Secret Brother

“No, Uncle Bobby. Grandpa wants him to be called that until he remembers his real name, if ever. He’s William Arnold the Second right now.”

“He didn’t mention that,” Uncle Bobby said. “I guess he has to be called something, but . . .”

“But not my brother’s name!” I practically screamed.

“Take it easy, honey. Go with the flow for now. I’m sure things will change once the boy improves.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Are you coming for Thanksgiving?”

“Can’t. It’s a big weekend for us here. Maybe Christmas,” he said. “I sent the playbill to you today. You should get it soon.”

“Thank you.”

“Keep your chin up. Have a good time at your party. I want to hear some nitty-gritty details when I call next time.”

“I’ll work on them,” I said.

He laughed. “Love you, Clair de Lune.”

“I love you, Uncle Bobby. More than ever,” I said, and he was silent until he managed a good-bye.

After I hung up, I lay there thinking. It was all going so fast, this recuperation from grief. The presence of the poisoned boy only sped that up. Willie was in danger of fading away. How could I stop it?

I looked at my desk, and then I rose slowly and sat. Was this silly, even sick?

I took out my perfumed stationery and uncovered my special fountain pen. And then I began.

Dear Willie,

I wonder if you can look down and see us, and if you can, if you are as unhappy about what Grandpa is doing as I am. I think you are. I know how precious all your things were to you. You should know that I’ve hidden what I knew to be the most precious, and this new boy, the poisoned boy, won’t get his hands on them. I promise.

I wish I had been able to say more to you at the cemetery, but I couldn’t stand seeing you closed up in that coffin and being lowered into a grave. My Faith tells me that your soul had already left your body and it would never be imprisoned. She claims you were most likely standing there beside me. Sometimes I laugh at the things she tells me, but I didn’t laugh at that. I wanted it to be true.

Grandpa and Myra and My Faith, maybe even Uncle Bobby, want me to care about this strange boy Grandpa has decided to rescue. I’m afraid that if you can see us and hear us, you now know Grandpa has given him your name, too. I feel so bad about it. I swear, I’ll never call him Willie. I will try not to call him William, either. I’ll call him “you” or something if I have to speak to him for any reason.

I’m back in school. I’m back with friends. I’m going to attend a party, not because I’ve forgotten all about you but because I can’t help what has happened. The truth is, I want to think about other things so I don’t cry so much, and I certainly don’t want to think about the boy in your room.

Don’t be sad about it. I decided tonight that on Saturday, I’m going to the cemetery to visit your grave. I will never forget you or stop thinking about you. I’m sure I’ll think about you every day forever or at least until I can’t think anymore.

If you can still think and feel, please think of me. Please still care about me.

Love,

Your sister, Clara Sue

I reread my letter and then folded it and put it in the envelope. I dropped it into the drawer with the others. I was sure I would write many more.

I returned to my homework until it was time to go to dinner. I was surprised to see that Willie’s door was nearly closed completely, but I didn’t pause to see why. I hurried downstairs, then stopped just before I entered the dining room, because I could hear laughter coming from Grandpa Arnold’s office. I hadn’t heard him laugh since Willie’s accident. I recognized Mrs. Camden’s laugh. They both turned to me when I stepped into the doorway. He wasn’t behind his desk. They were both sitting on the pearl leather settee, and it looked like they were having a cocktail. The stunned expression on my face wiped the smiles from theirs. I wondered what had made them laugh.

“How was your day at school?” Grandpa asked. “We didn’t get to speak very much when you got home.”

“It was okay,” I said. “Isn’t dinner ready?” I asked, looking more at Mrs. Camden.

“We were about to go to the dining room.”

We, I thought. So she’s a regular at the table from now on?

“I want you to know that I’m going to a party Friday night,” I said. “It’s at Audrey O’Brian’s house.”