Emmy and the Rats in the Belfry (14 page)

“Make it two drops,” Joe said. “One drop will only bring her down to seventy or so. That's still really old—how are we even going to tell the difference?”

“Hey, maybe we should do three!” Emmy followed Ana into the hall. “If we put it in her water, it's diluted!”

Ana set down the tray on the table beside the doll-house with a thump. “Look. I'm the oldest, and I say we shouldn't.”

Emmy stood a little taller. “She's
my
aunt. I say we should.”

Joe looked from one to the other.

Della gasped, pressing a paw to her heart. “You're going to use
my
tears to help Gussie?”

“Yes,” said Emmy.

“
No
,” said Ana.

“What's the matter?” Della threw back her head to glare at Ana. “Aren't my bodily fluids good enough for you?”

“I didn't mean—”

“I suppose it's because I'm a sloppy torch singer who does cheap parlor tricks in a rowdy riverfront bar!” She twisted a corner of her shapeless cardigan sweater. “Not
everyone
can be flabulous, you know!”

“Use the tear bottle,” Joe reminded her.

“Maybe I
am
a failure!” sobbed Della. “Everything I do is wrong!”

“Not
everything
,” said Emmy.

“It's true! I left the nest, and my children were stolen. I tried to save Rasty, but I almost drowned him. Sissy is still lost, I'm not fit
or
flabulous, I can't work at The Surly anymore—”

“Not since you cracked the bouncers' heads together,” Joe agreed.

“And now I've turned my son into a screaming baby! I'm a
bad mother
!” She reared back, swaying on her haunches, and reached for her bottlecap. It was dry.

“And now I'm even out of—
hic!
—root beer. Pleeeease can I have some more?”

“It doesn't do you any good,” said Ana severely.

“I could give it up,” said Della, pressing a paw to her heart, “if I knew I wasn't a total failure. If I thought that … maybe … I could help old Gussie?” She sniffled, wiped a paw across her eyes, and looked up hopefully.

The children turned their backs to confer.

“Give me a break,” said Ana. “I'm not going to agree just to get a rat to give up root beer.”

“You should agree for Gussie's sake,” said Emmy sternly.

“But you can't just decide to make someone younger without their permission!” Ana cried. “It's not medically ethical! It's against the Hippocratic oath!”

“I don't even know what that means,” said Joe, “but I vote with Emmy.”

“Something could go wrong,” Ana insisted.

Emmy gripped Ana's wrists. “But if we don't do something, Gussie is going to
die
.”

Ana was silent a moment. “Let's ask Aunt Melly. If
she
says we can use the tears on Gussie, then all right.” She glanced past Emmy. “Hey! Get off the tray!”

Della turned, the tear bottle clutched in her paws. “But I want to come, too! I want to watch my tears make Gussie well!”

“We don't even know if we're going to use them.” Joe took the bottle and set Della back in the doll-house. “You'd better stay with Ratty. He might start crying again.”

 

The children knocked softly at the sickroom door and entered.

A single lamp lit the curve of Aunt Melly's neck as she knelt by the side of the bed, her face buried in the bedclothes. On the pillow, Aunt Gussie's white hair looked like a halo, and she breathed in long, raspy sighs.

Joe tried to back out. Emmy caught him by the sleeve.

“This is creepy,” he whispered.

Ana set down the tray and knelt on the other side of the bed. “Aunt Melly,” she began, and hesitated.

“Go on,” Emmy said, very low. “You're the one who wanted to ask her.”

Ana pushed her bangs out of her eyes and started to explain about the fern and Ratmom's special power. She didn't get very far before Aunt Melly lifted a tearstained face.

“I'm sorry,” she faltered. “I can't really listen right now … oh, Gussie! Dear sister!” She pressed her face back into the blankets, and her shoulders shook with muffled sobs.

Emmy ducked down behind the bed. “This isn't going to work,” she muttered.

Joe nodded. He picked up the tiny bottle of tears and uncapped it. “One drop or two?” he mouthed.

Emmy held up two fingers.

