Swing Sideways Read online

  “There’s no such a thing as an appleologist—”

  “I know, but there should be.” California leaned back against the trunk and flicked her toes at the leaves. “Do you know what apple wood is used for?”

  Apple wood made me think of Dr. Clementi’s chess set. During my first two appointments I’d fidgeted and sweated in a big leather chair that stuck to the backs of my knees, trying to think of things to say. At the third appointment he’d had a chess set on the table between us.

  “Do you play?”

  Studying a gleaming knight, I’d nodded. “I can beat my dad.”

  Dr. Clementi had picked up a dark king and turned it slowly in his hand. “My grandfather carved these. The dark are mahogany, and the light are white pine.”

  I’d touched the top of a queen. “He must have had a super tiny knife to carve the jewels in her crown.”

  Dr. Clementi had run his finger along the board. “In between each square is a thin piece of apple wood from a tree on his farm. I loved those trees. The summer I turned twelve I swung from my favorite limb, and we both crashed to the ground.” He’d pulled up his sleeve and pointed to a faint scar. “Thirty-two stitches.”

  “Ouch. That must have hurt.”

  “There are worse things than stitches—like my grandfather’s disappointment when he saw that limb lying on the ground. I never wanted to face him again.” He’d leaned closer, like he wanted to be sure if I heard nothing else, I heard this: “But we can’t always live up to everyone else’s expectations, Annabel. That’s something you should remember.”

  California prodded me with her toe. “Hey! Apple wood?”

  “Oh, yeah, uh, carving. My doctor has a chess set his grandfather made. Part of it is apple wood.”

  “Doctor? What kind of doctor has a chess set in his exam room?”

  “It wasn’t an exam room, not really.”

  She raised her eyebrows. And so?

  “It . . . it was in his office, where we talked.” Blood rushed to my cheeks. I didn’t have to tell her, but somehow I knew my secret was safe. “He’s a psychologist.”

  “Ooohhh. Well, that’s a relief.”

  “Huh?”

  “Well, if you were sick or something, maybe I shouldn’t be shoving you up into trees.”

  “I’m not sick, not like that—”

  “Yeah, I get it. The other day when you were going past the farm, you reminded me of one of those pointy show dogs who needed to be sprung from a cage for a roll in the mud. That’s why I invited you back instead of mooning you.”

  The idea of California’s bottom shining from the middle of the cornfield made me giggle. “You were going to moon me?”

  “Considered it. Gets tiresome, watching all those cars slow down so people can stare at the mess Grandfather’s made of this place. He says it’s the summer people. I’m supposed to stay away from them.”

  “I’m summer people.”

  “I didn’t say I was going to do it, did I?”

  “Will you get in trouble if he catches me here?”

  “Puh.” She flipped her hand. “Grandfather won’t know about you until I’m good and ready to tell him. He has no idea what to do with me, anyway. I knew that the first time he called me Catherine.”

  “Why does he do that?”

  She sat up straight and squared her shoulders. Looking down her nose, she made her voice sound all proper. “Catherine is a polished, respectable name.” In her regular voice she added, “I guess that means California is not.”

  I giggled, and she smiled. Mr. McMurtry seemed less scary. A little stuffy, like Mom, but less deranged than the man who supposedly ran his family off.

  “Yesterday you said something about Piper. Who’s she?”

  “My mother.”

  “You call her Piper?”

  “What do you think I should call her?”

  “Like, Mom or Mother. I call mine Mom.”

  “Well, I call mine Piper.”

  “Do you call your father by his first name too?”

  “I don’t have a father.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry—”

  “Sorry for what?”

  “About your dad. Did he die?”

  “Puh. Never had one, never needed one.”

  I pushed the leaves aside to see if she was laughing at me, but she stared back like she’d said peanut butter was made from peanuts.

  “There has to be a father. There has to be sperm—”

  “Yes, Annie, I know that.” Her fingers drummed against the tree. Tharump-tharump-tharump.

