雙語暢銷書·怦然心動 Chapter 08　院子

Chapter 08

院子

我從來沒有像現(xiàn)在這樣，為了我們住的地方而感到羞愧。我從來沒有看著我們的房子，甚至是我們住的街道，然后說，哦！我多希望住在新的街區(qū)啊——那里的房子比這里新得多，也漂亮得多！我在這里長大，這是我的家。

當(dāng)然，我意識到院子的問題。多年來，媽媽一直在抱怨它，但并不是認(rèn)真地抱怨，不值得太過擔(dān)心。至少我是這么想的。但我也許應(yīng)該奇怪，為什么把屋子里整理得那么好，卻放著院子不管呢？我們的房間整潔得無可挑剔。當(dāng)然，男孩子們的房間除外。自從發(fā)現(xiàn)了蛇，媽媽就徹底放棄打掃那個房間了。如果他們已經(jīng)成熟得可以養(yǎng)蛇，媽媽對哥哥們說，他們也成熟到足以自己打掃房間了。馬特和麥克把這番話理解為關(guān)上房門，并且開始堅(jiān)持只待在自己的房間里。

除了院子以外，我也從來沒有認(rèn)真關(guān)心過錢的問題，以及由此導(dǎo)致的明顯的物資短缺。

我知道我們不富裕，但我們從來沒缺過什么東西。任何你能買到的東西。

馬特和麥克確實(shí)要求過很多東西，雖然媽媽會對他們說“不，孩子們，我們買不起”，但我總是把它解讀成“不，孩子們，你們不需要這個”或是“不，孩子們，你們不是真的需要這個”。直到布萊斯管我的家叫垃圾場，我才真正開始審視它。

不僅僅是院子的問題。還有爸爸的卡車、媽媽的小汽車、家里那輛生滿鐵銹的自行車，以及我們經(jīng)常在二手店買東西的事實(shí)。還有，我們從來不去度假，從不。

為什么？爸爸是全世界工作最努力的人，媽媽一有時間就去一家公司做文秘工作。假如你只得到這點(diǎn)回報(bào)，那么所有的努力還有什么意義呢？

如果我去問爸爸媽媽，我們是不是很窮，就太沒禮貌了。但隨著日子一天天過去，我越來越覺得自己非問不可，必須要問。每天當(dāng)我從學(xué)校騎著生銹的自行車回家，穿過破舊的圍欄和七零八落的院子，我都在想，今晚，今晚我一定要問。

但我從來沒有問過。我不知道該如何開口。

有一天，我想到一個辦法。一個既能讓我提到這個話題，又能給他們幫點(diǎn)小忙的辦法。

哥哥們那天晚上在唱片店打工，所以飯桌上沒人說話，我深吸一口氣，說道：“我在想，嗯，如果給我一些釘子、錘子，也許再來點(diǎn)油漆，我就能把前院整修一下，這大概不難。買草籽要花多少錢？估計(jì)不會太貴，對嗎？我可以鋪一塊草坪，也許再種點(diǎn)花?！?/p>

爸爸媽媽放下餐具，看著我。

“我會用鋸子和錘子——我可以把它當(dāng)成——嗯，一個家庭作業(yè)項(xiàng)目?！?/p>

媽媽把目光從我臉上移開，轉(zhuǎn)向爸爸。

爸爸嘆了口氣，說：“整修院子不是我們的責(zé)任，朱莉安娜。”

“它……不是嗎？”

他搖搖頭：“是芬尼根先生的責(zé)任?！?/p>

“誰是芬尼根先生？”

“這所房子的主人。”

我簡直不敢相信自己的耳朵：“你說什么？”

爸爸清了清喉嚨：“房東。”

“你是說，房子不屬于我們？”

爸爸媽媽對看了一眼，低聲地交談著，我聽不清楚。

最后，爸爸說：“我沒意識到你不知道這件事?！?/p>

“可是……可是這不對呀！房東不是應(yīng)該經(jīng)常過來看看、做點(diǎn)修整嗎？比如修理房頂漏水，或者清理堵塞的排水溝？這些活兒總是你來做，爸爸。如果這是他的責(zé)任，為什么由你來動手呢？”

“因?yàn)?，”他嘆了口氣，“這比讓他動手來得更容易。”

“可是如果……”

“還有，”爸爸打斷我，“這也能避免他提高房租?！?/p>

“可是……”

媽媽靠近我，拉著我的手：“親愛的，假如這嚇到你了，我很抱歉。我們一直以為你知道呢?！?/p>

“但是這院子是怎么回事？為什么我們只管屋里不管屋外呢？”

爸爸皺起了眉：“簽租約的時候，他向我們保證修繕圍欄、前院和后院，在前院鋪上草皮。顯然，這些他都沒做到?！彼麚u搖頭，“這是個大工程，再說修圍欄要花不少錢。我沒法為了一間不屬于自己的房子投入這么多。而且，這是個原則問題?！?/p>

“可是我們住在這兒，”我小聲說，“它看上去太丑了。”

爸爸端詳著我：“朱莉安娜，出什么事了？”

