Part One: Helen
Wednesday, June 16, 2004
Helen Belden looked in disbelief at the small piece of plastic in her hands. Quickly, she read the instruction sheet again and her eyes clouded with tears.
“It can’t be,” she said faintly to her reflection in the bathroom mirror. “There must be some mistake.”
From downstairs came the sound of her three older children arriving home from their latest trip away. The screen door slammed and a male voice yelled, “Moms, we’re home!” Helen did not move. For several moments, she continued to stare at the pregnancy test, its two pink bars mocking her.
“Moms?” she heard Trixie call. “Are you here?”
In an instant, Helen began to pull herself together. They can’t know yet, she decided. I have to tell Peter first. But where can I hide the evidence?
Hurriedly wiping her eyes, she looked around and saw the answer. Just as Trixie’s footsteps seemed to be reaching the top of the stairs Helen stashed the test in a box of Bobby’s outgrown bath toys, which was perched on top of a cabinet.
“Moms?” Trixie asked, tapping gently on the door.
“I’ll be right out,” Helen replied. A final check in the mirror revealed no trace of her tears and she stepped out into the hallway.
“You’ll never guess what’s happened,” said Trixie, obviously excited. “Oh, Moms, we’ve had the best adventure.”
For once, Helen was relieved at her daughter’s mystery-finding ways. She, Brian and Mart would be so caught up in this latest escapade that they would pay little attention to their mother. Helen tried to make all the right responses to the tale, but inside she felt rather numb.
An hour later, eighteen-year old Trixie was helping her prepare the evening meal when Helen’s world crashed down around her once more. The first she knew was when she heard the car in the drive.
“You father’s early,” she said, puzzled. “I wasn’t expecting him until late this evening. He said there was a meeting tonight.” After several minutes, however, Peter still had not arrived and Helen began to worry.
“I’ll just go out and see what’s keeping him,” she told her daughter. As an afterthought she asked, “Can you keep an eye on the food? I don’t want it to burn.”
She barely waited for Trixie’s nod before she left. On reaching the old barn they used as a garage she knew for certain that something was very wrong. Her husband still sat at the wheel, his head bowed. Helen made her way to the passenger side and got in.
“Peter?” she asked gently. “Sweetheart, what’s the matter?”
“We had our meeting with the new bank president,” he said, his voice flat and emotionless. “He’s ‘instituting some changes’ that will ‘bring the bank into the twenty-first century.’” He made a weak imitation of the president’s mock-cheery tone.
“Meaning?” Helen asked, her heart full of dread.
“Meaning, I’ve been fired, effective immediately.”
Helen gasped. I can’t tell him, she thought. He can’t stand another shock today. “Oh, Peter,” she said aloud. “What are we going to do?”
“First, we’ll have to tell the kids,” he said, without meeting her eyes. “Then we can start to make some plans.”
It was a sombre group that gathered around the dinner table that evening. Peter had explained the situation to Brian, Mart, and Trixie while Helen, in a separate room, had told Bobby.
“Can’t Dad just get another job?” ten-year-old Bobby had asked. “What’s the big deal?”
For his brothers and sister, however, the consequences were only too plain: their college plans were all in jeopardy. The enthusiasm of the afternoon had disappeared, to be replaced by an atmosphere of gloom.
“Would it be all right if I went to see Jim after dinner?” Trixie asked, breaking an uncomfortable silence. “I need to tell him that my plans will be changing.”
“I’d rather that this stayed within the family for now,” her father replied. “You can tell whoever you like tomorrow, but just for tonight could we keep it to ourselves?”
With an increasing gloom, his children nodded their agreement.
The meal ended and Mart began to clear the table. Out of the corner of her eye, Helen saw her eldest son whisper something to his brother and sister.
At least they’ll stick together, she comforted herself. Though, what will happen to the rest of us, I don’t know.
Part Two: Trixie
Wednesday, June 16, 2004
With a contented sigh, Trixie dumped her belongings all over the back porch and went inside the farmhouse. Just ahead of her, Brian was calling out to their mother to let her know they had returned.
“Just wait till Moms hears about this one,” she told Mart, who was entering behind her. “She’s never going to believe it.”
“Indubitably, dear Beatrix,” Mart replied, loftily. “Our maternal forebear possesses a finite supply of-” he broke off, having been delivered a sharp blow to the shin from Trixie’s boot. “Ouch! That hurt!”