“Hey!” Ana whirled around, jostling Joe's elbow. “What do you think you're doing?”

“Yikes,” said Joe, looking in dismay at the water glass.

“How many drops?” Ana hissed.

“I don't know! You bumped against me when I was pouring!”

“More than two, anyway,” said Emmy. “Nice going, Ana.”

“It wasn't my fault!” said Ana. “I wasn't the one putting in drops after we
agreed
—”

“Please!” Aunt Melly struggled to her feet. “I don't know what you're bickering about, but enough! Hand me the tray. It's time for Gussie's medicine.”

Ana shot one more glare in Emmy and Joe's direction and handed over the tray. “Don't give her the water, Aunt Melly, it's not safe—”

“Yes, I know. There'll be less chance of her choking if we give her ice chips. But help me give her the medicine now. Joe, Emmy, get on either side and prop up her shoulders.”

Emmy slipped an arm beneath Aunt Gussie's back, feeling her slight weight and the shoulder blades that stuck out like wings. Joe's hand crossed under hers and gripped her forearm.

“Now, lift.” Aunt Melly put the cup of medicine to her sister's lips. “Swallow, Gussie, dear.”

Aunt Gussie's cracked lips fumbled on the edge of the plastic cup, and Aunt Melly tipped it carefully, not losing a drop. The sick old woman swallowed convulsively and her eyelids fluttered.

“Is that better?” Aunt Melly caressed her sister's thin, pale hand. “I think it does you good …”

“Oh!” Gussie's eyes opened wide. “Oh, my!” She sat up in bed. “I feel so much better!”

“Really?” Aunt Melly's face was joyful. “Oh, darling Gussie, suddenly you look ten years younger!”

“I
feel
ten years younger!” cried Gussie. “No, twenty!”

Emmy looked at Joe across the bed. “Did you put teardrops in the
medicine
?” whispered Emmy.

“Not me,” said Joe.

“Well, somebody did,” Emmy said, unable to take her eyes off the middle-aged Aunt Gussie sitting bolt upright in the middle of her bed. No, not middle-aged—

“Gussie!” Aunt Melly's hands flew to her throat. “You don't—you don't look a day over
thirty
—”

Aunt Gussie's wrinkles smoothed out. Her hair went from white to a deep chestnut brown. Her eyes grew bright, and her skin youthful, and all at once she looked younger than thirty, she looked
twenty
.

The young Aunt Gussie gave them an enchanting smile.

“You're so pretty!” breathed Ana, and Joe nodded, mesmerized.

“I feel a little gawky,” said Aunt Gussie, and it was true—she was changing before their eyes again, looking awkward and coltish, her arms too long for her body, her face angular, her mouth too wide for her chin.

“She's a teenager,” said Ana. “Maybe fourteen—no, thirteen—”

Emmy found she was gripping Ana's and Joe's hands tightly. Would it ever stop? Had they killed her in the end? The teenage Aunt Gussie shrank, dwindled, and turned into a slender child with brown curly hair and an impish grin, smaller than any of them.

The children held their breath, but Gussie seemed to have stopped the youthening process. Aunt Melly sat back on her heels, looking stunned.

There was a skittering of claws at the doorway and Ratmom slid into sight. “Hi, all!” She scampered across the wood floor, swarmed up the bedpost, and gave a wide, toothy smile. “Looks like someone took her medicine!”

“You?” Emmy stared at Ratmom. “
You
put tears in Aunt Gussie's medicine? How many?”

“Oh, seven or so. I had to calculate for the extra body mass of a human, you understand.” Ratmom shook her head, looking puzzled. “But I guess the size doesn't matter, because she looks about—”

“Six!” shouted Gussie, beaming. “I'm
six
! Let's go out and play!”

“I feel … a little faint,” said Aunt Melly, fumbling with the tray. “Perhaps … a drink of water …”

“N
O!” CRIED EMMY
, but it was too late. Aunt Melly took a final swallow and set down the empty glass with a bemused expression.

