Touch the Sky (Young Underground #8) (13 page)

             
“
Well, my offer still stands,
”
Matthias went on.
“
I
’
ll contact you again when I can.
”
He chuckled.
“
Maybe by carrier pigeon.
”

             
He patted Peter on the leg to send him off, and Mrs. Melchior smiled weakly and backed away from the plane. Peter was glad to slip out but turned to Matthias before shutting the door.

             
“
I
’
m sorry I thought you were
...
uh
...”
Peter wondered how to finish his sentence without saying,
“
I
’
m sorry I thought you were one of the bad guys.
”

             
Matthias just smiled and waved him off.
“
I
’
m used to it, Peter.
Shalom
.
”

             
Peter shut the door and stepped back onto the dock while Matthias powered up the plane
’
s engine and pulled away.

             
“
Sha
-
lom.
”
Peter tried to repeat what Matthias had said.

             
“
Shalom,
”
said Mrs. Melchior.
“
That
’
s a way of saying
‘
good
-
bye
’
in Hebrew. It also means
‘
peace.
’ ”

             
Peter turned away from the water for a moment, just in time to see someone shove his way past Grandfather Andersen, knock him over onto his face, and disappear into the city.

             
“
Grandfather!
”
Peter shouted. He vaulted past Elise up the ramp to the boathouse.

6

G
randfather
’
s Idea

             
“
Grandfather!
”
Peter kneeled beside his grandfather, who rolled over and gasped for air like a fish out of water. His eyes were wide with surprise
—
or pain.

             
“
What happened?
”
screamed Elise. There was no sign of whoever had run off. Peter tried to cradle his grandfather
’
s head in his hands, but the older man just waved his arms.

             
“
Someone knocked him over and ran,
”
Peter said, looking again toward the city streets.
“
You didn
’
t recognize him, did you?
”

             
Grandfather tried to catch his breath.
“
It was just a blur. He came out of nowhere.
”

             
“
Are you hurt?
”
Peter
’
s mother asked. She hovered next to her father
-
in
-
law with a worried expression on her face.

             
Grandfather Andersen shook his head.
“
I suppose I haven
’
t been hit that hard since I played soccer.
”

             
Elise looked furious.
“
I can
’
t believe someone would be that rude!
”

             
“
Are you sure you
’
re all right, Grandfather?
”
Peter wanted to know. His hands trembled as he helped his grandfather sit up, then he gently dusted off the back of his grandfather
’
s shirt.

             
“
Here, just help me get to my feet and I
’
ll be fine.
”

             
With Peter on one side and Elise on the other, they slowly helped Grandfather Andersen straighten out and get to his feet. The old man closed his eyes in pain but said nothing.

             
“
Do you want us to call a doctor?
”
Mrs. Melchior asked.

             
“
We should call a doctor,
”
Elise agreed.
“
And the police.
”

             
“
NO!
”
insisted Grandfather Andersen.
“
We
’
re not calling anyone.
”

             
“
But
...”
objected Mrs. Andersen.

             
“
Grandfather
...”
began Elise, holding him up by his left arm. Grandfather just shook his head.

             
“
If you could just find me my cane, I
’
ll put it to good use and walk on home
—
ouch!
”

             
He winced as he took his first step, then smiled and nodded as he looked at Mrs. Melchior.

             
“
We
’
ll walk home with you,
”
she insisted.

             
“
Dad,
”
Peter
’
s mother said,
“
I don
’
t like that old Viking tough
-
guy act you put on.
”

             
“
No act,
”
Grandfather said, but he winced again as they slowly made their way down the street toward his small apartment by the harbor.

             
“
Look, he even made you scrape your knee,
”
said Peter.

             
“
Hmm, I suppose.
”
Grandfather glanced down quickly at the rip in the knee of his pants.
“
I
’
m glad you were there with your strong legs to pick me up. And speaking of strong legs, where are they going to take you this summer? You
’
re not going to sit at home, are you?
”

             
Peter and Elise looked at each other, and Peter shrugged. Grandfather was obviously done talking about himself.

             
“
We didn
’
t really have any plans....
”
began Elise.