“Peace, children,” Brian interrupted. He changed the subject abruptly. “I don’t know where Moms is.”
“Moms? Are you here?” Trixie called. “I’ll go look for her.” A few moments later she was tapping on the bathroom door, relieved to hear her mother’s voice in response.
The door opened and Trixie launched into an enthusiastic account of their camping trip to Champion Creek in northern Idaho. The look on her mother’s face almost made her stop and ask if something was wrong, but the sheer excitement of her encounter with the Sasquatch made her continue.
“So, then we took a deer trail that’s a short-cut to Tank’s place,” said Trixie. “And Di came this close to kicking a cougar.” Her mother simply smiled.
That’s funny, Trixie thought. I was sure she would have something to say about that little incident.
Later that afternoon, Trixie found her mother sitting quietly in the living room, seeming to stare into space.
“Isn’t it time to start on dinner?” she asked. “I thought I’d come and help.”
“What? Oh, yes. Thank you, Trixie.”
“Is something on your mind, Moms?” Trixie asked, keeping her tone casual. “You seem kind of, um, distracted.”
Her mother looked slightly alarmed at the suggestion. “No, I’m just a little tired.”
As she prepared the vegetables, however, Trixie watched her mother - certain that something was not right. Her suspicion was confirmed when Helen excused herself on the slightest pretext and disappeared into the garden.
“What’s up with Moms?” asked Brian, entering the kitchen with Mart. “She seems kind of dazed.” He seated himself at the table opposite Trixie while their brother rummaged through the fruit bowl.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “She won’t say.”
“Well, I think we’re about to find out,” said Mart grimly, looking out the window. “She and Dad are coming now and by the look on their faces I think someone’s died or something.”
Their parents entered to find a circle of concerned faces and a jumble of questions.
“Is something wrong?”
“Moms, Dad, what is it?”
“What’s the matter?”
Their father held up his hand for silence. “I’m afraid I have some bad news. Would the three of you come with me to the study.”
Trixie heard her mother say that she would talk to Bobby. With a sinking heart, she followed her father and brothers into the study to hear the news which took her breath away.
“Your mother and I won’t be able to help with your college tuition or living costs any longer,” her father said, as if from a great distance. “If I manage to find something else quickly, we may be able to go back to the old arrangement after a few months, but in the meantime, I’m afraid you’re on your own.”
Her brothers asked questions but Trixie did not hear them, or the answers her father gave. All she could think of was that she could never raise enough money to start college in less than three months’ time.
Trixie walked around in a daze until after dinner, when her brother Brian whispered an invitation to talk in his room. Mart, who was helping with the washing up, would join them later.
“Are you okay, Trix?” Brian asked in concern as Trixie gazed mournfully at the bedspread.
She shook her head and continued to gaze. After a long pause she spoke. “I guess I can kiss college goodbye. Oh, Brian, I’ll never be able to earn enough to start with Honey! And I’ve worked so hard, too.”
Brian put a comforting arm around his sister as she began to cry. He knew that she must be bitterly disappointed. Ever since she had heard about the new program for aspiring detectives at his college, she had been striving to meet the requirements. She had been over the moon when she and Honey had both been accepted.
“Don’t say that,” he soothed. “We’ll find a way.” Trixie only cried harder.
“There’s no way,” she sobbed. “I’ll have to-” sniff, “-go find a job. And there go my summer plans.” Her tears slowed and she leaned against her brother’s shoulder. “Thanks, Brian. I needed that.”
“That’s okay,” he replied. “Now, wipe your eyes. I think I hear Mart coming.”
After a soft tap on the door, Mart entered. He studiously avoided Trixie’s eyes, knowing she would be embarrassed for crying.
“What did you want to talk about, Brian?” he asked, getting straight to the point.
“We need to make some tough decisions,” Brian stated seriously. “Firstly, though, how much does each of you have in the bank?”
“About two hundred,” Trixie mumbled.
Mart looked at her hard and said, “Fourteen hundred dollars.”
“I have about a thousand,” Brian told them, frowning. “Trixie, I think you’d better try to get more hours at work straight away. That’s not even going to cover books and paper, let alone tuition and living costs.” His sister nodded glumly. “In fact, we’re all going to have to start working to support ourselves. You heard Dad…” he trailed off.
“We’d better start thinking of ways to save money as well,” Mart added. “No more long showers.” He looked at his sister pointedly.
