Guests began to arrive a little before the appointed time. We welcomed pirates and waitresses, princesses and several animals. It was such fun to guess who was who and discover what each of our friends had decided to be. We all made our way into Marcy's bas.e.m.e.nt. I noticed Marcy watching closely for Stephen, but he didn't show up. I felt a mixture of relief on my own account and pity for her. She had really set her heart on his being there.

Then three little old ladies arrived. Stooped over and slow, wearing faded dresses, gray wigs, funny old hats, and wire-rimmed spectacles, they had even worn knee- high hose, complete with holes, drooping down around their ankles and st.u.r.dy shoes. Whoever they were, they played their parts to perfection. When we noticed that two of the pairs of legs were quite hairy, we all howled with laughter.

Dana recognized one set of legs and announced that they belonged to Brett, and this brought on another round of laughing. The second old lady was Travis, and the third turned out to be Graham. They all looked fantastic. Once they realized they'd been recognized, they each took off their hats, nodding and bowing for us in elderly fas.h.i.+on. The room applauded.

Dana and Marcy each had a camera, so flashes blinked as cameras clicked. We got used to the sudden flares throughout the evening as one or the other caught some incident on film.DANA S Valley

After partic.i.p.ating in two, which included a great deal of raucous laughter, I ducked out of the third and sat in a corner where I could see the fun. The floppy brown paws of my teddy costume had become stained with punch, so I took them off and put them on the seat beside me. I wondered how the thick paint that I'd used to make my big black nose was holding up.

"Hi."

Surprised, I looked up at Graham Dawson, Travis's brother.

"Hi."

He eyed the seat beside me and motioned toward it. "Mind if I sit down?"

"No, go ahead." I picked up my discarded paws and stuffed them under my chair. "I like your costume."

He grinned back. "It was Travis's idea. We got the clothes from my grandma. She keeps everything. I'll bet they're over fifty years old."

I laughed. "They suit you."

"Yeah, that's what my dad said. I'll take that as a compliment, by the way." He grinned. "Mom wasn't quite as enthusiastic, but we talked her into letting us use her makeup.''

The party game was over. I rose to go.

"Hey, Erin, I'm sorry about your granddad." He clearly was feeling awkward about how to say the words, 68.

but I liked the sincerity in his voice. It was good to know that people around cared-even though I really didn't know Graham that well."Thanks."

All in all, we thought the party was a huge success, and we already were talking about the next one.& & &.I guess we all expected Grandma to stay with us for a while and then decide to go back to her own big house again. But it didn't turn out that way. She talked about it from time to time, making statements like "I should really be going home and letting you get on with your lives." Or, "I just hate to think of being all alone again." Or, "Brett, you must be getting anxious for your grandma to let you have your own room back." Each time she said something like that, either Mom or Dad would a.s.sure her she was welcome to stay in our home for as long as she liked. But I think we all were feeling a little bit crowded, in more ways than one.

The first clear indication that she was reluctant to carry on with her own life was when she told Uncle Patrick over the phone to go ahead and sell the motor home. I don't think any of us expected her to drive it. Still, I saw Brett look up with a funny expression. There went the fis.h.i.+ng trip for sure. Maybe he'd been hoping that he and Dad would be able to take it.

Grandma did go back to her house once. She made it clear that she planned to be gone for just a short while. She stayed away for only three days, and then Dad got aDANA S Valley * 69call that she was at the bus station and he could come pick her up.

She had more suitcases this time. And she did bring Uncle Eric's picture. She had some other pictures too. Her favorite one of her and Grandpa, and some of the whole family. I think it was the pictures that made me realize she intended to stay for quite a while. Maybe forever.

If Mom and Dad were concerned about it, they certainly never let it show. Mom must have gotten tired at times of Grandma's chatter, but she smiled and added a few words of her own now and then. I had the feeling, though, that the necessary drives to take us places or the /daily trip to pick up Corey after morning kindergarten *}*were now welcome excursions for Mom. She'd sort of j.

take a big breath as she crawled behind the wheel. It probably felt good to leave the house for even a short time.

Yet I was taken totally by surprise when Dad's voice took on the "family conference" tone one morning as we were gathered around the breakfast table. Grandma usually slept late and fixed her own toast or m.u.f.fin to go with the leftover coffee in the pot. So it was just our family who sat around the table enjoying Mom's blueberry pancakes.

"Your mother and I have done a good deal of talking- and praying-and we think that it might be the right time to think of a bigger house," Dad said, looking around the table.