“沒什么，爸爸。”我說?？伤牢以谌鲋e。

“親愛的，”他低聲說，“告訴我?！?/p>

如果我告訴他，我知道他們會說什么，可我還是不能不說。尤其是他這樣看著我的時候。于是，我深吸一口氣：“羅斯基家扔了我的雞蛋，因?yàn)樗麄兒ε律抽T氏菌感染，而理由是我們的院子太臟了?！?/p>

爸爸說：“啊，真是胡扯?！钡菋寢尩钩橐豢跉猓骸笆裁?？”她尖叫道，“這是佩西說的？”

我低下頭：“不，是布萊斯說的。”

“但是他們?nèi)乙欢ǘ忌塘窟^了！一個小男孩不可能想得出這些！”媽媽的樣子簡直就像一只瞪大眼睛看著槍口的梅花鹿。她把臉埋進(jìn)手里，說，“我不能容忍再這樣下去了！羅伯特，我們必須有所改變。必須！”

“特瑞納，你知道我已經(jīng)盡力了。我很對不起你，關(guān)于院子，關(guān)于我們的現(xiàn)狀。這也不是我理想中的生活，但有時你只能為了正確的選擇做出一些犧牲?！眿寢尠杨^抬起來說：“這對于我們的家庭來說不是個正確的選擇。你女兒現(xiàn)在很難過，就因?yàn)槲覀儧]有修整院子?！?/p>

“這不是我們的院子。”

“你怎么能這么說？羅伯特，睜眼看看吧！我們在這里住了十二年。這里再也不是什么臨時住所了！如果我們想找個擁有自家院子的好一點(diǎn)兒的住所，如果我們想送孩子們讀大學(xué)，或者實(shí)現(xiàn)別的我們曾經(jīng)答應(yīng)過他們的事，就必須把他送去接受政府救濟(jì)。”

爸爸深深地嘆了口氣，低聲說：“我們已經(jīng)討論過很多次，特瑞納。到頭來你還是會同意，把他放在格林海文是個正確的選擇?！?/p>

我很想說，等等！你們在說什么？你們說的是誰？但他們說得很快，我根本插不上嘴，沒過多久，他們就激烈地爭吵起來，根本無視我的存在。

后來，在我的潛意識里，忽然一切都一目了然了。他們討論的是我爸爸的兄弟——我的叔叔——戴維。

對我來說，戴維叔叔只是個名字。爸爸媽媽曾經(jīng)說起過他，我卻從來沒有親眼見過。雖然我知道爸爸經(jīng)常探望他，卻從來不知道具體的時間。他也從未提起過。

爸爸認(rèn)為，我們不應(yīng)該對別人談起戴維叔叔，因?yàn)樗兄钦稀?/p>

“人們總喜歡過早下結(jié)論，”他告訴我，“他們總愛通過聯(lián)想，認(rèn)定你也有什么毛病。相信我，一定是這樣的?！?/p>

因此，我們從不提起他。不在家里提，也不在朋友面前提。就像戴維叔叔這個人不存在一樣。

直到現(xiàn)在為止。他現(xiàn)在似乎變得越發(fā)重要起來，從他們的爭論中，我發(fā)現(xiàn)是因?yàn)樗?，我們才買不起自己的房子；因?yàn)樗覀儾刨I不起漂亮的車和其他昂貴的東西。他成了父母頭上籠罩著的那團(tuán)陰云。

為什么我一開始要提起院子的事？我還從來沒見過父母吵得這么兇。

從來沒有過。我想拉開他們，說：別吵了！別吵了！你們還愛著對方！是的！但我只是坐在那里，任憑淚水流過臉頰。

媽媽突然停下來，小聲說：“我們不應(yīng)該當(dāng)著她的面吵架！”

“對不起，朱莉安娜，”爸爸走過來拉起我的胳膊，“別哭了。這不是你的錯。我們能解決，我向你保證。”

媽媽淚眼蒙眬地試圖擠出一個微笑：“我們總能找到辦法的，我們一直都能得到?！?/p>

那天晚上，爸爸媽媽分別來到我的房間，找我聊天。爸爸談起他的兄弟，告訴我他有多愛他，他是怎么對父母保證一定會照顧好他。媽媽說起她有多愛我爸爸的堅(jiān)強(qiáng)和善良，說起夢想和現(xiàn)實(shí)，說凡事都要看到光明的一面。當(dāng)她吻著我說晚安，在我耳邊輕輕地說我是她最好最珍貴的財(cái)富時，我又忍不住哭了。

我覺得自己對不起爸爸，對不起媽媽。不過最幸運(yùn)的是，他們是我的爸爸媽媽。

早上起來，當(dāng)我騎著生銹的自行車去上學(xué)的時候，我暗下決心，要在放學(xué)之后開始整修院子。不管是不是租來的，這是我們的家，我只想讓家人過上更好的生活。

結(jié)果，想著容易做起來難。一開始，我花了半個小時的時間，才從車庫里找到錘子、一盒釘子、一把電鋸和幾把修枝剪。然后又花了半個小時用來決定到底從哪兒入手。院子里雜草叢生，但我該拿邊緣的灌木怎么辦呢？是把它們拔掉，還是修剪成形？