“Or midnight snacks,” she replied, hotly. “You cost them a fortune in food.”
“There’s another matter,” Brian interrupted. “If Dad doesn’t get a new job soon, there’s the matter of mortgage repayments.”
“Mortgage?”
“But how can there-”
Brian held up his hand for silence. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but Moms and Dad took out a loan against the house to help put us through college. Could either of you live with yourself if your education meant they lost the farm?” They both shook their heads. “Neither could I.”
“But what could we do?” Trixie asked, tears pooling in her eyes once again. “Unless one of us dropped out and went to work instead…”
“Exactly, Trix,” said Brian. “I think if it comes to a choice between the farm and college-”
“One of us will drop out,” Mart finished.
“Maybe I should drop out now,” Trixie suggested gloomily. “It’s better than the alternative.”
“We’ll find a way, Trixie,” Brian told her. “Don’t give up now. We’ll find a way.”
“I think I’ll go and see Jim,” she said, standing up. “Even if I can’t tell him, at least I can be with him.”
Great wording, Trix, she chastised herself as she saw her brothers frown. You might as well have said ‘Excuse me while I go and have sex,’ as far as they’re concerned. They have such dirty minds!
The walk to the Manor House cleared her mind a little and by the time she arrived, some of Trixie’s natural buoyancy had returned. Behind the closed door of Jim’s room she found the comfort that she was seeking.
“I missed you,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist and snuggling in to his chest.
“After all of four hours,” he said with a laugh. “How did you ever survive?”
“It’s been a difficult few hours,” she admitted. “I can’t tell you about it yet, but let’s just say there’s going to be some changes around the place.”
“Bad changes?”
She nodded, her curls tickling his chin. “Big, bad changes. Will you hold me?”
“What do you think I’m doing now?” he asked lightly.
“Hold me more.”
“How’s this?” He hoisted her onto the bed and spooned up behind her.
“Nice,” she said, closing her eyes. “Very nice.”
When Trixie opened her eyes again, daylight was streaming through Jim’s bedroom window.
“Oh, no,” she cried, sitting up. “Moms will be frantic.”
“Relax,” Jim replied. “Miss Trask just knocked on the door and told me that your mother phoned last night, looking for you.”
“And Moms thinks I spent last night in your bed?” Trixie asked, alarmed.
“No,” Jim grinned. “Miss Trask only told her that you’d fallen asleep, not where you were.”
“Whew! That was a close one,” she sighed. “And right after my faux pas with Brian and Mart.”
Jim raised an eyebrow quizzically and Trixie had to explain. “And the way they looked at me when I said it,” she finished, “you’d think the two of them were as pure as the driven snow.”
Her boyfriend laughed, but managed to look guilty at the same time.
“Yes, I know,” she forestalled. “If we’d done things your way we wouldn’t have to worry. My way is much more fun, though.” She teased him by running her hand slowly down his chest and across his flat abdomen.
A knock sounded at the door and Trixie quickly moved her hand to a more respectable place. The door opened and Honey put her head in.
“Rise and shine, you two. Meeting and breakfast in the clubhouse in ten minutes,” she said. “Trixie, I’ve got some of your clothes in my room if you want them.” The door shut before Trixie could respond.
Jim groaned. “I was looking forward to lying here for another hour.”
“I don’t think I can afford the luxury,” Trixie replied, the previous evening’s gloom returning full force. “I’ve got a lot of things to do.”
“Can you tell me now?” Jim asked, concern written all over his handsome face.
“I guess so. My dad lost his job.” Trixie’s eyes filled with tears as she continued, “And since I’ve got practically nothing to my name, I don’t think I’ll be going to college.” Before Jim could reply Trixie jumped off the bed and went out the door saying, “I’d better be getting ready.”
An hour later a rather dejected group left the clubhouse. They had decided that until the Beldens’ financial situation improved, all planned activities were off.
“I’m going in to see Mr. Bridgeman,” Trixie told Jim as they walked away from the meeting. “Maybe he can give me some extra hours.”
Bridgeman’s Books was one of the most unusual shops in Sleepyside and when Trixie had decided to look for a part-time job two years earlier, it had been her first stop. She had long been fascinated by the rooms full of bookshelves in what had originally been a grand residence. Eccentric Mr. Bridgeman had taken to Trixie right away and the two now had a good working relationship.
“I’ll drive you in, if you like,” Jim offered. “I’ve been wanting to pick up some summer reading.”
