When I met Jake in the cemetery the next afternoon, I said, “You’re not gonna believe what happened last night!”
He said exactly the same thing at exactly the same time.
We sounded a little like Sploot Fah, though we hadn’t met him yet, of course.
I could tell Jacob was afraid I was going to punch him in the arm and shout, “Jinx! You owe me a Coke!”
He could have done the same thing to me, of course, except he gets so freaky about it that I knew he wouldn’t. Which was why I didn’t do it either. The first time I jinxed him, he wouldn’t say a word until he actually went back to his house and got me a soda.
He can be so weird.
Finally Jake said, “You go first.”
I figured this bit of courtesy was because he assumed whatever news I had, his would be even cooler. But after I told him about seeing the person running out of the mausoleum the night before, and the glowing blue wall that blinked out when I touched it, he looked both amazed and a little deflated, as if he wasn’t going to top my news after all.
Even so, his news was plenty weird. When he was done telling me, I cried, “OMG! What are you gonna do?”
Jake shrugged. “Mom probably took him to the police, or social services, or something like that while we were in school today.”
Only it turned out she hadn’t, which Jacob told me on the way home the following afternoon.
“Why didn’t she?” I asked, fascinated.
“She’s still hoping the real mother will come back.”
“I sincerely doubt that will happen.”
I based this statement on personal experience.
Jacob nodded. “Me, too. Also, she’s asked me not to tell anyone, which I think means we could get in trouble for this.”
“You told me.”
“You don’t count.”
“Thanks a lot!”
“Come on, Lily, you know what I mean. Anyway, she didn’t ask me to keep my mouth shut about Little Dumpling until this morning, and I had already told you by then—though I didn’t tell her that. I probably would have told you anyway. I mean, you are my best friend. Besides, she got to tell someone, so it’s only fair I get to do the same.”
“Who did she tell?”
“Mrs. McSweeney.”
That startled me. Mrs. McSweeney is my grandfather’s cousin—which makes her my third cousin, or something like that. Even though we’re related, we don’t see each other that much. I don’t think she and Grampa get along very well. Of course, Gramps doesn’t get along with anyone very well. And Mrs. McSweeney does put up with him on occasion. I guess that makes her one of our closest friends.
It’s a little pathetic.
“How come your mom told her?”
“She and Mom are great pals. Besides, Mom didn’t really have a choice. The three of us have dinner together at least once a week, so it would have been almost impossible to keep Little Dumpling a secret.”
That stung a bit; Grampa and I had never had dinner with Mrs. McSweeney. I wondered if she had never invited us, or if Grampa just refused whenever she did. She might have given up asking before I even came to live with him.
Trying to get my mind off that, I went back to something else Jacob had said. “You’re calling the baby Little Dumpling?”
He grinned and reminded me about the note in the basket. “Mom says Little Dumpling is a perfect nickname for him because he’s cute as a dumpling. That seems kind of dumb to me. I mean, how cute can a dumpling be? But he is awful cute.”
That was when I realized that Jacob’s mom wasn’t the only one falling for the baby. I didn’t say that, though.
I may be weird, but I’m not stupid.
By the time another two days had passed, it was clear Jacob’s mom had no intention of ever taking the baby to the police, or anywhere else, for that matter.
“I’m starting to get really worried,” he told me one afternoon, his fingers tapping against his thumb as if he was trying to send a message in Morse code. “Last night Mom asked me to help her haul my old crib out of the attic so LD—”
“LD?”
“That’s what we call the baby for short. Anyway, Mom wanted to set up the crib so he could stop sleeping in her dresser drawer. Lily, she’s never going to go to the police!”
“You’re, like, outlaws!” I cried, clapping my hands.
Jacob flopped back on the grass. “Great! As if flunking math wasn’t enough, now I’m a criminal!”
“You don’t understand,” I said softly. “It’s the same with me and Grampa. After … after …” I paused, then finally said, “When I needed somewhere to go, social services wanted to send me to a foster home. They didn’t think Grampa was suited to take care of me. He disagreed, and he came and, um, took me. I’d already been in a couple of foster homes by that time, one awful, the other really wonderful. I didn’t care that it was wonderful—I wanted to be with Grampa. Which is how I ended up here. Now you don’t have to worry about me telling about LD, because then you could tell on me, too. So your secret is safe.”
“So is yours,” said Jacob solemnly. We pressed the palms of our left hands together (it’s more sacred that way, because the left hand is closer to the heart) and swore to guard each other’s secrets.
About two weeks after LD arrived Jake and I were walking home together when he suddenly said, “Mom claims she’s not worried about anyone finding out about the baby, but I don’t believe her.”
We had just made it over the little bridge that crosses the stream running through the cemetery. I like to stand in the middle and watch the water flow underneath, but I can’t when I’m with Jacob. Being on a bridge makes him too nervous.
I won’t begin to describe the rituals he needs to get across one.
“Let’s sit here,” I said, motioning to a big tree we both like. Once we had settled in, I said, “Okay, why don’t you believe her?”
“Because we go three towns over to buy baby supplies!”
“Yep, that’s a good sign that she’s worried.”
“And yesterday when I pointed out to her that everyone around here knows who we are and how many people we have in our family, she said, ‘If it comes to it, we’ll tell people LD is your cousin. Besides, it might not be for long. His mother could come back any day now.’”
“She doesn’t believe that,” I said.
“I know! She’s totally fallen for the kid!”
“So have you!”
“Have not!”
I laughed, and Jacob couldn’t help but smile. “All right, I do kind of like him. I used some of my allowance to buy him this little green rattle. I totally got teased by some older kids who saw me doing it, but when LD shakes it and laughs, he’s so cute I can hardly stand it.” He paused, then said, “I’m starting to worry that Mom might consider moving just so she can pretend he really is ours.”
“You can’t do that!” I cried, panic-stricken.
“Well, I don’t want to.” He looked away. “If my dad came back, he wouldn’t know where to find us.”
I thought for a moment. “Okay, listen … I know you don’t believe LD’s mother is coming back, but from now on you have to pretend that you do.”
“Why?”
“So you can keep telling your mom you can’t move, because you have to be here in case LD’s mother does return!”
Jacob smiled. “Good plan.”
“Now you’d better head out. My grandfather is coming.”
I spoke too late. Grampa had spotted us and was heading in our direction. He did not look happy.
Jake scrambled to his feet, clearly ready to run. Grampa is only about five and a half feet tall, and to be honest, he’s kind of scrawny. But he’s got a glare that could bore a hole through an oak.
When he was about ten feet away, he pointed his clippers at me and snapped, “I thought I told you not to hang out with that boy, Lily!”
“We’re not hurting anything, Grampa!”
“The hurt’s already been done!” Turning his angry eyes on Jake, he snarled, “You’d best git.”
“Sorry, Jake,” I muttered. “You’d better go.”
He turned and ran.
I looked at my grandfather. “Why do you hate him that way?” I asked.
“Ain’t him so much,” said Grampa. “It’s his whole dang family.”
“But why?”
He didn’t answer, just turned and stalked away.