還有，它們到底是灌木，還是長瘋了的雜草？圍欄怎么辦？我是拆掉它，還是再立一排新的？也許我應(yīng)該把前面的全拆掉，用木頭修補(bǔ)側(cè)面的部分。

時間越長，我越是忘記了初衷。干嗎自找麻煩呢？這不是我們的房子。應(yīng)該留給芬尼根先生去修理。

但接下來我又想起前一天晚上媽媽的話。當(dāng)然，我想，一點(diǎn)點(diǎn)灌木和雜草難不倒媽媽最好最珍貴的財(cái)富！我一定行！

我這樣想著，揮起修枝剪投入工作。

半個小時以后，我充分了解到，一棵灌木到底有多少根枝條，以及當(dāng)我把它砍倒扔到院子中央的時候，體積會呈幾何級數(shù)增長。這太可怕了！我把這些東西放到哪兒去呢？

媽媽回到家，試著勸我結(jié)束戰(zhàn)斗，可我決不放棄。哦，不——不——不！

我已經(jīng)砍倒了兩棵灌木，肢解成合適的大小，過不了多久她就會發(fā)現(xiàn)——這個院子將會變得多么美麗。

“我還以為你沒有遺傳到我固執(zhí)的個性?！彼f。不過她回到屋子里給我端來一杯果汁，還在我臉上親了一下。這就足夠了！第一天結(jié)束的時候，我把院子弄得一團(tuán)糟。不過，如果混亂是給我的小窩建立秩序的必要步驟，那我正走在正確的道路上。至少那天晚上，當(dāng)我筋疲力盡倒在床上的時候，是這樣告訴自己的。

第二天下午，我忙著擴(kuò)大小窩的混亂程度，一個低沉的聲音說道：“真是個浩大的工程，年輕的女士。”

站在人行道上的是布萊斯的外公，我認(rèn)識他。不過我只在戶外見過他一次。其他時間我都是透過窗戶看到他的——不是他家客廳的窗戶，就是車窗。對我來說，他只是個有著深色頭發(fā)、戴眼鏡的老頭兒。

見到他出現(xiàn)在人行道上，就像見到某個電視明星走下銀幕跟你說話一樣。

“我知道我們時常見面，”他說，“很抱歉，過了一年時間我才過來作自我介紹。我是查特·鄧肯，布萊斯的外公。而你，沒錯，你一定是朱莉安娜·貝克。”

他伸出手，我也摘下工作手套，然后看著自己的小手完全淹沒在他的大手里面?！昂芨吲d見到你，鄧肯先生?！蔽倚南耄绕饛目蛷d窗戶后面看到的人影，他本人要高大多了。

這時，奇怪的事情發(fā)生了。他從兜里掏出自己的工作手套和一把修枝剪，說：“你是不是想把它們修剪成一樣的高度？”

“哦，”我說，“呃，是的。我是這么打算的。不過現(xiàn)在我也不太確定。你覺得如果把它們都拔掉，會不會更好？”

他搖搖頭說：“這些是澳大利亞茶樹。修剪后會很漂亮?！?/p>

說著，他戴上手套，開始修枝。

一開始我不知道該對他說點(diǎn)什么。有他來幫忙，真是件奇怪的事，可是看他的表現(xiàn)，我似乎不該多想。咔咔咔，他不斷地剪著，似乎真的很享受這個過程。

我想起布萊斯對我家院子的評價，突然間，我明白他為什么要來幫我了。

“怎么了？”他邊說邊把剪下的枝條扔進(jìn)我剪下的那一堆里，“我是不是剪得太多了？”

“沒……沒有。”

“那你為什么是這副表情？”他問，“我不想讓你不自在。我只是覺得你需要一點(diǎn)兒幫助?！?/p>

“呃，我不需要。我自己能行。”

他笑了，說：“哦，我完全相信?！比缓罄^續(xù)剪枝，“聽著，朱莉安娜，我在報(bào)紙上讀到你的消息，還在對街跟你做了一年多的鄰居。很明顯，你是個能干的孩子?！?/p>

我們一起安靜地工作了一會兒，但我發(fā)現(xiàn)自己剪下枝條的速度越來越慢。沒過一會兒，我就受不了了。我真的受不了了！我扳過他的肩膀，問道：“你來幫我，只是為了雞蛋的事，對不對？好吧，我們的雞蛋一點(diǎn)兒問題也沒有！我家已經(jīng)吃了快三年了，沒人中毒。斯杜比太太和赫爾姆斯太太看起來也很健康，最關(guān)鍵的是，假如你們不想要，就應(yīng)該跟我說一聲！”

他的手垂下去，搖了搖頭：“雞蛋？中毒？朱莉安娜，我不明白你在說什么?！?/p>

我心里又生氣又傷心又難堪，因此都不像平時的我了?！拔艺f的是雞蛋，我給你們送了兩年的雞蛋——自家的雞下的蛋，我留著沒有賣掉！是被你家扔掉的那些雞蛋！”我對著他大聲叫嚷。我從來沒有這樣對人嚷過，更別說是對著一個成年人。

