Chapters One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen; Christmas.
(Flyover Planet, SF, starts here, and that’s the teaser.)
This was too much to take in. Ben stared at the stolen objects for a long moment. Then almost without thinking he grabbed all three of them, the knife, the brooch and the pipe, jumped off the table and pulled open the doors of Susan's wardrobe. The bottom drawer on the side was full of neatly folded summer stuff, scarves and socks and all. He slid his hand under the pile and slid the things he had taken off the top of the chest of drawers under the clothes, all the way to the back; patted the stuff into place — it looked exactly the same as before to him — and shut the doors.
After dinner, Ben went to help his Dad in the toolshed. As they worked, his Dad said:
"A penny for your thoughts?"
"Funny, Dad. Never-ever got a penny for them, by the way."
"Here's a quarter then," his Dad laughed, tossing him one. Ben grinned too, then said:
"Hey Dad... If you thought that a friend had done something... Something kinda not right, but you weren't sure, what would you do?"
"Good friend? Someone you trust?"
Ben nodded.
"Talk to him," his Dad said. "Trust deserves trust, Benjamin."
At night in his bed Ben could not drop off even though he was pretty tired. He kept thinking and thinking. Did Susan steal these things? But every time he tried to imagine Susan stealing something for any reason his mind refused to draw that picture. But then why were they there? And they were pretty recognizable: everyone knew Doc's brooch and Judge Joe's pipe, and the knife actually had Uncle Mac's name on it!
Ben fell asleep to confusing dreams of chasing somebody through the woods and having giant silver flowers trying to swallow him. He did not remember any of it waking up but still felt a bit bleary-eyed.
"What are you up to today?" his mom asked at breakfast. "Going over to get more sausages done?" Ben shook his head:
"I uh, I promised to help Susan out with something."
"Benjamin, how many times?! Don't speak with your mouth full!"
But Ben was out the door and off as fast as he could run. There was a light on in Susan's room so instead of going in through the front door he climbed the big maple tree just outside her window and tapped on the glass. Susan pulled open the curtain, looking startled and a little scared; but her expression changed to one of relief when she saw Ben.
"Couldn't you come in through the door like a normal person?" she asked, sliding open the window for him. "Thanks for the pine cones yesterday by the way," but Ben was not listening. He tiptoed to her bedroom door and locked it, with Susan looking on in puzzlement.
"What on..."
"Shush," Ben pulled the curtain closed too, and then stepped up to Susan.
"Ok," he took a deep breath. "Yesterday when I was here I ... I found something. I think you didn't want anyone to know—"
He trailed off. Susan's face had gone red and she looked embarrassed and ... guilty. There was no doubt about it; and Ben felt kind of ashamed and empty inside.
"I didn't want anyone to know. Anyway you had no right," she said, biting her lip. "I wasn't even sure..."
Ben said miserably:
"Look, we don't have to tell anybody. You've never done anything like that before, right?"
"Of course not!" she said angrily. "What do you think? Just because I'm not from around here —"
"Well, I didn't know what to think! I will just help you get rid of all that stuff and..."
"Get rid of it?" Susan was staring at him. "You didn't like it?"
"Like it?" repeated Ben. This was beginning to get really weird. "Why would I like it?"
Susan turned away. He had the horrible suspicion that she was crying. Her voice definitely sounded unlike herself when she said:
"I never want to see you again, Ben! Get out of here and don't come back! And I don't care if you fall off that tree and break your stupid neck! And if you ever come into my bathroom again I will... I will... I will know what to do about it!" she ended on a sob.
It was not the most effective ending and Ben, who had started out confused and was now getting angry, said even before he could think:
"Oh yeah? Well I was just trying to warn you and save your bacon and this is what you... Fine! I won't ever—" Susan's words finally caught up with him. Wait, what?
"Bathroom?" he repeated just as Susan turned her tear-stained face toward him.
"Save me?!" she asked.
"I never went into your bathroom!"
"Save me from what, you idiot?"
"Why would I go into a girl's bathroom?!"
"Wait," Susan said, shaking her head. "Wait a sec." She whisked herself off into the bathroom and shut the door. There was the sound of running water for a few moments; then she came out, wiping her face and looking much calmer.
"Ok. What were you talking about?" she asked quietly.
"What were you?"
"You first," she was blushing a little but she did not look upset or guilty anymore. Ben shrugged.
"I happened to look at the top of that," he pointed at the chest of drawers. Susan crinkled her eyes, looking puzzled.
"And?" she said. There was no trace of guilt, she was just waiting for Ben to go on. Ben felt something loosen in his chest.
Look in your bottom shelf, just under everything," he said. Susan did, and pulled out the brooch. She looked completely surprised; Ben could tell she was not faking it.
