterical screaming. I had to keep her busy, I thought, get her distracted.
Suddenly, she laughed. Cory and Carrie looked at her, confused, and then at me. What was so funny?
“What?” I asked.
“I used to think being in history class was boring, but I would sure like to be there being bored now.” She fixed her eyes on me. They looked like they were ready to launch darts.
“I understand,” I said. “What we have to do is stop wasting time.”
“Stop wasting time? What do you think we’ve been doing? What do you call all this?” she cried, raising her voice a little more. She was on the verge, I thought. I had to think.
“I meant we should be preparing ourselves for when we get out of here.”
“Get out of here?”
“Sure. Look, tomorrow I’m adding a barre to the area we’ve decorated. You’ll start practicing your ballet again. Daily,” I insisted.
“I will not. I’ll look like a fool if I practice without a costume, dancing in an attic.”
“?‘Look like a fool’? To whom? That’s stupid.”
“Stupid. I’m stupid? Of course I’m stupid. You’re the one who was born with all the brains in this family. You’re the genius.”
“Cathy?”
“No!” she screamed, and ran out of the attic and down the stairs.
The twins were shocked, and Carrie started to cry.
“Cathy sick?” Cory said.
“No, no. No one’s sick,” I told them. “C’mon, let’s go cheer her up.”
I held out my hands, and they took them and followed me. I saw how frightened they were. We were so close to breaking, shattering like frozen Dresden dolls, I thought. Downstairs, Cathy was facedown on the bed, sobbing.
“Let’s give her something to make her happy again,” Cory said. She heard him but didn’t stop her sobs. Cory poked her, and she turned to look at him. “Here, Cathy,” he said, and handed her his Peter Rabbit storybook. “You don’t have to read it to me,” he added.
She stopped sobbing. Carrie handed her crayons to her. Cathy took them and looked at me. I sat on the bed and watched her sew up the rips in her heart. She wiped away her tears and embraced our brother and sister.