The Storm Makers Page 6

  “I wonder how much you can do,” Ruby said, stooping to pick up the ball after it had fallen out of her mitt. “I mean, do you think it’s just rain showers and stuff? Or, like, tornadoes and hurricanes?”

  Simon wiggled his eyebrows at the sky. “Abracadabra.”

  Ruby looked up, half expecting a sudden hailstorm.

  “See?” he said with a shrug. “The only thing I’m good at so far is frying toasters.”

  Ruby laughed. “But you’re really good at that.”

  He took a little bow. But when he straightened again, his face was serious. “Why didn’t Otis stay and talk to me yesterday?”

  “I guess he had to go.”

  “Go where?”

  “I don’t know,” she said truthfully. How could she tell him about the man in the waiting room, about the fact that there might be other people after him? Especially when she didn’t know anything for sure? Tonight, Otis could explain everything. In the meantime, there was no sense in worrying Simon.

  “Hey, I bet you could learn to make it snow,” she said, and his face relaxed into a grin.

  “I’d make every day a snow day,” he said. “No more school.”

  “And no more rain delays for your baseball games.”

  “And no more of this heat,” he said with a groan, tilting his head back and laughing at the high ball of sun in the sky. Ruby smiled, too. It was easier this way, imagining a blizzard in July or a tropical Christmas. It was far simpler to ignore the darker threats and immediate dangers, to get lost in the magic of it, the impossible gift that had fallen into their midst.

  Around noon, the day began to grow even hotter, and when they passed Dad on their way back to the barn, he was scowling so hard at the sky that he barely noticed them.

  “Maybe I should help him out and try to make it rain again,” Simon said under his breath, and though Ruby knew he was half joking, she still remained quiet. It wasn’t fair not to tell him about the conversation she’d overheard the night before, about how bad things really were with the farm. But there was a part of her that was afraid to do it.

  Because what if he could make it rain again?

  Ruby knew she was awful—she was mean and horrible and pathetic—but there was a small and miserable part of her that couldn’t help rooting for the farm’s failure. Especially if it meant going back to the way things used to be.

  And so she kept quiet.

  Without their exactly agreeing to it, Ruby realized they were both avoiding Mom and Dad. At lunchtime, Simon ducked into the kitchen and grabbed their sandwiches before Mom had time to do more than ask how he was feeling, and they spent the rest of the afternoon dodging Dad as he cleaned up after the storm. It was almost like how things used to be between the two of them, moving as a unit, everything in silent accord.

  When Mom finally called them to dinner later, Simon and Ruby exchanged a glance before walking slowly toward the house. They both knew this wasn’t something to share with their parents—it was much too fragile and far too important—but Simon had never been particularly good at keeping secrets.

  Ruby opened her mouth to remind him, but Simon held up a hand. “I know, I know,” he said. “Not a word.”

  In the kitchen, Dad was busy setting the table—usually the twins’ job—and Mom was carrying over a huge bowl of spaghetti and meatballs. Ruby saw there was a small plate of cupcakes with green frosting on the counter.

  “What’s the occasion?” she asked, and Mom smiled as she pulled out her chair.

  “We thought we could use a treat after last night.”

  “Exactly,” Dad said. “We’re just glad Simon’s back to normal.”

  Ruby nearly choked on her water, and Simon shot her a look.

  “And,” Dad said, leaning forward and braiding his fingers together in the way he always did when trying not to give something away, “your mother sold her painting today.”

  “Mom!” Ruby said, jumping up to give her a hug. “Congratulations!”

  “That’s awesome,” Simon said, digging into his pasta. “Does that mean we don’t have to worry about money anymore?”

  Mom and Dad glanced at each other, and Ruby slipped back into her seat.

  “It wasn’t a big sale,” Mom explained gently. “Just the first.”

  “Which is really exciting,” Dad said, reaching to place his hand over hers. “And the start of many more to come.”

  Simon stabbed a meatball with his fork. “Awesome,” he said again.