"The Doctor's flower brooch! How did it get here?" she rummaged some more and got out the pipe and the knife, looking more and more surprised.
"They were over there, I just happened to see them. I didn't know what to do and... I didn't really think you took them," Susan's expression of surprise was giving way to something else.
"You were ready to help me though, in any case," she said quietly.
"Well, yeah," Ben felt embarrassed. "But nevermind that now. How did they get there?"
Susan shook her head.
"I can tell you they weren't there the day before yesterday when I dusted."
Ben shook his head (dusting? Where no one can see? What's the point?).
"Ok, so who was in your room between that and last night?"
"How do I know? It could have been my grandma or anyone. I will ask her I guess but it's not like anyone locks their doors around here."
That was true. Guns were locked up of course, when not in use, and the doctor's dispensary, but that was about it. And now at Christmas time everyone was in and out of each other's houses all the time, asking for recipes, borrowing flour or sharing treats, so it was pretty hopeless.
"Well, ask her, kinda, you know, without making a fuss. In the meantime, what do we do with all this?"
"I can just drop the knife on a shelf in the barn or something," Ben thought about it; "I guess I can "find" the pipe in the woodpile. That leaves the brooch."
"Ok, I will figure something out," Susan said bravely. "But... shouldn't we tell somebody?"
"No," Ben said firmly. He'd had some time last night and this morning to think about it. "Tell them what, we found other people's stuff in your room and we don't know how it got there?"
"That does sound stupid," Susan said reluctantly. "I just don't like lying to the people here. Everyone's been so nice."
"So don't lie," Ben was impatient. "Who said anything about talking? Girls always complicate things."
"That's not true, we just think more than boys do!" Susan said hotly. Another fine argument was about to get off the ground when a voice called up from below:
"Hey Susie, what's going on in there? Everything all right?"
"Yes, grandma! I'll be down in a minute!" she switched off the light as Ben popped open the window silently.
"Ben, be careful!" Susan whispered. Ben grinned:
"Thought you wanted me to break my neck?"
Susan stuck her tongue out at him but he was already shimmying along the branch.
"There!" he couldn't resist showing off so he looked back over his shoulder at Susan, anxiously watching from her window. The branch trembled; it was scary but since Susan was watching Ben upped the stakes:
"Hey, Sue, no ha —"
CRACK!
Ben's arms went windmilling, grabbing at thin air. He'd hooked his legs around the big branch but a fat lot of good did it do him when the branch itself gave way! Susan was yelling, Ben was grabbing blindly at snapping twigs:
Crack-crack-crack
Crack
CRACK!
THUMP!
Ben's troubles might have been over for sure, and for ever. But grabbing at branches did slow his fall; and he landed into the only snowpile there was under the tree. Mr. Adams had shoveled the snow there but hadn't packed it tight and that saved Ben's neck.
"BEN!" that was Susan's grandma and Mrs. Adams (whose house it was) and Mr. Adams, and Susan almost falling out of the window, her face pale and her long braids swinging.
Mr. Adams was laughing while the women ran to Ben, who was getting up, wincing a little.
"It's ok, I'm ok! No really!"
"Maybe you should see the doctor just in case," Susan said in a would-be calm voice, making terrific eyes at Ben. "And I'll go with you, to broach the subject of falls."
Mrs. Adams and Susan's grandma exchanged glances, then looked up at the stricken tree.
"You know what, that does sound like a good idea," Mrs. Adams said in an unexpectedly friendly voice. "Why don't you kids go ahead. Oh, and take this package along, will you? Are you sure you are fine to walk, Ben? All right, off you go."
"That was weird," said Ben fervently as they left. "But at least they did not ask us what I was doing climbing the tree. I wonder why..."
"Never mind that," Susan said curtly. Her face was a bit red, probably from the cold."You tell the doctor about your fall and kind of draw her attention and I will find a spot for the brooch."
"Hey Doc, how's it going?"
"Hello, Doctor O'Malley!"
"Hi Doc, what's up?"
Doctor O'Malley was really well-liked in the Valley. She was a well-setup woman with clear grey eyes that were as good as an X-ray machine without the radiation; thick salt and pepper hair and a no-nonsense bedside manner. Everyone knew she had moved to the Valley when she quit her hospital job. She used to run a big team of doctors and nurses, with slick equipment and everything but there had been just one problem: she was not allowed to do her job properly. She had spent years trying to avoid Big Pharma and now that was not on anymore. She'd quit a few years before when almost every doctor in the country was told to give his or her patients a big expensive shot or drug for some seasonal flu. And she refused because her patients were not guinea pigs ("and I would not do that to guinea pigs either!" she'd said). She left the hospital and moved to the country, taking her medical volumes and knowledge with her. Now she ran a website and wrote papers and cheerfully fixed things that went wrong with people's bodies whenever possible and bullied them into not walking on sprained ankles for a day or two.