“Do you know, I feel remarkably well,” she began, but stopped as she caught sight of her hands.

She held them out before her, openmouthed, watching as the ropy veins subsided, the age spots disappeared, and the knobby knuckles slimmed. The delicate, long-fingered hand grew smaller, plump and dimpled—and a very young Aunt Melly looked up at her sister on the bed.

“I want to play, too!” She leaped onto the pillows, screaming with laughter. “Look, Gussie, I'm littler than you! I always
wanted
to be the youngest!”

Emmy, Joe, and Ana conferred by the window while the little girls jumped merrily on the bed.

“It's weird how they don't seem to worry about any of this,” Joe said. “Aunt Melly would have—when she was old, I mean.”

Emmy nodded. “Maybe little kids don't worry that much.”

“I'm worried enough for both of them,” said Ana, gnawing on a fingernail.

“I'm not!” said Ratmom from her perch on the bedpost. She leaped to the nightstand, knocking over the bottle of tears in the process—“
Oops!
”—and from there to the windowsill, where she sat with her tail dangling, looking pleased with herself.

“You don't have to look so happy,” said Joe. “You messed up
everything
.”

“Gussie's alive, isn't she?” Ratmom put her paws on her hips. “So she's a little younger. She has longer to enjoy life, that's all! And besides, you were going to do the same thing.
You
put the drops in the
water
.”

“We weren't going to use it,” snapped Ana. “From now on, let people know when you're going to take seventy or eighty years off their lives, will you?”

Ratmom looked from one disapproving face to the next, and her whiskers drooped. “But don't you think it's kind of fun to have it be a surprise?”

“
No
,” said all three at once.

“But you wanted to use the teardrops! I heard you!”

“Sure,” said Emmy, “but only one or two. We wanted her to get
well
, not get youthenized!”

Thump! Thump!
Melly and Gussie tumbled off the bed and began to chase each other around the room, shrieking.

Ana shook her head at Ratmom. “What were you thinking?” she demanded, jumping back as Melly ran past. “Two little girls can't live on their own. And two old ladies can't just disappear. The police will search for them, the judge will ask questions, and everybody's going to get in trouble.”

“I was only trying to help.” Della's furry shoulders slumped. “Humans make things too complicated. It's simpler to be a rat.”

“I might have to turn rat myself,” Ana said gloomily. “It
would
be simpler. I could use seeds for money—there are plenty in Aunt Melly's spice cabinet. I could hop on the train, jump off at Grayson Lake, live in Rodent City, and never worry again.”

“You
can't
turn rat,” said Emmy. “You promised Aunt Melly you wouldn't.”

“Sure, because she promised to speak to the judge for me! But who's going to listen to a five-year-old Aunt Melly? Nobody, that's who.”

“Do you need someone older to help?” Della looked up hopefully. “
I
could talk to the judge—”

“
No
,” said Ana. “You've helped enough already.”

“Oh.” Della reached wearily for the window-blind cord and slid down to the floor. “I guess I'll just be going, then … since nobody needs me.”

“Ratty needs you,” said Joe. “He's a baby, remember? You'd better make sure he's still okay.”

Ratmom shuffled off toward the door, her tail dragging.

Emmy sighed. Ratmom's feelings didn't seem important compared to the very real problem of what to do with Melly and Gussie. What on earth could she tell her parents? She gazed moodily at the little girls, who had dragged the blanket off the bed to make a tent. “They sure have a lot of energy, don't they?”

Joe grinned. “I bet they'll calm down after a while. They've been old and stiff for so long—no wonder they want to run around.”

“They're awfully cute,” said Ana, watching the two curly heads bob up and down as the little girls shut one end of the sheet in a dresser drawer and tried to find a way to hold down the other end. “I wonder if they remember being grown-up?”

The five-year-old Aunt Melly looked up and wrinkled her nose. “Course we remember—but it's no
fun
!”

Gussie nodded vigorously, her brown curls bouncing. “It's booooring! Taxes and dusting and everything stupid!”

“We want to play tent,” said Melly, flapping a corner of the blanket at Gussie's head.