  “Who bought it?” Ruby asked, and Mom beamed.

  “The bank in town, actually. One of the women who works there saw it when she came by last week, and she’s going to hang it in her office there.”

  Ruby looked up. “Someone from the bank came by?”

  “Just a routine visit to pick up some paperwork,” Dad said quickly.

  Simon—completely oblivious—dropped his fork with a clatter, then stood to grab the basket of bread. They all stared as he piled several slices on his plate.

  “Jeez, Simon,” Mom said. “Dad should be doing a scientific study on you.”

  “Normal Eating Habits of the Twelve-Year-Old Male,” Dad joked, and Simon looked up from his plate, his chin red with pasta sauce.

  “Exactly,” he said. “Normal.”

  It was just before dusk when they wheeled their bikes from the barn. The mosquitoes were out in full force, and Simon slapped at his knee as they set off together, moving with a kind of unspoken urgency. At the end of the drive Ruby coasted ahead, leading them to the left, following the same route she’d taken just the previous morning, though it seemed much longer ago.

  The windmills looked different at this time of day, bright against the fading colors of the evening sky. Simon had slowed down and was staring up in quiet awe, and Ruby felt a kind of peace overtake her at the sight of them. She hoped that someday someone would look at an invention of her dad’s and feel the same way.

  When they rounded the bend, she stood up on the pedals, trying to catch a glimpse of the hay wagon, looking for the familiar shape of Otis’s hat. She hopped off the bike and let it clatter to the ground, then ran the rest of the way between the crops. But as she drew closer, she couldn’t escape the sinking feeling that was starting to surface, and by the time she reached the hay wagon, she knew it was true.

  Otis wasn’t there.

  Ruby spun around to face Simon, who was a few steps behind.

  “Are you sure this is when he said to meet?”

  “You saw the note,” she said, aware of the rising panic in her voice.

  “Well, are you sure this is the right place?”

  She nodded stiffly. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been counting on seeing Otis again, hadn’t even paused to consider that he might not return. And now it was as if something inside her had collapsed, like the wind had rushed right out of her. She sat down in the dirt, still muddy from yesterday’s rain, and rested her forehead on her knees.

  “Hey,” Simon said, sitting down beside her. “It’s okay. He’s probably just late.”

  “He’s not,” Ruby said, her voice choked. “He would’ve been here.”

  The evening had darkened a shade, and the crows in the field had gone quiet. A rabbit darted between stalks of corn and paused when it saw them, nose twitching, before running off again. Above them, the windmills continued their steady rotation, always moving, but going nowhere.

  “What now?” Simon asked, and his voice sounded so unlike him, so unsure, that it took everything in Ruby not to cry.

  “Maybe he meant tomorrow night,” she said without much hope.

  “Then wouldn’t he have said so?”

  “Yeah, but just maybe…”

  Simon stood up and brushed off the back of his shorts. The sky was growing rapidly darker, and they both knew they’d be in trouble if they didn’t start for home soon. They walked their bikes across the uneven ground, the tires bouncing over rocks, and when they’d made it out to the road, they stoo
d there for a moment and looked back, reluctant to give up. But nobody was there and nobody was coming.

  They were all alone.

  eleven

  THE NEXT MORNING, they all drove into town to deliver Mom’s painting. But when they arrived at the bank, Dad handed Simon and Ruby each a five-dollar bill.

  “This might take a little while,” he said. “Can you guys entertain yourselves for a bit?”

  “What could possibly take so long?” Ruby asked. “You walk in, you hand over the painting, you walk out.”

  “Ruby,” Mom said, a warning tone to her voice. “We’ll find you when we’re done, okay?”

  “Don’t spend it all on candy,” Dad said, and then they pushed open the doors to the old stone bank building, leaving the twins alone outside.

  “Candy?” Simon suggested, but Ruby shook her head.

  “Follow me.”

