Chapter 12: What to Do?

Bringing more wind than snow, the night's storm left brown leaves poking their heads up through their thin white blanket. Matt and Tina made a point of going out early to wait for the Hawthorne children, but they didn't appear until the bus had rounded the corner. Gwyneth led Gerallt as if she were guarding a prisoner being transferred between cells.

"Hello, Gerallt," Matt said as they approached.

"Excuse me, Matt," Gwyneth interrupted as she motioned her brothers to board the bus. "Gerallt's been grounded, and Mothah has asked me tah ensure that the two of you do not talk or sit togethah." She followed Gerallt onto the bus, found a pair of empty seats, motioned Gerallt in, and sat down next to him. He shrugged his shoulders apologetically as Matt walked past to take a seat near the back of the bus.

After storing their winter coats in their lockers, Matt and Gerallt met in the detention room. Having already heard about the previous day's events on the school's grapevine, the older girl and two boys who were there glared up at Gerallt with a mixture of dislike, fear, and curiosity as he and Matt entered the room. The two friends were about to sit next to each other in the back of the classroom when Mr. Armstrong, the detention teacher, spoke up.

"Mr. Hawthorne and Mr. Mitchell, you will please select seats up front on opposite sides of the room," Mr. Armstrong commanded. "As this is your first time here, let me explain the rules. There will be no talking and no goofing off in this room. You will read your textbooks and work on your assignments. If you have any extra time, you may read a book, but no graphic novels or comics. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," the boys answered as they moved back up to the front and sat down where they were told.

About an hour later, Gerallt raised his hand, got permission to go to the restroom, and left. Matt waited a full three minutes before raising his hand and doing the same.

"So Gerallt, how'd it go when you got home?" Matt asked, as he entered the nearest boys' bathroom to find his friend washing his hands.

"Not good. Mothah got ugly on me and grounded me tah my room for a whole month. I can't leave it except tah go tah school, do my chores, eat, and... go tah the bathroom," Gerallt answered, smiling at the irony of their location as he gestured around the boys' restroom. "How about you?"

"I thought I had it bad," Matt answered, shaking his head with disbelief at Gerallt's harsh sentence. "I'm grounded too, but only for a week, and I get the run of the house. I can't watch TV, play video games, listen to music, or use the computer, though."

"Mothah has also forbidden me tah talk tah you."

"Same here, so we have to be careful so that no one catches us together."

"It gets worse. Back on Deeah Isle, I nevah needed money, and now that I'm heah, I've never had the opportunity tah buy anythin'. Since Mothah thinks I have no use for the lunch money, she thinks I'm just kifing it tah give tah you."

"What? Your mom thinks I've talked you into stealing for me? That's terrible."

"Ayuh. It's a honkin' pissah!"

"We got to do something! I can't have your mom thinking I'm responsible for this mess we're in."

"Agreed. But what do you think we should do?" Gerallt asked, after looking around to make sure that they were alone. "She took away my amulet, so we can't count on Colin, Clayton, or Dylan having any more 'unfortunate' accidents. At least, not until we can prove we're innocent."

"What do you mean, she took away your amulet?"

"It's a long story, and we don't have the time now," Gerallt replied. "I have tah get back before Mr. Armstrong comes lookin' for me. Any moah problems heah, and Mothah will start home-schoolin' me again foah sure. And if she does that, I don't know how we'll evah get together again. I'd bettah go. We can try meetin' heah again this afternoon. I'll talk tah you then."

"It won't be necessary. I was afraid that we'd both be grounded, so I brought you this," Matt replied, pulling a small walkie-talkie and some extra batteries out of his pants pocket. "It's not very good and will only reach about a hundred yards, but that should be plenty good enough for us to talk to each other from our rooms tonight. What time do you finish dinner?"

"About seven or so, I guess. Why?"

"As soon as you're back in your room, go to your window. I'll be watching. We can talk then."

"But how do I use it?" Gerallt asked, as if he were holding some alien artifact.

"It's easy," Matt explained. "First, you turn it on by sliding this tiny switch on the top. Then this little green light will come on. After that, all you need to do is squeeze this trigger to talk and remember to release it to listen. When the light starts to flicker, and you can't hear me very well anymore, then you'll have to change the batteries. Just slide this back, take the old ones out, and replace them with the new ones, so they line up the same way the old ones did. I just put in new batteries so you probably won't have to worry about replacing them for a week or so. That's all there is to it."

"Thanks, Matt. I think I got it. Anyway, I'll see you back in detention. Talk tah you tonight!"

