Tuesday, February 1, 1983

 

    Allegra Pasquale sat upright in her seat, her hands folded tightly on her lap.  Her companion, Hank Farley, private investigator from the McMillan -Slainte agency grinned at her and quipped, “Loosen up Allie.  I promise I won’t bite.”

 

    “It’s not you I’m worried about.”  Allegra admitted relaxing a little, “It’s this William Regan fellow.  He was not very polite on the telephone, and he is obviously reluctant to meet with us.  Why else would he insist on meeting in White Plains when he lives in Sleepyside?”

 

        “It might be more important to ask why he has ignored fourteen requests to contact the agency.”  Hank stated, “Your kid might have avoided all of this unpleasantness if his uncle had answered his mail two years ago.”

 

    “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”  Allegra shook her short brown curls, “Is he just illiterate, or an uncaring,  self absorbed s.o.b?”

 

    “Be nice Allie,” Hank cautioned, “Don’t alienate the man before you meet him.”  He turned the car into the coffee shop parking lot.  “Try and keep an open mind.  And it might not hurt to bat those big brown eyes a little too.”

---

 

    Bill Regan was wringing his hands.  It wasn’t a conscious movement, but the result of the nervous dread which sat like a rock in the pit of his stomach.  He sat in the booth of Mom’s Diner in White Plains, his long legs folded uncomfortably close to his body, and waited for the ax to fall.  Any minute now and his whole life could be ruined.  

    He liked his job with the Wheelers:  The cozy apartment over the garage; free rein with the horses; choice stock.  Even those crazy kids, the Bob-Whites, were more of a joy than a burden.  Regan smiled, thinking about their upcoming antique show.  They were a troublesome, busy group, but in a good way.  He should be home, griping at them to exercise the horses, and helping them with their project.  Instead he was here, waiting for his past coming back to bite him.  For the first time in his nearly 24 years of life, he was feeling secure.  He wanted the life he was carving out for himself.

    Watching the door, he saw the man and woman entering.  He rose to his feet, pushing one large freckled hand through his red hair while offering the other to the approaching duo.

    “Liam Regan?  Hank Farley and this is Allegra Pasquale.  Thanks for meeting with us.”  He shook Regan’s hand and gestured to the booth.

 

    “It’s Bill.  What exactly is this about?” Regan asked.

    

    “Your nephew.” said Allegra, as Hank asked, “Did you get any of the letters my company sent to you?”

 

    Regan held up his hand.  “Wait.” he said, “One at a time please.”

 

    Allegra deferred to Hank.  He started again, “Mr. Regan, the company for which I work has been searching for you on behalf of your sister, Saraid Mangan, for over two years.  Have you not received any of our communication?”

 

    Regan looked straight into Farley’s eyes.  “After the first one, I didn’t open them.  My sister Sarah walked out on me when I was a little boy.  Empty hopes and broken promises, that’s what I remember about Sarah.  I saw, and see, no reason to reestablish contact with her.”

 

    “Mr. Regan,”  Hank stated bluntly, “your sister is dead.  She spent the last years of her life trying desperately to find you.  Saraid did not ‘walk away’ from you.  Whoever told you that was highly misinformed.”  He opened his briefcase and reached inside.  Pulling out a packet of letters, he handed them across the table.  “These are the letters she had written you over the years.   Notice the postmark dates, and the Return-to-Sender stamps.   Saraid wanted you to have these, so you would know she had tried to contact you.  She also left you with the guardianship of her son, Daniel.”

 

    Regan stared at the letters, but made no attempt to take them.  His emotions were roiling.  A memory hit him square between the eyes.  He flashed back to the last time he had seen Sarah.  She had come to the Children’s Home in late September the year he had turned eight.  Tim had been with her, tall and handsome in his Army uniform, and she had carried a laughing, chubby-cheeked toddler with dark curly hair and navy blue eyes.

    

    “Your nephew, Liam.”  Regan heard the words echo in his mind, “His name is Danny, and I hope that you’ll be more like a big brother to him than an uncle.   We plan on taking you with us this time, Liam.  Tim is being stationed in Germany in a few weeks.  We’ve petitioned to have you come with us.  We can be a real family again.  Isn’t that wonderful?”

    But it hadn’t been wonderful.  It had been the last time until today that anyone had called him Liam.  The next day he had been shuttled off to the Boy’s Home in Nutley, where he was called Billy.  He hadn’t seen his sister or her family since.  He told himself he hadn’t wanted to.

 

    “Mr. Regan?”  It was Allegra Pasquale’s voice that brought him back to the present.  He looked at her, questioning.  “Your nephew, Daniel, needs you.  You are his only relative, and if you can’t take him, he is bound for juvenile detention.”

 

    “Reform school?”  Regan asked, “What did he do?”

 

    Allegra sighed, “What he did was lose his parents and his home.  What he is accused of doing is Aggravated Assault and Grand Theft Auto.”

