The Night of the Moonbow (26 page)

“What’s the boat called,” Honey asked Leo.

Blushing furiously, he couldn’t answer.

“It’s called the Guldenbraut,” Fritz said, filling the awkward gap. “It means ‘Golden Bride.’ ”

Still Leo remained tongue-tied, and Fritz went on, describing how the summit of the mountain would be the site of the famous castle where the wicked Austrian Duke Philip had held Richard the Lionheart for ransom on his way back to England from the Crusades.

“I want Leo to tell me about the castle,” Honey said, dimpling with enthusiasm. “Please?”

She was teasing him, but he liked it, and somehow his shyness vanished. Hitching up his stool, he recounted the old tale, complete with “once upon a time”: how Richard waited in vain to be rescued by his treacherous brother, Prince John, who wanted the English throne for himself. “And then?” Honey asked, playing the game.

“Richard had a faithful servant, a troubadour called Blondel, and he went in quest of the king, his master. And everywhere he went, to let the king know he was looking for him, he played a song he’d written, a favorite of Richard’s.”

“Did Richard hear it?”

Leo nodded soberly. “And he called down from his prison room, ‘Blondel, Blondel, here am I, your king imprisoned. Come free me.’ So Blondel helped the king escape his chains, and together they returned to England, where Richard was greeted lovingly by all his faithful subjects and—”

“And lived happily ever after!” Honey’s gay laugh rang out and she clapped her hands like a child.

Leo smiled. “I guess maybe he did.”

She laughed her bubbly laugh again, but Leo now was staring down at the barn floor, where the sun had suddenly cast a long shadow. Reece Hartsig sauntered into the Swoboda corner. “What are you doing around here?” he said, eyeing Honey.

“I stopped by to see how the work was going. See the pretty steamboat Leo is making? And the flags?”

Reece tossed a glance at the table but made no comment.

“You never did tell us what happened to your eye,” she said teasingly.

He put his hand up to the fading bruise. “It’s nothing. I walked into a door,” he growled, staring hard at Leo, then abruptly ducked his head and disappeared up the steps, his heavy tread shaking the whole loft as he joined the radio-builders around the transmitter.

“Honestly,” said the exasperated Honey, “he can be such a spoilsport sometimes. If you ask me, he’s jealous.” Her laugh lingered behind as she left the barn and took her bike from the rack near the office door. Leo watched her pedal away, then sat down on his stool again.

“Come on, don’t look like that,” Fritz said, noting Leo’s downcast expression. “He’s just acting that way to make you feel bad. Honey’s right, he’s jealous, I’m sure of it.” 'He washed his brush in his jelly jar - he’d been adding some highlights to the foliage - then took the crosscut saw from the tool rack and went over to the dining hall to even-up the legs of Pa Starbuck’s chair.

Preoccupied with fitting the paddle wheel to the boat hull, Leo was only vaguely aware of the sound of idle humming outside the barn until, glancing through the window, he noticed Willa-Sue sitting in the front seat of the Green Hornet. She was playing around with Reece’s radio.

“Willa-Sue,” he said, keeping his voice down. “You better scram out of there.” But she just stood up on the seat and stuck her tongue out at him. He shook his head. “Naughty, naughty,” he chided her, and pointed up to where Reece was working. Reluctantly she obeyed him. The next time he looked she was happily ensconced in the glider again, blowing up a balloon. Leo watched as it grew larger and larger, a white balloon of an elongate shape. He hoped it wouldn’t pop in her face and set her to hollering. When she was done, she tied it and it sailed into the breeze - not strong enough to carry it aloft - and as it bobbed its way across the compound, she started blowing up another.

Suddenly it dawned on him what the “balloons” really were, and, jumping up, he dashed for the door. As he raced across the compound, scooping up the inflated prophylactic, he heard Ma calling for Pa (“Oh Lord, just see what the child’s up to now!”), and by the time Leo reached Willa-Sue, the Reverend was also on the scene. But it was too late to stop the launch of the second balloon; as Willa-Sue squealed with delight, the thing spurted into the air in a gust of wind to catch on the utility wires strung from barn to house, where it hung in full view of the loft window, now crowded with the faces of boys - and, for a moment, that of Reece Hartsig.