As Matt and Gerallt were unpacking their sack lunches at school, Sam was pulling up in front of the Hawthorne House to pick up Gwendolyn so they could discuss their sons over lunch. This time, she had been waiting and watching from the parlor window, so she joined him before he had walked halfway up the walk. Returning to his car, it didn't take long to drive the short distance to the restaurant.

Sam and Gwendolyn pulled into the parking lot of a small shopping center that had seen better days, where the Mandarin Dragon was nestled between an auto-parts store and a used-clothing store. The small family-run Chinese restaurant was a long-time fixture of the neighborhood. It had changed little since Sam had left Hawthorne to attend a small liberal arts college in Oregon, where he had met his wife. Taking Gwendolyn's coat and hanging it next to his, Sam led her past the big brass Buddha and red-paper lanterns to a booth in the corner where they could talk privately. The place was dimly lit and nearly empty so that the staff slightly outnumbered the patrons who had braved the cold to temporarily leave work and enjoy an authentic Chinese meal.

Once Sam and Gwendolyn sat down, there was an awkward pause. Neither of them knew where to begin.

As the silence lengthened, Sam cleared his throat and said, "So, Gwendolyn, I forgot to ask you yesterday. Do you like Chinese?

Gwendolyn looked nervously around the dimly lit room at the oriental lantern and the murals of fantastic mountains and strangely dressed women playing bamboo flutes. "Hard tellin'. I've nevah had it befoah."

Then Sam remembered Gerallt's description of the typical Hawthorne meals and nodded. "That's okay. When we had Gerallt over for dinner, he told us that you eat a lot of fish, but rarely anything spicy. Seafood is a very popular part of Chinese cuisine, so I'm sure you'll enjoy it. I often eat here for lunch and know most of the dishes. Why don't I order for the two of us this time?"

Gwendolyn looked up with relief from her menu with its faded pictures of unfamiliar dishes with strange names like Triple Delight and Moo Goo Gai Pan.

"What the kids and I usually do is order one entr閑 per person, and then we share. There's always more than enough food, and that way, each of us can sample several dishes."

He motioned to the young waitress who had been waiting patiently for them to decide.

"Mr. Mitchell, so good to see you again. What can I get for you today?"

"I think we'll start with some egg drop soup to warm us up from the cold. Then, we'll have an order of Crab Rangoon as an appetizer. And finally, the shrimp fried rice, scallops with snow peas, some steamed rice, and a couple of extra plates so we can share."

"Very good," the waitress replied. "And to drink?"

Sam looked over at Gwendolyn who shrugged her shoulders.

"A pot of jasmine tea, I think," Sam said, and the waitress left to place their order.

There was another brief pause until the waitress returned with their tea. She also placed a napkin and a pair of disposable chopsticks in front of Sam and some silverware rolled in a napkin next to Gwendolyn.

"What ah those?" Gwendolyn asked, looking over as Sam unwrapped his chopsticks.

"Oh, these are chopsticks, the traditional way to eat Chinese food," Sam said, raising them so that Gwendolyn could see that they were nothing but long, straight, and thin sticks of sanded wood. "I guess not many people here use them, so ordinarily one has to ask for them. But I like to learn about other cultures, and I've eaten here enough that they know to bring them now without asking. Anyway, you hold them in your hand like this and use a scissoring motion to pick up your food. Would you like to try?"

Gwendolyn imagined making a fool of herself by dropping most of her food in her lap. "No thanks, Sam. I'll be satisfied tah just watch you demonstrate this time."

Once again, the conversation stalled, and as Gwendolyn was studying the d閏or, Sam took the opportunity to look closely at her for the first time. Whereas he had hidden the pain of his wife's death by moving inland and burying himself in his work, Gwendolyn had instead buried herself in grief. She was quite pale from having sat in near darkness for the six months that had slowly passed since her husband's untimely death. The contrast of her white skin and her raven hair was striking. For the first time since his wife had died, Sam was alone with a woman, and although they were here to discuss their sons, he found that he couldn't completely ignore her beauty, touched though it was by the depths of her sorrow. He also couldn't stop himself from wondering what she'd look like if only she would smile. Sam was sure that it would light up her face like sunlight on freshly fallen snow. Then she looked back at him before quickly glancing away with embarrassment, and he realized that he had been staring with mingled admiration and concern.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I didn't mean to stare, but I couldn't help admiring you."

"Why thank you, Mr. Mitchell. But remembah, we ah heah tah discuss our sons," she replied nervously. Yet her face also held the hint of a smile at the unexpected compliment.

