Dana's Valley Part 2

"Sure. There's a park in the city. A bunch of us guys go there whenever we can. It's great. But you've got to have a of nerve to do it. The ramps are really high." "How high?" I could tell Brett was warming up to the idea. I wondered if it was the thought of needing nerve that appealed to him.

The next gift from Mom and Daddy was a helmet and of pads. Brett flipped them over and over. I was sure he was trying to picture what he'd look like in them.Travis laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. "Don't worry about what you'll look like. All the guys have them-and you'll need them. Believe me." Brett's next gift was from Dana and me, a new model because we weren't quite sure what else he'd like. Dana had wanted to try to be more original, but I talked rinto staying with the sure thing. Brett could always use a new model kit.

38.

"Thanks. This I know what to do with."

There were a few more gifts, and then Mom bundled up the torn gift wrap while Brett handled each of his gifts again.The next morning Dana's gaze was a little preoccupied while we were walking to school. I knew that look. She was dreaming of the gifts she might get. And she had never stopped thinking about the possibility of the new bedroom accessories.

At last Monday night and Dana's birthday celebration arrived. Both Marcy and Carli had been invited for the birthday dinner. They entered with giggles and chatter, sliding onto the bench on the far side of the table between Corey and me. Dana was allowed to sit in Daddy's seat at the head of the table, and Mom stood nearby, her camera in hand. The supper that Dana had chosen was Chinese food. She loved sweet-and-sour chicken and fried rice. Since none of the rest of us were crazy about it, this was a rare treat for her, and she savored it thoroughly.

Dana had made another odd choice for dessert. A cheesecake, topped with cherries. Mom had already positioned and lit the candles on this nontraditional birthday treat, and we sang "Happy Birthday" as we watched the tiny lights flicker against the s.h.i.+ny red fruit.

We did the usual counting-of family-compliments thing, but I wondered as I watched Dana if she was really hearing the nice things we were saying about her. HerDANA'S Valley fe 39smile was looking more and more forced, and she was fidgeting on her seat.

Once the presents were gathered and set before her, she seemed rather ill at ease. I was pretty sure I knew what the problem was, but I wasn't about to explain. Even unwrapping the gift from me, the new music book, just what she had wanted, brought only a wistful smile.

Finally there were no presents left, even though Mom and Dad's was conspicuous by its absence. Just as Mom was about to begin a little speech, Dana raised her tense face and whispered, "Mom, can I talk to you for a minute? Please?"

Mom looked surprised but led Dana into the laundry room, where their conversation was just barely audible. I knew what was going on, even though no one could make out their words. Dana was confessing. But to my way of thinking, there had been no crime. Not even a slight transgression. What kid wouldn't, if given opportunity, want to snoop out a birthday surprise before the actual day arrived? That was just common sense to me. And I was certain that when I became a parent, I would just expect my children to be tempted. I'd simply choose my hiding places well.

But Dana, who lived by "What would Jesus do?" could not rest until she had confessed to Mom that she had attempted to discover the hidden surprise. Mom had described Dana as having a "tender conscience." I felt she was just a bit too goody-goody.

When Dana returned, she was smiling again. And Mom made her special presentation of the mystery packages. A lovely pair of blue comforters with delicate white pinstripes on one side and a print of darker blue rosebuds on the other were revealed to squeals of delight 40.

from both, of us. The comforters were reversible. We could change the look anytime we liked.

In addition there were cans of soft blue paint to coordinate the walls with the new spreads, and also a beautiful wallpaper border as an accent. Last, but not least, Mom had sewn a pair of white lace balloon curtains. Together the gifts really would transform our room. Dana's eyes shone. And I was grateful for my share of this extravagance. Though I was pretty sure that when my birthday arrived in two months' time, I too could expect a gift that would be shared equally between us.

That was all right. Dana and I were used to sharing.

We used our new comforters that very night. Then Daddy took a day off on Thursday to help Mom do the painting. By Friday evening, all the accents had been added and the bedroom was complete.

Dana and I would have simply thrown the old comforters into the trash, but Mom washed them carefully and wrapped them in plastic. She and Corey would make a trip to the inner-city mission. She went fairly often and knew she could find someone who could make use of the faded but warm Barbie quilts.& & &.Before my birthday actually arrived every year, the greatest gift of all had presented itself-freedom. School was over, and summer vacation beckoned with its invitation to outdoor fun. No more a.s.signed reading. No more worksheets and reports. And definitely no more math problems!

My birthday celebration turned out to be a familyDANA S Valley * 4,1dinner and a birthday cake of my choosing-heavy-duty chocolate with thick chocolate icing. We didn't have any guests, and I didn't really care. Marcy was away, as usual. I knew my special turn would come when I hit that magical age of thirteen. Marcy had already promised that even the temptation of visiting her grandparents at the lake would not keep her from celebrating that birthday with me. Besides, I admitted as I snuggled under my new blue comforter each night, I had sort of muscled in on Dana's birthday anyway.

