Author's Note: I found the lyrics to 'When Pa' on a website devoted to lyrics for children's songs. Unfortunately, I can't find the link anymore. Sorry. I do know there was no author or copyright for the song.
Thanks always to Lynn for her editing prowess. She thinks I called the Beldens' lawyer Mr. Davison in some earlier chapter. I thought I caught them all and changed the name to Davis. See, Davison triggers the spell check and that nasty red line bugs me to pieces, so I changed the name. If I missed changing the name somewhere, or if I have inadvertently caused any confusion, I'm sorry. I really thought I had gotten all the names switched!
Oh - and thanks to all those who informed me that Dirty Dancing was filmed in North Carolina (as well as Virginia). I will have to find some way to work that into the story Until then, here goes:
To Be ContinuedChapter Eight: When Pa
The next day was Friday. During breakfast at Manor House, Jim suggested to Honey that everyone who was able might like to ride horses in the morning, before the summer day grew too hot. Afterward, he figured everyone might enjoy a dip in the lake and then a picnic on the docks. They could have a fundraiser meeting, he suggested further. Honey assented. Jim called the Beldens, she called Diana and Dan to get their opinion, and everyone agreed that it sounded like a good idea, too.
Due to the uneven number of horses and riders, Mr. and Mrs. Lynch's horses were ridden by Knut and Hallie. The other Bob-Whites took their usual mounts and Cap, sticking to his principles when it came to using animals for entertainment purposes, literally took a hike. The gang of ten set off together through the woods.
After a while, the paths narrowed to only allow two horses to travel side-by-side. Trixie maneuvered her horse, Susie, next to Honey on Lady. "What's up?" she asked her friend. "You don't seem your usual self."
Honey yawned. "I haven't been sleeping all that well," she said.
Trixie grew concerned. "Why not? Stress? Noise? Not feeling good? What's wrong?"
Honey glanced in front and behind them. Just ahead of them, Brian and Knut were laughing about something appropriately guy-related. Just behind, Mart and Diana were blushing and teasing each other. No one was paying much attention to the two best friends. She whispered as loud as she dared, "I've been having dreams again."
Trixie stared. "Dreams? What kind of dreams?" Surely she didn't mean the kind of horribly scary dreams, nightmares really, she'd had when she first moved to Sleepyside. Honey's dreams then were horrible. She had dreamed once of being in a small room while a huge balloon pressed down upon her. She had dreamed once of opening a delivery box to find a black snake with a white streak down its back darting at her. Since finding Jim upstate and bringing him home to Manor House, Honey had not reported any unusual dreams.
Honey sighed, clearly uneasy and worried. "Last night, for instance, I was dreaming about your father. We were all in a sort of courtroom and everyone was shouting accusations at everyone else. Ridiculous stuff, mostly. 'You mowed my lawn'. 'Well, you took a bath.'"
Trixie giggled. So far, this was not much of a nightmare. "What happened next?"
"The shouting got worse and worse until a woman walked up to your dad and kissed him." Honey's apparent misery increased. "It wasn't your mom. She was there, but she didn't do anything. Your dad was kissing this other woman and then he said it didn't matter because it wasn't her."
"Huh?" Trixie's heart beat so fast it was all she could say.
Honey nodded so hard her honey-streaked hair tumbled across her shoulders. Lady sidestepped, startled by the contradictory motions her rider made with the reins. "That's what he said. It didn't matter because it wasn't her. Then he let go of the woman only now it wasn't a woman it was a man and well that's when I woke up."
Trixie's eyes were huge. "You dreamed about my dad kissing a man?"
Honey shrugged. "Don't ask me why, but do you see why I couldn't sleep?"
Trixie returned her attention to the path. They had just reached the edge of a clearing and, two by two, the riders cantered their horses across it. "I'm surprised you didn't wake up screaming!" She smirked at her friend, then kicked Susie to race across the field.
A moment behind her, Honey did the same for Lady. She did not share her reply. I woke up screaming the night before.
* * *Back at Manor House, Miss Trask went to see Mrs. Wheeler. She found her at the piano in the music room, playing Beethoven. Miss Trask waited until Madeleine finished the sonata before speaking. "Ma'am, I'd like to talk to you for a moment. It's about Honey."
Huge hazel eyes met Miss Trask's compassionate gaze. "What's wrong with Honey?" Madeleine asked. "Is she all right?"
Miss Trask nodded. "She's fine, really. She's out riding horses with the others and later on there'll be a picnic at the lake."
Madeleine's face softened. "She's happy here, isn't she," she stated. "Happy and content." She collected the sheet music in front of her and moved it aside.
