A Bundle of Trouble. Jacqueline Dembar Greene

      

      A Bundle

      of Trouble

      by Kathryn Reiss

      1

      A Noise in the Night

      Rebecca stood on the castle balcony, still and alert. She cupped her hand to her ear, listening for a cry in the fading light. Suddenly she stiffened, looked up, and gasped. The baby! Her face hardened into a mask of determination. In an instant she lifted the skirts of her velvet gown in one hand, turned, and started climbing the stone wall behind her. At the top, she inched along the ledge until she reached the niche where the villain had left the baby in peril. Sweeping the swaddled bundle up into her arms, she clutched it to her chest, closed her eyes, and heaved a great sigh of relief—

      “And…cut!” yelled the director. “Perfect, Miss Rubin!”

      As Rebecca turned to smile at the director, her golden crown toppled from her head, spinning down and down, landing with a loud THUMP!—and Rebecca woke up.

      She sat up in bed, eyes wide. Only a dream! But such an exciting dream until…what had awakened her?

      Moonlight streamed through the window. Rebecca could see the twin lumps of her older sisters in the bed across the room. The parlor clock chimed twice. She cuddled back under her quilts and lay listening to the silence.

      One of her sisters stirred.

      Then Rebecca heard footsteps.

      Someone else was awake at two o’clock in the morning. She slipped out of bed. The floorboards were cold against her bare feet. From the parlor she heard the creak of the couch as her brother Victor turned over. Through the closed door of her parents’ bedroom she heard the familiar sound of Papa’s snores. She tiptoed through the kitchen and peeked into the parlor, where her brothers slept. There they were: seven-year-old Benny snuggled up across two chairs pushed together for his bed, and fourteen-year-old Victor stretched out on the couch.

      Rebecca waited, frowning. Something didn’t seem right. She scanned the shadowed room, but all seemed as usual. The clock on the mantel ticked. Mama’s sewing lay folded on the armchair. Benny’s shoes were placed neatly under the window.

      Victor let out a little snore, like Papa. Reassured, Rebecca headed back to bed.

      But when she tried to recapture her movie dream, sleep wouldn’t come. Instead she kept seeing Benny’s little shoes, standing properly under the window.

      Something was strange about those shoes, and as she drifted toward sleep she realized what it was: Only Benny’s shoes were there. Victor’s shoes were on his feet; one of them had been sticking out from the blanket on the couch.

      What was her brother up to?

      The next thing Rebecca knew, it was Sunday morning and her sisters were standing over her. A weak autumn sun streamed through the bedroom window. “Wake up, Beckie!” said sixteen-year-old Sophie. “Breakfast is ready.”

      “Mama says please tell Victor to hurry up,” added Sadie as the twins left the room, their identical skirts swishing.

      Rebecca groaned, sitting up sleepily. As she put on her dressing gown and followed the good smells coming from the kitchen, she stopped at her parents’ bedroom door. Victor was leaning over their washstand.

      “Breakfast is ready—” she began, then broke off, staring at his nightshirt. Streaks of dirt soiled the white cotton. “Gosh! What happened to you?”

      Her brother looked around, startled. He flushed. “Oh—nothing.” He grabbed his dressing gown from the peg on the wall and hurriedly pulled it over the nightshirt. “Maybe I was dreaming about exploring a cave—you know, like Tom Sawyer.”

      Rebecca remembered the shoes on his feet in bed. A dream doesn’t leave dirt stains, she thought wryly. She knew that Mama and Papa were already concerned because Victor had not been doing his homework lately, preferring to go out with pals after school. He had come home late for dinner several times. Yesterday he had been sent on an errand for Mama but did not return until the family was halfway through their evening meal. Papa had been angry, and Victor was forbidden to leave the apartment after supper. Now Victor looked as if he’d hardly slept.

      Had he gone out to meet his friends against Papa’s orders—and the noise of his return had awakened her? Had Victor leaped under the covers, shoes still on his feet, when she came into the parlor?

      “I’ll be there in a minute,” Victor mumbled. “Now, scram!”

      Rebecca rolled her eyes, and went to the kitchen. Mama was toasting thick slices of bread at the black cast-iron stove. Bubbie and Grandpa, Rebecca’s grandparents who lived upstairs in the same apartment building, had come down for breakfast. “Good morning,” Rebecca greeted her family.

      Before she could decide whether to mention Victor’s nightshirt, Papa looked up from his newspaper. “Some good news,” he said.

      “What is it, Papa?” asked Sophie as Sadie peered over his shoulder. Victor slipped into the kitchen, yawning.

      Papa read the headline aloud: “Kidnapped Baby Safe.”

      “Oh—such a relief!” cried Mama.

      “I haven’t stopped thinking about that little boy,” said Sadie.

      “Me neither,” Rebecca agreed. Maybe she had even rescued the baby in her movie dream because she’d been worrying so much about the real-life baby who had been kidnapped three days before.

      “Read us the details, Papa!” urged Sophie. They all listened as they ate Mama’s warm bread.

      Kidnapped Baby Safe

      Late last night, six-month-old Christopher Porter was discovered in a basket on the steps of St. Michael’s Church, several miles from where he was stolen last Thursday. According to police, the baby was found unharmed and attired in different clothes from those he was wearing when he was taken.

      The infant had been sleeping in his buggy outside Nurden’s Butcher Shop in Manhattan while his young mother shopped, when someone snatched him, leaving behind a ransom note demanding $100. The whole city feared for the baby’s safety. The young parents did not have such funds readily available, but donations poured in from generous neighbors and friends, and those sums, added to the couple’s scant savings, were placed, as the note demanded, in a bag under a bush in Central Park last evening. The ransom note cautioned that no police and no family members were to be present when the money was collected, or the parents would never see their son again.

      Mr. and Mrs. Porter extend their most heartfelt gratitude for the help of their friends and for the safe return of their son.

      “Would you pay so much money to get me back?” interrupted Benny, wide-eyed.

      Mama ruffled his hair. “I would do anything to keep you safe.”

      “You think is only here people disappear?” Grandpa asked solemnly. “In our village in Russia, overnight people disappear—and they never come back.”

      Bubbie shuddered. “The tsar and his soldiers,” she said. “Always stirring up trouble for the Jews.”

      “This is why we leave Russia and come to America,” said Grandpa, placing his hand over Bubbie’s.

      Now, as if talk of kidnapped babies had triggered it, the wail of an unhappy baby filled the air. Rebecca could hear voices coming up the stairwell outside their apartment door. There were thuds and a scraping sound, followed by more voices.

      “That must be the new neighbors moving in downstairs,” Mama said. “I heard they were coming soon.”

      “Oh,