  It was already hot out for so early in the day, the sidewalks baking in the morning sun. Ruby led them around the corner, past the general store and her least favorite antique shop and the place that sold dresses only a grandmother would wear.

  “We’re going back to the mechanic’s?” Simon said when there was nothing ahead of them but the squat gray building that sat on the last corner in town. “How come?”

  Ruby didn’t answer him, and when they’d crossed the oil-stained driveway and were standing before the open door of the garage, Daisy’s head emerged from beneath the hood of an old blue sedan that looked as if it had seen better days.

  “You two again,” she said, wiping her forehead. Her eyes settled on Simon. “Come to barbecue another car?”

  He flushed, rocking back on his heels.

  “We’re waiting for our parents,” Ruby said. “Can we watch?”

  Daisy brushed a strand of blond hair from her eyes, leaving a streak of grease near her temple. She put her hands on her hips and sighed. “I prefer to be alone.”

  “We want to know how all this stuff works,” Ruby said, and Daisy eyed her carefully.

  “What stuff?”

  Ruby gave her an innocent smile and gestured toward the car. “Car stuff.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah,” Ruby said, meeting her gaze. “I bet we could learn a lot from you.”

  Daisy tossed Simon a rag. “You can try helping me again,” she said. “But this one is mine. So stay away from the battery.”

  “It’s yours?” Simon asked, his nose wrinkled. The car must have been at least twenty years old, and the paint was orange with rust in places, giving it a speckled look, like an Easter egg. There was a huge dent in one of the back doors, a cracked taillight, and a broken window. “It looks like a lost cause.”

  “I like lost causes,” Daisy said, gazing at it with pride. “Just wait. I’ll have it up and running again in no time.”

  As she and Simon set to work, Ruby looked on. “You know, Simon was in the hospital the other night.”

  “You were?” Daisy asked, her face unreadable, and Simon nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Yeah, the night of the storm,” Ruby continued, aware that she was speaking a bit too loud. “He was feeling a little under the weather. But hopefully it won’t flare up again anytime soon.”

  Daisy started, bumping her head on the open hood of the car. From down the street, the church bells began to toll, and a few birds that had been perched in the shadow of the building scattered, their wings flapping loudly. “I think you guys should probably get going,” she said, wincing as she brought a hand to her forehead. “Your parents must be looking for you.”

  “Can’t we finish this first?” Simon asked, but Daisy was still looking at Ruby, who took a few steps closer.

  “You know, don’t you?”

  “Ruby,” Simon said, suddenly aware of her tone, the challenge in it.

  “She knows,” Ruby said again.

  Daisy folded her arms. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “He’s one of them,” she said, thrusting a finger at Simon, who made a strangled noise.

  “Ruby.”

  Daisy reached for a spray bottle on the nearest shelf, then began cleaning the windshield of the car. Her face had clouded over, and she scrubbed furiously at the spots on the glass. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said as she worked. “And I’ve got customers coming soon.”

  “I’m not wrong,” Ruby insisted. “I saw your face when the battery got struck the other day.”

  Daisy had been running a rag along the wiper blades of the car, but now she paused, shaking her head. “He’s too young,” she said, so softly that they almost missed it. When she lifted her chin, her eyes met Ruby’s, and there was a long silence as they stared at each other across the garage.

  Finally, Ruby grinned. “I was right.”

  For the first time since they’d arrived at the garage, Daisy’s composure seemed on the verge of crumbling. She blinked a few times, then shook her head again.

  “Otis said he’s the youngest one ever,” Ruby explained, and Simon took a step toward her.

  “I am?” he said, at the exact same moment that Daisy dropped the bottle she’d been holding. It rolled underneath the car, the liquid inside sloshing back and forth.

  “You met Otis?” she asked, her voice trembling. Her face had gone pale, and her green eyes were as round as two coins. She opened her mouth to say more, but there were footsteps behind Ruby, and they all turned to see Mom and Dad walking up to the entrance. Simon stood frozen beside the car, as if afraid to move, and Daisy and Ruby exchanged a long look.