"Yes, of course," Sam agreed, forcing his thoughts back to the topic at hand. "Did Gerallt tell you his version of what happened?"

"Ayuh, though he still argued that he was totally innocent in spite of all we heard in the principal's office. And your son?"

"The same. Matt maintains that he and Gerallt were set up by some bullies at school. He wouldn't confess, so I had to ground him a week to give him a little time to reconsider his actions."

"Only a week?" Gwendolyn exclaimed with a mixture of surprise and disapproval. "But surely Matt deserves more than that for convincin' Gerallt tah steal foah him."

"What?" Sam asked, his voice also raising a notch. "No one at school said anything about Matt being involved in extorting lunch money. Did Gerallt blame Matt for that?"

"Well, no," Gwendolyn conceded. "But why else would Gerallt do it? He's nevah needed money, and anyway, there's nothin' foah him tah spend it on."

"In my experience, all teenagers think they need money, and there's no end to the ways they can spend it," Sam replied, remembering the last time he had taken his children to the mall. "Besides, Matt's been making all the money he needs working for your aunt."

"Well, my children do not need money, and the only thing I can think of is that Matt seduced Gerallt with all of his modern electronic toys and gadgetry. I'm sorry now that I let him come ovah and spend the night."

"Now wait just one second," Sam said. "Matt's a good kid, and I've never had any real problems with him before. And the way the principal made it sound, Matt's heart was in the right place, even if he wasn't using his head. The gym coach said that Matt got into the fight in the locker room because he was standing up for Gerallt. Maybe if your son hadn't got himself into trouble, then Matt wouldn't have had any reason to get in trouble either."

Their argument was about to escalate out of control when the waitress arrived with their soup, the Crab Rangoon, and a small bowl of sweet and sour sauce.

Embarrassed by having raised their voices, both parents quietly turned their attention to their soup as they tried to regain their composure and think of some way to salvage their meeting. Watching Sam pick up a crab puff with his hands and dip it into the reddish sauce, Gwendolyn tentatively did the same.

"Let's start over," Sam said, as the silence became unbearable. "We're here for the sake of our sons. Okay?"

"Ayuh," Gwendolyn finally said, changing the subject. "This egg soup is quite good though its slimy texture may take some getting used tah. And the crab Rangoon is very strange, both familiar and yet oddly unrecognizable. I'm not acquainted at all with some of its spices and flavorin's."

"I hope you like it," Sam said, relieved that Gwendolyn had not become so angry that she had demanded to be immediately driven home. "Gwendolyn, I'm sorry if we've gotten off on the wrong foot. The important thing is that we do what is best for our sons, and we'll succeed better with them if we work together."

"Sam, of course you're right," Gwendolyn reluctantly agreed. "I didn't mean tah take it out on you. It's just that this was so unexpected and so unlike anything Gerallt's evah done before. I don't know what tah do."

"I'm not sure I know what to do either, but if we work together, hopefully we can do what's best for our boys. You said that you thought I was being lenient, only grounding Matt for one week. What did you do to Gerallt?"

"Given the seriousness of his actions, I felt I had no recourse but tah ground Gerallt tah his room for a full month," Gwendolyn answered. "It's not just him forcin' other children tah give him their lunch money. It's also the way he did it. By drawin' attention to the name Hawthorne and magic, he rekindled hateful rumors about poor Ahnt Vivianne. And to do it while we've been forced to rely on her kindness for the roof over our heads and the food on our table. It's simply inexcusable."

"You mean the stories some of the neighborhood children say about your aunt being a witch? Surely you don't think anyone takes such stories seriously?"

"But I do take those stories seriously. They ah one of the reasons Ahnt Vivianne has been a recluse foah the last fifty years. It was bad enough that her husband ran off with her best friend, but tah add the further indignity of sayin' that she murdered him and put a hex on her former friend is just mean and hurtful."

"I agree. I heard those rumors when I was a kid, so I made it clear to Matt and Tina to never spread such stories. Surely you've never heard of him being anything but polite and helpful to her."

"No, I haven't," Gwendolyn grudgingly conceded. "Nevertheless, it has always been a very serious subject in our family. And Gerallt had absolutely no business drawing attention tah the topic."

Their conversation was once more interrupted when the waitress arrived with their entrees. Again, Gwendolyn copied Sam who had dished up some shrimp fried rice followed by some white rice which he covered with a hearty portion of scallops and snow peas.

"Still," Sam said, "aren't you afraid that by being so strict, you might make him feel that his punishment doesn't fit his crime? If he gets too angry, he might forget that you love him and are doing this for his own good. Sometimes, if children think the punishment is excessive, they feel justified in doing what they're being punished for."