Trixie gratefully accepted, glad of his company at any time. Soon, they were approaching the beautiful old house.
“I hope business is doing well at the moment,” Trixie murmured. “Otherwise I’m back to square one.”
Jim smiled, but had no chance to reply. Just inside the door was one of the regular customers, a rather cranky man.
“It’s about time,” he said in his customary whining manner. “The service around here is worse than usual.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Wetheringham,” Trixie said, politely. “I’m not actually working today, but I’d be happy to find Mr. Bridgeman for you.”
“Never mind that,” the small, bald man said. “Here’s twenty dollars, which is more than this piece of rubbish is worth. I won’t be back.”
The little man stomped down the path, climbed into a battered car and slammed the door. Trixie could not help grinning. “He always says that,” she told Jim. “He’s here about every second day, anyway.”
“I’m going to look upstairs,” Jim told her. “If I see Mr. Bridgeman, I’ll tell him you want to see him.”
She nodded her thanks and they split up. If Mr. Wetheringham couldn’t find him, she mused, he’s probably not near the till. I think I’ll check the Reference Section.
Her boss had a particular soft spot for old encyclopaedias and an entire room at the rear of the house had been devoted to them. He was often found at a little desk there, meticulously comparing volumes from different years.
Maybe he got some new stock in, she thought with a smile. It froze on her face as she entered the room. A pair of feet were protruding from under a fallen bookcase. Heavy encyclopaedias littered the floor.
“Jim!” she called loudly. He won’t hear me, she thought desperately, even as she tried to lift the bookcase. What will I do? Then it came to her. Bob-White! Bob-White! she whistled.
From above came the sound of a loud thump, then quick footsteps. “Trixie?” she heard, relief filling her.
“Reference Section,” she called, as loud as she could. “Hurry!”
Once Jim had joined her, they managed to right the heavy shelving unit with relative ease. Trixie was greatly relieved to hear her boss groan as they cleared the books off of him.
“Mr. Bridgeman?” she asked. “Can you hear me?”
“Trixie?” he said, his voice faint. “How-”
“Are you hurt, sir?” Jim asked. “Do you need a doctor?”
The older man seemed to consider. “Yes,” he muttered, closing his eyes.
Trixie sprung into action and had soon called for an ambulance. A few minutes later, her boss was on the way to the hospital.
“I guess I’d better lock up,” Trixie decided. “Jim, could you check if there are any other customers in here?”
Jim looked doubtful, but said that he would. Meanwhile, Trixie rang up the sale and went through the end of day routine. She lettered a sign for the front door explaining the early closure and, while she was looking for a plastic sleeve to put the sign in, she came across a package with her name on it.
“I think we’re alone,” Jim said, returning. “I’ve closed all the windows I can find and the upstairs doors. Is there anything else?”
Unwilling to share her discovery just yet, Trixie asked him to do a few more things. Should I open it? she asked herself. It does have my name on it. After a few minutes of indecision, she put the package back. I’ll ask him about it when I see him at the hospital.
Jim returned and the pair left, taping the sign to the door on their way out.
“Let’s get down to the hospital,” she said. “I want to make sure he’s all right.”
Resigned, Jim followed, not even bothering to tell her that there was no reason to hurry.
When they were finally able to see Mr. Bridgeman an hour and a half later, he seemed much more like his regular self. With some difficulty, Trixie got him to relate the story of how he had come to pull a loaded bookshelf onto himself.
“I can’t tell you how glad I was that you dropped by, my dear,” he told Trixie, “and that you had your young man with you.”
Trixie stopped herself from giggling and gave a suitable reply. Her employer’s quaint language often amused her and she loved Jim’s muted reaction to being called her ‘young man.’
“I don’t suppose you’ll be able to open the shop for the next few weeks,” she said sadly. “And just when I was about to ask for extra hours.”
Mr. Bridgeman looked thoughtful. “Extra hours, you say?” he said in his quaint way. “You may have as many hours as you like, my dear. Until I’m back on my feet,” he looked ruefully at his plaster-clad leg, “you will be running the shop. Do you think you can handle that?”
“Y-yes, Mr. Bridgeman,” she stuttered. “Will regular opening hours be too much?”
“That would be perfect,” he pronounced, shaking her hand. “Thank you, my dear. You truly are a life saver.”
“There’s just one other thing,” she said, before they left. “I noticed a package under the counter with my name on it.”
