Cold River (23 page)

“Just the first one?” Tammy asked.

“Well, it’s actually more of a situation than a problem. It can be dealt with. In fact, he says that your mind can learn to keep all the words flat and two dimensional, but what can happen is, as you’re reading along with everything flat and well behaved, you may suddenly come to a word that makes everything on the page misbehave. All of a sudden things spring into three dimensions all over the place. It’s a mess, and you just want to give up.”

“Who is this man?” Tammy breathed. “He’s talking about my life.”

“What he says is that people with this gift tend to think in pictures, and they learn to read by picturing words. That’s why, as we were just reading a passage in the test— ” Mandy patted the book. “— you read the word
elephant
, but stumbled over the word
of
. He says that’s because you associate the word with a picture, and there’s no picture for the word
of
.”

“If that’s right, what can I do?” Tammy sounded anxious.

“We’re going to make a picture for it. He’s given us a list of words that invariably make things spring into three dimensions, and we’ll work through them. Or I’ll show you how, and you’ll have to work through each one. This will test your willingness to learn, Tammy. It’s very time intensive.”

Mandy took the clay out of the bag. “We’ll start with
was
.”

“My goodness! What is that?”

Mandy dangled the snake. “I borrowed some clay from the school. Willow worked with it before she put it in the bag. Clever, isn’t it?”

“She’s a very talented girl no matter what she’s doing. She helps with the fireworks for Opening Festival, and the things she comes up with are amazing. I’m glad she has that outlet. I think it will be her salvation.”

“Fireworks?”

Tammy laughed. “No. Art— creating things.”

“Probably so.” Mandy broke off the snake’s tail and rolled it between her hands to make a long worm. “We’re going to make letters and spell the word out. Will you make the three letters that spell out
was
and set them on the table?”

Tammy took the worm and quickly formed the word in clay.

“Now,” Mandy said. “You’re going to trace over the letters with your finger, and as you trace over each letter, you’re going to say it.

Tammy did as Mandy instructed.

“Now, do it backwards.”

“Backwards?”

“I said it might sound off-the-wall,” Mandy said.

Tammy traced and repeated, “S–a–w.”

“Now you’re going to use the word in a sentence.”

“Something like, ‘I couldn’t answer the phone because I was in the bathtub?’”

“Excellent!” Mandy gave her a lump of clay. “Now, I want you to illustrate that sentence.”

“Illustrate it?”

“Make a little statue or something so that when you see it, you’ll remember that sentence.”

“Okay.” Tammy took a piece of clay and made a tiny telephone and set it on a miniature table she fashioned. Then she made a bathtub and a small figure to sit in the bath. Her fingers were so nimble and quick that it took only a few minutes.

“And what was the sentence again?” Mandy asked.

“I couldn’t answer the phone because I was in the bathtub.”

“Now trace the letters forward and back.”

Tammy did as Mandy asked.

“Now, close your eyes spell the word forward and backward.”

Tammy closed her eyes and spelled w-a-s then s-a-w.

Mandy laid a three-by-five card in front of her with the word on it. “Here is the word you just did. That’s the first one. Here is a stack of words you need to get through with that same process.”

“Holy cow. That will take years!”

“There are about two hundred words here. If you did four each week, that would take you—” Mandy paused to do the figures in her mind.

“—fifty weeks,” Tammy said. “One year.”

“I’ll be honest with you. I don’t know if this will work or not. But it looks to me like you have all the parts of reading. You know the consonants and the sounds they make. You know the different vowel sounds. You just have to get where you can put all of it together. Maybe this will help.”

“I’ve tried just about everything else. I really have nothing to lose.”

“Let’s do another one. How about the word
of
.”

Tammy quickly went through the drill, illustrating the sentence,
May I borrow a cup of sugar?

When they were finished, Mandy pulled out a reading text. “You need lots of easy practice. This is a reader from beginning second grade. I think you’ll be comfortable there, because you have lots of coping mechanisms. Let’s try it.

