The Sheriff had just left. I was sitting on the front porch, the hula hoop lifeless at my side. I had so many questions. It seemed entirely unreal. I mean, Chris had been in all of my classes since I was five. Even, remarkably, the advanced classes I took in highschool. I had never imagined anything like this happening, and believe me, I was the queen of imagination. I heard the screen door close behind me, heard the rubbery squeak of Aunt Madeline and her boots as she sat down next to me.
"If I know you, Betsy, you just heard that whole conversation," She said, running her fingers through my short, curly black hair.
"Yes ma'am." I answered, staring at the road.
"So what do you think?"
"I dunno." I answered honestly. "I'm blown away by this whole thing. Truly. What are you going to do?"
She folded her hands together and smiled at me. "I want you to help me decide." she said. "Whether or not to take them in, I mean. It's going to have a huge impact on your life either way, Betsy."
"You can't make me decide a thing like that." I told her, blown away. "If I say no, they'll go to Togus. I don't want to be responsible for sending them up to Togus."
"Yes, I know what you mean." She sighed. "It would make us look like a couple of old witches, wouldn't it?" Another sigh. "But if we take them in, it's not like our popularity is going to boost either. We've never been town favorites, you know Betsy. Me with my smoking habit, and you with your introverted ways, but we take them in and I'm afraid people will start being down right cold with us."
"But it isn't about us this time, is it Aunt Madeline?"
She sat there for a long time, that one line between her eyebrows deeper than I'd ever seen it. Finally she spoke. "You know, Betsy. I think you're right about that. It's going to affect us, hell yes, but we really shouldn't be thinking about it."
"So the question is, would they be better off with us, than in the children's home?"
"No doubt in my mind, Betsy old girl." She took a cigarette from the front pocket of her apron, and lit up.
We sat on the porch for a while after that, talking about things we'd have to do since the Chambers kids were coming. We'd have to fix up the old bedroom in the attic. Chris could stay there. We could convert Madeline's sewing room into a place for Cassie to use. We'd have to put up the shower curtain in the bathroom, finally, and buy a lock for the door. There was a list of things to be done around our house.
"I'm going to go call the sheriff." Madeline stood. "And tell him what we've decided.
"I'm going up to my room, for a while." I stood too.
"I'll call you down when I need you. I'm not sure how soon those kids will be moved in here, but I figure the sooner, the better for them and for us. Might as well get used to it before summer comes."
"Might as well."
My room was the prettiest in the house, no doubt about it. More yellow walls (Madeline hated white walls in her house) and several large windows. My favorite window was in the west corner, with a window seat and plenty of light and view. Everything about that room seems perfect now. My bed was a four poster, older than dirt but as sturdy as a brick wall. Madeline made the quilt on it, for my mother when she was a little girl. It was pale blue with birds and flowers and things all over it. I was sixteen years old, but in my room I could be anyone I wanted, whatever age I wanted. Mostly, I was Betsy Gnol, best selling author. Writing was one of my secret joys. No one knew that I did it (not even Aunt Madeline) but I was always happiest with a blank notebook on my lap, and a pen in my hand.
I opened my closet and pulled out "the carton". It was an old coke carton that, over the past four years, I had filled with over thirty-five notebooks. Some of them were like diaries, some of them I kept stories in. Some of them I took to school and filled with random thoughts that had occurred over the days. But all of them were completely secret. No one was allowed in my closet. Not Aunt Madeline, not my cousin Bernie. It was entirely off limits.
I was working on a red notebook around the time Chris and Cassie came. I had been writing a romance about a woman who worked on Broadway and a man who played saxophone on the streets. But feeling it was quite sappy, I turned to a new page and began to write. Having kept all of those blessed notebooks, I still have what's written there...
