Time Windows (6 page)

Miranda grinned. Her mother said that sort of thing every year.

"Then we'll look at wallpaper. And then we'll go to see about your flute lesson. Virginia Hooton raved about the woman. You'll have to do a little audition, but don't worry. After that I have to go to my office to interview the last nurse. Maybe you'd like to wait at the library while I'm there—Virginia said it's all within a minute's walk. Nice, isn't it, in a small town? Everything accessible—not like New York. My God! The hours I've spent on subways just trying to get from the hospital to the grocery store to the apartment!"

Miranda listened agreeably, watching the scenery. Children roller-skated on the sidewalks. Bicycles whizzed past. "Think of it!" exclaimed Helen. "You'll be able to ride your bike to school!" Teenagers rode tractor-sized lawnmowers around their front lawns, creating geometric patterns in the grass.

Helen turned the corner onto Garnet's main street. An ornate plaque hung by a heavy chain from a white post in front of the Town Hall:

 

GARNET, MASSACHUSETTS
* est. 1691 *
A BIRD SANCTUARY

 

They turned another corner and pulled up beside Miranda's new school.

The school looked older than her New York school, but not as dirty. It was red brick with white trim, and there was another sign on a white post: G
ARNET
T
OWNSHIP
J
UNIOR
H
IGH
S
CHOOL
.

"Oh, a city girl," exclaimed the principal with a smile. "Hope you're happy here, Miranda." They were in and out in no time, and Miranda settled back into the car seat, clutching a booklet titled "Rules and Regulations for Students," her new course schedule, and a slip of paper with her gym and hall locker combinations written down.

Helen stopped the car in front of a small house on a shady side street. "Sixteen Elm Street. This is it," she said. "Don't forget your flute!"

An elderly woman opened the front door as they came up the walk. "Hello!" she called to them in a high, quavery voice. "You must be the Brownes. I'm Eleanor Wainwright. Please come right in."

Miranda and Helen climbed the steps to the small front porch and followed Mrs. Wainwright inside. In her bright, multicolored striped dress and with her gray hair standing out in frizzy curls, Mrs. Wainwright reminded Miranda of a friendly, exotic bird.

"I'll be with you in a moment," she said. "I have a student with me now—she'll be done in five minutes." She led them down a narrow hallway and showed them into the living room. "Please sit down. Make yourselves comfortable. My goodness, but it's hot!" She whirled out of the room. A moment later, tentative notes from a flute sounded from the back of the house.

"She seems okay," said Miranda.

Helen settled herself into an overstuffed, flowered armchair. "Yes, she's very friendly."

Miranda roamed around the small, tidy room. "Mither, look at this." She held up a large notebook that had lain on an end table. "
The History of Garnet Township, 1691 to the Present,
by E. H. Wainwright. Is that
her,
do you think?" She thumbed through the pages. "Oh, look, they're all handwritten!"

"Oh my, yes indeed," said Mrs. Wainwright, returning and hurrying over to remove the book from Miranda's hands. She laughed. "You've found me out already! I'm the town's amateur historian—historian of the Ladies' Guild. We work to preserve the old flavor of the town—lots of potluck suppers, summer picnics, and the like. No McDonald's here!" She peered at Helen. "Mrs. Browne? Perhaps you would be interested in joining our society?"

Helen smiled. "Let me get settled into my office first," she said. "But I'd love to help with a potluck supper sometime."

"Oh, yes, you're a doctor, aren't you? So it isn't Mrs. Browne, but Dr. Browne. Didn't someone tell me just the other day—you're a pediatrician, isn't that it?"

"A gynecologist-obstetrician, actually. And please call me Helen."

"Well, Helen, I must say I'm pleased to see what women do these days. Delivering babies—my land!" Mrs. Wainwright beamed at her. "Though when you think about it, delivering babies is what women have always done, isn't it? I myself have been a working woman for fifty years, even when I was married, although my husband always complained. I think he was secretly proud of me, when it comes down to it, though. A good man, Nathan. He passed on five years ago. And now my music lessons help me out a lot." She frowned at Miranda. "You play the piano?"

Miranda held up her flute case.

"Ah, yes. That's lovely. Come along and play me a tune ... Come into the music room. Yes, Dr. Browne—Helen—she'll be back in a bit..."