I was pleased with my gifts, especially the used computer that I was to share with Dana. Daddy's office had been upgrading, and he had gotten a good deal on what we deemed to be an exciting machine. Now we wouldn't have to vie for time to play video games or surf the 'net in between Brett or Corey. But with the freedom from cla.s.ses and schedules, even the computer sat unused.

I intended to make the most of the all-too-short summer months. Dana and I were allowed to stay up later, to watch more television, and to visit with neighborhood friends almost as often as we wanted. Even Mom got into the summertime spirit with extra flare. This would be the last summer before Corey would begin kindergarten, and we knew she would savor every moment with her youngest.

At least once a week she loaded us all into the van, and we took a picnic lunch down near the shady creek-side park to sit, eat, and relax. Sometimes on a quiet back road she even let Brett take the wheel, though she insisted that he go painfully slow. Normally it was only Daddy who took Brett on his practice runs.

At the park Corey splashed in knee-deep water, caught minnows and tadpoles, and soaked himself to the skin. Dana curled her legs up under her on her favorite rock 42.

and read blissfully, soaking in the suns.h.i.+ne. I chatted with Mom, stretched out on the cool gra.s.s, or wandered alternately between Corey and Dana. Brett had taken to bringing a fis.h.i.+ng rod, and on rare days he actually hooked a fish that was large enough to take home and cook, which was always Daddy's job. Mom would not cook anything she'd seen moving and alive. She had a pretty hard and fast rule about that.

On other days we were allowed to walk to the strip mall that sat on the highway near our neighborhood. It wasn't much. Just a gas station, a mini mart, and a bookstore, but we always felt it was worth the trip anyway. The chance for an outing was really our main interest. Mom wouldn't allow us to ride our bikes because she said the sidewalks were safer and we'd be more careful if we weren't racing.

In August Grandma and Grandpa Walsh arrived in their motor home for a visit. They parked their rig in the driveway, hooked our hose up to supply their makes.h.i.+ft kitchen, and placed their lawn chairs directly in front of the basketball hoop-no more playing in the sprinkler or shooting baskets.

"Now, Angela, we don't want to be any trouble. Just pretend we're not here at all." I knew Mom wasn't quite sure what the expected response should be. But she never tested the concept to see if they were serious either. She cooked extra at every meal and canceled all of the unnecessary engagements for the duration of their visit. Daddy said she didn't have to, but Mom did it anyway.

I enjoyed visits with my grandparents. Grandma taught us to do things like crochet and knit. Dana took to these lessons much quicker than I did-but then I could always hang around Grandpa and whatever he was tinkering with, whether in or around the motor home.DANA'S Valley * 43When the visit was measured in weeks, though, the whole thing began to lose its appeal. By then Grandpa had begun to get restless and had started to make work for himself around the house. It was true that he was better at general household repairs than Daddy, but we had managed to keep things quite well maintained in spite of our limitations. Even Mom was pretty handy for most odd jobs. So I always sensed a bit of tension when he took on projects that no one had asked him to do. Our house was old, and there was always something that could be improved, though I thought Mom looked rather askance at the missing banister rung he replaced with one that didn't quite match. But at least I got to ride along on the frequent trips to the hardware store.

Grandma was pleasant and generous with treats for us-especially for Corey. But she tended to need to be talking most of the time, so Dana and I often abandoned jMom to their somewhat one-sided conversations and 'I.

struck out on our own.

In Unfortunately for us, the visit also meant that Mom had less time to drive us where we wanted to go. And, sure enough, it fell exactly on the two weeks when Marcy and Carli were at summer camp. So we were often left to fill time by walking with Corey to the mini mart or by taking a few laps around the neighborhood on our bikes. If we hadn't had each other, I'm not sure how Dana and I would have made it through the summer.

By the time Grandma and Grandpa's motor home pulled out of the driveway and Marcy and Carli had returned, bursting with camp stories, school was about to begin. At this point, it was a welcome relief. At least there'd be plenty of friends around again.

CHAPTER FOUR.

THE END OF SUMMER when we began shopping for school supplies was one of my favorite times of year. The antic.i.p.ation of beginning something was always attractive to me, and I loved to have new things. Even if it was just notebooks and pencils and paper. And this year it was especially fun to watch Corey browsing for his own school needs. He was entering kindergarten and was antic.i.p.ating learning to read. He seemed to be expecting to do so immediately. We hoped he wouldn't be too disappointed when he realized that we'd been right-they'd start with the alphabet and colors. Those he already knew.