             
“
No plans? My grandchildren don
’
t have any plans?
”

             
Peter stepped up to the curb in front of Grandfather
’
s apartment.
“
Where would we go?
”

             
“
Anywhere!
”
their grandfather replied.
“
When I was your age, I wanted to hike across Europe. Switzerland. Norway. France. Of course, we didn
’
t have nice bicycles like you have today.
”

             
Peter brightened up at the thought.
“
We should go on our bikes. Maybe from here to Paris!
”

             
Grandfather chuckled and looked over at Mrs. Melchior, who raised her eyebrows. Mrs. Andersen frowned in disapproval, too.

             
“
Well, I don
’
t think anyone
’
s parents would like
that
idea too much,
”
admitted Grandfather.
“
Maybe a shorter trip would be better.
”

             
A block away, they could see Henrik running toward them. Peter waved as his friend caught up to them.

             
“
You
’
re back,
”
Henrik puffed. He looked down at Grandfather Andersen
’
s knee and stared back in surprise.

             
“
What
—”
began Henrik, but Grandfather held up his hand to silence him.

             
“
Just a little slip in the boatyard,
”
Grandfather almost growled.
“
Everything is fine.
”

             
Henrik looked down once more at Grandfather Andersen
’
s ripped pants and raw knee, then over at his mother. No one else dared say anything more about the injury.

             
“
Never felt better,
”
insisted Grandfather.
“
Now, here
’
s my apartment.
”

             
Grandfather Andersen lived in a small, ground
-
level apartment just a few blocks from the harbor, crowded next to a little shop that sold rope, compasses, boat paint, and navigation charts. The owner, a middle
-
aged fellow named Mr. Sverdrup, pushed the shop door open curiously.

             
“
Hey, Andersen,
”
the man said,
“
what happened to
—”

             
“
Never felt better, Sverdrup.
”
Grandfather cut him off and limped to his unlocked front door. He turned to the twins and Henrik to wink at them.
“
Thanks for your help, kids.
”

             
After Grandfather slammed his door shut, they all stood out in the morning sunshine for a moment. Mr. Sverdrup gave them a strange look and disappeared back into his shop.

             
“
I suppose I don
’
t know anyone quite as stubborn as your grandfather,
”
Mrs. Andersen told the twins as she turned to go. She and Mrs. Melchior walked a couple of steps ahead of the twins and Henrik.

             
“
Hey, but guess what, Henrik?
”
Peter held up his finger.
“
Grandfather had a great idea for something we could do this summer.
”

             
“
Yeah?
”

             
“
We could bike across the country!
”

             
“
Pe
-
ter,
”
warned Mrs. Andersen from up ahead.
“
That was just your grandfather talking. You
’
re still a little too young for that kind of trip.
”

             
She and Mrs. Melchior continued to chat. Henrik
’
s eyes lit up for just a moment, then his face fell as they walked on.

             
“
Sounds great, Peter,
”
Henrik said,
“
but
...”

             
“
It
would
be great,
”
Peter continued, warming up to his idea.
“
We could ride all the way to the Atlantic Ocean, to my cousins
’
farm in Ho Village. Stay in youth hostels sometimes, or maybe sleep under the stars. See the sights of Denmark. All the great castles, the lake country. And we could take the train home. What do you think, Elise? Think Mom and Dad would let us?
”

             
“
I don
’
t know about the youth hostel part,
”
she answered.

             
“
What
’
s wrong with staying in hostels?
”
argued Peter.
“
They
’
re just like big houses, places to sleep for bike travelers. It would be fun.
”

             
“
I know, but what about Henrik?
”

             
“
Henrik?
”
Peter asked, trying to understand what his sister was saying. Henrik was dragging his heels against the sidewalk, looking down. Above them, the sound of an airplane grew louder, and they all looked up to see the red floatplane buzz by overhead. The plane dipped a wing, circled, and headed back out to sea as they watched.

             
“
Perfect timing,
”
Henrik said with a trace of disgust. He shaded his eyes, frowned, and sneezed. Then he turned to his friend.
“
I
’
m supposed to be leaving, remember? From the way Mother and Matthias were talking this morning, it sounds like we
’
re going to Palestine. Maybe you can go on a bike trip, but I can
’
t. My whole life is over.
”

             
“
That
’
s just it,
”
replied Peter.
“
If you
’
re really going to go, then we just
have
to make this trip.
It will be our last chance. Your mom
has
to say yes.
”