Absolutely Truly (28 page)

He peered at me over the top of the paper. “Why do you want to know?”

I shrugged. “Just curious. She's really nosy.”

“That she is.” He was quiet for so long I figured I'd been
dismissed. Then he said, “I've known Ella all my life. She's a good woman, and she's good at her job, but she's never been good at staying out of other people's business. And it seems to have gotten worse since her husband died a couple of years ago. I hear she's retiring soon—maybe she'll move to Florida and leave Pumpkin Falls in peace.”

With that he returned to his paper. Now I was dismissed.

And still left with more questions than answers.

“You're not planning on wearing that to church, are you?” My mother frowned at Danny, who'd pulled his wrestling sweatshirt on over his freshly washed and pressed button-down shirt and tie.

“Fine,” he said and stomped back upstairs to take it off.

This happens to at least one of us every time we go to church. Well, except for Pippa, who adores dressing up. This morning she was wearing her favorite pink velvet dress, and she'd added her pink tutu plus a tiara for good measure.

We don't always make it to church during wrestling and swim season, but on the Sundays that we do, I'm required to wear girl clothes. This morning I had on a turtleneck sweater and a skirt, beneath which I'd added wool tights and my sheepskin-lined boots. No point freezing to death up in the steeple.

Dad came downstairs last. He'd traded the Terminator for Ken, I noticed. Church was almost the only place he ever wore it.

It was too cold to walk, plus we were late, so we all piled into the minivan and headed down the hill toward town. The Paul Revere bell was pealing its Sunday welcome as we pulled into the parking lot. I glanced up and watched it swinging in the steeple. If everything went according to plan, I'd be up there soon too.

Entire books have been written about the Pumpkin Falls First Parish Church steeple, thanks to the Paul Revere bell. The bell is the main reason the church is featured on so many postcards at the General Store, but the other reason is because the steeple is ridiculously picturesque. It looks like a squaretiered wedding cake. The bottom “layer” is the actual bell tower, which has arched openings on all four sides. Above that is the clock tower, which sports a giant round black disk of a clock face with gilt numbers and hands. Both of these layers are decorated within an inch of their lives with ornamental railings and little pillars and curlicues and stuff. Perched on top of the whole thing is the spire, which looks like an upside-down ice-cream cone, and on top of
that
is the weather vane.

Lots of churches have weather vanes. I've seen some decorated with roosters and others with angels, stars, fish, and doves. What does the Pumpkin Falls First Parish Church have on its weather vane? A pumpkin, of course.

The early church leaders clearly had a sense of humor.

I wondered if Nathaniel Daniel was one of the ones
responsible for the choice. From his portrait, he didn't look like all that much fun, but you never know about people, I guess.

Glancing up, I could see a trio of pigeons perched on top of the brass pumpkin weather vane, their feathers fluffed up against the cold. I hoped that was a good omen.

“See you afterward, kids,” my mother said, handing Pippa over to me as we went inside. “Behave yourselves.”

My brothers and sisters and I trooped downstairs to the Sunday School, where I was relieved to see that all of my friends had made it.

“Um, I sorta kinda had to tell my brother,” Jasmine whispered as I slid into the seat next to her.

“You
what
?!” Aghast, I looked across the table at Scooter, who bared his braces at me in a wide grin.

Jasmine raised her hand and asked the teacher if we had time to visit the ladies' room before class started, then grabbed my arm and towed me down the hall.

“He knew something was up,” she told me, when we were safely out of earshot. “He saw the five of us heading to the movie a couple of weeks ago, and then he overheard Cha Cha and me talking last night in my room. He wouldn't stop bugging me about it.”

“So? You didn't have to tell him anything!” I was furious.

“He said he'd bring my underwear to school and run it up the flagpole if I didn't,” Jasmine said miserably.

I sighed. “Brothers,” I said in disgust. I'd probably have caved too.

This was not good. Not good at all. No way did I want Scooter Sanchez tagging along. He would totally wreck everything!

I didn't have time to deal with him right now, though. Right now, I had to put our plan into action.

Sunday School couldn't be over soon enough. When class finally finished, I bolted for the fellowship hall. My friends—and Scooter—were right behind me. I spotted Reverend Quinn chatting with Aunt True, and trotted over to join them.

“You've met my niece, haven't you?” my aunt said to the minister.

“Certainly,” Reverend Quinn replied warmly. “How is Pumpkin Falls treating you these days, young Truly?”

“Fine,” I replied. “Except for one thing.”

“And what is that?”

“I've never seen the Paul Revere bell.” I tried to look super disappointed.

“We need to remedy that, don't we?” said the minister, and Cha Cha gave me a discreet thumbs-up. Then he added, “Tours of the steeple are given every weekend throughout the warmer months.”

“I have to wait until spring?” I didn't have to fake my disappointment now.

“Isn't there a way we could see it before that?” said Cha Cha. “I've never been up to the steeple either.”

Jasmine and Lucas and Calhoun all nodded in agreement.

“You kids can't be serious!” said Reverend Quinn. “I know for a fact that every student at Daniel Webster School is given a tour.”

“Yeah, but that was way back in kindergarten!” Lucas trotted out his most pathetic expression.

Scooter, who was clearly enjoying this exchange, flashed his braces at me again. I tried to ignore him.

“Looks like you have a captive audience,” said Aunt True.

“Really? You all want to see the bell? In this weather?” Reverend Quinn frowned. “It's terribly cold up there—there's no insulation in the steeple, and the bell tower itself is completely open to the elements.”

“We'll put our jackets on,” I told him. “Please?”

He sighed. “I'll get my coat.” He turned to my aunt. “Would you like to come along, True?”