"Yes, she is not the same child I met at school all those years ago." Miss Trask paused a moment. "But something has happened which concerns me." Briefly, she told her Madeleine about Honey's recent spate of nightmares. "I fear she is either repressing something horrible or this business with Peter Belden has affected her more than she let on to me."
"Repressing?" Madeleine repeated. "Something horrible? What? And what precisely makes you think so?"
Miss Trask sighed. "I'm not sure. Perhaps it's the nature of the nightmares. The one the other night " She shook her head.
"Tell me."
"If you insist," Miss Trask hesitated. The general order to every member of the Wheeler staff was to keep all troubles from Mrs. Wheeler. That Miss Trask felt it necessary to burden the woman with this information meant she deemed it vital the other woman know of it. Still, she resisted disturbing her further.
"I do," Madeleine repeated. "Tell me."
"I heard a shout and ran to her room," Miss Trask began. "Jim was about to knock and go in, but I sent him back to bed. Honey told me she dreamed of sheet music. Giant pages of sheet music coming to life, only the notes weren't normal, they were dollar and cent signs. They chased after her and finally crushed her flat. She says she remembers looking down at her body and it was paper thin. A dollar sign kept jumping on top of her and chanting 'what's the matter' and 'forget the horns' over and over."
"Hm," Madeleine said thoughtfully. "That's odd. I wonder what that means."
"I'll tell you what I think." Miss Trask stepped nearer. "I wonder if this fundraising thing she's taken charge of is too much for her."
Madeleine did not immediately reply. Instead, she let her fingers trill a cascade of notes down the keyboard until they hit upon a familiar melody. She played a slow, sultry verse of Up a Lazy River while Miss Trask waited patiently, knowing Madeleine required music to help her sort her thoughts. Finally, she stopped playing. She raised her eyes no higher than the sheet music in front of her.
"I disagree," she said. "I think Honey can handle what she's started. I think once Trixie figures out a way to help her father, and I have every confidence she will, that things with the fundraiser will straighten themselves out. If you like, however, I can ask Ben to help make some calls or fax some requests."
Miss Trask nodded. "That should help Honey as well as give Ben something else productive to do."
Madeleine's eyes twinkled. "Isn't my dear nephew enjoying his current employment in the stables?"
"The word is," Miss Trask confided, "He hates it and is even now looking for a way to revenge himself on Regan for making him scrub the stalls."
Madeleine burst into laughter. "Wait until Ben finds out that was my idea! There'll be sugar in the salt shakers again. You'd better warn Cook."
* * *At the lake that early afternoon, Knut found a moment to have a quiet conversation with Dan. The others had begun a swimmers versus canoes race in the lake, but Dan opted to work on his tan. Knut caught up to him as he lay out flat on a beach towel and adjusted his sunglasses. "Hey, how's it going?" he asked.
"Not too bad," Dan replied, brushing all his hair out of his face. He then lay perfectly still on the towel, his eyes closed despite the presence of the shades. Knut was about to give him up for sleeping when he asked, "Something you wanted to talk about?"
Knut sat on the warm grass beside Dan on the towel. He made sure the others were out of hearing. "There is something. My sister."
Dan made a scoffing noise. "What about her? Look, if you're asking me to get back with her or something -"
"No!" Knut assured him. "Nothing like that. That's not it at all. Date her or not, that's up to you. I'd never interfere with that."
"Good," Dan said. "Because I wouldn't date Hallie for anything. Not after the way she's treated Anne."
Knut nodded his head in complete understanding and agreement. "I wouldn't date a girl like that, either," he said. He took a deep breath. "I only wanted to ask if you had to freeze her out so completely."
"Excuse me?"
Dan's voice was low, cold and disbelieving, but Knut continued. "I mean it. This morning in the stables, she asked you a simple question about the tack and you walked away from her. When we got to the lake, she offered to help you with the tablecloth and you practically snatched it out of her hands. While we were riding, even, you were in front and there was a low-hanging branch. You held it for Anne but when Hallie went under it, you let it hit her in the head."
"Hey!" Dan sat up and removed his sunglasses. "That's not how it happened at all! I held the branch for Anne because she was right next to me. I had to let it go because I had moved past it. I was calling out to tell the others about the branch when Hallie, who was following us way too close, got hit. It was an accident and I did say I was sorry."
"Okay," Knut said, letting it go. "I know there's two sides to everything. But my sister -"
Dan wasn't finished. "And yeah, I didn't talk to her about the tack but that's mainly because Anne was standing right there and she's the one in charge of all that, not me. Hallie should've asked her if she really wanted to know. And that bit about helping me with the tablecloth, give me a break. She heard me ask Anne and that's why she offered, because Anne couldn't help."