  “I hope these two grease monkeys weren’t bothering you,” Dad said, placing one hand on Ruby’s shoulder and offering the other to Daisy, who shook it stiffly.

  “Not at all,” she said. “In fact, they’ve been very… helpful.”

  “Well, they do a lot of this kind of mechanical stuff back home,” he said with unmistakable pride.

  Daisy nodded politely, and there were a few beats of silence before Mom glanced down at her watch. “Well,” she said. “I guess we should be—”

  “Maybe they’d like to work here,” Daisy said, the words emerging in a rush. She looked as surprised as the rest of them by her offer. “I mean, if they’re not too busy this summer, and they want a job, maybe they could come by and help out from time to time. It’d be minimum wage, but they could learn a lot—”

  “Yes,” Simon and Ruby said at once.

  Mom and Dad exchanged a look, and Ruby could almost see the whole conversation unraveling between them—more responsibility, good opportunity, character building, pocket money—and after a moment, Mom gave Daisy a little nod.

  “School’s out already,” she said, “so that would be fine, if they’re up for it.”

  “We are,” Ruby said brightly.

  “Great,” Daisy said. “Whenever they’re ready to start, then.”

  “How about tomorrow morning?” Simon suggested, and when everyone seemed to agree to this, he pumped his fist triumphantly.

  As they all turned to go, Daisy lifted a hand to wave good-bye. “Stay out of trouble till then, okay?” she said, echoing her parting words from the last time, and Dad laughed and tousled Simon’s hair. But Ruby didn’t have to turn around to know that it wasn’t a joke at all.

  On the way back to the farm, Dad talked about how proud he was of Mom for selling her painting, and Mom talked about how proud she was of Simon and Ruby for getting their first summer job, and all the while, the twins sat in the back of the truck and looked out their separate windows.

  Later that evening they rode out to the windmills again, but there was none of the urgency of the night before, and neither really expected that Otis would be there. So when they pulled up to the hay wagon, they weren’t surprised to find it empty.

  “You shouldn’t have trusted him,” Simon said, his voice gruff. “And maybe we shouldn’t trust Daisy, either.”

  “What choice do we have?” Ruby asked.r />
  Simon seemed unable to think of anything to say to this.

  This time, they hadn’t even bothered getting off their bikes, so they simply turned around and headed toward home again. The windmills grew small behind them as they pedaled, and Ruby steered with one hand, using the other to pull the barometer from her pocket. Even though the evening was silent and calm, the arrow was pointed to stormy. She shook it once, and the needle bobbled beneath the curved glass.

  But when it came to rest again, it was in the exact same place.

  twelve

  SIMON DIDN’T OFTEN FALL BEHIND, especially on his bike, so on the way home from the windmills Ruby was surprised to find herself out ahead and alone, nothing but wheat fields on either side of her. When she braked to look back over her shoulder, Simon was stooped beside his bike, examining the deflated rubber of the front tire.

  “Must have been a piece of glass in the road or something,” he said with a groan.

  Ruby dismounted, too, and together they began to walk the bikes up the dusty lane, the spokes clicking loudly in the quiet evening.

  “This is gonna take hours,” Simon complained. Each time the tire rotated, it made a sort of scraping sound, and after a while Ruby grew used to the odd rhythm of it. It was comforting, in a way, out here where there was nothing else around for miles.

  The sky above was a dusky gray; not yet dark, but not fully light, either. The fields around them were planted with wheat, the brown stalks almost ready for harvest and nearly as tall as both Simon and Ruby, so that it almost felt as if they were walking through a tunnel. There was sure to be a sunset off to the west somewhere, and the crickets had just started to emerge, the sound of their chirping echoing through the crops.

  “Do you think he’s gone for good?” Simon asked, and though Ruby knew he was talking about Otis, she couldn’t quite bring herself to answer. After a few minutes of silence, Simon tried again: “Are we going back again tomorrow night?”