  “I didn’t mean—”

  She held up two fingers. “Two words: sperm and donor. Piper wanted a baby, so she found a sperm donor and had me.” She pretended to peer over a pair of glasses, librarian style. “You do know what a sperm donor is, don’t you, Miss City Slicker?”

  I shrank back. “Of course I know what a sperm donor is. My dad is a biologist. I just . . .”

  “Just what? Never met anyone whose life might have started in a petri dish?”

  “Is that how . . .”

  California let out a big laugh. “Nah, no petri dish. I was just testing to see what you knew, that’s all.”

  Bam! A wooden gate behind the barn slammed. We both jerked. California put one finger to her lips and pointed with the other.

  SIX

  “Catherine? Catherine?”

  A large beast of a man charged into the paddock hoisting a shovel in one hand and a black, whiplike thing in the other. He was big and scruffy, with a mess of shaggy, salt-and-pepper hair, worn-out overalls, and black boots that looked ready to send trespassers sailing all the way to town.

  California mouthed “Grandfather.”

  I hugged that trunk so tight the bark imbedded itself in my arms. Mr. McMurtry strode from one end of the paddock to the other like a windup toy stuck on go. He stopped at the barn and poked his head in the doorway.

  “Catherine?”

  My foot slipped, rattling the leaves. Mr. McMurtry swung around and marched toward us, his boots pounding the dirt like a soldier. He leaned over the fence, a mere three trees from where the red cover of my Story Notebook stuck out in the green grass. Fat, bushy hair grew together into a unibrow over his eyes. He was so close, the only things separating us were a few scrawny leaves and the grace of God. The nearness of him made my stomach lurch.

  He dropped the shovel against the fence, grabbed the other end of the black thing, and flung it through the air until it splat on the ground directly beneath me. The black thing coiled itself up like a rubber tire. Slowly, one end separated from the circle and the rest followed. A long, thin line slithered away into the grass.

  A snake!

  My fingers curled like a contortionist’s. I pulled my knees close and squeezed my arms tighter around the tree. Mr. McMurtry picked up the shovel, searched the orchard again, and stalked out of the paddock, slamming the gate behind him. Neither California nor I moved until we heard car tires crunching on the gravel driveway. An old Buick turned out and crept slowly in the direction of town.

  “Oh, DAMage—” California hit her fist against the tree. “Son of a biscuit-eater!”

  “Did you see that? He was carrying a snake!”

  She was already halfway to the ground. “I have to be sure she’s okay.”

  “The snake? Don’t touch it! That thing could be poisonous!”

  California sprang through the grass, lifting her knees high in the air. After a few strides she swung a hand down and came up gripping the snake right below its head. The tip of its tail spun in circles. She held it up and grinned like she’d won a prize.

  “She’s okay.”

  My toes recoiled inside my sneakers. “California, drop that thing.”

  “Don’t be dumb, it’s just an old black snake that lives in the barn. Her name’s Matilda. She’s a good snake—she eats mice.”

  “There’s no such thing as a good snake.”

  “Come down and meet her.
She won’t hurt you; I promise.” To prove it, she nuzzled the snake’s nose against her cheek. Matilda hung still, except where the tip of her tail continued to spin. I choked back bile.

  “I can’t, not until you throw it away.”

  “Oh, for the love of Mike, you don’t throw away a perfectly good snake.” She lifted Matilda’s tail in her other hand and carried her off to the barn. When she came out, she thrust her knuckles into her hips. “Saved her once again.”

  “Where’d you put it?”

  “Under the barn, where she lives. Come down, Annie. Grandfather will be back soon. I have something really important to show you.”

  The impatient way California stamped her foot was the only thing that got me out of that tree—which, thanks to gravity, was a whole lot easier than getting up.

  “Stop worrying. Matilda’s gone, and I need your help.”

