Time for Andrew (17 page)

Before he could say anything else, Hannah patted Aunt Blythe's arm. "I brought along an old photo album. Would you please fetch it from the car?"

As soon as my aunt was out of sight, Hannah said, "If you don't hush, Andrew, we're going to leave the minute Blythe comes back. I swear I don't know what ails you. You might as well be twelve years old!"

She turned to me then and took my hand. "You know what I'm talking about, don't you, Drew? He was an absolute imp when he was your age and he still is. All that's changed is his outside."

I stared into Hannah's eyes, faded now to the color of shadows on winter snow. "He told you, didn't he?"

"In some ways, I think I knew all along." Hannah squeezed my hand. "I'm so glad we've lived long enough to see you again."

I flung my arms around her. She felt as thin-boned as a bird, and I was afraid to hug her too tightly. I didn't want to hurt her.

"It must be a shock to see us so old," Hannah said. "I'm afraid I couldn't climb a tree or shoot a marble if my life depended on it. Neither could Andrew, but I doubt he'll admit it."

"If I put my mind to it," Andrew said, "I could beat Drew with one hand tied behind my back. He was never any match for me."

Hannah raised her eyebrows. "It seems to me he outplayed you once."

"Pshaw. What's one game?"

If Aunt Blythe hadn't come back just then, I'd have argued, maybe even challenged Andrew to a rematch, but instead, I smiled and leaned my head against Hannah's shoulder, happy to feel her arm around me. This close, she still smelled like rose water.

Turning the pages of the album, Hannah showed us pictures of Mama and Papa, Theo, herself—and Andrew.

"These are my favorites." She pointed to the photographs John had taken of us in the Model T. We were all smiling except Theo. He sat beside me, scowling into the camera, still angry about Mrs. Armiger and the music lessons.

"We wanted Theo to come with us today," Hannah said, "but he's living down in Florida with his third wife—a lady half his age, I might add."

Andrew nudged me. "He sends his best, said he hopes to see you again someday."

I glanced at Aunt Blythe but she was staring at the photograph. "The resemblance is incredible. If I didn't know better, I'd swear it was Drew."

Andrew chuckled. "Take a good look at me now. This is how the poor boy will look when he's ninety-six."

I studied his rosy face, his white hair and mustache. His back was bent, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. Going to his side, I put my arms around him. "You're not so bad," I said. Dropping my voice to a whisper, I added, "I wouldn't be surprised if you could still beat me in a game of ringer."

Long before I was ready to say good-bye, Hannah rose to her feet and beckoned to Andrew. "We've had enough excitement for one day. It's time to leave."

After making sure Aunt Blythe wasn't looking, Andrew pulled a leather bag out of his pocket. "She thinks you already have these," he said. "They're yours for keeps now."

I clasped the marbles to my heart and stared at him through a blur of tears. "Come back soon, Andrew."

He hugged me so hard he squashed my nose against his bony shoulder. "At my age, I can't promise anything, but I'll do my best to see you again, and that's the truth. After all, Hannah and I aren't that far away. With modem cars and highways, Riverview's a sight closer than it used to be."

Reluctant to let him go, I looked him in the eye. "No matter what happens, I'll always keep you here." I struck my chest with my fist. "Right here in my heart as long as I live."

Andrew smiled. "I fancy you picked up that pretty notion from Hannah." Hugging me again, he said, "I hope your heart lasts as long as mine has, Drew. I want you to have all the time in the world to do whatever you like."

I watched him help Hannah into the car and then position himself behind the steering wheel. While Aunt Blythe and I waved good-bye, the big Buick bumped down the driveway, turned right, and vanished in the direction of Riverview.

Aunty Blythe went inside to check on Great-grandfather, but I sat on the front steps and watched the sun sink behind the trees across the highway. A little chill crept across my skin. Summer was almost over. Soon my parents would return and I'd go back to Chicago. There would be no more midnight meetings in the attic. No croquet games with Hannah, no boxing lessons from John, no fights with Edward.

Behind me, the door opened, and I heard the wheelchair squeak as it rolled through. "Haven't changed a bit, either one of them," Great-grandfather muttered. "Coming around here, showing off, laughing like the world's their oyster."

When I turned to face him, Great-grandfather scowled. "What the Sam Hill are you doing here? I thought Hannah took you with her. How long am I going to have to put up with the sight of your ugly face?"

Aunt Blythe looked at me and sighed apologetically. Her eyes said, "What's the use?"

Great-grandfather wasn't paying attention to either one of us. He stared fixedly at the lawn, his eyes moving back and forth as if he were watching something only he could see. For a moment, I thought I heard laughter, the click of one croquet ball striking another, a dog barking.

I stared at the empty yard, trying hard to see what Great-grandfather saw, but nothing shifted, nothing changed. If the Tylers were playing croquet, they were visible to him and him alone. The only dog in sight was Binky. Running
across the lawn to meet him, I took the stick he carried and threw it as hard as I could. It sailed across the sky, and Binky dashed after it.

As the dog disappeared into the bushes, I looked up at the attic window and remembered the flash of white I'd seen the day I arrived—my first glimpse of Andrew. Funny to think I'd been scared. Nothing stirred in the attic now. No one watched, no one waited.

Deep in my pocket, I touched the red bull's-eye, warm as blood and twice as lucky. The marbles were mine for keeps. They were safe, and so was Andrew.

1. Draw a circle at least three feet in diameter on a smooth, flat surface.

2. In the center, draw a cross. Lay thirteen marbles on it: one in the middle and three on each arm. These are the targets, sometimes called ducks or miggles.

3. To determine who gets the first turn, you must lag. Draw two lines about a foot apart. One is the lag line; the other is the back line. Step back ten paces and draw a pitching line. From here, use an underhanded throw to roll your shooter at the lag line. The player whose marble lands closest goes first. If your marble stops on the lag line, you win automatically, but if it crosses the back line, you lose automatically.

Note:
In ringer, the first player has a distinct advantage. To win, you must knock seven marbles out of the circle. A good player can do this on his first try.

4. The first player kneels outside the ring and knuckles down to shoot. You must keep at least one knuckle on the ground, and you must not move your hand, an offense called "whisting."

5. If no marbles leave the circle, you lose your turn. If
your shooter is still in the ring, leave it there. That's where you shoot from next time. If it rolls outside, you can shoot from anywhere on the ring's perimeter.

Note:
Your opponent may knock your shooter out of the ring. If he does, you shoot from the place your marble lands.

6. If you shoot one or more marbles out of the ring, you can try again, provided your shooter stays
inside
the ring. If your shooter rolls outside with the other marbles, you keep the ones you hit, but you lose your turn.

7. To keep your turn, shoot from the place where your shooter stopped.

8. The first player to knock seven marbles out of the ring wins the game.