It turned out the emergency had been Uncle Ned, who needed special medicine that he had forgotten back on the island. When Solo got the SOS, he knew to gather every prescription bottle he could find in Ned’s cabin, because the same emergency had happened before.
“But I don’t get why Uncle Ned is here in the first place,” I said to Solo.
Solo shrugged. “He’s always here, when he isn’t on Beyond.”
“You mean, this is where he goes when he goes away?”
Solo nodded.
“But why?” I asked. “Do they have a business together making the sculptures?”
That made Solo laugh. “Who would pay anything for those blobs?”
“I would, if I had the money to buy one.”
Solo made a face like he was sucking on a lemon. “Isaac wouldn’t sell them anyway,” he mumbled.
We could hear the murmurings of the two men’s voices in the other room. I wondered what they could be saying and tried to listen. Solo wandered over to the kitchen and searched through the cabinets. He shook something into his hand.
“Want some sunflower seeds?” He popped one in his mouth, cracked the shell with his teeth, then spit the remains into the sink.
“No thanks.”
I stood up and gazed at the field of metal sculptures through the kitchen window. If I let them, the flashing, spinning parts could hypnotize me.
“Did your great-grandfather make all these himself?”
“Mostly,” said Solo. “Ned helps more now, since it’s getting hard for Isaac to build them alone.”
Even though this place was astonishing, I still didn’t understand why Uncle Ned bothered to hike all the way up the mountain just to spend time with a crabby old loner.
“So are they old friends or what?” I turned back and looked directly at him. “Did they grow up together?”
“I’ve never asked.” He popped another seed in his mouth. “But they’re both from Aidenn, so they probably knew each other as kids.”
“Wait!” I said, certain I had figured it out. “Are they related?”
Solo laughed. “I hope not. Plus, that would mean you and I would be related . . . and we’d probably already know that.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said, more confused than ever.
Right then the door to the other room opened.
“Looks like he’s feeling better,” said Solo’s great-grandfather as he shuffled across the room, leaning heavily on his stick.
We moved out of his way and watched as he held a towel under the faucet. He wrung out the extra water with his huge hands and draped it over a drying rack. I glanced toward the door, cracked open just enough for me to see Uncle Ned’s arm as he lay in a bed.
“He wants to talk to you,” the old man said to me. He pointed at the bedroom. “Go on in and say hello.”
Uncle Ned was sitting up in bed, covered by a colorful quilt and leaning against several pillows. He wore old-fashioned long underwear, red with white buttons down the front. The way he slumped made him look extra old, which made me a little sad.
“Hey there, Martin.”
“Hey, Uncle Ned. Are you okay?”
“Been better, been worse.” He patted the empty space on the bed next to his legs. I sat next to him.
“Are you sick?”
“I have a condition I keep forgetting I’ve got,” he replied and chuckled. “Lots to remember when you get old. Problem is the memory goes first.”
He took a slow sip of water from a glass on the nightstand. His hand was trembling, so he had a hard time placing it back on the table.
As I scanned the room, I noticed a large black-and-white sketch tacked to the wooden wall. It showed two men sitting on a rock by the lake. Right away, I could tell the men were Uncle Ned and Isaac.
And all at once I knew why this place felt so familiar: Uncle Ned’s painting of the cabin and goats on the side of a hill grazing under sparkling light. It was the one he’d removed from the easel the day I painted a picture of the rain.
“You gave us all quite a scare, you old geezer,” said Isaac as he came back into the bedroom with Solo right behind him.
Uncle Ned reached out his hand and the hermit took it. They stayed like that for a while, holding hands in front of me, gazing at each other. Next thing I knew Isaac leaned on his walking stick, bent over Uncle Ned, and kissed his forehead. I checked to see Solo’s reaction. But he just rolled his eyes and smirked, as if it happened all the time.
It was something I had seen my parents do, my dad leaning over my mom and kissing her face, and it was the kind of thing that made me roll my eyes and smirk too.
That’s when everything fell into place.
I turned my gaze back to Uncle Ned, who smiled at me, as if answering the question I couldn’t ask.
“Do you brave boys mind escorting me down the mountain?” he asked.
“Are you sure you’re . . . okay now?” I must’ve sounded pretty doubtful, because Ned chuckled and said, “Trust me, Martin—if I wasn’t, Isaac wouldn’t let me out of his sight.”
Solo and I waited outside while Uncle Ned “pulled a few loose ends together.” We were both extra tired now that our stomachs were full, so we lay down in a grassy area between the sculptures above and the goats below.