“And horse,” said Gussie, dropping to all fours with a whinny and a toss of her mane. She pawed the floor and pranced up to Joe. “Do you give horsey rides?”

“
No
,” said Joe.

“I will,” said Ana. “I'm the biggest, anyway. Come on, Gussie, climb on my back.”

Emmy leaned on the windowsill. The sun had set long ago, and the sky was dark, with a narrow band of deep blue lingering in the west. Out of habit, she scanned the sky for bats, but she hardly knew what she would do if she saw one. She felt as if her brain had been stunned.

The wooden floor creaked beside her as Joe shifted from one foot to the other. “Now what?” he said simply.

“I have no idea.” Emmy stared out into the night again, gazing at the dark expanse of the Mohawk River. “Maybe Ana has the right plan. We could all become rats and then we'd never have to explain anything.”

“Giddyap! Go, go!”

Joe glanced at the far side of the room, where Ana had collapsed under the weight of the two giggling girls. “Don't you think we should tell them to go to sleep, or something? It's got to be past their bedtime.”

Emmy leaned her forehead against the window sash. “But they've been grown-ups for sixty
years
or more. And this is their house. How can we start telling them what to do?” She shut her eyes. If only she could just shut her eyes and let someone else figure everything out. She could wake up in the morning, and it would all be fixed—Melly and Gussie would be old but healthy, Sissy would be found safe, Miss Barmy and Cheswick would be captured or gone away forever, and there would be no more misunderstandings with her parents. Oh, and Ana would have a home that she actually wanted to go to … Emmy rubbed her eyes tiredly. It was a long list already, but it seemed as though she was forgetting something.

“They act like little kids, though,” Joe argued. “I mean, you wouldn't want to let them run around on their own, would you? It wouldn't be safe.” He looked over his shoulder at Melly and Gussie, who were now playing leapfrog over Ana's back. “They might remember grown-up stuff, but they don't seem interested in anything but playing.”

Emmy stared at the little girls as a thought slowly emerged through the fog in her brain. “Maybe they
know
about the grown-up stuff, but they
feel
like kids. So they'll act the way they feel.”

Joe looked interested. “Do you think it's that way for Ratty, too?”

Emmy clapped a hand to her forehead. “I knew I'd forgotten something! Ratty's still a baby!”

“That's the least of our worries,” muttered Joe as the little girls pounded out into the hall and down the stairs, with Ana staggering behind.

Emmy and Joe caught up to Ana at the front door. “I can't go outside after them,” she said worriedly. “The police are still looking for me.”

“Gussie! Melly!” Emmy opened the front door and called out into the night. “Come back! It's too late for you to be out!”

Two little girls streaked past, laughing as they tagged each other. “We're going to the river park!” called Melly.

“I haven't been on a teeter-totter for sixty-five years!” cried Gussie.

Emmy looked at Joe. “Come on,” she said. “I'll take Melly. You get Gussie.”

“Oh, my aching back,” muttered Joe, but he jumped off the front steps and broke into a sprint.

Emmy and Joe were more than a match for five-and six-year-old runners, and they caught up to the little girls at a low fountain with a bronze Indian in the middle.

“Come home, Gussie,” Joe coaxed. “We'll take you to the riverside park in the morning, okay? You'll have more fun when you can see where you're going.”

Gussie sat on the edge of the fountain and swung her legs. “But I
want
to be out at night.” She grinned up at Joe, and the light from a streetlamp edged the dimple in one cheek. “Mama and Papa
never
let me play outside after dark. But I'm old enough now! I'm seventy-six!”

“Still, it's important to be safe,” Joe began, knowing his words were lame, but feeling he had to say them anyway.

Gussie threw back her curls and laughed, showing a mouthful of baby teeth. “I've been safe my whole life. It's boring. I want to run fast and climb high and go out after dark—”

“And have all the fun we ever missed,” finished Melly. She snuggled up to Emmy on the fountain's stone rim. “Come and play?”