"Why not?" Knut asked, though he wasn't much interested in the other girl's reasons for doing anything. His concern was for his sister, not this strange girl he'd just met a few days ago. Knut took his time getting to know people. He rarely allowed his first impression to guide him down any path and he was loathe to take anyone's position against his own family, regardless of the circumstances.
Dan's reply was swift. "She had to shoot up. Satisfied?"
"Look, Dan," Knut said, brushing his hand over his face, "I don't want to fight with you. You seem like a nice enough guy and if things were different I might even approve of you dating my sister, but things are how they are and we both have to deal with that." He was tired and his head was beginning to ache. This was not how he had anticipated this conversation going. Even more troubling to him, he could not remember just how he had anticipated the conversation going. What was he hoping to accomplish? "I think I just would like it if you and Hallie could at least try and be civil to each other."
"Talk to your sister about that," Dan almost snarled. "If I thought for one second she regretted what she did to Anne, or that given another chance she wouldn't do the same thing over, I might give it a whirl, but " He shook his head. "I don't see that happening. Do you?"
But Knut was nodding his head. "You don't know my sister. She's too embarrassed to say so out loud, but she feels terrible about Anne. The other night, before this thing with my uncle came up, she was quizzing Brian about diabetes. She had found his medical books and had some questions."
"I don't understand," Dan said seriously. "What's so hard about apologizing to Anne?" He waved his sunglasses in the air before jamming them back on his face.
Knut shrugged, feeling a bit sheepish that he didn't know the answer for sure. The canoe versus swimmer race had reached a conclusion and the participants were on their way back to the shore. There were only a few moments of privacy left. "Hallie's never done anything bad like this before. I don't think she knows how to handle it. This has been a big test for her."
Dan stood up, preparing to congratulate whoever had won the race. "That's too bad," he told Knut. "Because she's failing it."
Knut watched Dan walk toward the shore and begin to help drag a canoe out of the water. He had to agree. Hallie was not putting her best foot forward. Even now and from this distance, he could see his sister staring jealously as Dan and Anne exchanged private smiles and a congratulatory kiss.
* * *Madeleine Wheeler called her husband at his Manhattan office as soon as she was alone. "Matthew," she said breathlessly. "We need to talk. I'm worried about Honey." Briefly, she outlined what Miss Trask had told her regarding the return of their daughter's nightmares. It took some time, but eventually Matthew was able to calm his wife.
"I'm sure it's just the stress of the Beldens' troubles and the fundraiser," he said reasonably. "Now that Miss Trask has more responsibility for it, I'm sure Honey's stress level will ease up. I wouldn't worry so much. I wouldn't allow her to take on so much responsibility if I didn't think she could handle it."
They spoke a few more minutes, until Madeleine was feeling better. When they hung up, Matthew sighed heavily. Despite his comforting words to his wife, he was now not certain he had done the correct thing by allowing Honey to handle the entire event. I should have listened to my instinct and gotten her to let Jim take over. But maybe this won't be a disaster.
* * *As the afternoon passed and the teenagers settled around the picnic table for dessert, Dan did try to be less antagonistic toward Hallie. When she went off on a comical riff about Pearl Jam's remake of 'Last Kiss', he even managed to sing the line she found most offensive. "I couldn't stop so I swerved to the right. I'll never forget the sound that night."
"Exactly!" Hallie nearly shouted. "The guy caused the accident himself. How can he expect to get into heaven when he's the one who killed his own girlfriend? I just don't get it."
"Relax, Hallie," Mart laughed. "It's just a 'teen death' song."
Knut snickered. "Like 'Tell Laura I Love Her'?"
"And 'Leader of the Pack'," Brian nodded. "You have no idea how much I hate that song!"
Trixie grinned wickedly before launching into a pitch-perfect, "Look out! Look out! Look out! Look OUT!"
Brian groaned and covered his ears. "Exactly!" The others laughed and began listing songs they, too, found irritating in the extreme.
Dan complained about 'Come On, Eileen' ('they're just going up and down the scale and cribbing from an old lullaby'). Mart suggested 'How Bizarre' and when the Jim and Knut chanted, "You want to know the rest, hey! Buy the rights!", he moaned in earnest. Honey smiled shyly and said she'd always found Whitney Houston's version of 'I Will Always Love You' overdone ("Dolly Parton's version is syrupy enough", she explained). Diana asked if anyone else had ever heard 'Prop Me Up Beside the Jukebox When I Die'. She said the title alone made it annoying.
Her eyes wide with innocence, Trixie announced, "Well, I just can't see myself ever getting tired of hearing 'Living La Vida Loca'. Can you?" A hail of crumpled napkins assaulted her.
