Homecoming Read online

  “Okay,” Dicey said. “Well—see you.”

  They had forgotten her by the time she reached the top of the bluff. They stood where she had left them, their arms around each other, facing out over the water. She returned quickly to her family and fell asleep easily.

  First thing the next morning, while they munched apples and passed the milk carton around, Dicey told the others about her encounter of the night before. “I told them I was a boy,” she said. “Named Danny. Can you remember that?” They nodded. “Maybeth? You too.”

  “But why?” James asked. “What does it matter?”

  “It’s safer to be a boy than a girl,” Dicey said. “People leave boys alone more. Anyway, if we meet them again don’t tell our last name. I told them I was a runaway. We’ll all be runaways.”

  “Are we runaways?” Sammy asked.

  “Sort of,” Dicey said.

  “We were running away with Momma.” James worked it out. “But then Momma ran away from us. And now we’re running away from everybody. But we’re running to Aunt Cilla’s house, and that makes it different. And Momma may be there. That’s another difference. We’re runaways to, not just runaways.”

  Dicey gave her orders for the morning. James and Sammy were to fish, while she and Maybeth washed out the clothes they had been wearing. They wouldn’t wash the shorts, just the underwear and socks and shirts. She had seen a movie at school once, where the village women washed out the clothes and dried them in the sun.

  Dicey carried the clothes down to the beach. James and Sammy came down later with some worms they had dug. The boys sat out on a rock surrounded by water, while the girls stood knee-deep in the waves, dipping and rubbing the clothing.

  Half an hour later, James waded out to stand beside Dicey. “There are no fish here,” he said.

  “The map said there was fishing. That means there must be fish.”

  “Well, nothing’s happening.”

  “Go back and wait.”

  “Why? Sammy’s there.”

  “Sammy is only six years old. How do you know he’ll know what to do if he gets a bite?”

  “He won’t get a bite.”

  “James, do as I say,” Dicey ordered sternly. He shuffled off, picking up stones and throwing them out into the water, loitering by the base of the bluff, and finally Dicey saw him climb back up by Sammy.

  In another few minutes he was back where Dicey and Maybeth were spreading clothes out on the sand.

  “It’s no use,” James said. “Why are you putting them out here? They’ll get sandy.”

  “That’ll blow away once they’re dry.”

  “I don’t want sand in my underpants,” James said.

  “Our job is laundry, yours is fishing,” Dicey said, and she sent him back.

  He was beside her again in another few minutes. “It’s boring,” he said.

  “We’ve got to eat,” Dicey muttered.

  “We can eat mussels and clams.”

  “I need to know if there are fish.”

  “I know that already—there aren’t.”

  “All right,” she cried, exasperated. “Never mind. Just stop pestering me. I don’t care what you do, but let me get on with my work.”

  James wandered to the far end of the beach. He scratched at the rocks with his nails. Dicey looked to be sure Sammy was all right. The little boy sat patiently, the line hanging down from his finger into the water.

  When all the clothes had been soaked and scrubbed, then wrung out and laid on the sand, Dicey waded out to the rock where Sammy sat. She scrambled up to sit with him. “Hey, Sammy,” she said, “catch anything?”

  Sammy shook his head. His mouth was set in a stubborn line. He glared down at the water.

  “Tide’s almost high,” Dicey observed.

  Sammy nodded.

  “Maybe you should give up.”

  “Hush up, Dicey.” Sammy spoke in a whisper. “Fish don’t like noise.”

  “But James says there aren’t any fish here,” Dicey whispered.

  “James is wrong. Look.” He pulled up the string and showed Dicey a half-eaten worm still impaled on the hook. “I’ve lost two other worms. Something is down there eating them. I’ll catch it.”

  Dicey left him there and went back to the beach. She started a small fire, more to let Sammy know she had faith in him than because she thought he would actually catch anything. Then she skipped stones across the water.