"Mr. Mitchell, he's my son. I must do what I think is best."

"Please, Gwendolyn. Call me Sam. I'm not suggesting that you shouldn't. Of course, you must do what you think is best." He paused for a moment, letting her have a chance to taste the food. "Okay, let's try another approach. Principal Tanner raised the issue that the boys have each lost a parent recently and that their actions may be a symptom of a resulting depression. That got me thinking. I've been very busy with my new job, and I haven't been spending enough quality time with Matt since we moved here. How about you? Has your relationship with Gerallt changed since your husband died?"

"Well, I used tah spend quite a bit more time with my children every day when I homeschooled them. But these last few months, I just haven't been able tah cope with the stresses of teachin' them on top of everythin' else. And yet, that hasn't stopped me from worryin' about all of the negative influences in the world outside of our home."

"Although I don't know him well, Gerallt seems to be a smart young man. Certainly, I can't imagine trying to teach Tina and Matt while running a household and bringing in an income."

"Well, I know I've let Gerallt spend a lot of time by himself recently. Apparently, I haven't been keepin' an eye on him as much as I should."

"So, one thing that we can agree on is that we should both spend more time with our sons."

"Ayuh, of course."

"And what about the principal's observation that the boys may be suffering from depression? I've been wondering if I shouldn't take Matt to see a therapist. I've been worrying about his choice of music and his wanting to wear nothing but black."

"And what is wrong with wearin' black?" Gwendolyn demanded. "My entire family wears black. Ah you questioning our traditions and heritage?"

"Not at all," Sam said, trying to reassure her. "It's just that it's not our tradition and that wearing nothing but black is sometimes a symptom of kids thinking nothing but dark thoughts."

"Well, it doesn't mean that to us. And for Matt, it probably only means that he admires Gerallt and wants to be more like him. Besides, even if he were sufferin' from depression, I know many herbs and potions that would be appropriate to use."

"Well, I'm not so sure that natural remedies will be as effective as antidepressants, but then again, I'm no doctor. Anyway, we must each decide for ourselves what to do for our sons. I would just like for us to work together to help them get over this."

"Ayuh, Sam. That's the important thing." Gwendolyn paused to take a bite of one of the large sea scallops. "I think I like Chinese food. I've nevah had shrimp and scallops served like this before. I used tah cook them quite often when my husband, Medwyn..." Gwendolyn stopped mid-sentence, her face suddenly ashen. The memory of cooking over a wood-burning stove reminded her of flames and her husband's death in the awful fire that swept through his fishing boat.

"I'm sorry, Gwendolyn," Sam apologized. "I didn't mean to dredge up any painful memories. I just thought that it might make you feel more comfortable having seafood." Sam paused, and the silence grew uncomfortable. "I've tried to forget the ocean, but I can't. There are just too many good memories mixed in with the bad."

Hoping to change the topic, Sam continued, "I was thinking. While it makes sense for us to keep our boys separated for a while, I'm not sure that we should keep them apart for too long. They've become best friends, and they need a chance to talk things over. Maybe we can slowly bring them back together under controlled conditions. Perhaps, sometime next week, I could have your entire family over for dinner. That way, we can all get to know each other better."

"I'm not sure. I'll have tah think about it and discuss it with my ahnt. Still, it does sound appealin' tah get out of the house and be able tah talk to anothah adult. Don't get me wrong; I like Ahnt Vivianne. It's just that I get lonely for the voice of someone moah my own age."

"I know what you mean. I talk to the other programmers at work, but it's always work-related, and they're all fresh out of college and so young. It would be nice to spend time with someone who understands what I'm going through. We've both recently lost someone we loved, and we're single parents who are new to the community. I'd like to be able to spend time with you, especially under better circumstances where we don't have to discuss our boys getting into trouble."

"Ayuh," Gwendolyn replied. "I think I'd like that, too. It's been so long since I've had the opportunity tah talk tah anyone othah than Ahnt Vivianne and the children. I've felt so alone since Medwyn's death. I guess I'd forgotten what it was like tah speak with anothah adult who understands what it's like to have children. Ahnt Vivianne has been really kind tah us since we've moved in, but she's from another generation. She's nevah had children of her own, and the two of us just don't seem tah have all that much in common." She smiled briefly before looking self-consciously back at her now empty plate.

So, Sam began to see Gwendolyn as a kindred spirit with whom he might eventually share his painful memories and maybe even his hopes for the future.