“Ah, yes,” he said, positively glowing. “I hope you’ll enjoy that, with my compliments.”
Trixie was intrigued, but could get no other clue from him.
“There goes my summer,” she said to Jim, as they returned to his car. “Ten to six, Tuesday to Friday and ten to five on Saturdays until college starts.”
“At least you get two days a week off,” he replied, “and don’t have to start early in the mornings.”
Trixie giggled. “As Mr. Bridgeman would say, ‘If the early bird gets the worm, I am quite content to let him.’” She sighed deeply. “At least I don’t have to start until tomorrow. And I guess I might actually get to go to college. I’m sorry, Jim. This isn’t the summer that we planned.”
“Don’t worry about it, Trixie,” he replied. “We’ll just have to make the most of it.”
When she arrived for work the following morning, Trixie pounced on her package straight away. First, she turned it over and over in her hands, gauging its size and weight. Then she carefully peeled away the wrappings.
“Oh, it isn’t,” she whispered, seeing the cover. Opening the book she checked the date and then turned to page 47. “It is!” she cried. “Oh, he’s just the best!”
Picking up the phone, she dialled a familiar number. Several rings later, Honey answered.
“You’ll never guess what I’ve got,” Trixie said, without so much as a ‘hello.’
“The measles?” hazarded Honey.
“My very own copy of ‘Lucy Radcliffe’s Adventure in Monte Carlo’ with the typo on page 47!”
Several years ago, the Lucy Radcliffe novels had been put out by a company called Drongo Pubblishing. Trixie had always thought it was a mistake to trust a company who had a spelling error in their own name.
“Read it to me,” her friend demanded. “Just the sentence with the typo, not the whole book.”
“I’ll start at the sentence before,” Trixie decided. “‘I gazed longingly at the picture of John which I carry everywhere. I always kiss him terribly when we are apart.’”
The two girls were howling with laughter over the ‘k’ which should have been an ‘m’ when Trixie’s difficult customer, Mr. Wetheringham entered the shop.
“I’ve got to go,” Trixie gasped, trying to control herself.
“Never mind,” said the grumpy man, turning on his heel. “I won’t be back.”
For the next three weeks, Trixie worked hard. Her job kept her very busy during opening hours and her free time was soon filled with activity. Mr. Bridgeman also hired her brother Brian to do odd jobs for him, particularly repairing and replacing the anti-topple fittings on the bookshelves.
She had just arrived home from a busy Friday’s work when her father called her into his study. She was amazed to see that the room was in disarray.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“Trixie, there’s something I need to tell you,” he said, his voice strangely neutral. “I’ve managed to get some work.”
“That’s great,” she replied. “Isn’t it?”
“I won’t be living here while I work,” he told her. “It’s a caretaker’s position for the next six months for a firm outside Poughkeepsie.”
“So you and Moms-”
“No, Trixie,” he interrupted. “Just me. I’m going and your mother is staying here.”
“But-”
“No ‘buts,’” he said, turning away. “That’s all.”
The following morning, Trixie met Jim for a ride before breakfast as they had most mornings for the past three weeks. The shock of the previous evening had deepened into an all-pervading gloom and the sight of Jim, a slightly smug look on his face, was almost too much.
“What are you up to?” she asked suspiciously. “You look terribly pleased with yourself.”
“I think I have the solution to one of our problems,” he said, rather deflated. “Is something wrong?”
“Is anything right?”
“We’ll walk the horses and you can tell me all about it,” Jim suggested. “I can exercise Jupe while you’re at work.”
Trixie nodded. The pair rode out into the preserve, silent at first. Once they were well away from the stables Trixie related the conversation with her father of the previous night. As she spoke, the gloom faded until she almost felt like her normal self.
“This has just got to be it,” she finished, defiantly. “From now on my life has to get better.”
“I think I might have the first step,” Jim hinted.
“Your news!” she said, contrite. “I’m sorry, Jim. I didn’t mean to completely dominate the conversation.”
“Does that mean you want to know what it is?” he teased. At her outraged look he continued, “I’m going to be investing in some property.”
Trixie’s face showed her puzzlement. “Property? How does that help?”
“Well, it’s right in the middle of Winter Rock, it has plenty of rooms and a large yard, it’s close to the campus… You don’t get it, do you?” She shook her head. “I’m putting in an offer on a place where we could live.”