Tammy read through a page and looked up at Mandy, smiling broadly. “Did you notice? I didn’t trip up on a single
was
or
of.
”

“I noticed,” Mandy said. “Remember, Tammy, this isn’t magic. This is an opportunity to put in lots of hard work. Reading takes practice. You’re not going to spend a little time making clay figures and all of a sudden be a reading whiz.”

“I know. But for the first time, I’ve got hope. Leave me the stack of cards. I’ll get the boys to help me with them.”

“I’ll leave you two more. You’ve got to give your brain time to process before you dump more information on it. If you want to spend more time, you can always practice reading out of the book.” Mandy peeled off the next two cards and set them by the clay. Then she picked up her purse. “That’s enough for today. Monday at the same time, okay?”

“Yes.” Tammy walked Mandy to the door and gave her a hug. “Thank you,” she said. “I don’t know if you know it, but I prayed you here.”

“Does that mean I have to stay for fifty weeks?”

Tammy laughed. “Unless you let me learn more than four words a week.”

Mandy walked briskly to her car, but before she got in, she turned and waved at Tammy, who still stood in the doorway. Mandy smiled all the way home. M
aybe this is how she could make a difference. It would be worth battling Grange Timberlain for a year if she helped Tammy learn to read.

When she arrived home, Mandy was disappointed to find that Leesie wasn’t there to talk to. Full of energy that needed to be spent, she put on sweats and her running shoes and jogged up the hill.

Fran was out in her front yard mowing, and Mandy waved as she trotted past. Her neighbor killed the motor and walked toward the road, so Mandy stopped and waited. “Hi, Fran.”

“Hi, yourself. How are things going? Is life any smoother?”

Mandy grimaced. “Some parts are smoother, some are rougher.”

Fran brushed some grass clippings from her shoes. “Any more thoughts about leaving the district?”

“I actually called the headhunter that hired me to see if that job in Chevak was still open,” Mandy admitted.

“And?”

“It is.”

“And?”

“And… that’s all. I was mad at Grange again and wanted out, so I made the call. But then, I talked to Mo and got excited about making a difference. By the way, I just found out about Opening Festival.”

“Oh, yeah. Grange has me doing fireworks again. I’ve got a committee of students and parents. It’s going to be great this year.”

“I thought I’d call my mother tonight and let her know that Leesie is going to be playing in it.”

“What if you leave before then?”

“Leesie would probably kill me. But that would be better than me killing Grange, wouldn’t it?”

Rael drove by in his white postal Jeep and honked the horn. Both women waved.

“Another thing found out today,” Mandy said, turning to Fran. “I have to set up a committee to oversee the levy. Grange told me that Nettie Maypole has been doing it for years, but I seem to be her sworn enemy. Do you think I should ask her to chair the committee?”

“What does Grange think?”

Mandy sniffed. “That is the standard reaction. Grange thinks it’s right, so it can’t be wrong. I’ve a good mind to ask someone else just to prove otherwise.” She stepped away. “I’d better get running. Talking about Grange has made me grouchy, and I was in such a good mood.” She waved then jogged back to the road and turned toward Rael’s place.

By the time she had run the loop up to the pine woods and back down the riverbank trail, her good humor was restored. She showered, and as she opened a can of soup for supper, she remembered that Leesie had volunteered her to make chili for their outing the next day. After setting a pot of beans to soak, Mandy held her breath as she opened the freezer door, hoping to find a package of hamburger. One was there, so she put it out to thaw. She carried her mug of soup to the piano, then sat down and doodled around, trying to think of something to play. As she did, a bubbly tune appeared, full blown, and worked its way from her heart to her fingers. She set it to a bouncy ragtime bass and played it through a couple of times, smiling at nothing in particular.

