Read Online Keeper of the Doves by Betsy Byars - Free Book Online Page B

law and order. His entrance into The Willows seemed to bring a chill that touched even our candlelit dining room.
    Mama appeared frozen, her hands stiff on either side of her plate.
    Papa was gone for some time. When he returned, his face was pale. His mouth was set. A muscle worked in his jaw.
    â€œWhat is it, Albert?” Mama said.
    He had to force the two words out. “Mr. Tom.”
    â€œThe dove keeper?” Grandmama said, puzzled, as if he were the last person she had considered.
    Papa nodded and cleared his throat. “It seems he was trying to hop a train. At least that’s what the sheriff thinks.”
    â€œHop a train? But why? Where would he go?” Mama asked.
    Papa lifted his shoulders and let them drop.
    â€œAnd hop a train? If he had come to you, Albert, you would have bought him a ticket,” she continued in her reasonable voice. “There was no need to leave like . . .”
    She trailed off and Aunt Pauline finished it with “—like a thief in the night. I always said—”
    â€œBe quiet,” Papa said to her in the sternest voice I had ever heard him use with his sister.
    â€œWhat happened, Albert?” Grandmama asked.
    â€œThe fireman on the train said Mr. Tom was just standing by the tracks as he often did. The fireman blew the whistle in greeting. He didn’t even know there’d been an accident till he reached the station.”
    Mama looked at Papa, as if she were having a hard time understanding. “An accident, Albert?”
    Papa nodded.
    â€œMr. Tom is injured?” Now she got up purposefully. “You must bring him here to the house. Birdie!”
    Birdie was still standing in the doorway to the kitchen, her apron twisted out of recognition.
    Papa shook his head. “It’s too late.”
    â€œDead?” Mama sank back into her chair. “Oh, no. No!”
    Papa said nothing.
    â€œI’m trying to remember the last time I saw him alive,” Mama said.
    I didn’t have to try to remember. I had seen him last night turning away from those hurtful words, Mr. Tominski is a murderer! a shadow in the moonlight, going home. I thought he had been heading toward his doves, but now I knew he had been heading away from us forever.
    Aunt Pauline broke the silence. She said, “I trust you all remember that I dreamed of a graveyard. I knew someone would die. I’m just glad it wasn’t one of—”
    â€œPauline, please!” Mama said.
    â€œâ€”us!”
    Papa sighed. “The sheriff’s waiting for me. I’m going into town. I don’t know when I’ll be home.”
    Uncle William rose. “I’ll go with you, Albert.”
    â€œI’d be grateful for your company,” Papa said.
    He crossed the room, kissed Mama’s cheek, and then he and Uncle William departed.
    I glanced across the table to where the Bellas sat, side by side. They seemed deflated. Their faces showed none of the satisfaction I had expected, instead a sort of disappointment, as if they had been cheated of their revenge. Perhaps they felt they had had no active part in a train accident.
    I would not be the one to tell them that they had.

chapter twenty-four
    X Marks the Spot
    X marks the spot.
    I lay in bed, overcome with an emotion I could not name. There was probably a word for the way I felt, but feelings were the hardest things to find a word for.
    As I lay there, The Willows took the form of a giant map, covered with Xs.
    X —the spot where Mr. Tom got off the train years ago.
    X —where he found my wounded father and carried him to safety.
    X —his home in the chapel where he lived for twenty-five years.
    X —the stump where he sat, laughing, while the doves flew over his head.
    X —the bench in the cemetery, where he sat grinning his gap-toothed smile, and I took his photograph.
    X —where my sisters and I lay under the stars and Mr. Tom heard himself called a murderer.
    And