他的聲音放得特別輕：“我很抱歉。我不知道雞蛋的事。你把它們給誰了？”

“布萊斯！”說出他名字的時候，我感到嗓子又縮成一團(tuán)，“布萊斯?！?/p>

鄧肯先生緩緩地點(diǎn)頭，說了句“好吧”，然后繼續(xù)剪枝，“難怪會是這樣?！?/p>

“這是什么意思？”

他嘆了口氣：“那個孩子還有很長的路要走?！?/p>

我愣愣地看著他，把到了嘴邊的話咽下去。

“哦，毫無疑問，他是個英俊的孩子，”他皺著眉頭說，折斷一根樹枝，他補(bǔ)充道，“跟他爸爸是一個模子里刻出來的?！?/p>

我搖搖頭：“你為什么來這兒，鄧肯先生？如果你認(rèn)為我不需要幫助，也不是為了雞蛋的事道歉，那你為什么來幫忙呢？”

“要我說實(shí)話嗎？”

我直視他的眼睛。

他點(diǎn)點(diǎn)頭說：“因?yàn)槟阕屛蚁肫鹞姨??！?/p>

“你太太？”

“是的，”他微微一笑，“蕾妮肯定會和你一起坐在樹上。她大概會在上面坐一整夜?！?/p>

聽到這句話，我的憤怒消失得無影無蹤：“真的？”

“當(dāng)然?！?/p>

“她……她去世了？”

他點(diǎn)點(diǎn)頭：“我很想她，”他扔下一根樹枝，輕輕地笑出聲來，“沒有什么比得上一個聰慧的女人能讓你生活得更愉快。”

我從來沒想過和布萊斯的外公交朋友。但是在晚飯之前，我已經(jīng)非常了解他和他太太了，知道了很多他們在一起經(jīng)歷的奇遇，仿佛我們已經(jīng)認(rèn)識了很久。

聽他講故事，連工作都變得更輕松了。晚上，當(dāng)我回到屋子里的時候，灌木全修剪好了，除了院子中央扔著的一堆樹枝，它看上去漂亮多了。

第二天，他又來了。我笑著和他打招呼：“嗨，鄧肯先生。”

而他笑著回答我：“叫我查特，好嗎？”他看著我手中的錘子說，“我想今天要修圍欄了？”

查特教我怎么把木樁打成一條直線，怎么握住釘錘的末端，而不是滿把攥，怎么用水平儀來保證灌木立得筆直。我們花了好幾天時間修圍欄，一邊干活一邊聊天。不光是聊他太太。他想知道無花果樹的故事，當(dāng)我告訴他“整體大于部分之和”的時候，我認(rèn)為他完全能理解?！叭藗円彩且粯?，”他說，“不過對人來說，有時候整體小于部分之和?！?/p>

我覺得這太有趣了。第二天，我在學(xué)校觀察那些我從小學(xué)就認(rèn)識的同學(xué)，想看看他們到底是大于還是小于部分之和。查特說得對，大部分人是小于。

位居其首的，當(dāng)然是雪莉·斯道爾斯?？粗銜詾樗龘碛幸磺?，但在她珠穆朗瑪峰一般高聳的發(fā)型之下，其實(shí)什么智慧也沒有。雖然她像黑洞一樣吸引著別人靠近，可是用不了多久，他們就會發(fā)現(xiàn)做她的朋友非得使勁拍她的馬屁才行。

但是，所有的同學(xué)中，我唯一無法判斷的就是布萊斯。直到不久之前，我都堅(jiān)定地認(rèn)為，他大于——遠(yuǎn)遠(yuǎn)大于——他的部分之和。他對我來說，是個完全無法用語言描述的奇跡。

可是，這里的關(guān)鍵在于“無法用語言描述”。當(dāng)我在數(shù)學(xué)課上望著教室那頭的他，就不由自主地想起他如何扔掉我的雞蛋，再次陷入崩潰。他怎么能做得出這種事？

然后，他看到我，露出了笑容，我又不那么確定自己的感覺了。我開始生自己的氣。

為什么在他做出那么過分的事之后，我對他還有這種感覺？

在這之后的一整天，我都躲著他，不過放學(xué)以前，我覺得就像有一團(tuán)火，在我心里左沖右突。我跳上自行車，用前所未有的速度沖回家。右腳的踏板擦著鏈套，叮當(dāng)作響，整架自行車吱扭作響，仿佛快要坍塌成一堆廢銅爛鐵。

可是，當(dāng)我把車停在家門口的車道上，心里的火卻越燒越旺。我只好把騎車的動力轉(zhuǎn)化成刷漆的動力。撬開爸爸買給我的那桶“納瓦霍”白色油漆，我開始刷漆。

十分鐘之后，查特出現(xiàn)了。“上帝啊，”他笑了，“你今天真是精力充沛，是不是？”

“不，”我說，用手背把頭發(fā)別到耳朵后面，“我只是生氣?！?/p>

他拿出自己的油漆刷和一個空咖啡罐子：“哦，生誰的氣？”

“我自己！”

“啊，那可夠麻煩的?？荚嚳荚伊?？”