As usual, I had about a hundred questions I wanted to ask as we rested side by side, watching the clouds drift overhead.
“How long have they been together?”
Solo’s eyes were closed, but I could tell he was awake. “Ever since I can remember.”
My next question was the most confusing part for me. It was also the most awkward to ask. “So if Isaac is your great-grandfather, that means he used to be married to your great-grandmother?”
Solo stretched his arm out, plucked a long piece of grass, and stuck it in his mouth.
“What’s your point, Martian?” he asked, the long green stalk moving up and down as he chewed the end.
“Well, um,” I stammered, trying to find the words, “did they get divorced?”
He readjusted his arms under his head and looked directly at me. “Everything went bad for Isaac a long time ago. He was living up here with my great-grandma and a bunch of their kids when the police arrested him for something to do with being against the government.”
Solo turned back and stared up at the clouds. In the distance we could hear tiny goat bells ringing from down below.
“No, he hadn’t done anything really wrong, except not pay his taxes for a couple of years. But he got out of serving in Vietnam because of his deaf ear, and that’s about the same time he started sending those flashlight signals across the lake. So people got suspicious. They thought he was doing something illegal, sending spy codes or something. He got arrested and by the time he cleared his name, my great-grandma had packed up all the kids and left.”
I let everything stew in my brain awhile before I asked, “How come she left him if he didn’t turn out to be a criminal?”
Solo rested his arms across his stomach and closed his eyes. “Geez, Martian. Because she figured out that the signals were actually for Ned.”
“Oh.”
“And Isaac still feels like people have it out for him. That’s why he never leaves the mountain. And why Ned is always up here.”
“That’s really sad,” I said.
Solo shrugged. “I guess. In some ways.”
I thought about it a little more and realized I knew what he meant. It was a sad story, but some good had come out of it too. There were all the beautiful sculptures Isaac had created. And he and Ned were still together, all these years later.
Once Uncle Ned was ready to go, the three of us headed down the mountain. We moved very slowly and made lots of stops. Solo and I walked on either side of Uncle Ned in case he felt weak and needed our support. By the time we finally reached the edge of the lake, the sun was low in the sky.
“You paddle the canoe over to the tree house, Martian,” said Solo. “I’ll row Ned in his boat over to the dock.”
So that’s who owned the old metal rowboat tied to the tree.
Together, we moved silently across the lake, thoroughly exhausted. The air smelled sweet and felt soft. This, I thought to myself, is where I want to be. Forever.
When we reached Beyond, I waved to Solo and Uncle Ned before I drifted left toward the tree house. Ned saluted me—which made me feel like a hero—as Solo angled the oars and rowed off in the opposite direction.
I waited by the shore long enough to climb up and down the tree house several times, wondering why Solo hadn’t returned. After a while I decided to look for him, stopping off first at Uncle Ned’s cabin. But the house was quiet and dark. Maybe he had already gone to sleep after such a tiring day. So I continued on along the shoreline, over to the dock. I saw that Uncle Ned’s metal row boat was now tied up next to the wooden red To Beyond and Back boat—the one used for trips between the island and the mainland. That must mean Aunt Lenore and Tess were back. Tess would be wondering where I’d been . . .
As soon as I entered the kitchen I heard loud voices in another part of the house, as if people were arguing. I rushed through the dining room and the den, then down the front hall until I burst into the living room.
“Dad?”
My father stood in the center of the faded tapestry rug, grimacing, his arms tightly crossed. Uncle Ned and Solo were standing against the far wall, while Tess perched anxiously on the edge of the couch.
Dad’s eyes widened, almost as if he was surprised to see me there. Or at least he was surprised by something he saw. “Martin?”
“Why are you here?” I blurted. “It’s not the end of July yet. I still have five more days.”
Instantly, he frowned again. “I tried calling, but the phone was out!”
“I’m very sorry about that,” said Tess, “but the service isn’t always reliable up here.”
“It’s different from living in the city, Jonny,” added Uncle Ned.
“I’m well aware of that, thank you,” Dad snapped. “We got an invitation to the Jersey Shore this weekend, Martin, so I came a little early. And obviously it’s a good thing I did!”
“Mr. Hart,” said Tess. “Please, let’s calm down and sort this out. Why don’t I make us some tea?”
“I’m sorry, Tess, but it’s too late for that,” said Dad. “Go upstairs and pack your bags, Martin. We’re leaving. Now.”