Perhaps it was a feeling evoked by the tune, or perhaps it was the need to share an accomplishment. All of a sudden she had the desire to talk to her mother. Glancing at her watch, she wondered if it was too late to call. Then she remembered she needed to tell her mother about Opening Festival, so she picked up the phone and punched in the numbers.

Mandy’s mother sounded sleepy, but she claimed she was not in bed yet. She became animated when Mandy told her about the festival, and she began planning immediately for a trip in mid-April. When she asked how work was going, Mandy, careful to talk only about the positive parts of the job, was surprised at how much she had to tell.

Just as she hung up, she heard Leesie come in. She came to the balustrade and called down, “How was practice?”

“Super!”

“Are you hungry? Want supper?” Mandy padded down the circular stairs.

“There were leftover sandwiches in the cafeteria that Mrs. Schonefeld left out for us. I’m good.”

Mandy sat on the couch and tucked her feet under her as she watched Leesie take a textbook from her backpack. “How come you didn’t tell me you were in a band, Leesie?”

Her sister took a piece of notebook paper out of the book and unfolded it. “You mean the practice I was at tonight? I thought you knew. You never asked about it.”

“I guess I didn’t. I’ve been pretty wrapped up in my own problems, haven’t I?”

Leesie smiled. “Well, I would say that being poisoned and dubbed Dr. Stinkbug, not to mention having Heathcliff panting after your bod, classify as problems. What do you know about Spinoza?”

“He’s not panting after my bod,” Mandy said, laughing. “And, I don’t know anything about Spinoza. Want to play, or do you have too much homework?”

“No. I’d much rather play than think about some philosopher that’s probably drier than dirt. And I found that Schumann piece in my case— the one we used to play for Mother. Want to give it a try?”

Mandy crossed to the piano bench. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll get homesick?”

“Are you kidding? Why would I want to be anywhere else?”

As she took the music, Mandy looked at her sister. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Leesie unzipped her cello case without looking up. “Like what?”

“Are you in love with Jake?”

Leesie laughed. “Jake and I are both in love, but not with each other. Oh, come on, Sweetiebug, don’t look so serious. I’m talking about bluegrass.”

“You’ve lost me.”

“What’s to lose? I love bluegrass. That’s why I want to stay here. I want to be able to continue playing with the band.”

“Oh, Leesie,” Mandy moaned. “You’re a wonderful cellist. You have such talent. To let that beautiful instrument languish for— for hillbilly music! I can’t believe it.”

“I seem to remember Poppy supporting you when you would rather play jazz than classical. Give me a C so I can tune.”

Mandy obliged. “Well, yes, but jazz is an intelligent form of music. It’s full of gifted musicians who can improvise, who can play something totally spontaneous without straying from the framework of the chord progressions.”

Leesie smiled. “We’re playing for a dance next weekend. I want you to come listen to us, and after that, we’ll have this discussion again. Ready?”

She drew her bow across the strings, and the house was again full of melody. It pressed against the windows, resonated in the rafters, and lay over the house like a benediction. When they had finished and Leesie was putting her instrument away, Mandy launched into the tune she had composed earlier.

“That’s cute,” Leesie said. “What’s the name of it?”

“I’ve been trying to think of a name. I felt so good tonight that it just fell out my fingers.”

“You wrote it? How about ‘Stinkbug Boogie’?”

Mandy laughed. “‘Stinkbug Boogie’ it is.”

“WOW!” MANDY COULD
think of nothing else to say. It was Saturday afternoon, and she sat in the hard passenger seat of Rael’s postal Jeep, face to face with a sheer wall of snow that had avalanched across Highway 20 sometime during the winter. “Does this slide come down every year?”

Rael nodded. “You can depend on it.”

“Do they wait for it to melt before they open the highway?” Leesie asked from the back bench where she, Jake, and Willow were squished together.

“No,” Jake said. “They’ll be up here next month with big front-end loaders and dig a path through. The snow stays until late spring.”