“Joe and I shouldn't be out this late, either,” said Emmy, feeling like a hypocrite.

Gussie jumped up on the fountain and edged along the rim, her arms outstretched for balance. “You were out late when you got Ratmom.”

“Er—” said Joe. He looked at Emmy for help. “It wasn't
that
late.”

“Later than it is right now,” said Gussie. “
And
you went on the river.”

“How did you know about that?” Emmy asked curiously.

Gussie shrugged. “You talked over my bed all the time. You thought I was asleep, but I heard you.” She cocked her head. “Old people aren't dumb, you know. They're just old.”

“I'm starting to figure that out,” said Joe, catching her as she began to teeter. “Listen, why don't we go back home and talk about it? I'll give you a piggyback ride.”

“Yay!” cried Gussie, leaping on his back and drumming his sides with her heels. “Hi-ho, Silver!”

“Me, too!” begged Melly, tugging at Emmy's hand.

Emmy and Joe staggered on toward the house under the weight of the little aunts. But as they paused to rest for the third time, something darted past in the soft night air.

“Hey!” Emmy whispered, letting Melly slide off her back. “It's a
bat
!”

Joe set Gussie down and got a firm grip on her hand. “Let's go!”

The children ran, Joe and Emmy half dragging the little girls, catching glimpses of the bat as it swooped in and out of the shadows. It headed toward Cucumber Alley, and as the children turned the corner, they saw it clearly for a half second, etched plain against the streetlamp's glow. It seemed to be carrying some kind of paper in its claws. As they watched, the bat fluttered down to the brick face of Melly and Gussie's home and pushed the envelope into the mail slot.

“Catch it!” Emmy whispered, and Joe started forward, but stopped, confused, suddenly bathed in the circling blue and red lights from a patrol car.

“Now, kids,” said Officer Crumlett, “you know it's too late for you to be out. Where are your parents?” He heaved his bulk out of the car and stood looking sternly down at Emmy. “Say, aren't you the Addison ladies' niece? Where are your aunts? Who are these kids?”

Emmy's heart was beating hard and fast. “Um—this is my friend Joe, who is visiting. And”—she hesitated. “These are Melly and Gussie, my … relatives.” She watched, her fingers itching to grab, as the bat detached itself from the brick wall and fluttered up to the porch roof.

“Melly and Gussie, eh?” Officer Crumlett frowned. “Are you
all
staying with the old ladies?”

The children nodded. Emmy kept an eye on the bat.

“They're not
that
old,” said Melly.

“You're only as old as you feel!” Gussie tipped her head back and shook her curls, smiling adorably.

Officer Crumlett's expression softened. Emmy took advantage of the moment to march the little girls up the steps to the front door. “We're really very sorry, sir. Melly and Gussie wanted to play tag in the dark.” She ushered the little girls inside and wagged her finger at them. “Go put on your pajamas right this minute, and I'll be up to tuck you in. Try not to wake the aunts!”

Officer Crumlett cleared his throat. “I really should talk to your aunts, but if they're asleep—”

“They've gone to bed,” said Emmy firmly, eyeing the little girls as they skipped up the stairs. “I think maybe we wore them out. But I'll be sure to tell them tomorrow what you said about staying inside after dark.”

“Well … all right. But you kids turn on the porch light now, and go in and lock the door. Come on, I don't have all night.”

Emmy cast an anguished glance at the bat hanging upside down from a corner of the porch roof, but there was nothing she could do. She reached inside and flicked the light switch. The bat, startled, released its perch, and flew off into the night sky as she closed the front door behind her.

 

The letter was typewritten, addressed to both aunts, with claw marks on the corner where the bat had gripped it. When they were sure the policeman had gone away, Gussie and Melly came down again, and the five children crowded around the letter in the front room.

“Aren't you going to open it?” Joe asked Gussie.

She leaned against him on the couch and yawned into his sleeve. “You read it, Joe. I'm sleepy.”

Ratmom scurried down from the dollhouse and up onto the back of the couch, where she leaned over Joe's shoulder as he read aloud.