"I don't know," he said. "You better." he added. "I don't want to be made a fool,"
She glanced back at me and winked. but I was only half- listening to their chatter now. My brain was still reeling with the information we had just gathered. How desperately I needed to speak with Ian. I thought. Or my mother, but neither could hear me. Who could I turn to? Who would help me understand? How could I tell my father any of this? What would he say? Would he believe it, believe his mother was really Great-aunt Frances? How do you tell someone his mother isn't really his mother?
Either out of fear or frustration or maybe because of both, I started to cry silently. Chad and Alanis were into their own conversation, teasing each other again, listening to their music. Neither noticed me all the way home. As soon as we pulled into the driveway, her granddad, who was on the tractor cutting more of the overgrown grounds, stopped and turned off the engine. He sat there watching us for a moment, obviously poised to come at us as soon as we stepped out of the car.
"Let me do all the talking," Alanis told me quickly as we got out of the car. "Get outta here quick. Chad," she told him. "I'll call you."
"You'd better," he said, backed up, and drove fast down the driveway, kicking up stones and dust.
Alanis's granddad hopped off the tractor and started toward us. He was as angry-looking as he had been that day at school when he'd slapped her behind the head and pushed her into his car. He even frightened me.
"Where you been?" he asked halfway to us.
"We just went for a ride to visit one of my friends. It's the weekend, Granddad. We can have some fun," she whined.
"You're lying. Alanis, and you lied to Miss Wilkens. I'm disappointed in you going along with this. Miss Jordan," he told me. "That woman trusts you and you go and help make up stories and go someplace you ain't supposed to go."
I looked down quickly.
"We didn't lie," Alanis began. "we told her we--"
"Don't even start. Alanis. You might be pretty good at pulling the wool over other people's eyes, but you know you're not good at it with me. And besides. Miss Wilkens got a phone call from Tom DeMarco ."
I looked up quickly.
"That's right. His mother felt bad about things she said to you and she was worried. She called him and he called here and told Miss Wilkens everything. I never seen her so upset. She couldn't even talk. Where'd you go? Why'd you go visit his mother in a nursing home? What things did she say? Why is Miss Wilkens so upset she was crying? She never cries. No more of your lying. Alanis. What sort of mischief are you up to now? Doing such a nasty thing to that poor old lady. Go on, spit it out before I take a strap to you," he said without taking a breath.
I turned to her to see what she would say. Great-aunt Frances was very upset and was crying? This was terrible.
"I'm not lying! I don't know what you're talking about. Some old lady imagined things, that's all. We didn't do anything to anybody. You're always accusing me of things!" she screamed back at him. "No wonder my mother ran off. No one wants to live with you. I'll run off. too!"
Her granddad practically flew across the few yards between us and seized her at the shoulders, shaking her so hard that I thought her eyes rolled in her head. I stepped back, terrified. She looked like she might crack in two in his hands.
"You ain't running off. child. The only place you're going from here is some juvenile detention center. You lie, steal, drink my alcohol, smoke in school and now who knows what else. You're not just walking in your mother's footsteps. You're making your own and you're going down the same dark path to hell. Now, you go back into that house and you get your things and bring them back to our house right now, hear me? I told Miss Wilkens you can't stay there anymore, and she knows it. I don't want you having any more to do with this little girl either. hear?"
"I won't move back in with you. I won't! You hate me just as much as you hate my mothe
r!" Alanis screamed and tore herself out of his grip. She fumed, and then she turned and ran down the driveway,
"Alanis King, you come right back here. Now!" he cried. "I'm not fooling with you. I'll call the police and have them pick you up, girl. You'll go to a juvenile home," he shouted as she rounded the turn at the bottom of the driveway. She didn't stop. In a moment she was gone.
Frustrated. Lester Marshall shook his head, then turned to me.
"Best thing could happen to you is she keeps going," he said. "You better go let your great-aunt know you're back and okay. You better tell her where you were and what you and Alanis did to make all this trouble," he said. "You got her in a terrible state. She was trembling something awful. I'm mighty disappointed in you. too."
He turned and started back toward the tractor. I looked down the driveway, hoping Alanis would return. I needed her help with my great-aunt Frances. What was I going to say? I waited a little longer, but she didn't come back. After a few more moments, I headed for the house, so exhausted from my emotional ping-pang that I didn't know if I could even talk.
When I entered. I was immediately struck by the silence. The television wasn't an. and Great-aunt Frances wasn't in the living room. She wasn't in the kitchen or anywhere else downstairs. I called for her, but she didn't answer. What's more, I didn't see Miss Puss anywhere either. She could be outside, I thought and went to the rear door.
I stepped out and panned the yard, looking down to the lake. but I saw no one. There was just the dull whirr of the tractor Lester Marshall was driving out front. I called and waited, called and waited, and then went back inside.
Slowly. I started up the stairway. When I reached the top. I stopped and listened but heard nothing. Now more frightened than curious. I hurried down to her room and looked in, expecting to see her curled up in her bed with Miss Puss curled up beside her. She wasn't there. She wasn't in the bathroom or my room either. When I started down the hallway. I stopped and froze the moment I could make out Miss Puss curled up at the door to the attic. Why would she lock out Miss Puss? I wondered. There wasn't anyplace in the house she didn't permit the cat to go. Sometimes. Miss Puss even went into the bathroom with her.
"Where's Great-aunt Frances?' I asked Miss Puss, who lifted her head but didn't move. "Why did she leave you out here?"
Cautiously. I tried the handle on the attic door and found it was locked. It must be locked from the inside, I thought. Now more suspicious. I put my ear to the door and listened. I was sure I heard soft sobbing.
"Great-aunt Frances!" I called. I knocked on the door. "It's Jordan. Are you up there? Great-aunt Frances!"