 

    “Let me get this straight.”  Regan was incredulous.  “You want me to take  a teenager that I don’t know, one who is apparently a violent thug and a thief to boot?  You want me to bring him to my home, which I might add, my employer owns, and introduce him to my boss’ very sheltered children and their equally protected friends.  Lady, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t think you’re crazy?”

 

    “I understand your concerns, Mr. Regan.”  Allegra’s calm tone belied her frustration and desperation.  She’d been searching for this man for nearly two weeks, and this wasn’t going as she had hoped.  “You are right to be cautious.  I am Dan’s case worker, and I can assure you that there were extenuating circumstances.  Dan’s not a bad kid, he’s just had some tough breaks.  I’ll explain what I can, if you’re willing to listen.”

 

    Regan nodded, reluctantly, and said, “Go ahead, but we’ve all had bad breaks.  Not all of us end up in jail.” His freckled face flushed a little, but he spoke no more.

 

    “I hope you’ll listen with an open mind and an open heart, Mr. Regan,” Allegra told him, “because you’re most likely Dan’s last chance.  From what I understand, it all started.......”

 

 

Chapter 2

 

 

Thursday, February 3, 1983

 

    Regan moved through the next few days on automatic pilot.  At half past six on Thursday morning, Tom Delanoy drove him to the train station.  Tom was a friend, but Regan couldn’t bring himself to talk about his situation.  He was on the way to New York City to visit his nephew ... in jail.  A nephew he wasn’t sure he even wanted to acknowledge, yet who was legally his ward.  Regan knew that while Tom was sure to be sympathetic, he would never understand Regan’s reluctance to get involved.  Tom came from a large and very loving family.  He would never turn his back on one of his nieces or nephews, and he wouldn’t understand Regan’s lack of family feelings.

    Instead, Regan told Tom about Thor’s Thunderer, the Arabian who would soon be visiting the Manor House Stables for a few days.  Matthew Wheeler was interested in breeding both Susie and Lady, and Thunderer, as he was called, was a high quality stud.  Tom joked with Regan, calling him a horse pimp.  The camaraderie helped ease the knot in Regan’s stomach.

    The knot returned on the train.  All too soon, it seemed, Regan was at his destination.  His appointment was for 9:30.  He signed the guest log, showed proof of his identity, emptied his pockets of his keys and pocket knife, and was escorted down a long narrow hallway to a small room with a table and three chairs.  There were no windows;  the only light came from the flickering fluorescent fixture overhead.  Fighting down a wave of claustrophobia, he sat down and waited.

 

---

 

Thursday, February 3, 1983

 

    Tomorrow would be day thirteen.  Dan marked another tally stroke on his school pad.  His hearing would be seven days after that, if his uncle agreed to take guardianship.  If Uncle Liam refused, Dan would go to trial twelve days later.  Chewing on the end of his pencil, Dan contemplated the problems of having his fate dependent on the decision of a man he’d never met.

    The days in juvie had a regimental sameness to them.  The lights came on at 5:30 am.  Within the hour, a guard escorted him to the shower.  Breakfast at 7:00 am.  Classes began at 8:00 am sharp.  Lunch at noon.  Exercise period from 1:00 to 2:00.  Counseling from 2:00 to 4:00.  “Free” time until 5:00.  Dinner.  Then back to his “room”.  Lights out at 9:30 pm.  Dan had found out quickly that Spofford was in transition.  After years of complaints about abuses, facilities and escapes, a new regime was in place.  Not all of the employees liked the new regulations, and Dan himself was not sure he appreciated having to be handcuffed to walk down any of the long dark hallways between destinations.  At least having classes offered some diversion and focus other than on his problems.

 

    “Mangan!”  The guard’s voice startled Dan from his reverie.  He looked up.  “Visitor,” the guard said.  “Says he’s your uncle.” Dan closed his pad, set his pencil in the proper place and walked to the door.  He held out his hands and tried not to flinch as the cold metal rings closed around them.  Then he was off, down another dark hallway, to meet his fate.

 

---

 

    This was taking way too long.  Regan looked at his watch and shifted in his chair.  Fifteen minutes, he’d been waiting.  What could be taking so long?  He shifted again, resisting the urge to get up and pace.  Maybe the boy was resistant too.  Maybe he felt the same way Regan did, that family was more trouble than it was worth.  Maybe the ungrateful little punk didn’t even want to meet his uncle, didn’t realize that he had responsibilities he was neglecting to come to this Godforsaken....

    The door opened.  A slightly built boy was pushed through.  He looked briefly at Regan, and turned back toward the door.  Regan thought he was going to leave, until he held out his hands, and Regan realized that the boy’s wrists were handcuffed.  His movements were to facilitate the removal of the shackles.  Hands free, he turned and moved into the room.  He looked hesitantly at Regan and asked, “Uncle Liam?”