* * *Tucked safely out of view in Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson is Hawthorne Street. Tucked safely out of view on Hawthorne is Slick Nickels. Tucked safely out of view in Slick Nickels, a nervous man made a call on his cell phone. "Yes, I want to verify an EFT," he began. After a moment, he whispered a string of seemingly random numbers and listened. He hastily scribbled some digits onto a small notepad. "Could you repeat that number?" He checked the figure.
The front entrance opened and a sudden, unwelcome flood of sunlight streamed inside the dim bar. The nervous man froze in the glare, shaded his eyes and then sighed in relief as a familiar person stood in silhouette. The door shut and the man closed his cellular connection. He waited for the newcomer to join him.
There weren't many in the bar at that early hour of the afternoon, but they were men, so when the bartender realized who had just stepped into his establishment, he let everyone know. "Excuse me, miss," he said in his most solicitous manner. "But may I get you a drink? On the house?" He grinned, but the pretty blonde woman refused the offer.
"No, thanks," she said. "I see my party now." She pointed toward the nervous man with the cellular phone and hurried to him, easily maneuvering in high heels and a miniskirted suit. Reaching the booth, she brushed the bench seat free of crumbs and peanut shells, opened a cocktail napkin, slapped it to her backside and slid onto the cracked vinyl seat. She gingerly leaned against the table toward the nervous man and asked, "Okay, I'm here. What's going on?"
The man smiled and began to talk.
* * *Eventually, Honey put an end to the festivities by requesting updates from the Bob-Whites on their progress with the fundraiser. Taking that as a subtle cue to make themselves scarce, Hallie and Knut headed back to Crabapple Farm. The club members seated themselves on the ground. Honey brought out her clipboard from one of the picnic baskets and began to take notes.
Anne had already contacted the JDF, AMFAR, the American Cancer Society and several other organizations devoted to raising money and awareness for medical research. She was happy to report they were all planning to set up booths and tables once they were provided with more concrete information.
Dan had taken time to interview several possible emcees, wedding DJs and visit a nursing home whose residents had put together their own swing orchestra. He had called the local radio station and spoken to one of the marketing representatives who assured him WSTH would be happy to provide any records, tapes or CDs needed for the dance. "But if they could get a song list in advance," he reported to Honey. "They'd be happier."
Diana's mother's favorite interior decorator was working on three different designs for the gymnasium. "She'll contact you next week to set up a time to go over the preliminary designs," Di reported. "I was good and gave her the three styles we had all suggested. We can vote on the best ones when she gives us the mock-ups."
"When I go into the office on Monday," Jim said, referring to his internship at Wheeler Enterprises, "I'll speak to some people in the advertising and marketing department about flyers and posters and information packets and sign-up sheets. We should have proofs of everything, I'd think, by the end of the week."
"Wow," Trixie breathed. "Sounds like the rest of you have got things in hand. What's left for us Beldens to do?"
Brian spoke up. "Since I traded some of my shifts this week, I'll be working tonight and Saturday night. I'm sure I can talk to one of the nurses and figure out how to get one or two to work First Aid at the dance. I think the hospital might like to have a booth of their own. Maybe they could have free health checks or something."
"Or the Bloodmobile," Anne said. "The blood banks are always low." The others nodded. Since Anne's surgery, the Bob-Whites had pledged to become regular blood donors.
Trixie added, "Of course, I want to put in a volunteer shift at the hospital on Sunday myself. I can talk it up then, too. In case you don't get an opportunity to, Brian." Her brother allowed that that would work as a backup plan.
"Have we gotten a food service yet?" Mart asked. He ignored the jibes and laughter that followed his question. "Seriously. If not, I volunteer to interview caterers. I could probably take care of that this weekend."
Honey frowned. "Won't you be visiting your father or working on his case?"
Trixie sighed loudly. "No. They won't let us. There's not much we can do but visit him but they don't let us stay for very long." She shook her head. "Trust me. I, at least, need the distraction."
Jim caught her attention. "We could practice this weekend, if you like."
She appeared to think about it. "Why not?"
He cleared his throat and carefully did not look at any of the others. "How about later in the afternoon? Around five or so? If we get hungry, we could always head into town for burgers or something."
Trixie caught herself staring. Could Jim actually be asking her out on a date? She looked to Honey, hoping to find a clue in her expression, but she was frowning at her clipboard and making notes. She glanced at Anne and Diana, but neither of them seemed to think anything was remarkable about Jim's request. Even Dan looked slightly bored by the conversation; he stared up at the sky.
She refused to look at her brothers.
"Um, sure, Jim," she finally said. "That sounds like fun."
He nodded in agreement. "Cool. We could meet at the clubhouse around five or so. That way, we can practice in privacy."
"Privacy?" Brian's head jerked around to face his friend.
