Buried Treasure. Jack B. Downs

boys get together. I’ll be out of your way.” Sam slid his chair back as Dylan entered the front room. Dylan raised a hand. “It won’t be till four o’clock.”

      Sam nodded, settling back down. Dylan started to thank his father, but Sam’s expression closed. It was as if the effort to talk had taxed him.

      Dylan moved down the hall and clunked up the stairs to his room. He greeted his brother with a nod, then laid his book bag atop his desk and opened it.

      James and Dylan shared the upstairs. Nana would not tolerate anyone calling it the attic. The room was bisected by the stairwell, which was gated with a balustrade on three sides. Dylan pulled his books from his bag and glanced out the window. Both dormer windows looked out over Nash Street and Mr. Thompson’s house across the way, with a glimpse of the river beyond. He remembered fishing with his father and James at the foot of the Thompson property, before his father left to head west.

      After Sam moved out, Nana reared them with just enough discipline—vinegar, she called it—that they understood that practice and application would yield results. She was not harsh in their upbringing. Lately though, she seemed at a loss in coping with James. It had gotten more pronounced since they knew Sam was coming home. He was increasingly withdrawn and often would disappear at all hours, returning with no explanation.

      Billy clutched the throw pillow and rolled over, his knees drawn to his chest. “Tell me Ginger isn’t such a babe,” he moaned. Billy made babe a three-syllable word.

      Ryan craned to peek out the front window. Satisfied that the porch was deserted, he hunched down, his expression serious. “Lisa Haggerty told me the Professor doesn’t like girls. That’s why he never fools around with Ginger.”

      Dylan considered this. Lisa was in their class, but she knew more than he and his friends did about grownups. She knew that Jackie Gleason made all the girls who wanted to dance on his TV show strip for him in a private room. She whispered this fact to him one day on the jungle gym at recess.

      “Well, I feel sorry for him then, the jerk.” James swung his feet down on the floor. “If I was on a deserted island with Ginger and Mary Ann, first thing I would say is “Our clothes are gonna fall apart sooner or later anyway, so let’s just wear coconuts!” He laughed, heading down the hall. Dylan heard the door to the stairs open and close.

      “Maybe if you’re really smart like the professor, there’s no room left in your head for sex stuff.” Ryan was talking to the TV scrolling the Gilligan’s Island closing credits.

      Dylan made a face at Ryan from his perch on the sofa. The subject of sex always made him feel stupid. He was starting to feel like he wanted to know much more than he did.

      “Well that’s a bite.” Billy flicked his ball glove in the air end over end. It bounced from his outstretched fingers and tumbled to the oval carpet. Billy lunged to grab it. “So if you aren’t real smart, then you’ll think more about sex, and have more impure thoughts, and end up with even more penance. What’s fair about that?”

      “Well, one thing’s for sure,” Ryan said, heading for the front door. “I bet the Professor always eats fish on Friday.”

      6 / James

      James stared at the picture he’d taken from his drawer. This was never going to work. Even if Anne continued to like him, her father would never let her date a boy like James. When he saw Two Little Savages under her arm, he should have kept his mouth shut. But it had been one of his favorite books—ironic, since his father left it behind when he headed west, perhaps to start a new family he could ruin. Turns out she was reading it for the second time.

      “I think it’s dumb that girls can’t be boy scouts,” she’d said to him at the checkout desk. The librarian had smiled, and Anne glared at her. “Everyone knows boys have all the fun,” she’d said, her eyes glittering. Though Anne had a ready smile, James was drawn to her fire. Lots of girls had liked him—they joked in high school that he was the JD of WiCo High. He’d seen James Dean in a movie, and didn’t think they looked at all alike. James had not met a girl who interested him until Anne. She knew what she wanted. And, at least for now, she wanted to be with James.

      For all his mystique, James had no skill with girls. His friends assumed that because girls liked him, he must be experienced. He was aloof, and some girls took that as a dare. Mostly though, he just wanted to be left alone. Until Anne. James wasn’t worried about Anne’s feelings for him, but he didn’t trust his feelings for her. They could be dangerous. He could stand being hurt. He was not sure he could tolerate her leaving, if he let her get close to him.

      She had given him this picture of her at their last meeting, in the library. “Something to keep the rats at bay,” she’d smiled. He’d fingered it, feeling her eyes on his face. Anne was beautiful. In the picture she was standing next to an elm. She wore shorts and a sleeveless blouse, and her light brown hair was pulled back from her face, her hands clasped in front. Her gaze was steady and sure, her smile confident. He could feel himself falling into her eyes. When he looked up from the picture, those same eyes gazed straight into his. He couldn’t trust himself to speak. Finally she giggled and turned away.

      Now, in the quiet of his room, he mulled the changes in his life. His father had returned, but he was different somehow. He didn’t drink, for one thing. It didn’t make James hate him any less. James had watched his father fade, beginning with the clear morning on Washington Street. No one else had seemed to notice, in all the ruckus of David’s disappearance. But James had watched in anguish as his father grew fainter, like the dot on the TV screen after it’s turned off. When Nana had asked him about the guardianship, he’d brushed it off the way he’d shrug about what to do with his father’s old hat. No difference to me.

      James had steeled himself to be cruel to his father in return for Sam’s coming back. But Anne had happened, and it was hard to remain focused on his anger. Instead, his reaction to his father had been more of a polite indifference. A distraction. He was delighted and worried with Anne’s attention. Was this the way life worked? Good and bad things happened together? First David disappearing, then his mother leaving—those were bad. Because of his confused feelings for his father, he was actually glad when Sam left. Since that period, he had tried to find his own peace with just Nana and Dylan for his family.

      Father Mullenix down at the church had assured him, when his mother left, “Time… takes time.” He’d been right, of course. James liked the quiet, confident priest, who always seemed to be waiting when James would create an excuse to visit. Over time, James became a fixture at the church during the week, doing odd chores around the rectory and grounds. But never on Sunday. He resisted Father’s coaxing to come to mass, and he respected the priest for not pushing it.

      James liked the older priest and the times they sat and talked passed naturally. At first, he’d expected Father to ask about his dad, or to lecture him about giving his dad a break. But the priest hadn’t mentioned Sam. He had thought about talking to Father about Anne, and his concerns about Anne’s father. But Anne was Methodist, and he was sure that would be the end of it as far as the priest was concerned.

      James slipped the picture back in its hiding place at the sound of Dylan on the stairs. Time for baseball.

      7 / Safe Passage

      Sam didn’t talk much to Dylan, and even less to James. He seemed tentative, as if a phrase could somehow go off like a bomb. But he did talk to Nana, and to Dylan’s surprise, his father and Mr. Thompson seemed to be renewing an old friendship.

      When Dylan’s dad returned, Mr. Thompson had come over to welcome him. Dylan at first thought it was about the car in the garage. Mr. Thompson had assured Sam he could move the Dodge across the street to his own house. Sam had allowed as how there was no need for a change just because he was here.

      It was funny to Dylan how two quiet people could become friends, when that didn’t seem to happen with two loud people. Mr. Thompson never said much to Dylan, but he always had a way of making Dylan feel like he was listening when Dylan spoke. Maybe that was the reason Sam too felt comfortable with Mr.