 

    “It’s Bill.”  Regan spoke without thinking, his voice cold.  “Liam was a stupid, trusting little boy.  He’s been gone a long time.  I’m Bill.”

 

    The boy looked somewhat taken aback.  “But ... you are my uncle.  Right?”

 

    “That’s what they tell me.”  Regan took a step toward the boy, who pulled himself up straight and held out his hand.  Regan looked at the hand, “And you’re Danny.  Sarah’s son.”  He shook hands briefly, then stepped back.  “Have a seat.”

 

    Dan sat.  Regan looked at the boy.  He was thin and pale; hair long and eyes dark in his sharp featured face.  The chubby, laughing baby was gone, but Regan still could see traces of him in the wary teen.  This was definitely Sarah’s Danny.

 

    Regan sat down across from the boy.  “What am I going to do with you?” he asked.

 

    Dan replied, “I don’t know.  What do you want to do with me?”

 

    “I want to forget I ever knew you existed.”  Regan spoke again without thinking, flinching at the pain that flashed briefly in the boy’s eyes.  He continued, “But I can’t, can I?   Not when I see you sitting there, looking at me with my sister’s eyes.”

 

    “I have my father’s eyes.” was the sullen response.

 

    “The color, maybe, but the way you use them, that is all Sarah.”

 

    “Why do you call my mom Sarah?  Her name is ... was ... Saraid.”  Dan spoke the words bitterly, stressing the Gaelic pronunciation, Sah-red.

 

    “Because that’s who she was to me.” came the reply,  “Sarah.  My big sister Sarah.  Pretty, ly.....”   Regan caught himself before he could finish the sentence.  He knew he shouldn’t bad mouth the boy’s mother.  “But I’m here to talk about you.  So let’s talk.”

    

    “I don’t know what to say.”  Dan’s face was closed again.

 

    Regan shrugged, “Then I’ll talk and you listen.”  He stood up and started pacing.  “I have a job upstate.  I’m the groom and property manager of a fairly large estate.  I live in a small apartment above the garage, and I spend most of my time with horses.  I really don’t have room for you, and I’m pretty sure my boss isn’t going to want me moving a car thief who beat his stepfather half to death next door to his kids.”  Regan tried not notice the effect his harsh words had on Dan.  The boy’s face tightened and his glare hardened as his uncle continued, “I have an idea; a place nearby.  You’d be close enough that we’d get to know each other a little better.  You could have a job, to keep you out of trouble, and go to a good school, with decent kids.  I just have to work out a few things first.”  He paused.

 

    “Why?”  Dan asked.

 

    “Why what?”

 

    “Why, if you don’t have room for me, if you wish you’d never known about me, why don’t you just walk away and leave me here?  You can just pretend I’m another letter you never opened.” Dan’s sarcastic tone cut Regan to the quick.

 

    “Look, Danny,” he said, backtracking, “I haven’t had family for a long time.  I never needed any; I don’t know how to deal with family.  I haven’t slept for days worrying about this. You see, now I know about you.  You are my family.  I can’t walk away and leave you to rot in jail without at least giving this a try.”  

 

    The door opened and the guard said, “Time’s up.”

 

    Dan rose.  Regan stopped him.  He put out his hand.  “Look.  I know we didn’t get off on the best start here, but I’ll try if you will.  Deal?”

 

    The boy stared at the hand for a long moment before taking it with his own.  “I suppose.” he muttered, turning and extending his arms to the guard.

 

    “I’ll be back .... after I talk to your lawyer.” Regan spoke to the back of the dark head.  A nod was his only answer as the guard led the boy away.

 

 

 

    Tom picked Regan up at the Sleepyside train station in the late afternoon.  Seeing the worry lines on the big groom’s forehead, Tom made small talk about their role in the Bob-Whites' Saturday antique show, and didn’t even hesitate when the redhead asked to be let off at the road to Maypenny’s.  Tom figured that Regan would talk when he was ready.

 

    Regan rehearsed his speech all the way up the road to Maypenny’s cabin.  In the hours between his less-than-pleasant meeting with his nephew and the arrival of his train, Regan had met with his boss in the NYC offices of Wheeler, Inc.  Matthew Wheeler had been sympathetic with Regan’s plight; more so than Regan had expected.  In the end, Matt had left the decision up to his groom:  If Regan was willing to vouch for his nephew’s character, Matt was willing to let him live in the garage apartment.  If not, he was still willing to give the boy a job working with Maypenny, but Regan would have to find other housing.  Unfortunately, Regan wasn’t sure he could vouch for the boy’s character.  For that reason, he found himself trudging up a dirt road in the dark chill of winter, preparing to ask a casual friend for a tremendous favor.

 

    He left the cabin an hour later, and started for home with a somewhat lighter heart.  Thomas Maypenny had listened to his story with little comment.  Regan had been sure, as he sat before the hearth cradling a mug of spiced hot chocolate, that the older man’s silence and lack of expression were leading up to a refusal.  Again, he was surprised.  

