One
Stopping and Starting
Mr. Evans leaned his head out the back window.
"Lily! Petunia! Tea is on!"
A sweet-faced little girl seven years old, her red pigtails bouncing with every step, ran over to where her sister was kneeling in the grass and tugged on her arm.
"Come on Petunia. You know if we don't come right when Father calls us, we won't get a story later."
Petunia, age nine, brushed blonde curls out of her eyes and straightened up from the bug she was peering at through a magnifying glass.
"Run in and tell Father we have to tidy up the lawn first," she replied with a wide sweep of her arm indicating their back yard. "If we don't straighten up here, we won't be allowed out tomorrow except to clean up."
Lily ran to the house leaving her older sister in the yard. It was neat, though a bit small, enclosed by a tall brown wooden fence. The front yard was larger but they would never have dreamed of playing there. Mother's flower garden was there and Lily and Petunia, named after flowers, were always curious about them.
Anyway, there was no toy slide in the front lawn, and no swings in the small trees out front. But two little swings hung from the sturdiest branches on either side of the single enormous oak that provided, shade, shelter, picnic area, and play place for the two little girls.
Petunia and Lily were best friends as well as sisters. In summer they played together every day at their Gram's until Mother and Father came home from work. In fall and winter they walked together every day, to and from school, in their matching plaids and white, as alike as two sweet peas in a pod save for Petunia being a bit taller and their hair. Petunia's hair was sweet honey blond. Lily's hair was the smooth clear color of red cordial.
Father came out to the back porch and crossed the lawn. "What's keeping you two? Tea is waiting and your mother . . .."
Lily, ever energetic, half skipping half walking to keep up with her dad, bumped right into him when he stopped suddenly. Bumping into him, however, did not stop her chatter.
"Oof. Sorry Dad. Petunia's just tidying up father. You won't not tell us a story will you? We're trying to be good. Father? Father?"
Her father had stopped short just a foot from Petunia. Lily followed his gaze.
"Dad? What's wrong? Petunia?" Then, she too, saw. "Oh," was all she said and fell silent.
Petunia seemed as frozen as her father. She kept her body still but finally, slowly, looked up at him. Then she looked back to the wasp that was frozen in midair beside her. Petunia stepped back from it as though it might move which it obviously couldn't. It just hovered there.
Although it was clearly alive, in fact it was beating its wings, it wasn't moving. Not forward, not back, not up, not down. Not chasing anyone, not flying away or any of the things a wasp would normally do. Petunia backed away from it. She stopped, moved around it so as not to touch it and went to stand near her father and Lily.
"It landed on my arm, Father." Petunia was surprisingly calm. "I was just tidying up the play things and it startled me. I startled it too. I could tell when it came out from under the lid of the bug jar." She pointed to the fruit jar Mother had given them to play Bug Hunt. "It landed on my arm and I just...well, I was so scared, I just yelled out 'Stop!' and it did."
Mr. Evans gave a shaky sort of laugh. "It certainly did, Petunia. It is stopped. But you didn't, I mean, you couldn't . . ." he trailed off.
Petunia was nodding up and down. She didn't speak, as if explaining what had happened had been all she could do. But her father understood her as clearly as if she had spoken. Petunia believed she had stopped the wasp in mid-air.
It wasn't possible he thought. It just wasn't possible. But there it was. Alive, but not flying anywhere else, transfixed in that one spot as though caught in some invisible net. And no other explanation other than the fact that Petunia was standing next to it.
Mr. Evans was a sensible man. A freethinking man, but a sensible one nonetheless. Yet, here was the impossible staring him in the face and . . . well, his child had never told him a lie.
Mr. Evans took a deep breath. He looked seriously at his daughter and asked quietly, cautiously, "If you stopped it, can you...can you, well, start it again?"
Lily spoke again after what for her was a long silence, "I can, Father. It's easy. You just clap your hands." She clapped her hands twice and the wasp took off up into the air, over the fence and was gone.
Father looked at Petunia and Lily as though he had never seen them before.
"Petunia! How on Earth...?"
Lily laughed, "Petunia's not surprised because the bug stopped, Father. She's just surprised that you saw it. We promised never to tell."
"Lily, hush!" Petunia hissed. Her face had been pale but now two angry blotches appeared in her cheeks. "It's our secret!"
Mother was calling out the back door, smiling, "Bringing the girls in for tea sometime today are you dear?" Father turned to her helplessly and then back to the girls who were now arguing.
"But Petunia, Father just saw. He'll just have to join our secret club now anyway..."
"Lily! SHUT UP!"
"It's not like we do it on purpose, it just happens sometimes..."
Petunia slapped her. Hard.
"Petunia Evans!"
Mother was out the back door and next to them in a flash. Father had grabbed Petunia's arm to keep her from striking Lily again. Lily's hand was holding the spot where Petunia had hit her and she stood transfixed. Two tears started down Lily's cheeks, she wiped them away, but began to cry even harder and buried her face in her mother's apron.
"What on Earth is going on out here?" Mother looked up at Father bewildered. "It's been a lovely afternoon, and now this. I just don't understand." She stopped at the look on Father's face.
They all stood there for a moment. Lily crying, Petunia frozen, angry, but even she was shocked that she had hit, actually struck, her own darling little sister. Father was still holding her wrist. He let go of her gently, then blew out his breath slowly, as if he had been holding it for a long time.
"I'm not quite sure I understand it either, honey. But we are going to go in, have our tea, and discuss this."
He draped one arm around Petunia's shoulder, and the other around Mother's shoulder. Mother leaned down, dried Lily's face as best she could on her apron and then they all went into the house.