"Sure," Jim said. "We want it to be a surprise. Don't we?"
Brian grimaced uncomfortably, then gently nudged Honey with his bare foot. "How about us? We'll need to practice, too."
"Right, right," Honey replied, barely looking up. "I need to get this info to Miss Trask ASAP. The decorator, caterer and whichever DJ we use are going to want some money in advance."
Diana shifted position to better regard Honey's face. "You sure you're okay?" she asked her. "You don't look right."
"I'm fine!" Honey insisted. "Honestly. You guys worry too much." She looked up and saw that everyone was watching her intently. "What?" she asked them, clearly exasperated.
"Nothing!" they hastened to assure her. Whatever was bothering Honey, she wasn't going to say.
* * *When she finally left Slick Nickels, she found that the shadows on Hawthorne Street had grown and lengthened. Looking up at the sky, however, she saw that it was still several hours to true nightfall. She shivered and clutched her handbag tighter and resolved then and there to never return to that particular area of town if she could help it.
She hurried to her car, gave a heartfelt word of praise that it started, and drove away. As she waited at a red light to turn onto Main, she watched a young blonde woman strut across the street in front of her car, a small boy in tow. For a moment, she was distracted by the adorable child and his mop of brown curls, then she realized how skimpily the mother was dressed.
The light turned green and she hastily drove away, thankful yet again that her uncle Charles had been able to secure her a job at the bank, or she might very well be in the same position as that woman back on Hawthorne Street.
There were plenty of parking spaces outside Wimpy's Diner. She found one and hurried inside the teenage hotspot. Quickly finding the man she'd come to see, she slowed her movements and glided toward him. He stood, greeting her with a swift, affectionate kiss, and they sat next to each other in a booth.
"Were you waiting long, honey?" she asked him sweetly. "I'm sorry if I made you wait."
He shook his head. "Don't worry. I've still got almost an hour before I'm on duty."
She frowned. "I hate that you're working nights."
He shrugged. "Sorry, baby, but I don't make the schedule." He lifted a hand to beckon the waitress, who then hurried over to take their orders. After a small debate on the merits of tuna melts versus BLTs, he continued their discussion. "It's not so terrible, and since your boss is in the joint, you haven't been at work anyway."
The pretty blonde sighed. "I wish you could do something about that, Dell. It's really not fair. Peter Belden is just the nicest guy. He'd never do anything wrong. Never. It's just not in him."
"I'm sorry," Dell apologized. "I wish I could do something. You don't know the argument I had with that idiotic I-won't-say-what FBI agent." He shook his head. "I've known the Beldens for years, too. So have half the guys on the squad. And even those that didn't grow up here have reason enough to respect and trust the guy. When they called and asked for back-up for their little arrest party, they didn't get one volunteer."
"So?" she asked, blinking her huge eyes slowly. "Did they need one?"
Dell tried to explain it more simply. "Baby, it looks good for the Bureau to have the support of local law enforcement and it looks good for the local guys to be in the paper alongside the Feds. It looks like we're all one big happy cop family." He stretched his long legs under the table until they rested against the opposite bench. "Finally, the Chief had to resort to drawing straws. There's no way I'd have done it."
She lifted his arm over her shoulders and snuggled herself in closer to him. "But if you had been there, you could have told me more of what was going on."
He knew she couldn't see his face from her perspective, he allowed himself to express his bewilderment. "Why? You were able to tell me more about the whole thing than the guys that got sent as backup - and they were briefed by the agents themselves."
She giggled. "Just a talent, I guess."
Dell adjusted his position, pushing her more upright so that he could whisper easily in her ear. Hearing his suggestion, she gasped, blushed and then laughed in delighted trills. "Officer Molinson! You're a devil, that's what you are!"
The waitress was bringing their food, so Dell sat up straight. The next few minutes were taken up with the business of eating. Eventually, he asked her, "What was your appointment for, anyway? I thought you were seeing the dentist next week."
"I am," she confirmed. "This was for something else." He shot her a more insistent look, so she continued. "It was just some guy from work. He wanted to ask me out, but I turned him down flat. I told him I already got a guy." She grinned at Dell.
"You sure do, Lisa," he confirmed with another kiss. "You sure do."
* * *The Bob-Whites finally wrapped up their impromptu meeting, collected the trash, leftovers and accessories, and carried everything up the hill to the Manor House kitchen. Once there, Honey offered to show Trixie the extent of the plans she had made regarding the fundraiser, but the weary teenager declined. "I want to get back home," she explained. "I don't want Moms alone with Bobby too much, you know? And who knows what Hallie has decided to clean now?"
Honey nodded sympathetically. "Did your mom go to the jail today?" She spoke softly so that Brian, laughing about something Jim had said, would not hear her.
