Ann Martin - Mary Anne And The Secret In The Attic

Wow. That meant that Dad hadn't even sent them a picture for a long time. He probably hadn't had any contact with my grandparents for awhile.

"More like her mother every day," said my father.

Another shock! He'd never told me that.

My grandmother sighed. "I'm calling, Richard, with some sad news. Bill passed on last week — a coronary."

"I'm so sorry," said my father.

"I'm sorry, too," said my grandmother. "I'm sorry he didn't get to see his granddaughter again before he passed away."

She sounded mad.

"My understanding was that the two of you decided it would be better that way," said my father. He was working hard to be patient.

"That was our original decision," said my grandmother. "But it wasn't an easy one — and I'm not sure anymore that it was the right one."

"What do you mean?" asked my father.

That was exactly what 7 would have asked. What did she mean? Did she mean she was sorry she'd given me back?

"I mean that the loss of Mary Anne has been a heartache for both of us for all these years."

"I'm sorry," said my father again. He sounded kind of helpless.

"I want her to come here," said my grandmother.

What? I couldn't believe my ears. This was exactly what I'd been afraid of.

"What?" asked my father, echoing my thoughts.

"I want her to come to me," said my grandmother. "I don't want to die without seeing her. She is my only living flesh and blood

now."

"Well, I don't know, Verna," said my father.

"Mary Anne is a happy, well-adjusted girl. She doesn't remember anything about that time, and I'd rather keep it that way. Bringing up the past would only be painful for everyone."

"Richard, you haven't changed a bit," said my grandmother. "You're as stubborn as ever. You got your way all those years ago, and I want to get my way now. I can be just as stubborn as you. I want Mary Anne to come to Maynard."

"Verna," said my father. I'm sorry about Bill. He was a good man, but I can't let you do this. Mary Anne stays here."

I was so happy to hear Dad say that.

"I won't take no for an answer, Richard," she said. "We're going to have to work this out, just like we did before."

At that point, I was too upset to listen anymore. I hung up the phone gently, hoping neither of them would hear the click. Then I sat back on the couch and let out a deep breath. If I'd felt confused and scared before, it was nothing compared to how I was feeling now. My whole life was in the balance. I'd lived in Stoneybrook ever since I could remember. All my friends were here, and all the family I knew — or cared to know. And now it looked as if I could spend the rest of my life in Maynard, Iowa, with an old lady who was a complete stranger to me. And she wasn't the nicest old lady, either. She didn't sound like a kindly cookie-baking grandmother. She sounded like a rock-hard negotiator who was going to go after what she wanted. And what she wanted was me.

I couldn't even cry.

"Mary Anne?" Dawn had come into the den. "I just got back from the Pikes'. What’s the matter?"

1 must have looked awfully upset. And suddenly, I found that I could cry, after all. "Oh, Dawn," I wailed. "If s terrible. You won't believe it."

I told her everything, between sobs.

"Mary Anne," she said, looking worried. "Come on, stop crying. Please?" She hugged me. "It’s going to be okay ... I think."

"D-did you know about this?" I asked, wiping my eyes with the tissue she'd given me. "I bet everyone but me knew."

"No way," she said. "If Richard ever told my mom anything about it, she sure didn't tell me. I'm as shocked as you are." She hugged me again. "Listen," she said. "You're my sister. There is no way I'm going to let you be shipped off to Maywood, Ohio."

"Maynard," I said miserably. "It’s Maynard, Iowa." I had started crying again as soon as she called me her sister.

"Whatever," she said. "Don't cry. Let's calm down and talk this over. I'm sure we can figure something out."

We talked for the rest of the evening, but by the time we went to bed (I was totally exhausted by about nine o'clock) we hadn't figured anything out. Telling Dawn had made me feel a little better, but it didn't exactly solve anything. The big question still stood: Did my grandmother have a legal claim to me?

Chapter 10.

As you can probably guess from Dawn's notebook entry, sitting for the Rodowsky boys is always a challenge. They do know how to keep you on your toes — especially Jackie. We call him the Walking Disaster, because trouble always seems to find him, but it's a fond nickname. We really like Jackie a lot, and we like his brothers, too. it’s just that you never quite know how the day will turn out when you first arrive at their door.

When Dawn showed up that Friday afternoon, Mrs. Rodowsky was more than ready to leave. Dawn wasn't late; we make a point of being a little early for jobs. But Mrs. Rodowsky looked as if she badly needed some time off from those three boys. She was all set to escape the second Dawn arrived. " 'Bye!" she said to the boys, waving over her shoulder as she dashed to the car. "Be good!"

Well, I'm sure Jackie and his brothers would like to be good. I'm sure they really try hard sometimes. But somehow "being good" is just not something that comes easily to the Rodowsky s.

Those boys have the reddest hair I've ever seen, and each of them is covered with freckles. Shea is the oldest; he's nine. He plays Little League baseball and takes piano lessons. (What a well-rounded child!) Jackie, who's

seven, is the middle child. Like I said, we call him the Walking Disaster — he's always getting into some kind of trouble. But he has this contagious grin. When he smiles, you just can't help smiling back. Archie, the youngest Rodowsky, is just four. He's adorable, especially when he shows off the stuff he's practicing for his tumbling classes. Which is what he was doing when Dawn walked in the door that day.

"Watch me, Dawn!" he cried, as he bent over and began a somersault. "My teacher says I do these best of anyone in my class!"

Just as Archie began to roll over, Jackie ran into the room with a plate of crackers, tripped over his brother, and went flying. The crackers went flying, too. "Oh, no!" Jackie yelled. "I was going to eat those while I watched my TV show." Archie had finished his somersault and was waiting to see what happened next. He didn't even seem to realize that Jackie had tripped over him.

Jackie looked shamefacedly at Dawn, who was standing with her hands on her hips. "I didn't see Archie there," he explained. "Ifs not my fault, is it?"

If s never Jackie's fault!

"Of course not," said Dawn. "But let's dean up these crackers before they get ground into the rug."

"Bo will help," said Shea, who had come into the room. "He's really good at cleaning up stuff like that. Here, Bo!" he called.

Bo, who happens to be a dog, came scampering into the room and headed straight for the crackers. Within seconds they had all disappeared. "See?" asked Shea proudly.

"Great," said Dawn. "Now, what’s up for today? Do you have homework?" Mrs. Rodowsky had run out so fast that Dawn had no idea what the boys were supposed to do.

"Not me!" said Jackie.

"I do," said Shea glumly. Then he brightened. "Hey!" he said. "Maybe you could help me. I'm supposed to find out some stuff about the history of Stoneybrook. You know, for Heritage Day? I'm supposed to learn about the families that founded the town. My teacher said I should go to the town hall and look through the records they keep there."

"Sounds fine to me," said Dawn. "I've never been there before, but I'm sure someone will be able to help us. It might be fun. What do you guys think?" she asked Jackie and Archie.

"Yea!" said Jackie. "Can we take Bo?"