That sure got our attention in a hurry. I saw Brett jerk his head up as though in disbelief and Dana's eyes grow large. Corey was busy poking a fork into the yolk of his egg to make it "bleed," so he wasn't paying much attention.

70.

The yolk didn't run very well. Mom was too concerned about making sure it was thoroughly cooked. Corey didn't like blueberry pancakes, though I never could figure out the reason. And it was the only time that I remember Mom allowing any of us special privileges with the meal offerings. She seemed too baffled by it to insist that he eat his pancakes.

"What kind of a bigger house?" Brett spoke first.

"Just a ... a medium-big house," Dad went on. "Nothing fancy-just more room. We've even thought of something with a mother-in-law suite."

"What's a mother-in-law suite?" I could feel myself frown as I asked the question. I knew enough about family relations.h.i.+ps to know that Dad's mother-in-law was Grandma Tyler, but I hadn't heard anything about Grandma Tyler needing a place to stay.

My Tyler grandparents were missionaries. Except through letters and cards, and now even more frequent e-mails, I felt I hardly knew them. Mom had pictures of us kids taken with them when they had been back in America on one of their home a.s.signments. But being medical missionaries and desperately needed at the clinic in Bolivia, they didn't come home as often as some missionaries -nor stay as long. But Dad was answering my question, even as my mind whirled with more questions.

"That's just two or three rooms-sort of like an apartment -attached to a home. If we had something like that, Grandma Walsh could be with us ... yet have some s.p.a.ce of her own."

"She's not your mother-in-law," I heard Brett say, expressing my very thought."Well ... it doesn't have to be for the wife's mother.

DANA S Valley * 71Not for any mother, in fact. But it often is-that's why the name."

"Isn't Grandma Walsh going back home?" Corey asked directly. There. The question we all wondered about was on the table. Corey had been listening after all.

Dad just shook his head. "I'm not sure," he answered honestly. "She still seems sort of lonely. We want her to know she can stay with us for as long as she wishes. But we don't want all of you crowded in together either. It isn't fair that you have to give up your rooms."

Mom hadn't been saying much, but I noticed she nodded every now and then as though to second everything Dad was saying.

Actually, it sounded rather exciting. Already my mind was beginning to think of a new room for Dana and me to share. One with bigger closets and room for another chest of drawers so we wouldn't have to be arguing over who had what s.p.a.ce all the time. I could even envision a window seat like I'd seen in a magazine. I wondered if Mom would let us have one. They were great places to curl up with a book. You could even tuck your book under a cus.h.i.+on if you didn't feel like putting it back on the shelf when you were done.

"Can I have my own room?" Brett was asking. "Or do I still have to share with-?" He stopped before he'd actually uttered Corey's name, but even Corey got the point.

His head came up. "Uh-uh," he said, shaking his head emphatically, waving a bite of egg in the air. "I don't want to sleep alone. I get scared."

"You've gotta learn to sleep alone sometime," Brett argued. "Won't be long until I go off to college. Then what?"

72.

"I'll go too," said Corey without a moment's hesitation.

Brett snorted.

On the other side of the table, Dana seemed to be deep in thought. "Where?" she asked, as if she hadn't even heard anyone else's comments.

Dad understood her question. "We don't know yet. We need to look around."

Until that moment I hadn't thought about the where. I had just a.s.sumed that the new house would be right where we were-or at least somewhere very close. Surely Dad wouldn't move us away from our community. Our friends.

"You mean we might have to move somewhere else?" My voice squeaked at the incredible notion.

"Most likely."

I think all of us just sat and stared. Dad had always said that what we had was just fine. That good homes were not fas.h.i.+oned out of wood and bricks-but love and respect. Now he was prepared to move? Away?

"I don't think I want to move," said Dana, shaking her head and echoing my feelings exactly.

"I do," piped up Corey.

"How do you know? You've never moved. You don't even know what it's like." I was a little short with him. I didn't want anyone reinforcing Dad's idea until we'd at least had some time to think about it.

"I know," said Corey, pus.h.i.+ng a piece of toast into the egg yolk without too much success. "But after I move- then I will know."

I guess, somehow, that made sense. Anyway, there was little point in arguing with Corey. I turned my attention back to Dad, who was speaking again. "Mom and I haveDANA S Valley & 73been doing a lot of praying and talking. It seems that now would be a good time to make a move. As you kids enter the teen years, you could use more s.p.a.ce-each have your own room. And it seems . . ."