 

    Maypenny considered his tale thoughtfully, asked a few questions that Regan was able to answer with little confidence, then rubbed his chin and nodded. “Yes.  I’m willing to give the boy a chance.  I could use a little help around the preserve.  You think he’s teachable?”

 

    “According to what I’ve seen, he’s very bright,” Regan replied. “His teachers always gave him high marks in conduct, and his grades were very good.  Of course, he missed a lot of school this year because of his gang involvement, but he seems pretty sharp.”  Regan laughed bitterly, “He certainly saw through me.  I should warn you though, the boy’s got a smart mouth and a bit of a temper.”

 

    “My father taught me a sure cure for that.”  Maypenny grinned at the memory.  “He always figured the best way to deal with orneriness was to give me an ax and a pile of wood to chop.   Either that, or a fence to build, or an outhouse to paint. Keep ‘em busy, Dad always said.  It’s a great way to burn off a temper.”

 

    “I might have to try that for myself.”  Regan mused, “This whole thing has brought back a lot of.... stuff... for me.  Now I need to go home and write up a proposal for the Judge.  I just hope it works.  I’d hate to see the boy get sent off to some hellhole reform school, not if he has half a chance to be a decent human being. I ... I just hope I’m doing the right thing.”

 

    “Giving him a chance is for the best, I think.” Maypenny told him, “If it works, then you’ve done a great thing.  If it doesn’t ... well, at least you tried.” He squeezed Regan’s shoulder, “Don’t forget that you have plenty of friends willing to help you.  Now stop playing with your cup and drink that hot chocolate.  You’ll need its warmth before you head home.”

 

    Regan smiled in spite of himself and raised the mug to his lips.

 

 

Chapter 3

 

 

Friday, February 12, 1983

 

    The plans were in place.  Dan’s lawyer, Nathan Beidas had filed Regan’s petition.  Maypenny stood at the ready.   Margery Trask, Peter and Helen Belden, Celia and Tom Delanoy and the rest of Manor House staff had been informed of the situation and Regan’s plan.  Once again Regan had been surprised by the support of these people who had become his surrogate family.  It had been decided that the adults would keep the experiment a secret from the children.  Regan had insisted.  If the Bob-Whites were going to accept Dan, Regan wanted it to be on Dan’s own merit, not based on Dan’s being his nephew.

    The stable was clean and organized.  The animals were exercised, groomed and fed.  Regan’s travel plans to the city were set.  He had even arranged for the Belden boys to come over after school and learn how to bandage the cut on Thor’s Thunderer’s leg.  The stud had gotten spooked on his first day, and had cut his leg.  His owners had decided to let Thunderer recover at Manor House, so that he could fulfill his contractual obligations.  While this boded well for the mares, it meant extra stress for Regan, when his plate was already full.

    Suddenly feeling overwhelmed,  Regan saddled Strawberry and headed down to Crabapple Farm to seek reassurance from Helen Belden.

 

    Helen welcomed Regan into her kitchen with a warm smile and the offer of tea and some veggies with dip she had prepared for her children’s impending arrival from school.  He declined, and got right to the point.  “Mrs. Belden, I just need to know if you think I’m doing the right thing.  What if I’m making a huge mistake bringing Dan here.  What if he hurts someone?  What if he starts stealing and vandalizing things around here? I ... I ... just hope I’m making the right decision.”

 

    Helen chose her words carefully, “Regan.  I know this has been a hard decision for you.  I want you to know that Peter and I believe that you are doing the right thing.   We believe in you, dear, and we are happy that you were comfortable trusting us with your decision.”

 

    “I know.  I wouldn’t have bothered you with it, Mrs. Belden, but Miss Trask said you or Mr. Belden might have some idea what I should do.  It’s had me beside myself, worrying.”

 

    “It wasn’t a bother,”  Helen assured him, “My only concern is your insistence that we not tell the kids about your nephew.”

 

    “I know that too.”  Regan sighed and ran his hand through his hair.  “I just don’t want them to know about the reasons for his coming here.  It’s something I’m hoping to keep from any of the youngsters.  There’s no telling how they’d feel about it if they suspected the truth.”

 

    “It is ultimately your decision,” Helen began as the front door slammed, “My kidlets have arrived.  I was going to say that all you can do now is pray and know that we’ll be praying with you.”  She smiled as she heard Trixie singing  in the hallway.

 

    Regan moved towards the back door, his cap in his hands, as Trixie entered the kitchen.  “It sounds like the best idea, Mrs. Belden, and thanks a lot.  If it doesn’t work out, I don’t know what more I can do.  It could turn out good if I’m lucky, or just make things more mixed up.”

 

    Mrs. Belden nodded soberly.  “It’s worth trying.  Good luck on it anyhow, Regan.  I only wish we could do more to help.” He put on his cap, nodded to Trixie, and left for home.