“不是！我……”我轉(zhuǎn)身面對著他，“你是怎么愛上你太太的？”

他倒了一些油漆在咖啡罐子里，露出了微笑?！鞍」?，”他說，“少年維特之煩惱。”

“我沒有什么煩惱！”

他猶豫了一下，沒有爭下去，而是對我說：“我愛上她是一個錯誤?！?/p>

“錯誤？什么意思？”

“我不是有意的。那時候我和另一個姑娘訂婚了，按理說沒有資格墜入愛河。后來我發(fā)現(xiàn)自己之前是多么盲目，好在還不算太晚?！?/p>

“盲目？”

“是的。我的未婚妻非常美麗。她有著最迷人的棕色眼睛，天使般的皮膚。那時，我只看到了她的美貌。但是后來……好吧，這么說吧，我發(fā)現(xiàn)她根本比不上蕾妮?！彼阉⒆由爝M(jìn)咖啡罐，揀了個木樁刷起來，“當(dāng)你回首過去，會發(fā)現(xiàn)這是很明顯的事，也很容易作出抉擇，但不幸的是，大多數(shù)人看到藏在表面之下的真相時，已經(jīng)太晚了。”

我們都不說話了，但我知道查特在思考。從他眉頭的皺紋，我知道他不是在想我的問題。“我……我很抱歉提起你太太?！蔽艺f。

“哦，別這樣，這沒什么?！彼麚u搖頭，試圖擠出一絲笑容，“還有，我不是在想蕾妮。我在想其他人。一個從來也沒能看穿表象的人。此時此刻，我甚至不希望她能看得太清楚。”

他說的是誰？我真的很想知道！可我想這大概不太禮貌，所以我們安靜地刷著油漆。終于，他轉(zhuǎn)過身，對我說：“超越他的眼睛、他的笑容和他閃亮的頭發(fā)——看看他到底是什么樣子?！?/p>

我感到后背升起一股涼氣。仿佛他什么都知道。忽然間，我有種抵觸情緒。他是說他的外孫不值得我這樣？

晚飯時間到了，我的心情還是很差，但至少，胸中的那團(tuán)火已經(jīng)熄滅了。

媽媽說爸爸要加班，哥哥們在他們的朋友家，因此晚飯只有我們兩個人吃。媽媽告訴我，她和爸爸討論過查特的事，他們都覺得他過來幫忙有點(diǎn)奇怪。也許，她說，他們應(yīng)該想辦法付錢給他。

我告訴她，查特可能會把這當(dāng)成一種侮辱，但是第二天她還是跟他說了付錢的事。查特說：“不用了，貝克夫人，我很高興能給你女兒的家庭作業(yè)項(xiàng)目幫上忙?！比缓笤僖膊宦爧寢屨f一個字了。

一星期過去了，周六的早晨，爸爸上班之前裝了整整一車的枯枝碎葉。查特和我花了一天時間鋤草、松土，預(yù)備好用于播種的土壤。

就在這最后一天，查特問我：“你們不會再搬家了吧？”

“搬家？為什么這么說？”

“哦，昨天晚餐的時候，我女兒提起了這種可能。她說你們修整房子可能是為了賣掉它。”

雖然工作的時候我和查特聊過很多事情，如果不是他問起我們會不會搬家，我大概不會提起芬尼根先生、戴維叔叔以及院子被搞成一團(tuán)糟的原因。既然他問了，我就一股腦兒地全告訴了他。尤其是關(guān)于戴維叔叔。這種感覺就像朝著風(fēng)中吹散一朵蒲公英，看著細(xì)小的種子隨風(fēng)飄散。我為爸爸媽媽感到驕傲，看著修整一新的前院，我也為自己感到驕傲。

還有后院，等著瞧吧！之后我也許會把整座房子粉刷一新的。我能做到。一定能。

查特聽了我叔叔的故事，沒有說話。午餐的時候，媽媽給我們送來了三明治，我們坐在門廊上，吃得很安靜。然后他打破平靜，朝對街一抬下巴：“我不知道他為什么不過來跟你說句話?！?/p>

“誰？”我問，把目光投向?qū)炙傅牡胤?。布萊斯房間的窗簾迅速滑了下來，我忍不住問他，“是布萊斯？”

“這是我第三次發(fā)現(xiàn)他在偷看?！?/p>

“真的？”我的心跳得就像一只振翅欲飛的小鳥。

他皺著眉頭：“我們把活兒干完，來種草吧？日光的熱量有助于它們發(fā)芽?！?/p>

終于到了給院子播種的時刻，我很興奮，可是布萊斯的窗戶分散了我的注意力。他在偷看嗎？整整一下午，我都不好意思承認(rèn)自己偷看了多少次。我想查特也看出來了，當(dāng)工作全部完成，看著一個煥然一新的漂亮院子，我們相互祝賀的時候，他說：“他現(xiàn)在就像個懦夫，不過我對他還抱有希望?！?/p>