"Don't you miss it?" she was asked sometimes, and she would say, "maybe a bit from time to time. But being told what to do is only good when you are told to do the right thing and the smart thing."
Doctor O'Malley did not take insurance; she took cash or produce. She prescribed good habits and nutrition, vitamins and honey with lemon and things like that. With Judge Joe she cheerfully argued the merits of whiskey toddies over brandy with lemon; with Susan's granny she shared the latest in gene therapy for old knees and debated whether that was a good way to regrow cartilage and and if it was good for the soul.
So Ben moaned and winced as Doc O'Malley pinched and prodded him, muttering to herself about fool boys. Ben made sure he was facing Susan so she was behind the doctor. Susan was poking around the bookshelves and fidgeting with the blinds. Finally she plumped herself in the big chair by the door and gave Ben a tiny nod.
"Wow, I actually feel much better," he said, jumping up in the middle of the doctor's remarks. "Thank you, Doc, I guess we'll be going then!"
"Just a moment," the doctor said quietly. She came over to the bookshelves and looked down at Susan, who seemed to shrink in on herself.
"Susan, honey," the doctor said, sliding her hand behind the books on the top shelf. "There is a picture frame on that wall, right above where Ben was sitting. The glass is just like a mirror, you see?"
Susan looked stricken; and of course she looked guilty; and when the doctor withdrew her the silver flower from behind the books, glittering and sparkling, poor Susan went pale and looked imploringly at Ben. He thought furiously.
"I... asked Susan to... to help me put it back," he said. "I took your brooch on... on a dare. I know I shouldn't have. I'm sorry, Doc."
"Ben, no!" Susan said but Ben shook his head. He knew there was going to be hell to pay and he would probably be grounded all the way through Christmas but he didn't care. There was no way he was going to let Susan take the blame; he would figure something out later.
"It had nothing to do with Sue," he said doggedly.
The doctor looked from Ben to Susan and ran her hand through her salt-and-pepper curls. Quite unexpectedly, she smiled.
"Kids," she said, and rolled her eyes. "Come on, I will make us some hot chocolate. And then you two can tell me what really happened."
Well, the good news was that Doc O'Malley believed Ben and Susan. The bad news was that she had as little idea as either of them about why someone would first steal her brooch and Judge Joe's pipe and Uncle Mac's knife, and why these would be put in Susan's room.
"They aren't valuable," she said, turning the brooch around in her hands. "The brooch might fetch thirty dollars, no more, the pipe is old... I don't understand it any more than you do."
"Mail, Doc!" came a cheerful yell from the outside. Ben ran out to greet the mailman and grab a few packages and envelopes for the Doc, but Bill was getting out of the truck though he left the engine idling.
"Is the doc in? Ah, there you are, Doc. Gotta sign for this one I'm afraid. Here you go."
"From my least favorite uncle," Doc O'Malley wrinkled her nose as she left a long squiggle in place of her signature.
"Who's that?" Ben asked. Susan rolled her eyes at him.
"Uncle Sam," she and Doc said together and the mailman laughed. "He used to be all right, but now it's one fool regulation after another for "physicians to be apprised in due course" and all that. Thanks, Bill! How's the knee?" the doctor asked. The mailman gave her a thumbs up and jumped into his seat to prove it.
"Don't stop the exercises!" the doctor shouted as he drove off, acknowledging her with a cheerful "toot-toot!"
"Could be a practical joke?" Ben said, going back to the question of the stolen objects in Susan's room.
"But it's not even a little funny, is it? What do you think, doctor?"
The doctor shook her head.
"I'm going to think about it too; talk to your parents, Benjamin. I don't like this, but I don't know what's going on."
"All right. I guess we should get along anyway." Ben got up as the door opened. It was the Bill the mailman again.
"Hey Doc, I darn near forgot: could you refill that hydro thing for me, hydroxywhatsit? I got all the other stuff stocked up but it looks like we're going to get some snow next week, I don't want to get stuck back home without it."
But the doctor didn't answer. There was an official-looking paper in her hand, the envelope and the rest of the mail in a pile on a little table by the door. Her face was grim and there was a little line between her eyebrows as her eyes narrowed to slits and shook her head.
"I'm afraid I can't, Bill," she said quietly. "No HCQ or anything for anybody."
The kids and the mailman stared at her.
"Why not?!"
"My license has been suspended. I mustn't prescribe or treat anyone at all." And with that, she took off her white coat and hung it neatly on the coatrack.