Has anyone ever imagined such a thing, as Christopher Chambers coming to live with me and Aunt Madeline? I think not. But it is an interesting idea. I wonder what he is truly like, Chris. Did he really steal the lunch money back in sixth grade? Is he like Eyeball, and his oldest brother in prison? Is he like his dad? Gordie Lachance doesn't seem to think so. But then, who knows Gordie, either? I have never lived with anyone but Aunt Madeline, and Cousin Bernie when he visits for a day or so once a month. I can only fathom what it will be like to suddenly have four in the house, instead of two. And Cassie. I have seen the girl twice in my life. Once when she was in kindergarten and just a week ago. She's in second grade now, probably eight or nine years old. She's so thin, and pale looking. All of the Chambers are like that, except for Chris who practically lives outdoors. He's tan and broad shouldered and healthy looking when he's not all bruised. What must they be feeling right now? Do they know that we're their only hope of not getting sent to Togus? I don't want them to think of us that way, like we're doing some charity. Because we're not. This happened to us, just like it happened to them. Am I glad that they're coming? Not especially. But then, I'm not upset, either. I guess I don't feel anything about it except complete awe. And some worry. Aunt Madeline has given me a perfect, quiet life and I like it this way. I like staying a mile away from Castle Rock, I like talking to her and only her. We have our own little balance out here. Might two more people upset the balance? Especially Chambers, who are known to be slightly...dodgy.
Looking back on it today, and later that summer I realized how I had taken gossip for truth, other people's opinions for my own. Being, I felt, an open minded person this shamed me when I finally recognized it. How could I have been so stupid, so narrow? But then I think, what else could I have thought? Even my Aunt Madeline was skeptical of those folks, and they were her kin. Which reminded me...
"Madeline!" I tromped down the stairs, shouting as I went. "Madeline!"
"I'm in the attic Betsy, no need to scream!"
Tromping back up the stairs I smelled paint. How very odd. "Madeline," I reached the attic. "How are you related to the Chambers exactly?"
"Well, Betsy old girl," She was bent over a paint can, an old sheet on the floor beneath her. "I'm Mr. Chambers cousin. When I was a little girl, the lot of us lived in a town a little ways from here. People always treated me and my family like trash, so when I was eighteen I left. I didn't tell anyone where I was going and I changed my name so that they couldn't find me, and so that I could have a fresh start. Being associated with those people...it made you into an outsider, Betsy and I couldn't live with that. So I came to Castle Rock, found myself a husband, and had your cousin Bernie. Then, when Bernie was about fifteen, my rotten, no good drunk of a cousin showed up in Castle Rock with his new wife and by the time Bernie was twenty, they had a new baby and a reputation as low life. Mr. Chambers never recognized me, though I saw him on several occasions, and no one knew that we were related, not for years and years. Apparently the Chambers clan in the next town over has died out, and believe me, I won't be losing any sleep over it. But that leaves me as those kids' last remaining relative, and it's my duty as a Chambers has been to take them in."
It was quite a tale, and suddenly I realized why it was such a tough choice for my Aunt Madeline. She'd shaken the Chambers name from her boots, clean of them for over thirty-five years, and now she was being asked to take it all back.
"What color are you painting it up here?" I asked, changing the subject.
"Well, come over here and have a look." She pulled the lid off the can and smiled.
It was a fire engine red, brighter than any red I'd ever seen in my life. I smiled back at her. Aunt Madeline had an eye for color, and a gray old attic would soon be looking like a bedroom; a cozy, living space for a sixteen year old boy with no other place to go.
We had half of the attic painted, when finally we took a break. "Sheriff says he's going to bring them in on Monday." She told me. "On Memorial Day."
"That's a lot sooner than I expected."
"Me too," She nodded. "But where else have they got to go? Sheriff can't keep em for more than a day or so. You know Chris Chambers hates old Lock and Lock hates Chris too. I figure it's best to get them separated as soon as possible."
"Probably," I agreed, picking up my paintbrush again, and starting on the ceiling. Aunt Madeline said paint on a ceiling gave the place more depth. She would know. That woman painted those rooms over and over again. But oddly, the attic had never been touched.
"What used to be up here?" I asked her.
"Oh, Todd's fishing things." She told me. "He liked to keep it gray up here, said it looked more manly."