懦夫？我能說些什么呢？我只好一手拿著水管，一手扶著閥門，傻傻地站在那兒。

后來，查特跟我花了很長時間告別，揮著手，向?qū)肿呷ァ?/p>

幾分鐘以后，我看見布萊斯走上他家門前的人行道。一開始，我沒認(rèn)出來。我以為他這段時間只是躲在屋子里往外看，他真的走到外面來了嗎？我又開始感到尷尬了。

我轉(zhuǎn)過身，背對著他，把注意力集中在澆水上面。我真是個傻瓜！百分之百的傻瓜！剛開始生自己的氣，我就聽到有個聲音在說：“這兒看上去漂亮極了，朱莉。干得不錯?！?/p>

那是布萊斯在說話，他就站在我家的車道上。突然，我不再生自己的氣了。我開始生他的氣。他怎么像個監(jiān)工似的站在那兒對我說，干得不錯？想想他對我做的一切吧，他沒有資格說任何話。

我正想用水管澆他，只聽他說：“我為我做過的事情向你道歉，朱莉。這件事，你知道……我做得不對?！?/p>

我看著他——直視他湛藍(lán)的眼睛。我試著用查特教我的方法——試著看到他的內(nèi)心深處。表象下面是什么？他是怎么想的？他真的感到抱歉嗎？或者他只是為他說過的話感到抱歉？

就像直視著太陽，我不得不把目光轉(zhuǎn)向一邊。

我不記得后來我們說了些什么，只知道他很友好，他讓我很開心。布萊斯走了以后，我關(guān)上水龍頭，走進(jìn)屋子，感覺非常非常奇怪。

那天晚上，我輾轉(zhuǎn)反側(cè)，無法入睡。最糟糕的是，我根本說不清自己到底為了什么而沮喪和不安。當(dāng)然，這和布萊斯有關(guān)，但我為什么不單單是生氣？他做過的事情是多么……惡劣。還有，為什么開心？為什么我感到的除了開心還有別的？

他來到我家。他站在我家的車道上。他說了些動聽的話。我們都笑了。

但我不是生氣，也不是開心。當(dāng)我躺在床上，試圖理解這一切，我發(fā)現(xiàn)心中的不安甚至壓倒了沮喪。我覺得好像有人在監(jiān)視自己。我被自己嚇得夠嗆，從床上跳起來，把窗戶、櫥柜和床底下都檢查了一遍，但這種感覺始終還在。

直到將近午夜，我才明白那是什么。

是我自己，我在監(jiān)視自己。

Chapter 08

The Yard

JULIANNA

I'd never been embarrassed by where we lived before. I'd never looked at our house, or even our side of the street, and said, Oh! I wish we lived in the new development — those houses are so much newer, so much better! This is where I'd grown up. This was my home.

I was aware of the yard, sure. My mother had grumbled about it for years. But it was a low grumbling, not worthy of deep concern. Or so I'd supposed. But maybe I should have wondered. Why let the outside go and keep the inside so nice? It was spotless inside our house. Except for the boys' room, that is. Mom gave up on that after she discovered the snake. If they were old enough to adopt a snake, she told my brothers, they were old enough to clean their own room. Matt and Mike translated this to keep the door closed, and became quite diligent about doing just that.

Besides the yard, I also never really wondered about the money, or the apparent lack thereof. I knew we weren't rich, but I didn't feel like I was missing anything. Anything you could buy, anyway.

Matt and Mike did ask for things a lot, but even though my mother would tell them, No, boys, we just can't afford that, I took this to mean, No, boys, you don't deserve that, or, No, boys, you don't really need that. It wasn't until Bryce called our home a complete dive that I started really seeing things.

It wasn't just the yard. It was my dad's truck, my mother's car, the family bike that was more rust than steel, and the fact that when we did buy something new, it always seemed to come from a second-time-around store. Plus, we never went on vacation. Ever.

Why was that? My father was the hardest-working man in the world, and my mother worked for TempService doing secretarial jobs whenever she could. What was all that hard work about if this is where it got you?

Asking my parents whether we were poor seemed incredibly impolite. But as the days went by, I knew I had to ask. Just had to. Every day I'd ride home from school on our rusty bike, pull past the broken fence and patchy yard, and think, Tonight. I'll ask them tonight.

But then I wouldn't ask them. I just didn't know how.

Then one day I had an idea. A way to talk to them about it and maybe help out a little, too. And since my brothers were working at the music store that night, and nobody was saying much of anything at the table, I took a deep breath and said, "I was thinking, you know, that it wouldn't be hard to fix up the front yard if I could get some nails and a hammer and maybe some paint? And how much does grass seed cost?It can't be that much, right? I could plant a lawn, and maybe even some flowers?"

My parents stopped eating and stared at me.

I know how to use a saw and a hammer — it could be, you know, a project.

My mother quit looking at me and stared at my father, instead.

My father sighed and said, "The yard is not our responsibility, Julianna."

It's ... it's not?

He shook his head and said, "It's Mr. Finnegan's."

Who's Mr. Finnegan?

The man who owns this house.

I couldn't believe my ears. "What?"

My father cleared his throat and said, "The landlord."

You mean we don't own this house?

They looked at each other, having some private wordless conversation I couldn't decipher. Finally my father said, "I didn't realize you didn't know that."