  Maybeth stood swaying in a half-dance by the water’s edge, singing to herself. James was climbing up among the big rocks that had tumbled down to the water. Dicey watched him scramble to the top of a rounded boulder and stand up. He saw her watching and waved his arm at her. Then, in a continuation of that motion, he began to fall over.

  Dicey didn’t see James fall, because when he lost his balance she had taken off down the beach. She didn’t know what she would do when she got there, but she would be as close as possible in case there was something she could do. She climbed over the small boulders at the bottom of the pile before she looked for James. He had disappeared—except for one foot, which stuck up over a rock above her head.

  Dicey found James cradled in among rocks. His eyes were closed. His face looked pale. “James?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Was he dead? That couldn’t happen, could it? And why not, considering the other things that had happened.

  James’s eyes fluttered and opened. He stared around, as if he couldn’t see her. “Dicey? What happened?” he asked. He hunkered his body up.

  So, she thought, no bones were broken.

  “You fell,” she said. “Are you okay?”

  “I fell?”

  “You were waving and you fell off the rock.”

  “Oh. Let me think. I don’t—” he said. “My foot slipped, I remember. I shouldn’t have been climbing with wet sneakers.”

  “But are you okay?” Maybeth was standing at the bottom of the rocks, looking up. “It’s okay,” Dicey yelled down. Sammy still concentrated on the water below the rock. He hadn’t seen James fall. “Are you?” Dicey asked James.

  “I think so.” James moved his arms first, then his legs. “I guess my back’s not broken,” he remarked.

  “How do you know?”

  “If you move someone with a broken back, the spine separates and the person dies, right away,” James stated. “Boy was that scary.” He sat up beside Dicey. “Oooh . . . ” He bent his head and covered the back of it with his hands. “Dizzy. I must have banged my head.”

  Dicey helped James make his slow, sliding way back down over the rocks. He leaned against her as they walked back to the fire. She sat him down beside the little blaze and examined the back of his head. “There’s no blood, but it’s swelling.” She pushed the place. “Here.”

  “Don’t, Dicey!” James cried. “That hurts!”

  Maybeth brought James a T-shirt soaked in the cool water. Dicey wrapped that around his head and told him to lie down. James said it felt better when he was sitting up and he thought he might have a concussion. Dicey asked him what that was and he told her the symptoms. “And I do have a headache,” he said hopefully.

  “Bad?”

  “Pretty bad, not terrible,” he said. “But if I fall asleep within about half an hour, you better call an ambulance. The danger is lapsing into a coma.”

  Sammy pushed through the shallow water to them, his hands behind his back. “Look!” he called, holding out three small fish. “I told you. Is something the matter with James?”

  “I dunno,” Dicey answered. “He fell off those rocks.”

  Sammy wasn’t interested. While James sat aside, silent, they roasted the fish as they had the hot dogs and peeled off the hot meat with their fingers. James refused any. “It makes me sick to look at them,” he said.

  Dicey studied him while she chewed. He looked sort of bad. He was the one who knew what the symptoms of concussion were, so he could fake it. But she couldn’t imagine James faking nausea
and missing a meal. Should she take him to a doctor? How could she explain their situation to a doctor? How could she pay a doctor?

  “Just as well you’re not hungry,” she commented. “There wouldn’t be enough to go around.”

  James didn’t respond.

  They cleaned up the bones and innards and tossed them into the water. Dicey praised Sammy absentmindedly for catching the fish. Then they gathered up the sunbaked clothes and shook the sand from them. “Let’s get back to the campsite,” Dicey said. “James should be out of the sun. Don’t you think, James?” James nodded, but cut the movement short, as if it hurt his head to move it.

  Back at their camp they all sat around and stared at James. Dicey was pretty sure more than a half-hour had passed. Sammy wandered around, tossing stones, hitting bushes with sticks. “What can we do?” he finally demanded.

  “Nothing,” Dicey said.

  Sammy kicked at some stones. “Why not?”

  “You could take them to the playground,” James told Dicey. “My headache’s not that bad, if I don’t move. I’m not sleepy. If I could just sit quiet. You know?”