 

---

 

 

    Regan grilled himself a hot dog and heated up some soup for his dinner. Restless and unable to settle his mind, he went down to the stables.  He was tiding up the spotless tack room when there was a knock on the door, and Mr. Maypenny came in.  “Saw your light on, thought I’d stop by and go over any last minute details.  How are you doing, son?”

 

    Regan shook his head. “I don’t know.  I’m nervous, but I don’t know if I’m worried that the judge will say no tomorrow, or that he’ll say yes.”

 

    Maypenny gripped Regan’s shoulder and said firmly, “It’ll be okay.  Just  remember that you have friends who are willing to help out if you need them.  All you need to do is ask.  I know you’re worried, but all we can do is try.”

 

    “I know you’ll do the best you can, but it’s a tricky business and I can’t expect miracles.”  Regan rubbed his face. “I never thought anything like this could happen.”

 

    “That’s what life is all about.”  Maypenny said sagely, “Dreams are what we expect.  Life is what happens while we are waiting on the dreams.  We just have to make the best of it.  I expect I’ll see you when you get back.”

 

    Regan nodded.  “Tom and I will get back as early as we can Sunday afternoon and we’ll meet at your place.  That is, if we have any luck.”

 

    “You’ll do fine, my friend.”  Maypenny started out the door.  “I’ll see all of you when you get home.”  He left through the back door, just as Trixie came tromping in the front.  That girl was too curious.  Pasting a smile on his face, Regan reached for the radio.

 

 

Chapter 4

 

 

Saturday, February 12, 1983

 

    Bill Regan sat in the office of Judge Harvey Armen and tried not to fidget.  The big leather chair was comfortable, but its occupant was not.  Waiting for his nephew to arrive from Spofford was nerve-racking, and he fought to keep from chewing on his fingernails -- a habit he had thought broken five years before.

    He thought back to his meeting with the judge.  The man had been genial, but expressed his doubts about Regan’s plan.  Finally, he said to Regan, “I am willing to let you try this experiment.  I know your sister worried about her son and about you, and I gathered from her instructions that she felt putting the two of you together would be the best way to straighten out the mess that started when she was denied custody of you back in 1970.  I think she hoped that the two of you would be able to be family.  I am a little concerned that Dan will not be living with you, but Thomas Maypenny appears to be a model citizen, and it’s likely that Dan will respond better to an older man.  This situation will be well supervised by my people.  I’ll go over the details of that when Daniel arrives.  Have you any questions for me?”

    Regan had just shaken his head;  the judge’s words had been almost verbatim what the lawyer had written to him two days past. Then Judge Armen had shaken Regan’s hand and left  him to his thoughts.

 

---

 

 

    Dan sat on his bed and waited.  While he waited, he brooded.  His uncle was in court, offering to save him from reform school.  Dan knew he should feel grateful, happy, relieved.  But he didn't.  The man didn’t want him, he’d made that very clear.  He was going to shuttle him off into the woods to live with some crazy old hermit.  Good ole Uncle Regan didn’t want Dan hanging around the big house where he lived, mingling with the rich kids.  He was afraid Dan might steal something.  Dan grinned bitterly.  Maybe he would, just to annoy his uncle.  The Wheelers probably had more stuff than they knew what to do with.  Rich folk might even have a fancy car or two in the country garage.  It would serve his uncle right if Dan called on a few of his gang buddies to relieve the poor rich folk of some of their wealth.  Serve him right for not caring.

    The door opened, and Dan rose, extending his arms.  This ritual was one of the reasons he wasn’t telling his long-lost uncle to get lost again.  He didn’t much care for juvie.  Cuffed, he stepped into his boots and allowed himself to be led down to the van.  The drive to the courthouse was not very long, and before he knew it he was sitting next to his uncle, Ms. Pasquale and Mr. Beidas in front of a stern looking Judge Armen.

    The judge made it clear to Dan that he had only two choices:  Live in the woods, or off to some detention center until he was eighteen.  Dan wasn’t even given the opportunity to speak, other than to say, “Yes sir” and “No sir.”  When the judge finished his lecture, he asked Dan to make his choice.  Dan swallowed his resentment and politely said, “I choose to go with my uncle, sir.” The lecture continued for another ten minutes, but Dan put a passive mask on his face and tuned it out.  Finally, he was escorted out and left on a bench while his uncle signed papers and made arrangements.

 

    “Mangan.  Gettin’ sprung or sent up?”  Dan looked up to see Luke standing over him.  Luke had foregone his leather jacket and was wearing a button down shirt and sports coat.

 

    “Sprung.”  Dan sneered slightly.  “My long lost uncle showed up to save me.”

 

    “How long before you can get back here?” Luke asked, “We’re going to have to rebuild, now that half the gang’s going up.”

 

    “Not soon enough,” Dan mumbled.  “Why are you here?”