But ... but that doesn't make sense! Aren't landlords supposed to come and do things? Like fix the roof when it leaks and clear the drains when they're plugged? You always do that stuff, Dad. Why do you do it when he's supposed to?

Because, he sighed, "it's easier than asking him for help."

But if —

And, my father interrupted me, "it keeps him from raising the rent."

But ...

My mother reached over and took my hand. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry if this is a shock. I guess we always thought you knew."

But what about the yard? Why keep up the inside but not the outside?

My father frowned and said, "When we signed the lease, he assured us he would fix the fences, front and back, and plant sod in the front yard. Obviously that never happened." He shook his head. "It's a major undertaking, and fencing is not cheap. I can't see putting that sort of investment into a property that's not ours. Plus, it's the principle of the thing."

But we live here, I whispered, "and it looks so bad."

My father studied me. "Julianna, what happened?"

Nothing, Daddy, I said, but he knew I was lying.

Sweetheart, he whispered, "tell me."

I knew what he'd say if I told him, and yet I couldn't not tell him. Not with the way he was looking at me. So I took a deep breath and said, "The Loskis have been throwing my eggs away because they were afraid they'd have salmonella because our yard is such a mess."

My father said, "Oh, that's ridiculous," but my mother gasped, "What?" Then she cried, "Did Patsy say that?"

I looked down. "No, Bryce did."

But it must've been a family discussion! A boy doesn't come up with that on his own ... My mother looked for all the world like a doe waiting to be shot through the heart. She covered her face with her hands and said, "I can't go on like this! Robert, things have got to change. They've just got to!"

Trina, you know I'm doing the best I can. I'm sorry about the yard, I'm sorry about the situation. This isn't the picture I had for my life, either, but sometimes you have to sacrifice for what's right.

My mother looked up from her hands and said, "This is not right for our family. Your daughter is suffering because we won't fix up our own yard."

It's not our yard.

How can you say that? Robert, wake up! We have lived here for twelve years. It's not temporary anymore! If we ever want to have a decent place with our own yard, if we're going to help the kids through college or do any of the other things we've promised each other, we're going to have to move him into government care.

My father let out a deep sigh and whispered, "We've discussed this so many times, Trina. In the end you always agree that keeping him at Greenhaven is the right thing to do."

I wanted to say, Wait! What are you talking about? Who are you talking about? But the conversation was flying so fast and furious that I couldn't seem to break in, and it wasn't long before they were bickering so badly that it was almost like I wasn't there.

Then in the back of my mind, it clicked. Everything clicked. It was my dad's brother they were talking about. My uncle. David.

To me Uncle David was only a name. Someone my parents had explained to me, but not someone I'd ever actually met. And even though I knew my dad visited him, I never knew exactly when. He never talked about it.

Dad also thought we shouldn't talk about Uncle David to others because David was retarded. "People jump to conclusions," he'd told me. "They assume that, by association, something must also be wrong with you. Trust me, I know."

So we didn't talk about it. Not at home, not with friends. It was almost like there was no Uncle David.

Until now. Now he felt larger than life, and I could tell from their argument that he was the reason we didn't have our own house; he was the reason we didn't have nice cars or fancy things. He was the reason there always seemed to be a cloud of weariness hanging over my parents.

Why did I have to bring up the yard in the first place? I'd never seen my parents fight like this. Ever. I wanted to grab them and say, Stop it! Stop it! You love each other! You do! But I just sat there with tears streaming down my face.

My mother stopped suddenly and whispered, "We should not be doing this in front of her!"

I'm sorry, Julianna, my dad said, then reached over and held my forearm. "Don't cry. None of this is your fault. We'll work it out, I promise we will."

My mother tried to laugh through her tears, saying, "We always have, and we always will."

That night my parents came into my room and talked to me, one at a time. My father talked about his brother and how much he loved him and how he'd promised his parents he'd always take care of him. My mother talked about how much she loved my father for his strength and kind heart, about dreams and reality, and the need to count your blessings. And she made me cry all over again when she kissed me goodnight and whispered that of all her many blessings, I was her best and brightest.

I felt sorry for my father. I felt sorry for my mother. But most of all I felt lucky for me that they were mine.

And in the morning, as I rode my rusty bike out the driveway to school, I promised myself that when I got home, I'd tackle the yard. Rented or not, this was our home, and I was going to help make living here better.

As it turns out, this was easier thought than done. First it took me half an hour of rummaging through the garage to find a hammer and a box of nails, a saw, and some pruners. Then it took another half hour of standing around to figure out just where to start. The actual yard was just clumps of weeds, but what about the bordering shrubs? Should I dig them up, or prune them way back? Were they shrubs, or just overgrown weeds? And what about the fence? Should I knock it down,or rebuild it? Maybe I should take out the front end entirely and use the wood to fix up the sides.

The longer I looked around, the more I felt like forgetting the whole thing. Why bother? It wasn't our property. Mr. Finnegan should be the one making repairs.

But then I remembered my mother's words from the night before. Surely, I thought, a few bushes and some dilapidated wood couldn't stop someone's best and brightest blessing! Surely not!

And with that, I picked up the clippers and got to work.