“Where did she get these nasty things?” Pa demanded of Leo. “Did you give them to her?” Leo flushed and stammered a denial. But how could he explain that the “balloons” had come from the glove compartment of the Green Hornet? “Well, get the dadblamed thing down!” Pa sputtered. Shaking his head, he retreated to the office, washing his hands of the whole business, as Reece stormed out of the barn and advanced across the compound toward

Willa-Sue, still seated on the glider with his personal property lying with her dolly in her lap.

“Give me that!” he snarled, snatching the wallet; the red packets she had taken from it fell on the ground, and he bent and scrabbled them up and stuffed them into a pocket.

“Balloons,” Willa-Sue said, burring her lips and rolling her eyes.

“You tell him, Baby Snooks.” Looking down from the loft window the boys couldn’t help laughing, which didn’t help matters.

As Reece scowled up at them, then down at Willa-Sue, her features began to contort; a loud scream was on the way. Reece, the color drained from his face, seized her and began to shake her. But the effect, though hardly surprising, was the opposite of what he intended. Willa-Sue began to screech as if she were being murdered. In an attempt to silence her squalling, Reece shook her harder.

“Don’t do that!” Leo raced across the turf, and tried to grab Reece’s arms to restrain him. From every barn window campers hung their heads out, shouting that Big Chief was being jumped by Wacko Wackeem, and Pa reappeared on the porch, now with Ma in tow, calling for Willa-Sue to come inside.

In the midst of this bedlam Dagmar Kronborg’s Pierce-Arrow pulled into the drive. The car door opened and she hurried toward the porch to see what the trouble was. By the time she reached Reece, he had yanked Willa-Sue’s doll from her hand. He raised it overhead, then brought it savagely down against the mouth of the pump, smashing the china head into fragments. Screaming louder than ever, Willa-Sue ran to hide her tear-stained face in her mother’s skirts, and while Ma tried vainly to comfort her, Dagmar retrieved the headless doll from Reece.

' “What can you be thinking of!” she demanded, outraged. “A grown man picking on a child like that!”

“She was in my car, the little nitwit!” Reece thundered. “In my glove compartment! She embarrassed me.”

Dagmar made a sour face. “Oh, that is too bad,” she said tartly. “You know what she is as well as I do. Allowances must be made. Grown men don’t do this sort of thing, only spoiled little boys. Look at what you have done to this poor doll.” She shook the broken toy in his face.

Humiliated in front of the campers ogling the scene from the barn, Reece turned away; his gaze fell on Leo.

“It’s all his fault,” he said. “He was supposed to be watching her.”

“No, he wasn’t,” declared Hank, who had by now climbed down from his ladder and walked over. “I was supposed to watch’er. Guess I got carried away with my polishin’. But don’t blame Leo, ’twasn’t his fault.”

“Henry is right,” said Dagmar to Reece. “And it will do you no good looking for a scapegoat. Why should Leo be made responsible for the child?”

“He’s always playing with her, isn’t he, encouraging her to act nutty?”

“Don’t be asinine. You know you are talking utter nonsense.”

Reece glowered at her; his frown deepened as he saw Augie taking a drink at the pump.

“What’s he doing drinking from our cup?” he muttered. “He is thirsty, I expect,” Dagmar snapped. “Would you have him drink from the spigot?”

But Reece was no longer listening. He had stormed away to the Green Hornet, where he vaulted neatly over the side and sped off in a cloud of dust.

As he disappeared around the corner, Dagmar stared sadly at the broken doll. “What a shame. I wonder if it can be repaired.”

Leo, down on his hands and knees picking the pieces from the dirt, looked up at her. “It’s a little like Humpty Dumpty, but I’ll try.”

“Good!” she said, giving him an approving nod. Then she went into the office with Ma while Leo, having retrieved all the pieces he could find, retreated to the barn to see what could be done about making the doll whole again.

***

A quarter of an hour later, order had been restored around the compound. The craftworkers had, for the most part, returned to their beaded belts and hammered ashtrays. Tears dried, Willa-Sue now swung in the rubber tire under the catalpa tree, while Leo, back in the Swoboda corner, tried to fit the fragments of the doll’s head together.

When Dagmar reappeared, instead of driving away she came across the compound to lean in at the barn window. “But that’s wonderful!” she exclaimed of his work. “You’re meticulous,” she added. “I like that.”

Leo blushed; he thought he was making a botch of it. The pieces of the doll’s head were chipped and made uneven joins, giving the face the look of a Frankenstein’s monster.

