Secret Brother

“My father’s hired a private detective to find out who the boy is, who dropped him off, and where his family is. Once that’s known, he’ll be returned to his family, I’m sure. Maybe he had been kidnapped or something.”

I really tried not to be interested in him, but the idea that he had been kidnapped and then poisoned was enough to divert my attention for a while.

“He said that was why he went to the hospital, to meet with his detective and make sure all was being done medically for the boy.”

“Oh.”

“So I wouldn’t think about it much anymore,” he added, and smiled at me. “My father likes to take charge of everything around him. Believe me, I know. I bet you know that, too.”

“Yes.” I didn’t want to admit it, but what he was telling me was making me feel better. Maybe now all we would think about was Willie.

My grandmother Sanders was crying as she got off the plane. Her sister dabbed at her eyes the same way. When they saw me, they only started to cry harder.

Uncle Bobby put his arm around my grandmother, and then both she and my great-aunt Sally hugged me to them.

It occurred to me that I was really the one they wanted to comfort the most. My parents weren’t here to comfort me, and neither was Grandma Arnold. I was sure they couldn’t envision themselves doing much to comfort my grandfather. He was never very close to either of them. If anything, I thought they were afraid of him.

Uncle Bobby took their overnight bags, and the four of us walked out to Grandpa’s car. They sat in the back, and although I could tell they didn’t want to, they asked questions about the accident. Then my grandmother said what I thought was an odd thing. She said, “I bet Myra wishes it was her instead.”

“No,” Uncle Bobby said softly. “She wishes it was no one.”

Neither my grandmother nor my great-aunt said anything else about it. My great-aunt started asking me questions about school as if nothing terrible had happened. My answers were short, almost impolite. I was actually happy to get home, even though the house was full of people paying their respects and offering their sympathy, some bringing their sons and daughters, who looked even more uncomfortable than I did.

My grandmother Sanders and her sister went directly to speak with my grandfather and hug him. He looked very stiff about it, and moments later, Myra was taking up all their attention.

“I hope they’re not making her relive the accident,” Uncle Bobby told

me.

We watched her lead them off to the guest bedrooms. I thought I might return to my own room, but my grandfather caught my attention.

He said something to Uncle Bobby, who came to me and said, “We’re going to my father’s office to talk about tomorrow.”

He put his arm around me quickly, and we left the living room. Moments after we sat on the dark brown leather settee, Grandpa and Mrs. Mallen came into the office. My grandmother Sanders and my great-aunt Sally had been summoned. Grandpa went behind his desk, and Mrs. Mallen began to rattle off the details from a clipboard. I had my head down the whole time.

Mrs. Mallen was saying that my brother’s little body was in a coffin in a funeral parlor. She described the coffin and how Willie was dressed. Dressed? I hadn’t seen anyone go to his room to get his clothes. She mentioned that a story about the accident was in the Prescott Gazette and that the article also included details about the funeral. I looked up once at the door, imagining Willie popping his head in and laughing about the trick he had pulled on everyone. But that didn’t happen. That or anything like it would never happen again.

We all did look up when Myra entered. I could see she was upset about not being included. Before she could say anything, my grandfather said, “I was hoping you went to take a bit of a rest, Myra.”

“There’ll be plenty of time to rest, unfortunately, Mr. Arnold,” she replied. “Right now, I’m sure Clara Sue needs to know what to wear tomorrow.” She looked at me.

I hadn’t even given a thought to that. I was too afraid to let myself think about it. Of course, I needed Myra to help me decide. What if I wore the wrong thing and brought embarrassment to the family? I could have asked my grandmother Sanders to help, but I was actually closer to Myra. As Grandpa Arnold said, I’d seen my grandmother Sanders mostly only at funerals these past years. When she had realized that Willie and I would be brought up here, she seemed to drift away from us.

Right now, she sat quietly, dabbing her eyes and shaking her head. She held her sister’s hand. Seeing them like that brought tears to my eyes.

“Okay,” Grandpa said.

“We’ll work on it after dinner, Clara Sue,” Myra told me.

I didn’t say anything, but I felt Uncle Bobby’s hand on my arm. We looked at each other, and he gave me a small, soft smile.

Mrs. Mallen recited the schedule for us all, and then she left to talk with Myra and My Faith about arrangements for tomorrow’s after-the-funeral party, as she called it. Grandpa Arnold sat back. He was looking at us, but it was more like he was looking through us.

“Is there anything else you need done, Dad?” Uncle Bobby asked him.

“No, I don’t think so, Bobby, thanks.”

“Okay. I think I’ll just go up to take a shower and get some rest.”