But he lost me right there. Was he thinking Dana and I would not be sharing a room anymore? We'd always shared a room. I couldn't imagine sleeping alone. It wasn't that I was scared-like Corey. It was just that I liked Dana's company. She must have felt the same way because before I could even speak, she asked, "Would we have to have separate rooms?"

She had interrupted Dad. Usually we were gently re- 1fminded that we were not to do that, but this time Dad stopped mid sentence and looked at Dana. "You don't want to have your own room?" He sounded a little surprised."Not really," she answered, sounding less firm. Maybe she was wondering if that made her odd.

II spoke up quickly. "Me neither."

IDad just shrugged and looked over at Mom. She Ishrugged back-but she also smiled. "You won't be required to have your own rooms if that's the way you feel about it," she said. She looked rather pleased-as she sometimes did when we remembered our proper manners in public or were thoughtful about another person or something.

"Me too," said Corey, stuffing in more toast. "I'll sleep with them too."

I couldn't help but smile at his simple solution.

Dana was shaking her head. "Then why move?" The *question seemed to be directed at Corey, but I don't think he was getting the message. Dana continued, "We 74.

would be just as squashed in the new room if we had to have three beds in it."

"Then we'll put in a big bed and we can all sleep together," said Corey around a bite of toast.

Dana rolled her eyes. "No, Corey. You need to be in a boy's room. Not with us girls."

"But Brett don't want to share."

"Doesn't," corrected Mom, but she gave him a little pat on the arm. I couldn't help feeling a little bit sorry for poor Corey.

Dad stirred. "We don't have any more time to discuss this right now. You need to get at your morning ch.o.r.es. It's something we'll all pray about and think about, and we'll talk about it again later. We might even take a few drives to look around. See what area looks good. What we can find. We want to be sure to have access to good schools."

Good schools. The very words frightened me. I liked my school. There was no way I wanted to move to another. I'd lose Marcy-and my other cla.s.smates. I was ready to shake my head and vow that I for one was staying put. But I bit my lip and said nothing. Dad was already standing up, and I knew he expected us to get right to those ch.o.r.es he had spoken of.

It wasn't until later that I started to sort it out. It was really Grandma Walsh's fault. If it wasn't for her, we'd be just fine. We'd had enough room in the past to all fit.

But I couldn't stay angry with Grandma. I'd seen her sad face over the months since Grandpa had died. I couldn't blame her for not wanting to be alone. I wouldn't want that either.

Suddenly I felt angry with Grandpa Walsh for dying. I'd always thought of him as old-but he really wasn't, notDANA S VALLEY * 75.as grown-ups count age. I'd overheard several people say, "What a shame. At his age." Or, "He was so young to go so quickly." I hadn't really paid attention to them till now. I'd also heard remarks like "He worked too hard. Just wouldn't slow down." "It's a lesson for us. You just have to take care of your heart." "Exercise more." "Watch that cholesterol." Things like that. So if Grandpa had been doing wrong things-and not doing right things-it really was his fault. He should have taken better care of himself. Then Grandma would be in her own house-not looking so sad and hanging out in Brett and Corey's bedroom. Things could have stayed the same. We wouldn't have to be thinking about a move at all.

But I also felt increasingly guilty about being mad at Grandpa. I loved Grandpa, and it was such a mixed-up *feeling to love and be angry all at the same time. One *minute I chided myself and tears came to my eyes. I still missed him. Then an ugly feeling would go all through me, turning that love to thoughts like "He shouldn't have . . ." Or, "He should have . . ." and I'd be mad again. It was confusing-and painful-all at the same time. But I didn't talk to anyone about it. In fact, I would have been very ashamed if anyone had suspected how I felt. I tried to hide it-and mostly I could. But once in a while something almost slipped out, and then I would say or do something to try to quickly cover it up. I'd never tried to deceive that way before and it was hard. Almost as if I was living a lie. I knew I couldn't hide my true thoughts and feelings from G.o.d. He knew my very soul. My deepest emotions. Mom and Dad had always taught us that. It was scary. Sometimes I found myself fearing that G.o.d might strike me down dead-or something. Once I even caught myself quickly looking down at my hands to 76.

see if I'd been smitten with leprosy. I'd heard in Sunday school cla.s.s that leprosy was how He punished people in the old days-like in the Old Testament. I was relieved to see that my hands still looked okay, but I didn't really know what leprosy looked like anyway. White ... I think. Something about white.