Brett didn't bother shopping for himself. He sent the list with Mom, including specific instructions that she not get anything fancy. Apparently he wished to make no statement whatsoever with his notebooks and accessories.

Dana, on the other hand, chose quite carefully. For the first time she brushed past the cutesy folder covers with kittens and puppies and dolphins, choosing instead the plain dark colors that no doubt were intended for the high school crowd. To me it only served as a reminder of the most disturbing aspect of the upcoming school year.

46.

Dana would be attending George Was.h.i.+ngton High School with Brett now, and I would be remaining behind. Somehow the new school and all seemed to have affected her whole outlook.

I suppose much of it was due to some chats between her and Carli. Marcy's sister was a year older than Dana and had become quite conscious of her advancing maturity. It looked to me as if she was attempting to draw Dana up to her level, into her crowd. I had asked Mom about it, but her answers didn't really satisfy me.

"Well, Carli is at a difficult stage in life. She's searching for a new ident.i.ty because she feels that she's not a child anymore. On the other hand, she's not quite sure what growing up means. She's experimenting, really." Mom seemed to be going back-to somewhere-in her thinking.

"Will Dana act like that too? I don't want her to become like Carli."

"Dana is not Carli. And I think we have to remember that your sister has developed enough as a person to make her own decisions. She's never been one to follow the crowd before, and I don't expect her to do so now. But, Erin, she will begin to change. There's no question about that. And so will you. Maybe next year. Maybe even before. And it's a very good thing. You wouldn't want to be a little girl forever, would you?"

"No. But I sure don't want to be like Carli."

Mom reached out to pat my arm. Her voice softened, and her eyes had a bit of a proud s.h.i.+ne to them, as if the thought of us growing up brought both sadness and pleasure. "The thing to remember about maturing, Erin, is that it usually comes with starts and stops. This is a big moment for Dana because she's entering a new school.DANA S VALLEY * 47.Just give her a little extra s.p.a.ce, and she'll probably seem like herself in no time."

I hoped so.

With Dana and Carli off and busy together, Marcy and I were left to find amus.e.m.e.nt for ourselves, but we quickly decided not to let it bother us. I explained to her what my mother had said. That next year we'd be back in step with them. And I had figured out on my own that we'd have the added advantage of watching them go through everything first. Maybe it would be easier for us when our turn came.

Marcy and I were lucky enough to share a homeroom cla.s.s for the upcoming year. Many of our old friends were there too. Marcy had her eye on one in particular. Stephen Bryant had somehow managed to shoot up at least six inches over the summer. Now he was even taller than I was. And for some unknown reason, he really appealed to Marcy.

Strangely, she could not recall that this was the same Stephen who had purposely tripped her in fourth-grade gym cla.s.s and not even bothered to apologize. At the time she had vowed never to speak to him again. This was also the same Stephen who had used some very foul language in the lunchroom near the end of the last year. So bad that the teacher who happened to be nearby had walked him down to the princ.i.p.al's office, and he had been given a detention.

I was amazed that Marcy's memory could be so short. But she wasn't listening to me at all. So I just tried not to roll my eyes too much while she talked on and on about Stephen.

Brett was playing basketball again, so that fall he often allowed me to play one-on-one with him in the driveway.

48.

He didn't admit it, but I was pretty sure I had improved a lot since last year. The problem for me was that he had improved too.

As November arrived we were back into "wear-your- coat" weather. Mom seemed a little too concerned that being outside without proper attire would send a person into a fit of flu, and I just couldn't help but think that she overdid the warnings a bit.

Lately there'd been so many reasons to trot back and forth to the Wards' house. Carli and Marcy's mom had agreed to let them plan a party. They had decided on a costume party and had enthusiastically included Dana and me in the planning. The party was still two weeks away. Mrs. Ward observed that it was amazing how much work we could come up with that could be categorized as necessary for a party's success. We wrote and mailed invitations, made decorations, and worked tirelessly on our own costumes and food planning. Dana was perfectly suited for organizing it all. I just followed along and did whatever seemed fun at the time.& & #.One morning before school Dad got up from the breakfast table to answer the phone. We weren't paying much attention, a.s.suming it was merely something to do with his work.

In fact we'd all been listening to Corey announce his latest plans.

"When I get up on the moon, I'll wave to you," he promised solemnly, his eyes gleaming with the thought of being way up there above earth.DANA'S Valley * 49"No one can wave from the moon," I said. But I grinned and rumpled his hair. I didn't inform him that no one was bothering to go to the moon anymore. Mars was more the ticket-but I didn't want to spoil Corey's astronaut dreams.

"Sure I can." He stood up by his chair and demonstrated with big sweeping gestures. "You'd just have to go outside and look when it's nighttime."