Trixie’s eyebrows shot up. “I can’t-”
“Not like that,” Jim laughed. “It’s a huge place. There’ll be room for all of us.”
For the last year, Jim, Brian, Mart and Dan had shared a cramped apartment close to the state-run University of Winter Rock, just over an hour away from Sleepyside. The plan had been for that arrangement to continue and for the girls to live on campus for their first year. Trixie knew, however, that she could never afford that now.
“But won’t that cost-” she broke off.
“Dad agrees that it’s a good investment,” Jim explained. “I’m selling some shares to buy the house, so there’s no loan or anything to worry about. Everyone will help with the yard and the house, so you’ll be doing me a favour by living in it. There’s even different sized rooms, so I can charge different rents.”
Trixie’s face broke into a sunny smile. “That’s wonderful, Jim!” she cried, urging Susie to go faster. “I’m really going to college!”
The next few days were particularly difficult at Crabapple Farm. The study had become increasingly messy as Peter used it to store the belongings he wished to take with him. On Sunday, he packed it all into his car and drove away. Trixie wondered what her mother was feeling, but did not have the heart to ask.
“Are you all right, Moms?” she asked quietly at breakfast the following Monday. Her brothers had left the kitchen, busy with various tasks. “You’re not eating anything.”
Her mother looked around the empty kitchen, seeming to look for inspiration. “I’m just not hungry at the moment, dear,” she said finally. “Do you have plans for today?”
Trixie smiled. “Moms, you’re getting absent-minded. Jim’s taking me to see the house he wants to buy. In fact, he’ll be here any minute.”
Right on cue, Jim arrived at the kitchen door and Trixie had no further opportunity to find out more. They were soon on their way to Winter Rock, talking of everything and nothing. The hour passed quickly, before they pulled off the highway and onto the town’s main street. Shady trees lined both sides of the road, their deep green summer foliage giving the town a lush look. All too soon, they arrived at the agent’s office.
The agent, a well-dressed man in his mid-twenties, talked nineteen to the dozen as they drove the short distance to the house. Trixie felt an immediate liking for him. He parked the car in front of a rather ramshackle house which had evidently been converted to a number of apartments. The flaking paint and overgrown yard gave it a rather derelict look.
At the end of the street, at the bottom of a moderately steep hill, a lake shone in the morning sun. In the opposite direction, on the other side of town, mountains rose. The bare face of a cliff rose on the lower slopes with one large boulder perched at the top of it.
“It’s a great position,” the agent said as he tried a key in the lock. “And the building’s pretty sturdy. It should look pretty good with a new coat of paint.”
He selected the right key and the door opened. The inside was just as neglected as the outside, with threadbare carpets and walls painted a dirty green. Every now and again Trixie saw a glimmer of the house’s former glory and she imagined that with a lot of work it would be quite pleasant. Three times they exited the house and entered from a different door.
“If I’m successful,” Jim explained, “I’ll take out the dividing walls, or put in doorways to make it one house again.”
“You really think Brian’s going to go for this? You and me living in the same house, even if he’s here to chaperone?” she asked. “Have you asked him yet?”
Jim looked reluctant to answer. “I’ll talk him ’round.”
Trixie laughed. “Good luck.”
After Jim signed the paperwork and treated Trixie to lunch in an inexpensive cafe, the pair headed back to Sleepyside. On seeing the house, Trixie had given her approval of the scheme, but wondered who was going to get the house ready for them.
“That’s the bad news,” Jim admitted. “If my offer is accepted, I’ve asked for a short settlement so the work can be done before we have to move in.”
“Yes,” Trixie prompted. “The bad news is?”
“I’ll be coming up here to work on it,” he said, his eyes firmly on the road ahead of him. “I don’t want to pay for someone else to do it for me.”
“I kind of expected that,” she told him. “I guess if this really works, we’ll see lots of each other once we move in.”
When they entered the kitchen of Crabapple Farm it seemed as if all their plans were in vain. Brian was waiting for them, a look of absolute fury on his face.
“What’s the matter?” Trixie asked him before he had a chance to speak first.
“This is the matter,” he replied, indicating the box which he’d placed on the kitchen table.
“Bobby’s old toys?” Trixie asked, perplexed. Walking over, she pulled out a rubber duck. “I guess I could pack them away, but-” she stopped, seeing some more objects. “What’s this?”
“That,” he paused for emphasis, “is the problem.” His glare shifted from Trixie to Jim, the fury escalating to something near pure hatred.