Miranda trailed after her down the hall, smiling at this chatter. She had no doubt she would play well for Mrs. Wainwright, despite her lack of practice since they'd moved to Garnet.

And she did play well, standing in front of the bay window, staring out across the garden. She played a Vivaldi piece, light and airy, all clear, strong notes and lilting runs, perfect summer music for a beautiful summer day.

"Lovely," nodded Mrs. Wainwright when the last long note died away. "You must have had a good teacher in New York. How long have you studied?"

Miranda straightened at this praise. "Four years."

"Ah," said Mrs. Wainwright. "A late starter." She laughed at Miranda's expression. "Yes, dear. I like to start my students as early as four or five. It trains breath control. In Japan, you know, children learn to play the violin when they're only two years old! I don't see why it shouldn't be the same for flute players. But you play very well, and I'll be happy to teach you what I know."

"Thank you," said Miranda.

"No need to thank me. Just make sure you do your practicing. I don't like laziness. Just keep that in mind, and remember: the key words are
breath control
."

 

Miranda and Helen drove away, waving out the window to Mrs. Wainwright, who stood on the porch. "See you Wednesday!" she called after them in her airy, flute-like voice.

"It'll work out perfectly," said Helen. "I can pick you up on Wednesdays right after work—once I start working, that is. Until then, you can ride your bike."

"Okay," agreed Miranda, already making plans to go early that week. It had occurred to her that anyone who had lived in Garnet so long and was historian for the Ladies' Guild as well might know something about the dollhouse families. The Hootons and their museum could be useful, too.

At the library Miranda filled out a form for a borrower's card. Then she wandered around, looking at the displays of books. "Books for Browsers." "Summertime Romances." "Gardening." On a shelf marked "Local Literature" she found a book titled
Small-Town Massachusetts in Pictures.
She decided it might be fun to read, even if it didn't yield any information about her house. But then her eye caught another title:
Garnet Township in the Nineteenth Century.
She removed it from the shelf and was surprised to see the author's name: E. H. Wainwright. So Mrs. Wainwright was not such an amateur as she made out! Miranda leafed through the book, then carried it to the check-out desk.

 

Philip announced at dinner that he wanted to return to New York for the weekend to attend his last session at the weight-loss clinic. "They're having a party for me," he laughed. "But no munchies—we'll all be there sipping mineral water!"

"I wouldn't want to miss it for the world," Helen told him. "I'm so proud of you, Phil."

"We'll leave in the morning," he said.

Miranda had no choice but to go with them. She didn't miss the look of relief her parents exchanged across the table when she said she'd like to see Nicole again. They'd clearly expected her to dig her heels in about leaving the house.
Maybe I
have
been up with that dollhouse too much,
she thought.

While she was flinging some clothes into a tote bag for the trip to New York, the telephone rang.

Helen answered in the kitchen, but Miranda heard her exclamations all the way upstairs. She ran down to listen. "Willy! Hello! How wonderful to hear from you! Where
are
you?"

Willy was Helen's younger brother. "Where?" she asked. "All of you? Well, of course! That's no problem at all. You wouldn't believe how much room we have now ... You know you're welcome wherever we are! When will you come?"

In a short while she hung up and looked across the table at Philip. "That was Willy. He and Belle and the kids are on their way—they'll be here in a few
hours,
can you believe it? It's just like him to arrive out of the blue. They're just north of here now."

"But that's great!" cried Miranda, coming into the kitchen. "How long will they stay?" These Maine relatives had always been favorites of hers, but the families rarely seemed to find time to get together.

"Just the weekend, they said. They're on their way out west to Yellowstone. Oh, Phil—wait—what about your party? I'll miss it!"

"Oh well, it isn't much, I guess. Just a bunch of former fatties applauding someone else who has made it into the ranks."

"Oh, Phil!" Helen reached over to hug him. "It's a big deal! And I do want to come. Look, I'll call Willy back. I don't want to miss your party—"

"Never mind," he said. "Really."

"But I'm so proud of you! I should be at the party."

"It is a big loss," he agreed, but now his voice was teasing. "Think of all that mineral water you'll miss."

"Well,
I'll
come to your party, Dad!"