"And every day." Trixie checked as well to be sure none of the others weren't paying their conversation any attention. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I found out something else, something about my dad. Moms hasn't told the boys and I don't think she wants them to know. Actually, she doesn't want anyone to know, but I have to tell someone."
Honey grabbed Trixie's arm and swiftly propelled her out of the kitchen, where the other Bob-Whites were joking with the cook and putting away the leftovers. In the formal dining room, among the crystal chandeliers, the polished mahogany table and the floral centerpiece, she ordered her friend to spill her news. "Unless you don't think you should, of course."
"That's the problem," Trixie said. "I don't know if I should but I don't think I can keep this inside me much longer." She sighed. Honey's eyes were curious, sympathetic and understanding. "All right, I'll tell you." As briefly as she could and taking care to use her mother's exact wording, she told her friend the secret.
Honey's reaction was swift and strong. "No way! Uh-uh! There is no way your father would do that. Not in a million years. Not in two! I don't believe it."
Trixie shrugged. "Neither do I and neither does Moms. But if I'm forbidden from working on the case by my own promise not to, then how can I help? How can I prove my dad's innocent?"
Honey thought a long moment. She pulled at her honey-brown ponytail and stared thoughtfully out the windows. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "But there's got to be a way. Did your mom say anything more? Give you a name?"
Trixie shook her head. "No, and I didn't press. How could I ask?"
"Oh, Trixie!" Honey hugged her friend hard. She wanted to wave a magic wand and have all their problems vanish, but she knew that was impossible. She wondered if Trixie were being overwhelmed by the problems her father was facing. She pulled back a bit and asked, "You need to do something. You need to feel useful, don't you."
Trixie nodded, then pushed at her yellow curls in despair. "But I promised I wouldn't. I will not go back on a promise to my parents. Not now especially!"
"I'm not asking you to," Honey said. "Nor am I going to suggest that you divert your attention by worrying about this fundraiser. Forget that. I can handle that with no problems." She smiled encouragingly. "But think of what you actually promised."
Trixie frowned. "What do you mean? I promised not to get involved with this case."
Honey's smile turned to a satisfied grin. She shook her head slowly, enjoying her moment of intellectual superiority. "You told the lawyer you wouldn't help his detective. You promised your dad you wouldn't interfere with the lawyer and you promised your mom you wouldn't spill details of this latest crisis. What you did not promise was to get involved on every level of this case."
Trixie held up her hands and backed away. "Oh, no, Honey. I recognize this train of thought. It's gotten me into more trouble than I can remember. You know and I know and what's more important my parents know what they asked me to promise and what I did promise and that's how it's-"
But Honey was shaking her head and fluttering her hands and matching Trixie step for step in her backward trek across the dining room. "No! No! No! Don't you see? If you look at it like that, you'll go crazy. A crazy Trixie is not a happy Trixie and all we want is a happy Trixie. Right? Right!"
"Wrong!" Trixie said emphatically. "We want a Trixie who is not banished from her house and tossed out of the family tree!" She started to laugh.
Honey stopped. "What's so funny?"
"This is!" Trixie giggled harder. "You and me. This is a switch. Usually, Im the one finding the loopholes and you're the one sticking to the rules."
Seeing the humor in the reversed situation, Honey began to laugh as well. She tried to remain stern as she said, "Then you should definitely listen to me! If I'm the one telling you to use the loophole, then you definitely should."
"Or I should just have you committed because you've gone nuts from listening to me for so long," Trixie added wryly.
"Dont joke about things like that," Honey said with an eye toward the kitchen. "Don't forget Anne's ex-mom is in an asylum."
Trixie sobered up as well. "You're right." She pulled out a tall-backed chair and sat at the table with a sigh. Honey sat next to her. "So what do I do? Help anyway? Behind the scenes? How? I mean, Moms told me this, yeah, but she also told me to keep it to myself. I don't think she was telling me so I could do something about it." Her eyes widened with the thought and she stared at her friend. "Do you?"
Honey shrugged. "Why not? But let's think about it. Staying behind the scenes works for me," she said. "How?" She smiled wryly. "I'll leave the execution of this plan to you."
Trixie groaned. "Ugh. Please do not say 'execution', okay? When my dad finds out about this, that's exactly what he'll do. Schedule my execution."
Honey grinned. "Perfect."
"Excuse me?"
"Perfect!" she insisted. "That proves you're thinking positively about this. The only way your dad could punish you is if he gets out of jail, and that would mean that you were able to help him. See? It's perfect."
Trixie thought about it. "I guess you're right, but what can I do about it? How can I help behind the scenes without letting anyone know I'm helping?" She darted a quick look at her friend. "You're not going to help me with this, are you."