"We'd never see you from so far away." I might not know much about astronauts and s.p.a.ce walks, having never really taken any interest in something that had been going on since long before I was born, but at least I knew that much.

"Then I'd put my s.h.i.+rt on a long, long pole and wave that."

We'd just seen a Sat.u.r.day cartoon where a marooned rabbit had waved a white flag of some sort on a pole as his sign of surrender to his enemy, a hulking big turtle in a pith helmet.

We all chuckled. "We wouldn't see that either," I persisted.

"Then get gla.s.ses."

We all started to laugh again when Mom pushed back her chair and said, "Shh." She must have caught a bit of Dad's conversation that had immediately gotten her attention.

I looked up then. Dad was still on the phone, but his face held an expression I'd never seen before. The whole table fell silent. I guess we all sensed at once that something was wrong.

"I see," Dad was saying, which sure didn't tell us anything. Then, "How's Mother?"

The answer to the simple question seemed to take an 50.

awfully long time. Now and then Dad mumbled, "I see," or "Yes," but he looked agitated. Worried. He paced back and forth, the long cord trailing along after him. He rubbed his forehead and ran his fingers through his hair. I'd never seen him like that before.

Mom had gone very white. She looked as if she wanted to get up and go to Dad but couldn't find the strength to do it. She just sat, very still, her brown eyes looking round and even darker in her pale face. As soon as Dad replaced the receiver and turned, she asked with a shaky voice, "What is it, Dave?"

Dad didn't answer right away. He took a few steps toward the table but stopped behind Mom's chair and put his hand on her shoulder. He seemed to take a big breath as though to gather his wits-or his emotions. He had everyone's attention by this time. "It's Dad," he said at last. "He's had a heart attack."

"Grandpa?" Brett's disbelief was evident in his voice.

Mom grew even paler. She reached up and curled her fingers around Dad's hand. "How bad?" she asked, her voice shaky.

Dad swallowed. His hand started up to his brow again, then stopped midway and returned to hold on to Mom. "He's gone," he said, his voice low.

A little shock wave traveled all the way around the table. How could that possibly be? We'd seen Grandpa Walsh such a short time ago, and he was just fine. How could he be gone?

"Oh, David," Mom said. She hardly ever called him that. Tears started to fill her eyes and then spill down her cheeks.

Things were a blur from then on. I don't really remember all that happened. I do know we completely DANA S Valley * 51ignored the school bus. I guess no one was even thinking of it. I also remember being a.s.signed the task of looking after Corey. I was to read to him to get his mind off what had just occurred and keep him busy while Mom and Dad made phone calls. It didn't work. He kept wanting to talk about it. Asking all sorts of questions that I couldn't answer.

"How did he get dead?"

"His heart stopped working."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Maybe it was sick. Or tired. Maybe it had worked too long."

"Did it hurt?"

"I don't know." I didn't want to admit that I suspected it had been very painful.

"Why couldn't the doctor fix it?"

"I don't know. Maybe there wasn't a doctor in time. Maybe there wasn't anything he could do."

"When can he come see us again?"

"He won't be coming again, honey," I said as gently as I could.

"Never? Why?"

"Because when people are dead they aren't here with us anymore."

"Where do they go?"

That was a tough one. I knew that if people loved G.o.d and had asked Him to forgive their sins, they could go to heaven when they died. I didn't know-for sure-if Grandpa Walsh had ever done that. I did know that my folks had taught us to pray for him-and Grandma. Corey's question troubled me. What if-? What if Grandpa Walsh had not taken care of this very important matter before he died?

52.

"Do you want to hear the rest of the story or not?" I asked a bit sharply. I don't think Corey really wanted to continue, but I started to read again anyway.

Mom came to rescue me before too long. "I'm sorry, Erin. But Daddy and I had things we had to take care of. I'll look after Corey now." As she spoke the words she lowered herself to the sofa beside Corey and scooped him into her arms. I could see that her eyes were still puffy from crying, though she tried to force out a smile.

"Maybe you should go see Dana. I think she needs some company."

I didn't even ask where. Dana would be in our bedroom. I headed there, sort of in need of company myself.

I found Dana stretched out on her bed. She'd been crying, but now she just looked sad and lonely-and maybe a little bit scared. I wondered if she too was thinking about whether Grandpa Walsh had asked G.o.d to forgive him. When I walked in the door, we looked at each other and then we both started crying again. I crossed to Dana's bed and flopped down beside her. We entangled our arms around one another and sobbed rather noisily.

We didn't cry for long. I guess we both knew we had to talk. We sniffed and snuffled and reached for the tissues. We still didn't know much about what had happened. We only knew that we'd just lost a grandpa whom we loved. We were going to miss him.

"Poor Grandma," said Dana. "She'll be so lonely."