 

    “I’m playing model citizen so I can spring little brother Benny.  Do I look like a good role model?”  He laughed nastily.  “So where are you going?”

 

    Dan let his resentment boil to the surface.  “Some estate upstate.  He works for a rich guy, Wilson, Wheeler, something like that.  I get to live in the woods with the neighborhood hermit.”

 

    “Ahh.  Ashamed of you is he?”  Luke grinned knowingly and sat down next to the younger boy. “Taking you in as an obligation, but doesn’t really want you, right?”  Dan nodded.  “Figures.  You know, Danno, the Cowhands want you.  We appreciate you.”  Luke scratched his chin and wondered out loud. “I bet you’d like to show your uncle what you’re worth.  Maybe me and the boys should come for a visit.”

 

    “Yeah,”  Dan agreed. “It shouldn’t take long to figure out where all the goods are.  Easy pickings, right?  Serve them right.”

 

    The door to the judge’s chambers started to open and Luke jumped up.  “You keep in touch, Mangan.  We’re here for you.”  He turned and walked down the hall - a model citizen.

 

    Regan stepped into the hallway, shaking hands with the lawyer and the case worker.  He spied his nephew sitting on the bench wearing his usual sulky expression.  Brusquely, he said, “Let’s get going.  This went faster than I hoped.  We can be back in Sleepyside by dinner.”

 

    Dan rose to his feet, his stomach growling at the mention of food.  He had left Spofford before lunch, and he hadn’t been offered anything after arriving at the courthouse.  He was hungry, but there was no way he was going to ask this man for anything.  He told himself he could wait.

 

---

 

   They left in a sedan whose engine, Dan noticed, struggled on the hills.  He sat in the back, staring at the back of his uncle’s head.  The driver had been introduced as Tom.  He reminded Dan of his dad, Tim.  Similar name, same dark hair and wide smile, although Tom’s blue eyes were nowhere near as dark a blue as the ones Tim Mangan had passed on to his son.  Tom tried valiantly to start a conversation, but Dan’s sullenness and Regan’s silence eventually thwarted his attempts.

    Finally, Tom pulled the car off the paved road and started up a steep and narrow snow-covered dirt road.  The car started sputtering.  Dan couldn’t maintain his silence, “Your engine is missing.” he told Tom, “It sounds like your plugs are fouled.”

    Tom looked back in surprise.  “You know cars?” he asked.

 

    Dan nodded, “My dad liked cars.  We used to take them apart and rebuild them.”

 

    “Maybe you’d like to come over once you get settled in and help me get this one tuned.  She is riding rough, but my first priority is always the boss’ cars.”

 

    Dan opened his mouth to say yes, but Regan spoke for him. “He’s going to have enough to do for Maypenny, Tom.  I wouldn’t count on him.”

 

    Dan fumed.  How dare this ... man answer for him?  What gave him the right to determine how Dan spent his free time?  He knew the answer, but he was too angry right now to speak.  He scowled at the back of Regan’s head, and thought nasty thoughts.  

    The car pulled to a stop in front of a log cabin.  Dan fought down his apprehension as the door opened, revealing an older man.  He was tall, lean and muscular, with calloused hands and a half smile on his face.  He came down the steps, hand outstretched. “I’m Mr. Maypenny.  You must be Daniel.  Come on in.”

 

    Dan entered the cabin.  It was warm and cozy, and something smelled wonderful.  Dan looked around, taking in the chairs in front of the fire and the bunk along the wall.  He sniffed.  The good smells were coming from the kitchen area, where he could see a table set for two.  His stomach rumbled.

 

    “Hungry, are you?”  Maypenny asked.

 

    “Yeah.”  Dan said, an accusing tone in his voice, “I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”  He was pleased to see a guilty look flash across his uncle’s face.

 

    “Well, I waited for you, so we can eat together.  Regan, Tom?  Would you care to join us?”

 

    “No thank you.”  Regan spoke for both men. “I promised Celia I’d return her husband as soon as possible.  I just want to get the boy settled, and we’ll be off for home.”  He tried to ignore his nephew’s glare.  He was ashamed that he had been so concerned about getting out of the city, he had forgotten to feed the boy.  He hadn’t given any consideration to Dan’s needs.  Regan looked around the cabin, and realized that everything Dan owned was stuffed in the paper sack Tom had set by the door.  Clearing his throat, he said, “Dan, I know you’ll need some clothes and supplies.  You’ll be starting school on Tuesday.  I’ll make a trip to town and get you some things to tide you over.  Until we see if this is going to work.”

 

    Maypenny watched as the boy flinched at his uncle’s less than hopeful words.  Dan just shrugged and said, “Whatever.”

 

    “Come on, lad.” Maypenny gestured, “Let me show you around.”  He laughed.  “It certainly won’t take long.  Then we can wash up and eat.  Gentlemen,” he turned to Tom and Regan, “I trust you can find your way out.”  He led Dan away.