"Hey," Honey defended herself. "I can't have all the brilliant ideas, can I?" She stood up from the table and pushed her chair back into place. "I have a fundraiser to plan!" She moved toward the kitchen door, paused and added, "I wouldn't worry about it, though. These things seem to have a way of working themselves out where you're concerned. They will now, too."
Trixie gave her friend a grateful smile. "Thanks. You've been more of a help than I realized I needed."
"That's what I'm here for," Honey chirped. "Now get back to your house or risk being dragged upstairs to listen to my problems on this fundraiser!" She laughed, putting a teasing note in her words.
"I'm going! Im going!"
* * *Outside Manor House, Dan and Anne headed up to the garage, Diana and Mart went to the stables so she could resaddle her horse, Sunny, and return home. On the porch, Jim and Honey waved goodbye to everyone while Trixie and Brian walked down the hill to Crabapple Farm.
"You and Honey are going to dance in the contest, right?" Trixie asked before they'd reached the tree line.
"Uh, sure," Brian said. "I mean, I mentioned it to her and she said she would, so " He shrugged. "I guess so. She's been really preoccupied lately." He frowned thoughtfully.
Trixie nodded. "I noticed. I'm a little worried about her."
"You are?" Brian looked sharply at his younger sister. "Why? What do you know? Did she tell you something?"
She laughed. "Cool it, Brian! No. I just mean she's taking on a huge responsibility all by herself. She's not exactly used to it."
He stopped short and stared at her. "Do you think she's taking on too much? Should I go back and offer to help her or something? Gosh, Trixie," he rambled on. "I don't want her to think I don't care if she's in over her head, but I can't really spare any time to think of this fundraiser what with Dad in jail and Moms trying not to fall apart and keeping things going on at home and making sure our cousins are having a decent vacation and-"
Trixie had to grab Brian's shoulders and shake him to get him to stop speaking. "Brian! Stop it! You're no more responsible for her stress than she is for yours. Don't you think she's worried about us as much as we are about her? I think she's doing so much so that we don't have to. This is like her gift to us, taking away this worry."
He stood quiet, patiently waiting until Trixie dropped her hands to her sides. "I know. Relax," he told her with a wry grin. "Honey and I are both trying to take care of other people. I guess I just wonder who's taking care of her sometimes."
"Well, it can't be you," she told him bluntly. "You're already trying to take care of the entire Belden clan!"
"I am?"
"You are," she said. "You're running the house like a drill sergeant."
"I suppose so," he mused. Then, with a twinkle in his eye he told her, "Usually you take over things. Seeing as how you're more naturally bossy."
With mock rage, Trixie swatted her brother on the shoulder. He laughed and ducked away from her, taking several more steps down the path. "I am not bossy," she laughed, chasing after him. "Now stand still so I can beat you properly!"
He stopped to stand meekly, but Trixie's attention turned, attracted by a flash of light and a stray shout. "What's going on?" she muttered. The light and the shout had come from Crabapple Farm. It had come from their home.
Brian looked through the trees. His greater height and position on the trail gave him a clear view of their back yard. "Something's going on," he said. "Come on. Let's go."
The distance down the trail wasn't far enough to warrant an all-out run, but it wasn't close enough for a slow walk, either. Brother and sister hurried down the path, arriving at the farm in breathless moments and then stopping short. They stared, amazed at the sight.
Federal agents clad all in black, the letters FBI silk-screened in bright yellow on their t-shirts and jackets, swarmed through the house. An armed agent stood on the back porch. He caught sight of Brian and Trixie, but did not make a motion in their direction. Through the windows into their father's study, they could see more agents carrying boxes and objects. Reddy had been leashed to his dog run. He ran back and forth, leaping and straining against the leash, barking and howling in protest.
Brian laid a hand on Trixie's shoulder and guided her to the front of the house. "Let's find Moms," he said. She nodded in agreement.
In the front yard, they saw five black conversion vans parked so as to block the driveway. They watched as an agent set a brown cardboard box inside one van and then shut the doors. The van had been filled with other boxes of similar size and shape. The agent turned around and headed back into the farmhouse. Trixie watched with disgust as the man tramped through a mud puddle and failed to wipe his feet on the welcome mat before entering.
There were more guards at the front door. Brian tried to walk past them, but he was challenged. "Sorry," one of the men said, "but this area is off limits. You'll have to come back another time."
"This is my house," Brian said. "This is my sister. We live here."
"You got any ID?"
Trixie was about to explode. She had opened her mouth and prepared several sharp retorts when they all heard a scream. "TRIXIEEEEE!" The screen door slammed open and Bobby Belden propelled himself at his big sister, his curly blond head pressing firmly against her chest.