"No, you both stay here, and stop worrying about it. Maybe I'll invite some of the folks out here for a weekend soon. They'd enjoy getting away from the city, and we can celebrate all over again."

"Maybe Nicole could come, too," Miranda suggested.

"That's a good idea," said Helen. "In fact, how about if Dad brings Nicole back to Garnet with him on Sunday? She could stay the whole next week, if her parents don't mind."

"Oh, Mither, that will be fun!"

"Willy will be here soon—and I still haven't unpacked everything," fretted Helen. "I don't even know where the extra pillows are!"

Miranda ticked the people off on her fingers. "Aunt Belle, Uncle Willy, Anni, and Simon. That's only four pillows, Mither," she said in a comforting voice. "Nothing to get all nervous about."

"It's just that they always arrive virtually unannounced, and I usually have a million other things on my mind."

"I like that," said Miranda. "It's nice and spontaneous. After all, they're
family
—nothing out of the ordinary!"

Uncle Willy, Aunt Belle, Anni, and Simon arrived full of good humor and famished for the after-supper snack Helen and Miranda laid out—cold chicken, pickles, French bread, and wild strawberries from the garden. The sleeping arrangements turned out not to be a problem; Uncle Willy had arrived driving a camper.

Anni, who was six, and Simon, who was seven, screeched their greetings as they raced from the camper into Miranda's arms.

"You sure are lucky!" Anni told Miranda after everyone had been given a tour of the new house, and they were sitting outside on the porch.

"And what a lovely garden," added Aunt Belle. "Our garden in Maine is impossibly rocky, but you could grow almost anything in this soil."

"The garden is a bit wild," said Philip, "but I have plans to tame it."

"Such a strong smell of magnolia," commented Aunt Belle. She rubbed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temples.

Without warning the terror began.

Everyone looked just as they had a moment before, and everything was the same as it had been all evening, yet the air around Miranda suddenly grew heavy and the fear became palpable. Her dry mouth yearned for a sip of water, anything. Her thin body broke out in a sweat, tensing against an unknown evil. Her hands gripped her knees. Around her, faintly, she heard the buzz of light conversation, the clink of ice in glasses.
Help me, oh God, helpmehelpmehelpme...

Who had said that? She couldn't breathe. Why didn't anyone notice? She tried to speak and failed. Her parched lips would crack if she opened her mouth. This was a hundred times worse than the terror that sometimes assailed her at the dollhouse. There she could look away, turn it off, control it. Here it encircled her. She was frozen in place with no one to run to. She tried again to scream, but though her mother sat only a few feet away, she didn't seem to hear.

"Mither!" It burst out at last, not the scream Miranda heard in her own head, but a small gasp, almost a sigh.

Helen and Aunt Belle looked up and smiled. "Hmm? Did you say something, Mandy?" Helen asked.

But at the sound of her mother's voice the terror was gone. Miranda relaxed and unclenched her hands. "I guess not," she murmured.

 

Miranda phoned Nicole before she went to bed that night. She had to hold the receiver at arm's length to protect her ear from her friend's shrieks of excitement at the invitation. So Philip left alone for New York the following morning, planning to return Sunday evening with Nicole.

Miranda spent the morning hanging out in the garden with Anni and Simon. When Simon had the idea to shift the masses of ivy and brambles to make a hiding place among some boxwood bushes, the girls pitched in. Miranda made thick peanut butter and peach jam sandwiches, and they ate them in the hollowed-out space, enjoying the coolness of the shaded ground. Helen, Aunt Belle, and Uncle Willy drove into town after lunch to window-shop.

Anni and Simon, tiring of outdoor play, talked Miranda into a game of hide-and-seek. They agreed that anywhere in the house would be within limits. The dining room table was goal. Miranda searched for a place to hide. As she passed the door that led to the attic, she opened it and stepped quickly inside. She sat down on the bottom step, leaving the door open a crack, and waiting silently. Soon she grew bored. Playing with her younger cousins had tired her out, and she wanted to be alone.

The dollhouse! She felt it beckoning, as if her absence had been noticed, her observation missed. She stood and started up the stairs, then halted. If she went up, her cousins would find her there. She didn't want to share her strange secret with them. She steeled herself against the lure of the dollhouse and sat back down on the steps, feeling restless in the hot, still air.