I didn't even dare to pray about it, because that would be admitting there was a problem. To myself. And to G.o.d. If He hadn't caught on yet, I sure didn't want to be the one to draw His attention to it.

I didn't talk to Dana about it either. I was used to sharing everything with Dana. But she had been somehow different lately. She didn't seem to talk about much of anything. And she didn't laugh as much as she used to either. Did growing up make so much difference? She often just lay on her bed. Sometimes reading. Sometimes just staring at the ceiling, with the book abandoned on the bed beside her. I couldn't understand it. She'd never been as excited about activity as I. But at least she'd been doing something. Now she didn't really seem to care that much about pursuing fun.

Then another thought struck me. Maybe that was Grandpa's fault too. Maybe Dana didn't want to move either. Maybe she was struggling along, trying to hide angry thoughts as well. Maybe I should talk to her.

But I couldn't. I didn't dare. What if I were all wrong? Then Dana would give me one of her disapproving looks-probably far more disdainful than any that she'd sent me recently. And, worse than that, she'd know.

CHAPTER SIX.

EVEN MOM AND D AD were looking disappointed as we filed back into our home after another long afternoon of searching for a place to build the new house. It was a cold and dreary February day, and our moods suited the weather well. The few lots scattered here and there in the established neighborhoods near our current house had been rejected as unsuitable for several years. It seemed that, if we were to build at all, we would be forced to extend our search to a much larger radius.

Actually, the choice of a floor plan was going much better. Mom and Dad had narrowed their original ideas down to three layouts. And, from then on, the final selection would be based upon the lot.

Brett was enthusiastically favoring the one with a walkout bas.e.m.e.nt. But Dana preferred the Cape G.o.d that more closely resembled our current home. I tried not to get involved in too many of the discussions about the house. But I sure was looking over the properties carefully. And I was watching the people too. I still hadn't seen any of the kids from my school around the lots where we'd been looking.

78.

Corey was the only one who still had the energy to talk about the house. He followed Dad into the living room, chattering away. "Daddy, when we get the right place, can I have my own tree? 'Cause I'd like to be able to look outta my window and see the birds building nests in it. Then I could even leave some string and stuff around it so the birdies could get 'em in their beaks and fly way up to where they're building. My teacher says that birdies will use stuff like that if you leave it by their tree."

Dad dropped into his easy chair and pulled Corey onto his lap. "It would be nice of you to take care of the birds. And I'm sure they would use your string. I'll tell you what. Why don't you gather the kinds of string you want to use, and we'll cut it up and put it in a plastic bag. Then you'll be ready in the spring to put it out by a tree somewhere. I can't promise you that you'll have one by your window. But I'm sure we can find a nice tree nearby."

"That's a good idea! I'll go get my special scissors and ask Mommy for some of her strings. The ones with the bright colors. Mommy!" He had already bounced back off Dad's lap and trotted away.

I approached Dad quietly. His head was leaning back against the chair, and his eyes had closed. I wasn't sure whether to speak to him or not, but the floor squeaked under my feet and his eyes popped back open. Then he smiled at me warmly.

"Hi, honey. Are you as tired as I am?"

I drew closer to the chair. "I guess I am."

"Did you want to talk to me, Erin?"

I blushed a little. To be truthful, I wasn't quite sure what it was I wanted to say. I felt the need to express something of what I'd been feeling. But the words eludedDANA'S Valley * 79me. "No, I just wanted to see how you're doing." My hesitation must have indicated otherwise.

"Come here, honey." Dad sat forward and reached out to hug me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face against him, trying hard not to cry. I wasn't even sure why I was fighting tears. But somehow the closeness seemed to be releasing some of the feelings I'd tried so hard to force down.

"It'll be okay, Erin. In a few months all this hard work will pay off, and we'll have a nice house to show for it. We'll probably even look back and laugh. They say it's always darkest before the dawn. So I'll bet we find just the right place really soon."

I couldn't speak. I didn't trust my voice.

"You know, pretty soon you'll probably be too old to cuddle. Would you like to just sit with me for a while?"

Dana and I had decided some time ago that we were too old to sit on Daddy's lap the way Corey still did. But tonight I just wanted to be close to him. Dana might not approve, but I didn't care. Maybe I'd wait and grow up next year. Instead, I snuggled up against his chest and tucked my feet between the cus.h.i.+on and the side of the chair. I didn't fit well anymore, but it felt wonderful. We sat in silence together.

After some time, Dad whispered, "Can you tell me what's bothering you?"