Her husband, Todd, had died before I came to her. Heart attack. No one had seen it coming. But after nearly seventeen years of living without him she seemed to have put the tragedy in the past. She was a strong woman, the strongest I would ever know.
We spent the rest of Saturday and most of Sunday fixing things up in the sewing room and the attic. Sunday evening we drove into Castle Rock to pick up a few things. The door lock, for one, and there were a couple other varied items that we needed. Through all of the stores we visited, hushed whispers and pointed stares followed. After we'd made our rounds, Aunt Madeline decided we could stand a burger and shake at the diner.
We sat at the counter, as we always did when we came to eat. I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich, a cheeseburger sounding greasy and heavy–not at all what a Radio City Music Hall hula hooping star would eat.
Down the counter a ways a heavy looking trucker was giving us a mean stare. I didn't know who he was, but he hardly looked away until we got our food. Then he stood, saying loudly, "So these are the folks taking in the Chambers trash, now. We were almost rid of em, those kids were headed to Togus." The whole diner was watching, some people nodding along as he spoke, his rich tenor voice filling the small space. "They were almost gone for good but no, they'll be round here forever now that Maddie's taking them in. Good old Maddie just attracts orphans I guess, they just come to her."
I could feel a heat rising to my cheeks. I didn't know what he was getting at but I didn't like it, not one bit. Aunt Madeline took another sip of coffee and looked up at the man, waiting for him to say more. He did. "Yes sir, we were free of those Chambers forever, but now they'll be hanging round for the rest of their lives. And we've got Maddie and her little rag tag orphan girl to thank for it–,"
"Well, Brutus," Maddie slammed her mug down on the counter. "At least you'll always be around, good old Brutus, ready to whip that sixteen year old boy into shape. Yes sir, those Chambers are half starved, beaten people but they can get vicious, especially that Chris when he's taken by surprise. How long did it take you, Brutus, to give him that black eye?"
"Hush, Madeline!" He screamed, spittle spraying the pristine counter top.
"Come on, Betsy, we're going home. I guess these people have forgotten what common decency is. Just as bad as the old Chambers man himself, you are Brutus, beating kids around..."
And we stormed out of there, fast as lightning.
"If I know you, Betsy, you just heard that whole conversation," She said, running her fingers through my short, curly black hair.
"Yes ma'am." I answered, staring at the road.
"So what do you think?"
"I dunno." I answered honestly. "I'm blown away by this whole thing. Truly. What are you going to do?"
She folded her hands together and smiled at me. "I want you to help me decide." she said. "Whether or not to take them in, I mean. It's going to have a huge impact on your life either way, Betsy."
"You can't make me decide a thing like that." I told her, blown away. "If I say no, they'll go to Togus. I don't want to be responsible for sending them up to Togus."
"Yes, I know what you mean." She sighed. "It would make us look like a couple of old witches, wouldn't it?" Another sigh. "But if we take them in, it's not like our popularity is going to boost either. We've never been town favorites, you know Betsy. Me with my smoking habit, and you with your introverted ways, but we take them in and I'm afraid people will start being down right cold with us."
"But it isn't about us this time, is it Aunt Madeline?"
She sat there for a long time, that one line between her eyebrows deeper than I'd ever seen it. Finally she spoke. "You know, Betsy. I think you're right about that. It's going to affect us, hell yes, but we really shouldn't be thinking about it."
"So the question is, would they be better off with us, than in the children's home?"
"No doubt in my mind, Betsy old girl." She took a cigarette from the front pocket of her apron, and lit up.
We sat on the porch for a while after that, talking about things we'd have to do since the Chambers kids were coming. We'd have to fix up the old bedroom in the attic. Chris could stay there. We could convert Madeline's sewing room into a place for Cassie to use. We'd have to put up the shower curtain in the bathroom, finally, and buy a lock for the door. There was a list of things to be done around our house.
"I'm going to go call the sheriff." Madeline stood. "And tell him what we've decided.