She immediately hugged Bobby tight, alarmed by his emotionalism. With a satisfied, sarcastic grin, Trixie stared up at the agents and asked, "Is this proof enough?"
"Those are two more of my children," Helen Belden said. She stood inside the front hallway. Trixie's eyes adjusted and she saw her mother standing with another, female agent.
"Moms!" Brian cried in relief. "What's going on?"
Helen waved them both in. Trixie resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at the agents as she entered her own house. Briefly, their mother brought them up to speed. "These people are from the FBI," she said. "As you can probably tell. They're here to find evidence against your father."
"What kind of evidence?" Brian asked.
At the same time, Trixie demanded, "Can they do that? Where's their warrant? Isn't Mr. Davis here?"
Helen nodded. "Mr. Davis is in the kitchen making a phone call. They do have a warrant and we are cooperating fully. Understand?" She fixed both of her children with a look that said 'you will do this and you will do this cheerfully'. "The agents will be gone when they're done. We just need to stay out of their way so they can finish up faster."
The female agent nodded her head in agreement. "That's exactly right, Mrs. Belden," she said. "You must be Brian and Trixie." She looked at them both for correction.
Trixie did not, could not speak. Brian asked politely, "And you are ?"
"I'm Special Agent Brenda Hoffman," she introduced herself. "I'm heading up this investigation. I promise you, you'll have your house back as soon as possible."
"What are you looking for?" he asked.
Agent Hoffman smiled apologetically. "We're looking for evidence. I'm sure you understand I can't go into more specifics than that."
Standing in the entrance hall put the group in the middle of the path the other agents were using to remove items from the farmhouse. Brian and Trixie pulled Bobby out of the way of two men carrying Peter Belden's computer.
"NO!" Bobby shrieked. "They can't take that! They just CAN'T!"
"Shhh, Bobby," Trixie said soothingly, smoothing a hand over Bobby's tousled curls. "It'll be okay. We'll get it back, right?" She stared at Agent Hoffman. "When my dad is proven innocent, we will get this stuff back!"
Helen wiped at her eyes, clearly shaken by all that she was going through. Agent Hoffman met Trixie's gaze directly. "If Mr. Belden is proven innocent and if we find nothing illegal, then you will get these items back, once our investigation is complete."
Trixie felt her jaw grind involuntarily. She did not like this woman, insinuating that there would even be anything even remotely illegal going on with her father. "Whatever happened to 'innocent before proven guilty'?" she snapped.
"Trixie!" her mother shushed her. "Just be quiet." The look in her mothers eyes told her to keep still and her thoughts to herself. "Maybe you two should go into the living room with Hallie and Knut."
Trixie didn't want to make things worse. She clamped her lips together and vowed to say nothing further. Bobby still had his slender arms wrapped tight around her hips. She felt him start to suck his thumb, a nervous habit he'd long ago abandoned. Automatically, she put her hand on his wrist to stop him, but her mother caught her eye. Let him be, she seemed to say.
A moment later, Mr. Davis poked his head out of the kitchen. "Helen?" he asked. "I'll need to talk with you a moment. Excuse us, Agent Hoffman."
"Certainly," she replied. Helen glanced at her children, then joined their lawyer in the kitchen. Brian and Trixie moved to stand against the stairs, out of the way now of the men removing books and paper files from their father's study. Their attention was then distracted by the sounds of clomping feet above them.
They turned and watched as two more agents stepped carefully down the stairs, carrying in their arms Bobby's personal computer. Trixie braced herself for another howl from her little brother. He proved her instincts correct by letting out another shout.
"No, Trixie, stop them!" he cried. "They're stealing my computer!"
She looked to Brian for help, but he seemed as overwhelmed by the sight of it all as Bobby. "It'll be okay, sweetie," she said. "Uncle Andrew will buy you another one real soon." She glared at the agent. "It was just a Christmas present to him from our uncle," she nearly spat. "Hardly something to threaten the state of the free world."
Agent Hoffman replied, "Let's just let us worry about the state of the free world, okay?"
"But, Trixie!" Bobby cried again. "How am I going to play 'Diablo' now?"
Trixie shook her head. "I don't know, sweetie. I don't know." Rearranging his grip on her waist, she knelt beside him, pulling him into a tight hug. Unbidden, the words of a familiar kids song ran through her head. Murmuring softly, she sang: When Pa was a little boy like you, he used to go in swimmin'. He used to go way up the creek where there was no fear of women, of women. One day, one day, one day some people came that way and stole all Pa's apparel, apparel. He stayed in the water all day long-ong-ong, and at night went home in a barrel, a barrel, a big round wooden barrel