“Yes, but what is it?” Trixie asked. She reached into the box and retrieved the articles: a cardboard box, a sheet of printed paper and a plastic paddle. “Oh, I see. Do these stripes mean it’s positive?” She turned slightly pink, realising what Brian was accusing her of. In the same instant, she guessed whose it really was and that she could not lead her brother to the same conclusion.
Jim made a slight choking sound and Trixie turned quickly and smiled at him. She looked her brother in the eye and said very clearly, “Brian, I’m not pregnant.”
“Then how do you explain this?” he demanded, eyeing Jim suspiciously.
“I’m not the only one who uses our bathroom,” she replied hotly. “It could be Honey’s,” Jim made another choking noise, “or Di’s, or any of the visitors we’ve had in the last few months.”
“And you’re sure you’re not pregnant?” Brian’s fury had abated somewhat, but not completely disappeared.
“Positive. Now, if I can trust you two not to kill each other, I’ll go and put these away.”
Brian and Jim nodded warily, so Trixie gathered everything up and left. As she walked up the stairs, she could hear them quietly accusing each other of various crimes.
They need to sort this out between themselves, she told herself. I have other things to do.
After a short search, she found her mother lying on the bed. She closed the door softly behind herself, not wanting her brother to know she was there.
“Moms?” she asked. “Are you all right?”
Helen smiled at her daughter, indicating that she should sit next to her. “Just a little tired, dear.”
Trixie laid the positive test down next to her. “It’s yours, isn’t it?” she asked gently, knowing the answer. She smiled as she continued, “I think I’ve convinced Brian that it’s not mine.”
“I’m sorry, Trixie,” her mother said. “I didn’t mean to leave it lying around. I guess I just forgot about it, considering all the other things that have happened.”
“Does Daddy know?”
“No,” Helen said with a little sob. “I found out the day he lost his job. I didn’t want to tell him then and he never gave me a chance after that.” The last few words were almost lost in sobs and Trixie held her mother close, trying to comfort her as best she could.
“Do you think he’ll come back?” Trixie asked in a small voice.
Helen sagged against the pillow. “We were very young when we got married,” she explained, wiping her eyes delicately with a handkerchief. “I was just about your age and your father was a year older. We never really had time for separate lives. Maybe when he’s had some time on his own…”
“Did you get married straight out of school, Moms?” Trixie asked, settling herself comfortably. “I thought you started college.”
“I did,” her mother explained. “But then-” she broke off, considering her words carefully. “Trixie, can you keep this a secret?”
“Of course, Moms.”
“I got pregnant with Brian, so we just got married right away. I never did go back to college. There just wasn’t ever time.”
Trixie’s mouth formed into a surprised ‘O’ and she could think of nothing to say.
“Don’t look so shocked,” her mother laughed. “People did have sex outside of marriage in those days.”
“But Moms,” Trixie protested, “you’ve always told me-” A sudden thought broke in. “You’re telling me that you know that stuff from experience?”
A knock sounded at the door and Helen scooped up the pregnancy test and stashed it under her pillow.
“Not a word,” she whispered to Trixie, before calling, “Come in.”
Brian opened the door, looking thoroughly chastised. “Oh, Moms, I was going to ask you if you’d seen Trixie.”
Trixie patted her mother’s hand and rose to leave. “Thanks, Moms. I’m glad we had this talk.” Smiling cheekily, she escorted her brother from the room.
“You wanted me?” she asked him.
“I need to apologise,” he said, stiffly. “I had no right to judge you. I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted,” she replied, smiling. She could not resist adding, “But if I want to go out and get pregnant, that’s my business, not yours.”
Brian’s jaw tensed in response, but he said nothing.
The next excitement happened a few days later when Jim found out that his offer for the house had been accepted. He was suddenly very busy, ensuring that everything was going smoothly and preparing for his move. He also needed to convince everyone concerned that this was a good idea, but with diplomatic skills worthy of a professional he smoothed over every difficulty.
At the end of the settlement period, he packed up as much as he could fit into the Bob-White station wagon, ready to drive away. To Trixie, it was a little too like the day that her father had left for his new job.
“I don’t want you to go,” she told Jim, holding him tightly, when he dropped by to say goodbye. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”
“So do I,” he replied. “But, I’m looking forward to when we’ll be in the same place.”
Trixie smiled, sadly. “Me, too. It just seems a long way away.”