  “Are you sure I can leave you alone?” Dicey asked. “What about concussions, how long do they last?”

  “You’re supposed to keep the patient quiet for a few days, until the headaches stop,” James told her.

  “So we can’t travel tomorrow,” Dicey said.

  James started to shake his head, but winced.

  “Or until you get better,” Dicey continued.

  “That’s probably right,” James said. “I’m sorry.”

  Dicey swallowed back her crossness and impatience. “It’s okay, I guess. I mean, it’ll have to be, won’t it.”

  She scratched with her finger in the dirt. How long would they have to stay? Days and days?

  “I’m sorry,” James repeated. “I’ll tell you when it stops, Dicey.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Then we will go over to the playground. You won’t go wandering off, will you?”

  “What do you think?” James asked. He was leaning back against a rock, his face still pale.

  “Then we’re off. First stop the bathrooms. James, don’t you have to go to the bathroom?”

  “No,” he said. “All I want is some quiet.”

  They cut through the woods rather than going down the road. Dicey picked up a long stick and swung it at tree trunks, trying to work things out. They would have to stay another day, at least. She would have to keep an eye on James too, to be sure he was all right. But she wanted to get going tomorrow morning. She broke her stick against a trunk and picked up another one. But she couldn’t get going because it wouldn’t be safe for James.

  The longer they stayed in a place, the greater their danger of being noticed.

  As they emerged from the woods, Dicey saw the boy and the girl who had talked to her on the beach. Louis and Edie. They looked at her. “Remember,” she whispered to Sammy and Maybeth, “I’m Danny. Remember.”

  “Yes, Dicey,” they said.

  The boy and girl were even younger than they had seemed at night, maybe even sixteen. Edie had long heavy brown hair and protruding brown eyes. Louis had wildly curling brown hair and wore heavy-rimmed glasses, which he continually pushed up on his nose. His teeth were crooked, which made him look friendly.

  “Hi, Danny,” Edie called.

  “Hi,” Dicey answered, approaching them. “Meet Maybeth and Sammy.”

  “I want to swing,” Sammy said.

  “First the bathrooms, then you can play.”

  “You coming with me?” Sammy asked.

  “Of course,” Dicey said, then remembered who she was, or, rather, who she wasn’t. Sammy just grinned.

  The men’s bathroom was like a girls’ except there were three urinals in a row, and only one toilet. The toilet had no door on it. It wasn’t so bad. All the same, she hurried and her heart was beating fast when she pulled the clumsy wooden door closed behind her. Sammy was inside washing his hands and face, giggling, but Dicey didn’t want to risk hanging around any longer than she had to.

  Louis and Edie were standing around Maybeth when Dicey came out. She sent Maybeth and Sammy over to the swings.

  “Not exactly alone,” Louis said, facing Dicey.

  “Not exactly.”

  “And there’s another one,” Louis said. “Maybeth shook her head when I asked was this all of you.”

  Dicey nodded.

  “He’s not with you now,” Louis observed.

  Dicey sighed. “He had a fall so he’s resting.”

  “Is he all right?” Edie sounded worried. “What happened?”

  “He fell,” Dicey said. “He says he’s okay.”

  “So—where you heading?” Louis asked.

  “Up to Provincetown, on the Cape,” Dicey told him. “We used to have some family there. It’s a neat place in summer.”

  “Edie, want to go with them?” Louis asked. “It would be a good cover, in case your old man has the cops out.”

  Edie shook her head. She looked at Dicey with frightened eyes.

  “Provincetown’s a good place, from all I’ve heard,” Louis went on. “Some jobs. Lots of people. Cops don’t look too close.”

  “You said we’d stay here until our money ran out,” Edie said.

  “You scared?” Louis challenged her.

  “You know I’m not. I proved it, didn’t I?”

  “Sure. You got ahold of the money just fine. You can relax, Edie—Danny here isn’t about to tell anybody anything. Are you, kid?”

  Dicey just stared at him.