"I'm going up to my room, for a while." I stood too.
"I'll call you down when I need you. I'm not sure how soon those kids will be moved in here, but I figure the sooner, the better for them and for us. Might as well get used to it before summer comes."
"Might as well."
My room was the prettiest in the house, no doubt about it. More yellow walls (Madeline hated white walls in her house) and several large windows. My favorite window was in the west corner, with a window seat and plenty of light and view. Everything about that room seems perfect now. My bed was a four poster, older than dirt but as sturdy as a brick wall. Madeline made the quilt on it, for my mother when she was a little girl. It was pale blue with birds and flowers and things all over it. I was sixteen years old, but in my room I could be anyone I wanted, whatever age I wanted. Mostly, I was Betsy Gnol, best selling author. Writing was one of my secret joys. No one knew that I did it (not even Aunt Madeline) but I was always happiest with a blank notebook on my lap, and a pen in my hand.
I opened my closet and pulled out "the carton". It was an old coke carton that, over the past four years, I had filled with over thirty-five notebooks. Some of them were like diaries, some of them I kept stories in. Some of them I took to school and filled with random thoughts that had occurred over the days. But all of them were completely secret. No one was allowed in my closet. Not Aunt Madeline, not my cousin Bernie. It was entirely off limits.
I was working on a red notebook around the time Chris and Cassie came. I had been writing a romance about a woman who worked on Broadway and a man who played saxophone on the streets. But feeling it was quite sappy, I turned to a new page and began to write. Having kept all of those blessed notebooks, I still have what's written there...
Has anyone ever imagined such a thing, as Christopher Chambers coming to live with me and Aunt Madeline? I think not. But it is an interesting idea. I wonder what he is truly like, Chris. Did he really steal the lunch money back in sixth grade? Is he like Eyeball, and his oldest brother in prison? Is he like his dad? Gordie Lachance doesn't seem to think so. But then, who knows Gordie, either? I have never lived with anyone but Aunt Madeline, and Cousin Bernie when he visits for a day or so once a month. I can only fathom what it will be like to suddenly have four in the house, instead of two. And Cassie. I have seen the girl twice in my life. Once when she was in kindergarten and just a week ago. She's in second grade now, probably eight or nine years old. She's so thin, and pale looking. All of the Chambers are like that, except for Chris who practically lives outdoors. He's tan and broad shouldered and healthy looking when he's not all bruised. What must they be feeling right now? Do they know that we're their only hope of not getting sent to Togus? I don't want them to think of us that way, like we're doing some charity. Because we're not. This happened to us, just like it happened to them. Am I glad that they're coming? Not especially. But then, I'm not upset, either. I guess I don't feel anything about it except complete awe. And some worry. Aunt Madeline has given me a perfect, quiet life and I like it this way. I like staying a mile away from Castle Rock, I like talking to her and only her. We have our own little balance out here. Might two more people upset the balance? Especially Chambers, who are known to be slightly...dodgy.
Looking back on it today, and later that summer I realized how I had taken gossip for truth, other people's opinions for my own. Being, I felt, an open minded person this shamed me when I finally recognized it. How could I have been so stupid, so narrow? But then I think, what else could I have thought? Even my Aunt Madeline was skeptical of those folks, and they were her kin. Which reminded me...
"Madeline!" I tromped down the stairs, shouting as I went. "Madeline!"
"I'm in the attic Betsy, no need to scream!"
Tromping back up the stairs I smelled paint. How very odd. "Madeline," I reached the attic. "How are you related to the Chambers exactly?"