Half an hour later I was keeper of the knowledge that one bush equals many branches, and that the volume of a bush increases exponentially as it's cut and tossed into the middle of a yard. It was ridiculous! Where was I going to put all this stuff?

Mom came home and tried to talk me out of my mission, but I'd have none of it. Oh, no-no-no! I'd already pruned two bushes down to a respectable size, and before long she'd see — the place was going to look just dandy.

You didn't get that stubborn streak from me, she said, but came back outside with a glass of juice and a kiss for my cheek. Good enough for me!

By the end of that first day, what I'd made was a big mess. But if chaos is a necessary step in the organization of one's universe, then I was well on my way. At least that's what I tried to tell myself when I flopped into bed that night, dead tired.

And the next afternoon I was busily expanding the chaos of my little universe when I heard a deep voice say, "That's quite an undertaking, young lady."

The man standing on our sidewalk was Bryce's grandfather, I knew that much. But I'd only ever seen him outside one time. All the other times I'd seen him had been through windows — either one in their sitting room or one in their car. To me he was just a dark-haired man behind glass. Having him appear on my sidewalk was like having someone from TV step through the screen and talk to you.

I know we've seen each other from time to time, he was saying. "I'm sorry it's taken me over a year to come introduce myself. I'm Chester Duncan, Bryce's grandfather. And you, of course, are Julianna Baker."

He stuck out his hand, so I took off my work glove and watched my hand completely disappear inside his as we shook. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Duncan," I said, thinking that this man was way bigger than he looked from the sitting-room window.

Then the strangest thing happened. He pulled his own work gloves and a pair of clippers from a back pocket and said, "Are you pruning all of these to the same height?"

Oh, I said. "Well, yes. That is what I was thinking. Although now I don't know. Do you think it would look better to just take them out?"

He shook his head and said, "They're Australian tea shrubs. They'll prune up nicely." And with that, he put on his gloves and started clipping.

At first I didn't know what to say to this man. It was very strange to be getting his help, but from the way he was acting, it was as though I shouldn't have thought a thing of it. Clip-clip-clip, he went, like this was something he really enjoyed doing.

Then I remembered what Bryce had said about our yard, and suddenly I knew why he was there.

What's the matter? he asked, throwing his clippings into my pile. "Did I cut it down too far?"

N-no.

Then why the look? he asked. "I don't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just thought you might like a little help."

Well, I don't. I can do this by myself.

He laughed and said, "Oh, I have no doubt about that," then got back to clipping. "You see, Julianna, I read about you in the paper, and I've lived across the street from you for over a year now. It's easy to see that you're a very competent person."

We both worked quietly for a minute, but I found myself throwing the clippings into the pile harder and harder. And before long I couldn't stand it. I just couldn't stand it! I spun on him and said, "You're here because you feel bad about the eggs, aren't you? Well, our eggs are perfectly fine! We've been eating them for nearly three years and none of us have gotten poisoned. Mrs. Stueby and Mrs. Helms seem in good health to me, too, and the fact of the matter is, if you didn't want them,you should've just told me so!"

His hands fell to his sides and he shook his head as he said, "Eggs? Poisoned? Julianna, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Inside I was so angry and hurt and embarrassed that I didn't even feel like me. "I'm talking about the eggs that I've been bringing over to your house for more than two years — eggs that my chickens laid that I could've sold! Eggs that your family has been throwing away!" I was shouting at him. Shouting at an adult, like I'd never shouted at anyone in my entire life.

His voice got very quiet. "I'm sorry. I don't know about any eggs. Who did you give them to?"

Bryce! My throat choked closed as I said his name again. "Bryce."

Mr. Duncan nodded slowly and said, "Well," then went back to pruning his bush. "That probably explains it."

What do you mean?

He sighed. "The boy still has a ways to go."

I just stared at him, not trusting myself with the words sizzling on my tongue.

Oh, he's a very handsome boy, there's no denying that, he said with a frown. Then he snapped a branch and added, "The spitting image of his father."

I shook my head. "Why are you over here, Mr. Duncan? If you don't think I need the help and you're not feeling bad about the eggs,then why would you do this?"

Honestly?

I just looked at him, straight in the eye.

He nodded, then said, "Because you remind me of my wife."

Your wife?

That's right. He gave me a little smile and said, "Renée would've sat up in that tree with you. She would've sat there all night."

And with those two sentences, my anger vanished. "Really?"

Absolutely.

She's ... she died?

He nodded. "And I miss her terribly." He tossed a branch into the heap and chuckled. "There's nothing like a head-strong woman to make you happy to be alive."

The last thing in the world I expected was to become friends with Bryce's grandfather. But by dinnertime I knew so much about him and his wife and the adventures they'd had together that it seemed like I'd known him for a very long time. Plus, all his stories made the work seem easy. When I went in for the night, the bushes were all pruned back, and except for the enormous heap in the center of the yard, things were already looking a whole lot better.

The next day he was back. And when I smiled and said, "Hi, Mr. Duncan," he smiled back and said, "Call me Chet, won't you?" He looked at the hammer in my hand and said, "I take it we're starting on the fence today?"