 

    Regan and Tom let themselves out.  Once in the car, Tom asked, “Don’t you think you were a little harsh back there, Regan.”

 

    “I don’t need you to point out my family shortcomings Tom!”  Regan snapped, his face grim.  Tom said nothing more, as he concentrated on getting them back to Manor House.

 

---

 

 

    The cabin tour was short and sweet.  There were five rooms on the main floor and an attic above:  The living room; the kitchen/dining room; Mr. Maypenny’s room; the bathroom, and the room that would be Dan’s.  It wasn’t huge, maybe ten by twelve, but it had two windows, a desk and chair, a closet and bunk beds covered with green and blue plaid coverlets.  Most importantly, the door locked from the inside, not the outside.  “I used to share this room with my brother.” Mr. Maypenny told Dan, “I figure you should do okay here.  There’s room to have a friend stay over if you’re so inclined.  Just let me know.  There’s a couple of boys around here about your age.  How old are you, again?”

 

    “Fourteen.  I’ll be fifteen on the fifteenth.”

 

    “Tuesday.  And it’s your golden birthday.”  Maypenny took in Dan’s confused look and explained, “My mother always called the birthday when your age matches your birth date a golden birthday.  All your dreams and wishes are supposed to come true then.”

 

    “Oh.”  Dan wanted to tell the old man that he no longer had wishes and dreams, but he held his tongue.  So far the old guy was friendly.  The room he had given Dan was comfortable looking, and the food smelled good.  Maybe this could work after all.

 

    “Come on young one,” Mr. Maypenny said.  “Let’s get us some grub and then some sleep.  Morning comes early around here.”

 

    After a dinner of biscuits and baked pheasant, carrots and apple pie, Dan crawled into the bottom bunk.  He didn’t know what the morning would bring, but for tonight he took comfort in the fact that he was well fed, warm and, for the time being, safe.

 

---

 

    Sunday morning, Dan awakened to the smell of bacon and the clatter of cutlery.  For a moment he kept his eyes closed, pretending it was his mother in the kitchen,  that any minute his dad would come knocking on the door to roust him for church, and that the last several years had all been a nightmare.  

    Sighing, he rolled out of the bed and began dressing.  Dreams had no place in his life anymore.  He made his bed with the military precision of a soldier’s son, and crept out into the main room.

 

    “Morning, young one.”  Mr. Maypenny said cheerfully, “Breakfast is almost ready.  We’ve got oatmeal and bacon and some tasty applesauce Mrs. Belden, up the road, sent over.  Pull up a chair.”

 

    Dan obeyed.  Maypenny joined him, and they ate in silence.  Finally, Dan nervously asked, “So what is it you want me to do for you?  I mean for the job?”

 

    Maypenny looked at him over his coffee mug.  “What did Regan tell you?”

 

    “Nothing.”  Dan nearly spat the word.  He caught himself and tried to muster a placid mask before continuing.  “He hasn’t told me anything except I’m supposed to live here, go to school and work for you, stay out of trouble and not tell anyone we’re related.”  The sarcasm strained his voice.

 

    Maypenny bit back a smile at the boy’s tone,  realizing that it was masking the very real pain and anger he was feeling about his uncle’s attitude.  

 

    “Well, that is an important part, but he left out a few details.  As far as school goes, I’ll leave that up to you.  The less I have to go into town, the better I like it.  Around here, I’ll expect you to pick up after yourself and help out around the farm.  There’s always wood to be chopped, gardens to tend, things like that.  As for the job,”  Maypenny scratched his chin, “Matthew Wheeler owns a good chunk of the woods around here.  Not all of it, mind you,”  Maypenny chuckled, “and that chafes at him a bit.  Tried to buy my little piece a time or two.  Anyway, he owns enough to make himself a nice little preserve.  Keeps it pretty wild and natural, stocks it with the animals he like to hunt, and keeps them all fed during the winter.  Of course, when you are a wealthy, busy businessman, you don’t have time to take care of things.  That’s where I come in.  And you too, now.  We take care of the preserve.”

 

    Dan asked doubtfully, “What does that mean, exactly?”

 

    “The preserve is a labyrinth of trails and paths,” Maypenny explained.  “We keep them clear of fallen trees and other debris.  I ... we, also keep an eye out for sick animals, potentially dangerous animals like catamounts and bears...”

 

    “Bears?” Dan interrupted, his eyes wide.  “You have bears out here?”

 

    Maypenny laughed out loud.  “Not often, but yes.  Last one I saw was nigh on eight years ago.  We’re more likely to run across a tramp or a poacher than a bear.  Hunting on the preserve is by invitation only, but people don’t much like those rules.”  His eyes narrowed.  “If you do run across a tramp or a poacher, you come back and tell me.  Do not confront someone like that.  It’s not your job.”

 

    “What is my job?”  Dan asked.