I held my breath. Having my aunt along was a complication I hadn't counted on.

“Tempting,” she said. “I haven't been up there since high school. But I think I'll wait for warmer weather.”

We grabbed our jackets and followed Reverend Quinn upstairs. Lucas was careful to avoid his mother, which was smart of him. She'd hyperventilate if she heard he was planning on going up into the steeple.

Our destination was a small vestibule just beyond the church's cloakroom. Two ropes hung from the ceiling; one was floor-length, the other dangled just above our heads. Reverend Quinn grabbed the one above our heads and tugged on it, pulling down a set of fold-up stairs.

“What's the other rope for?” Scooter asked.

“Ringing the bell,” the minister told him. “Don't touch it.” He pulled his wool hat down over his ears and started to climb. “Follow me, and mind your step.”

I made the mistake of being first in line after him.

“I see London, I see France,” whispered Scooter as I headed up the ladder. “I see Truly's gigantic under—”

“Scooter! ”
I whisper-hollered down at him. At least he couldn't really see my underpants. Which are absolutely truly not gigantic. I'd never been so grateful in my life for my wool tights.

A moment later I emerged in the middle of an atticlike room.

“Step to the wall, please,” said Reverend Quinn. “It's going to be a little crowded up here.”

I did as he asked, and something crunched beneath my feet. Looking down, I spotted frozen mouse droppings.

“Eew,” I said, just as Scooter's head emerged through the opening in the floor.

“What did I do now?” he protested, scrambling to his feet. He looked around. “Cool!”

“Very,” quipped Reverend Quinn, the word emerging in a puff of frost. He hadn't been kidding; it was freezing up here. “Let's make this snappy,” he said as the rest of my friends joined us. “Built in 1803, the Pumpkin Falls Parish Church steeple is one of the finest examples of Georgian architecture in all of New England.”

I could tell that this was a speech he'd given to a zillion tourists over the years.

“Steeples served several purposes for early settlers,” he continued. “First and foremost, they generally housed a bell inside. Bells can ring a warning, mark the passing of hours, celebrate, and call the congregation to worship. By pointing heavenward, the steeple also serves as a reminder of loftier things.” The minister paused a moment and raised his eyes toward the ceiling for effect. Jasmine stifled a giggle.

Reverend Quinn cleared his throat sheepishly, then checked his watch. “Five minutes is all I can really spare today, kids,” he said. “Let's go on up, shall we?”

We followed him up the next ladder and through a trapdoor in the ceiling, emerging this time into the bright sunshine. The view from the bell tower was amazing. To the north, I could see the covered bridge. To the east, the village green spread like a carpet—a white one at the moment—toward the college campus; to the south I could just make out the rooftops of the houses up the hill along Maple Street, including Gramps and Lola's, and to the west were the lower
slopes of Lovejoy Mountain, bristling with spruces and pines.

“And there it is in all its glory—our famous Paul Revere bell,” said Reverend Quinn, directing our attention overhead.

He pointed out the inscription engraved around the top of it, which read
REVERE & SON BOSTON 1804
, then swung into his canned speech once again. “Cast in Revere's foundry in Boston's North End, this bronze bell has graced our church for more than two hundred years. It weighs over half a ton—one thousand and twelve pounds, to be exact, including the clapper, which weighs thirty-six pounds. Note the headstock—that's the wooden beam or crosspiece, as it's called, from which the bell hangs. And wrapped around that wooden wheel is its pull-rope.”

Scooter inspected it closely. “Is that the same rope we saw downstairs?”

Reverend Quinn nodded. “The very same. Pulleys guide it down through the steeple. The rope turns the wheel, which swings the headstock and sets the bell in motion. Most people don't know that it's the bell that swings, hitting the clapper, rather than the other way around.”

“How often do you ring it?” I asked, curious.

“At one o'clock every afternoon, before the church service on Sunday, for weddings, and at noon on New Year's Day and the Fourth of July.”

“Why not every hour?” asked Jasmine.

“Our bell is in semiretirement,” the minister said drily.
“Would you want to work all day if you were over two hundred years old?”

“I'll bet it's loud up here when the bell rings,” said Scooter, reaching up to touch it.

“Extremely. You wouldn't want to be in close quarters without earplugs.” Reverend Quinn glanced at his watch again. “Okay, kids, feel free to snap some pictures if you'd like—do NOT lean over the railings, young man”—he was talking to Scooter, of course—“and then we'll head back down.”

“The envelope is up in the next level, with the clock, right?” whispered Cha Cha as we moved away.

I nodded and took a picture of her and Jasmine with my cell phone. “Almost time,” I told them, then zipped the phone back into my jacket pocket.

Reverend Quinn started down the ladder. “Make it snappy, kids. I'll wait for you below.”

This was the chance we'd been waiting for.

“Time to distract him,” I whispered to my classmates. “I'm going after the clue.”

“How come
you
get to go?” asked Scooter.

“Because that's the plan,” I told him. “I know what we're looking for.” I started toward the wooden slats that were nailed to the wall and served as a crude ladder.

Scooter shouldered past me. “It's an envelope, duh,” he said. “Jasmine told me. How hard can that be to find?”

“Get down from there!” I ordered as he stepped up onto the first slat.

“Dude, do what she says,” said Calhoun.

I looked over at him, surprised. Then I remembered the pact we'd made. Romeo was holding up his end of the bargain.

“Hurry up now, kids,” Reverend Quinn called to us, and Calhoun jerked his thumb at Scooter, who reluctantly hopped down.

“All I need is five minutes,” I told my friends and started up for the clock tower as they disappeared through the trapdoor in the floor.