  She grabbed my arm and dragged me across the paddock into the barn, yanked me past two empty stalls and into a large room with a tarp-covered mound in the middle. Flecks of dust drifted from the ceiling and settled on stacks of old saddles, piles of leather bridles, and harnesses. Above us, tufts of hay poked out from corner beams where birds flew in and out. Cobwebs hung across the windows, thick as Spanish moss. There was a weird feeling inside the barn. It wasn’t magical, the way I’d imagined every single time we’d driven past. It was sad, like Beauty and the Beast when the dishes sang about being of no use anymore.

  California pointed to the mound. “That’s an old carriage under there.”

  “A real carriage?” I took one step, and a bird whizzed so near I could feel the wind from its wings on my face.

  “Barn swallows,” she said. “Their nests are everywhere. If they think you’re going to steal their babies, they’ll have every swallow in the state after you. Come on, we’re wasting time.”

  I followed her up a narrow staircase to a dusty walkway open to the room below. Halfway down she stopped at a door, stood on tiptoe to reach the ledge, and retrieved a rusty key. Wiggling it in the doorknob, she said, “I found this place the other day. There’s something in here that’s going to help me get Piper back to the farm.” The door creaked open. “Stay here.”

  I had no idea what she was talking about, but she had promised adventure. I’d waited a lifetime for adventure. A minute later she motioned me inside. Light spilled through floor-to-ceiling windows. A polished wood desk and leather chair filled one corner. The floor was covered with a clean cranberry-and-blue Persian rug. The place was immaculate. No dust, no clutter anywhere. Like the rows of corn—order in the middle of chaos.

  “What is this place?”

  “Close the door and watch.”

  She went to a wall of shelves crowded with fake, green ivy and hundreds of books, ran her hand underneath the bottom, and stepped back. Slowly, one-half of the wall swung out until it stopped at a right angle, revealing another room the size of Mom’s walk-in closet. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

  “Oh!”

  California pulled the string of a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. A triangular table fit perfectly in one corner. On top was an old photograph in a silver frame and a rose-colored ginger jar. Beside the table, a rolltop trunk stood flush against the wall. Yellow light bounced off a brass lock.

  “What the—”

  She picked up the photo of a lady holding a baby in her arms and brushed her hand over the glass. “I think this is my grandmother and Piper when she was a baby.”

  Neither of them looked anything like California. Judging from the chair they were in, both the mother and baby were tiny, with smooth, dark hair and eyes.

  “Piper left here when she was sixteen. I don’t know why, because, good golly, she talked about this place my whole life like it was heaven.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Everything was perfect. She had a mother and father; my grandfather was rich. Still is, I guess. Not sure where he got the money, but Piper was their only kid. They gave her everything. She went to private school, and she had show ponies with her own personal trainer. They went to horse shows all the time and had a big, fancy trailer they slept in. She was really good at tennis and they had their own sailboats up at the lake, too. Plus they went on exotic vacations all the time.”

  “Just because they had money doesn’t mean they were happy,” I said. “She could have been miserable being the only child. Trust me.”

  “I know about the money thing, but whenever Piper talked about it, she always had this sad smile, like she wished she could have it all back. I figured her parents had sold the place, and that they were dead.”

  “She never said why she left? Maybe she made it up, like a fairy tale you tell your kids.”

  She opened the single drawer of the table and got another key, this one shiny and new. “This was no fairy tale. This was the real deal.”

  The key slipped easily into the lock, and the trunk popped open. I inched closer. The inside was divided by a wedge of wood right down the center. On one side was a box covered in cream-colored, horse-print fabric. The other side was filled with loose photos. California lifted out the box and placed it on the table. Opening the lid, she gently peeled back layers of yellowed tissue to show me rows of brightly colored horse-show ribbons.

  “These were hers. She won them.” She ran her finger around the fluted edge of a royal-blue ribbon and turned it over to read what was written on the back. “‘Peaches, Large Pony Hunter, Darien, Connecticut.’” Picking up another blue ribbon, she read, “‘Cream, Pony Jumpers, Manchester, Vermont.’ They’re all marked.”