 

    “Tomorrow’s a holiday, so I’ll take you out later today and tomorrow, and get you the lay of the land.  Mostly, you’ll help me with patrolling the trails.  There are designated feeding stations scattered throughout the preserve.  One of your duties will be to keep them filled.  That’s especially important this time of the year.  I’ll show you how to check and set the game traps and snares I use.  In the summer we keep a sharp eye out for things that cause fire.  That means clearing a lot of underbrush and watching for illegal camp fires.”

 

    “If I’m here in the summer,” Dan said bitterly.  “My uncle doesn’t seem to think that I will.”

 

    “That’s pretty much up to you, isn’t it boy?” Maypenny asked.  “You have a lot of strings attached to you, but in the end, you control whether you make this work or not.  Right?”

 

    “I suppose,” Dan said quietly.  “But I haven’t had any control in my life for a long time.”  Realizing what he had just admitted, he changed the subject, asking, “Do you go to church on Sunday?”

 

    “No.”  Maypenny let the change occur, “I make my peace with God out here in the woods.  I’m sure your Uncle Bill will take you to church if you’d like to go.  There are several in town.”

 

    Dan’s expression became sullen. “I don’t want to ask him for anything.”

 

    “That’s your choice, lad.  Let’s get this table cleared and I’ll take you out for a look around.”

 

    Dan picked up his plate and carried it to the sink.  The words Maypenny had spoken echoed in his head.  Control.  Was it really possible to take control of his life?  He didn’t know, and he was a little afraid that the answer would be no.

 

---

 

 

    Dan spent the better part of Sunday and Monday outside in the snow.   Trailing Mr. Maypenny around the preserve had been an interesting adventure for a boy who had spent most of his life in cities.  Sitting in front of the fire  Monday evening with a cup of hot chocolate, Dan wondered how many times he would get lost during his first week on the job.  

    A knock on the door caught his attention, and he answered it, revealing his uncle carrying a large shopping bag.  He stood aside to let Regan enter.

 

    “Evening, Regan,” Mr. Maypenny came in from the kitchen. “What brings you out tonight?”

 

    “I brought Dan some clothes and things.”  Regan thrust the bag at his nephew.  “I hope they fit.  There are some jeans, a pair of dress slacks, some shirts, underwear, socks ... things for school.  Some pencils and notebooks, too.”

 

    “Thanks,”  Dan said with little inflection and less sincerity.  He took the bag and gave the contents a cursory glance.

 

    “Well, I wanted you to be ready for school tomorrow.”  Regan looked distinctly uncomfortable. “I ... uh ... I need to speak to Mr. Maypenny about that.”

 

    “Yes?”  Thomas Maypenny waited expectantly.

 

    “I need you to go with Dan to the school tomorrow.  I’ve got the vet and the breeder both scheduled for tomorrow morning, and I just won’t have the time.”

 

    “Dab nab it, Regan!”  Mr. Maypenny exclaimed.  “You know how much I hate going into town.  And how in tarnation do you expect me to get him to school?  I don’t think Brownie’s up to double riders all the way to Sleepyside, do you?”

 

    “Tom’s taking Miss Trask in to the train in the morning.  You can take the school bus with the boy, and Tom will bring you home afterwards.” Regan edged his way to the door.  “All of his records and such are in a binder in the bag.  You shouldn’t have any problems.”

 

    Dan watched the exchange with trepidation:  So much for controlling his own life.  Two grown men were standing in front of him arguing over which one would be stuck with registering him in school.  He clutched the bag tightly, his knuckles white on his clenched fists.

 

    Maypenny noticed Dan’s stance, and turned to the boy. “Daniel, why don’t you take your new things to your room and get them put away.  It’s nearly time for bed.  Your uncle and I will work this out.  We’ll get you to school tomorrow.”

 

    Dan nodded curtly and backed out of the room.  When Maypenny heard the door close, he turned back to Regan. “Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing here son, because I do.”

 

    “I don’t know what you mean,”  Regan said defensively.

 

    “No?  I think you do.  You’re doing your best to push that boy away.  You expect me to give him a chance, but you won’t give him one yourself.”  Regan was silent, so Maypenny continued.  “I don’t know what you are so afraid of, but if you want this to work, you need to get over it.  I’ll take the boy to school tomorrow, and I’ll see that he gets a decent start, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you and your fear cause him more pain.”

 

    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

    “No, you probably don’t.”  Maypenny shook his head.  “Do you ever look at the boy when you talk to him?  Do you?”  when Regan didn’t answer, Maypenny answered for him.  “You don’t.  If you did, I think you’d see that there’s a lot going on  under that sulky mask, and much of it is fear.  Maybe you should find out what your nephew is so afraid of before you sit in judgment.”  

 

    Maypenny reached behind Regan and opened the door.  “Go home, boy.  I’ll take care of tomorrow, but you better figure out how to take care of the rest of it.”  He turned on his heel and headed for the kitchen, leaving Regan to see himself out.