Stopping and Starting
Mr. Evans leaned his head out the back window.
"Lily! Petunia! Tea is on!"
A sweet-faced little girl seven years old, her red pigtails bouncing with every step, ran over to where her sister was kneeling in the grass and tugged on her arm.
"Come on Petunia. You know if we don't come right when Father calls us, we won't get a story later."
Petunia, age nine, brushed blonde curls out of her eyes and straightened up from the bug she was peering at through a magnifying glass.
"Run in and tell Father we have to tidy up the lawn first," she replied with a wide sweep of her arm indicating their back yard. "If we don't straighten up here, we won't be allowed out tomorrow except to clean up."
Lily ran to the house leaving her older sister in the yard. It was neat, though a bit small, enclosed by a tall brown wooden fence. The front yard was larger but they would never have dreamed of playing there. Mother's flower garden was there and Lily and Petunia, named after flowers, were always curious about them.
Anyway, there was no toy slide in the front lawn, and no swings in the small trees out front. But two little swings hung from the sturdiest branches on either side of the single enormous oak that provided, shade, shelter, picnic area, and play place for the two little girls.
Petunia and Lily were best friends as well as sisters. In summer they played together every day at their Gram's until Mother and Father came home from work. In fall and winter they walked together every day, to and from school, in their matching plaids and white, as alike as two sweet peas in a pod save for Petunia being a bit taller and their hair. Petunia's hair was sweet honey blond. Lily's hair was the smooth clear color of red cordial.
Father came out to the back porch and crossed the lawn. "What's keeping you two? Tea is waiting and your mother . . .."
Lily, ever energetic, half skipping half walking to keep up with her dad, bumped right into him when he stopped suddenly. Bumping into him, however, did not stop her chatter.
"Oof. Sorry Dad. Petunia's just tidying up father. You won't not tell us a story will you? We're trying to be good. Father? Father?"
Her father had stopped short just a foot from Petunia. Lily followed his gaze.
"Dad? What's wrong? Petunia?" Then, she too, saw. "Oh," was all she said and fell silent.
Petunia seemed as frozen as her father. She kept her body still but finally, slowly, looked up at him. Then she looked back to the wasp that was frozen in midair beside her. Petunia stepped back from it as though it might move which it obviously couldn't. It just hovered there.
Although it was clearly alive, in fact it was beating its wings, it wasn't moving. Not forward, not back, not up, not down. Not chasing anyone, not flying away or any of the things a wasp would normally do. Petunia backed away from it. She stopped, moved around it so as not to touch it and went to stand near her father and Lily.
"It landed on my arm, Father." Petunia was surprisingly calm. "I was just tidying up the play things and it startled me. I startled it too. I could tell when it came out from under the lid of the bug jar." She pointed to the fruit jar Mother had given them to play Bug Hunt. "It landed on my arm and I just...well, I was so scared, I just yelled out 'Stop!' and it did."
Mr. Evans gave a shaky sort of laugh. "It certainly did, Petunia. It is stopped. But you didn't, I mean, you couldn't . . ." he trailed off.
Petunia was nodding up and down. She didn't speak, as if explaining what had happened had been all she could do. But her father understood her as clearly as if she had spoken. Petunia believed she had stopped the wasp in mid-air.
It wasn't possible he thought. It just wasn't possible. But there it was. Alive, but not flying anywhere else, transfixed in that one spot as though caught in some invisible net. And no other explanation other than the fact that Petunia was standing next to it.
Mr. Evans was a sensible man. A freethinking man, but a sensible one nonetheless. Yet, here was the impossible staring him in the face and . . . well, his child had never told him a lie.
Mr. Evans took a deep breath. He looked seriously at his daughter and asked quietly, cautiously, "If you stopped it, can you...can you, well, start it again?"
Lily spoke again after what for her was a long silence, "I can, Father. It's easy. You just clap your hands." She clapped her hands twice and the wasp took off up into the air, over the fence and was gone.
Father looked at Petunia and Lily as though he had never seen them before.
"Petunia! How on Earth...?"
Lily laughed, "Petunia's not surprised because the bug stopped, Father. She's just surprised that you saw it. We promised never to tell."
"Lily, hush!" Petunia hissed. Her face had been pale but now two angry blotches appeared in her cheeks. "It's our secret!"
Mother was calling out the back door, smiling, "Bringing the girls in for tea sometime today are you dear?" Father turned to her helplessly and then back to the girls who were now arguing.
"But Petunia, Father just saw. He'll just have to join our secret club now anyway..."
"Lily! SHUT UP!"
"It's not like we do it on purpose, it just happens sometimes..."
Petunia slapped her. Hard.
"Petunia Evans!"
Mother was out the back door and next to them in a flash. Father had grabbed Petunia's arm to keep her from striking Lily again. Lily's hand was holding the spot where Petunia had hit her and she stood transfixed. Two tears started down Lily's cheeks, she wiped them away, but began to cry even harder and buried her face in her mother's apron.
"What on Earth is going on out here?" Mother looked up at Father bewildered. "It's been a lovely afternoon, and now this. I just don't understand." She stopped at the look on Father's face.
They all stood there for a moment. Lily crying, Petunia frozen, angry, but even she was shocked that she had hit, actually struck, her own darling little sister. Father was still holding her wrist. He let go of her gently, then blew out his breath slowly, as if he had been holding it for a long time.
"I'm not quite sure I understand it either, honey. But we are going to go in, have our tea, and discuss this."
He draped one arm around Petunia's shoulder, and the other around Mother's shoulder. Mother leaned down, dried Lily's face as best she could on her apron and then they all went into the house.