  “If she was so happy, why would she leave?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She rummaged through a pile in the other side of the trunk and held up a framed photo of a girl wearing a black helmet and holding the reins of two ponies: a dark chestnut with a light mane and blue eyes, and a cream-colored palomino. Their coats gleamed, and their manes were braided into stiff bunches, like miniature soldiers lined up along their necks. The girl was holding two long, tricolor ribbons, and she was smiling.

  California read the inscription. “‘Margaret with Peaches and Cream, Large Pony Hunter Champion and Pony Jumper Reserve Champion—Lake Placid, July 1986.’” She tapped the glass. “I don’t care what they called her, that’s Piper. This must have been taken right before she left. And she sure looks happy to me.”

  “Can’t you ask your grandfather?”

  “Puh, sheesh, no, I can’t even say her name around him without his face getting all weird. There must be some reason she never told me, something really bad. I’m not going to ask. Not yet, anyway.”

  Her eyes shadowed over, leaving me with an uneasy feeling.

  “What matters is that she needs to come home, and I might have figured out a way to get her to come back, before it’s too late.”

  “Too late for what?”

  She put the picture and ribbons back in the trunk, shut the lid, and edged me out the door. “Let’s get out of here before he catches us. I’ll tell you the whole story. What I know, anyway.”

  SEVEN

  California led me down the same path we’d run along the day before, but instead of ending up by the raspberries, she took a turn into the thick of the corn. Fat stalks with shiny, green leaves lined up in precise rows. Young ears of corn, inside pale-green husks, had threads of yellow silk peeking out the top. California plopped onto the sandy earth between two rows, sending a puff of pale dirt into the air.

  “Grandfather had cancer,” she said. “He’s in remission, but they’re doing some kind of drug trial to see if they can be sure it doesn’t come back. Or something like that. That’s why I’m here, to help him ’cuz he feels puny after the treatments.” Her eyes shifted away. “I guess with cancer you never know if it’s going to come back or if it’s spread. It would break Piper’s heart if they didn’t fix what’s broken between them if it came back.”

  “What do you mean, ‘what’s b
roken between them’?”

  She picked up a clump of dirt and crumbled it between her fingers. “I didn’t even know I had a living grandfather until we were coming here for the summer. They can barely be in the same room together. When we first came, Grandfather met us in New York City. They hadn’t seen each other for a bazillion years, but they didn’t hug, or smile, or anything like normal people do. One time I went out to walk the block around our hotel. When I came back, he was in our room. I could hear them arguing from out in the hallway. They started yelling something about me, so I left. By the time I got back he was gone, and Piper acted like nothing was wrong.”

  “She didn’t say anything about it?”

  “Nope. We met Grandfather at the hospital the next day, rode in the same train all the way up here, and neither one of them said a word until he dropped us off at a hotel in town. Then he just said dumb stuff like ‘Do you need help with your bags,’ and ‘I’ll be back to pick her up in the morning.’”

  “Is Piper still here?”

  “She left to stay with a friend in the city a few days ago.” She threw another clump of dirt hard against the ground. “She was in town for three weeks and didn’t come near the farm. After everything she’d told me my whole life, I wanted to know this place for myself. I asked her to come, but she said it was better for me to get to know Grandfather without her here. She probably figured she’d ruin it for me if they were angry all the time.”

  California wiped her eyes with the inside of her wrist.

  “That’s why I think my plan will bring her home. But I can’t do it alone; it’s going to take both of us. Will you help me, Annie?”

  She reminded me of Mom when she’d wanted me to go to the beach. Like if I said no, she might break in two.

  “What’s the plan?”

  “We have to find those ponies. If we do, we can make this farm like it was when she was a kid, when it was good, before whatever happened, happened. She’ll want to come back to that place. I know she will.”

  It wasn’t logical, but I couldn’t ignore her eager-puppy face. “Would they still be alive?”