"Well, Betsy old girl," She was bent over a paint can, an old sheet on the floor beneath her. "I'm Mr. Chambers cousin. When I was a little girl, the lot of us lived in a town a little ways from here. People always treated me and my family like trash, so when I was eighteen I left. I didn't tell anyone where I was going and I changed my name so that they couldn't find me, and so that I could have a fresh start. Being associated with those people...it made you into an outsider, Betsy and I couldn't live with that. So I came to Castle Rock, found myself a husband, and had your cousin Bernie. Then, when Bernie was about fifteen, my rotten, no good drunk of a cousin showed up in Castle Rock with his new wife and by the time Bernie was twenty, they had a new baby and a reputation as low life. Mr. Chambers never recognized me, though I saw him on several occasions, and no one knew that we were related, not for years and years. Apparently the Chambers clan in the next town over has died out, and believe me, I won't be losing any sleep over it. But that leaves me as those kids' last remaining relative, and it's my duty as a Chambers has been to take them in."
It was quite a tale, and suddenly I realized why it was such a tough choice for my Aunt Madeline. She'd shaken the Chambers name from her boots, clean of them for over thirty-five years, and now she was being asked to take it all back.
"What color are you painting it up here?" I asked, changing the subject.
"Well, come over here and have a look." She pulled the lid off the can and smiled.
It was a fire engine red, brighter than any red I'd ever seen in my life. I smiled back at her. Aunt Madeline had an eye for color, and a gray old attic would soon be looking like a bedroom; a cozy, living space for a sixteen year old boy with no other place to go.
We had half of the attic painted, when finally we took a break. "Sheriff says he's going to bring them in on Monday." She told me. "On Memorial Day."
"That's a lot sooner than I expected."
"Me too," She nodded. "But where else have they got to go? Sheriff can't keep em for more than a day or so. You know Chris Chambers hates old Lock and Lock hates Chris too. I figure it's best to get them separated as soon as possible."
"Probably," I agreed, picking up my paintbrush again, and starting on the ceiling. Aunt Madeline said paint on a ceiling gave the place more depth. She would know. That woman painted those rooms over and over again. But oddly, the attic had never been touched.
"What used to be up here?" I asked her.
"Oh, Todd's fishing things." She told me. "He liked to keep it gray up here, said it looked more manly."
Her husband, Todd, had died before I came to her. Heart attack. No one had seen it coming. But after nearly seventeen years of living without him she seemed to have put the tragedy in the past. She was a strong woman, the strongest I would ever know.
We spent the rest of Saturday and most of Sunday fixing things up in the sewing room and the attic. Sunday evening we drove into Castle Rock to pick up a few things. The door lock, for one, and there were a couple other varied items that we needed. Through all of the stores we visited, hushed whispers and pointed stares followed. After we'd made our rounds, Aunt Madeline decided we could stand a burger and shake at the diner.
We sat at the counter, as we always did when we came to eat. I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich, a cheeseburger sounding greasy and heavy–not at all what a Radio City Music Hall hula hooping star would eat.
Down the counter a ways a heavy looking trucker was giving us a mean stare. I didn't know who he was, but he hardly looked away until we got our food. Then he stood, saying loudly, "So these are the folks taking in the Chambers trash, now. We were almost rid of em, those kids were headed to Togus." The whole diner was watching, some people nodding along as he spoke, his rich tenor voice filling the small space. "They were almost gone for good but no, they'll be round here forever now that Maddie's taking them in. Good old Maddie just attracts orphans I guess, they just come to her."
I could feel a heat rising to my cheeks. I didn't know what he was getting at but I didn't like it, not one bit. Aunt Madeline took another sip of coffee and looked up at the man, waiting for him to say more. He did. "Yes sir, we were free of those Chambers forever, but now they'll be hanging round for the rest of their lives. And we've got Maddie and her little rag tag orphan girl to thank for it–,"
"Well, Brutus," Maddie slammed her mug down on the counter. "At least you'll always be around, good old Brutus, ready to whip that sixteen year old boy into shape. Yes sir, those Chambers are half starved, beaten people but they can get vicious, especially that Chris when he's taken by surprise. How long did it take you, Brutus, to give him that black eye?"
"Hush, Madeline!" He screamed, spittle spraying the pristine counter top.
"Come on, Betsy, we're going home. I guess these people have forgotten what common decency is. Just as bad as the old Chambers man himself, you are Brutus, beating kids around..."
And we stormed out of there, fast as lightning.