“It will be better when the eyes are in,” Dagmar said. Leo shook his head. Though he’d scoured the area, he had found only one eye.

“Well, in the kingdom of the blind the one-eyed doll is king,” Dagmar said, laughing, and Leo was forced to laugh too, though it embarrassed him to have her there while he worked.

She waited until he set the doll down; then, when he looked up, she nodded approvingly. “I like your boat, too,” she said. “You are making strides.”

“It’s really Fritz’s work,” Leo said. “I’m just helping him out.”

“Don’t be so modest,” she retorted. “According to Ma, Fritz says you are very clever.”

Again he blushed. But because she seemed genuinely interested, he soon forgot his shyness and opened up a bit. They talked some more about the model village, and about Fritz, whom she liked; Leo could tell.

“And your counselor? What does Reece think about this village of yours?”

Leo was embarrassed again. “He calls us Santa’s helpers.” Dagmar covered her smile with her hand. “Reece doesn’t like Fritz much. Or me,” he added glumly.

“Is that so?” she asked sharply.

Leo nodded. “He doesn’t think I fit in. I’m too different.” Dagmar became indignant. “Well, I should hope you are different! The only reason the world turns is because some people dare to be different. Most- people are like so many sheep. You just go right on being as different as you like. As for His Majesty, don’t pay him any mind. He doesn’t own the whole world, you know, nor his father either. Just the whole of Tolland County.” They laughed together; then, crooking her finger, Dagmar motioned him from the barn. Leo left his stool and covered his work, saying he had to quit anyway, it was time for swim.

“Come along with us,” Dagmar said. “It’s on our way. We can drop you off, and you can tell your friends you had a ride in my auto.”

Leo was speechless. He knew it was against the rules for any vehicle except Hank’s jitney to “ride” the campers. Dagmar, however, obviously paid no attention to such strictures, and led him to her automobile, where she introduced him to Augie. He smelled of shaving lotion, and his smile made Leo like him right away.

“Tack,” Dagmar said, as Augie held the door and helped her in, Leo after her,

“What’s tack?” he asked.

“Swedish. Means ‘thanks,’ ” she said, pushing her short, sturdy legs out in front of her and propping her small feet on the footrest.

He liked that; tack had an interesting sound. He settled himself comfortably in the handsomely appointed interior, impressed by the folding foot-rests, the little chrome ash-receiver, cleverly set into the armrest, the tasseled handles, the shades of amber silk that drew up and down on slender, braided cords, the tops of magazines revealing their names in the puckered side pockets. The motor purred like a leopard, and the upholstered seat felt soft and bouncy, as if he were riding on a feather bed.

They went over a bump and Leo’s head touched the upholstered ceiling above his head. “Whoopee - bump!” exclaimed Dagmar and they laughed again together. Then suddenly she turned to him and said, “I was surprised when Ma mentioned that you’d stopped playing your violin. Is it true, you’re not practicing these days?”

Leo shrugged but offered no comment.

“But you must practice. It’s very important, if you’re going to have a career in music. You do plan to take it up, don’t you?”

“I - I d-don’t know,” Leo stammered.

“Don’t know?”’ she exclaimed. “Of course you do -gracious, don’t talk nonsense.” She sucked in her cheeks and ran her tongue around her teeth. “See here. I don’t know what silliness came over you at Major Bowes. But these things happen at times. A string breaks, you hit a clinker, you forget where you are in a piece.” She eyed him intently. “Look at me, please, when I am talking to you. Don’t you want to be a musician? Don’t you want to be an artist?” she demanded.

“Yes, I want to play on the radio with Toscanini,” he blurted. Dagmar clapped her hands.

“Well, then - to be a fine musician requires not only diligence and practice but the will to be. No matter who tries to get in your way. All great artists have a sense of destiny, you know,” she went on, “that is what helps them become great. And they are strong, like steel, hard, because they cannot let anything or anyone stand in the way of their talent. They make the most of the moment when it comes. Carpe diem! You know what that means, don’t you? Seize the day! And fly on wings of song!”

On wings of song! Leo stared at her wonderingly.

She smiled her crusty, wrinkled smile. “Your mother would like that, wouldn’t she?”

“Yes.” Leo looked at her. How did she know about Emily?

Dagmar nodded with satisfaction. “I thought so. You loved your mother very much, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”