  “It’s not as if she really robbed him,” Louis went on explaining. He was talking to Dicey, but he was watching the effect of his words on Edie. “I mean, I wrote the checks. She just took the checkbook. Besides, the way I figure, I’m saving him a lot of money—on her college education. So he should be grateful to me. Right, Edie?”

  “Sure.”

  “So—whaddayou say? Want to travel with these kids?”

  Edie shook her head. “I like it here,” she said.

  “And if I decide I don’t?” Louis asked.

  Edie looked up at him. Her eyes had tears in them. “Hey,” Louis said. He threw his arm around her. “Hey, I’m just kidding. Can’t you take a joke?”

  Dicey sidled away from them and went to the swings. Let it go on being a joke, she thought. She didn’t know what to do if Louis and Edie tried to go with them.

  She couldn’t wait there long for worry about James, and for worry about when they’d be able to get moving again. Sammy complained, but she hurried the two little ones back to their campsite. James greeted them in his normal voice. His head, he said, was better now. His appetite, he said, was huge—he’d missed lunch, after all. They all went down to the little cove. James moved his body slowly and cautiously, as if he was afraid it might break.

  They gathered clams for dinner while James watched the fire. Dicey wrapped the potatoes in seaweed, too, and baked them in the fire. They had brought the milk carton down with them. They picnicked in tired solitude, eating as much as they wanted. Behind them, the sun went quietly down. Twilight crept over the water toward them, dainty as a mouse.

  CHAPTER 5

  Dicey awoke to the beginning of a bright day. She lay still for a long time, looking at the cloudless sky through the branches and leaves of green maples and sycamores. The leaves made designs on the background of the sky, intricate patterns that shifted with any slightest breeze. She heard James stir and rolled over on her side to watch him.

  James’s eyes opened. He yawned and stretched. Dicey waited for him to say what he always said first thing, about it still being true. Then everything would be back to normal.

  He caught her eye. “I wish I’d seen you going into the boys’ bathroom,” he said. “I thought I’d split when Sammy told me.”

  “I noticed,” Dicey said. “How’s your head?”

  James rolled it back and forth. “Almost okay,” he said. br />
  “What do you mean, almost? Does it hurt?”

  James thought. “It feels tender. As if it could hurt. It doesn’t exactly hurt, but it feels like it will.”

  Dicey sat up. “We can’t go until James is better,” she said sternly to herself, “that’s the most important thing.” So, they’d have to wait another day.

  They had only apples left in their food supply, and Dicey wanted to save them, in case. So they went down to the little beach, leaving James behind. Three or four families already crowded the beach, and the Tillermans had to eat the apples for breakfast after all.

  “It’s a weekend,” James explained. “That means a lot of people around, especially on the beaches, I bet.”

  “But what’ll we do?” Dicey asked him. She answered herself. “We’ll try fishing in the marsh. You’ll have to stay here alone,” she cautioned James.

  “Danny?” a voice called from the road. “Is that you?” It was Edie, and Dicey stood up to show the girl where they were. Louis was with her. They had come, they said, to see how the third brother was and to warn the children that it was a weekend, so lots of people would be in the park.

  Edie was carrying something bulky, an instrument. She sat down beside James and played on it a little, leaning it back against her shoulder. The sound was part banjo, part harp. “You like that?” she asked James.

  “What is it?”

  “An autoharp. Here,” she said, and sang a song for them about a girl who wanted to follow her boyfriend to war.

  “I like that,” Maybeth said, when Edie finished.

  “I do too, honey,” Edie said. “Do you know any songs you’d like me to sing?”

  Maybeth shook her head.

  Dicey looked at Edie over James’s head and asked, “Do you know Pretty Peggy-O?”

  “Sure,” Edie said. She bent her head over the autoharp and her long hair fell down like a curtain. She strummed a couple of chords, then raised her face. But this wasn’t their song. This song was about William the false lover and how he tricked pretty Peggy-O into running away with him but then murdered her. Edie sang the song quick and cruel, with sharp metallic sounds from her instrument.

  “You’re a good singer,” James said.