Free Sons from Afar by Cynthia Voigt Page B

Shakespeare song and Sammy went back to his brother. “What’s the matter?”
    James didn’t look up, didn’t answer. He just pointed with his finger to one of the boxes where information was filled in, in black ink. Occupation of parent, Sammy read, Merchant Seaman.
    Name, surname, and birthplace of father, he read. Francis Verricker, Cambridge, Maryland. He read on beyond the finger. Name, maiden name, and birthplace of mother. Elizabeth Tillerman, Crisfield, Maryland. His mother might have been born right here, in this house.
    â€œCambridge is just an hour from here,” James said, his voice a whisper.
    â€œThat probably explains how they met,” Sammy deduced.
    â€œNo it doesn’t,” James said. “Not necessarily. We could go there.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œTo find out things about him.”
    There were a lot of things Sammy thought of saying. He thought of reminding James that would have been years and years ago, that their father had only been born in Cambridge so there might not be anything to find out. He thought of asking James how he intended to get to Cambridge. Without letting Gram know what he was doing, too. But all he said was, “Like what?”
    â€œI dunno. Like—where he lived, and maybe there would be some family? Or maybe, we could find someone who knew him, some old friend who could tell us what he’s like. Or might even know where he is right now. That’s not impossible.”
    If the police in Connecticut couldn’t find him how can we? Sammy wanted to ask, but didn’t. He didn’t say anything.
    â€œNot absolutely impossible,” James whispered.
    Sammy didn’t argue. “Yeah, we found the birth certificate.”
    â€œThat was you. You did that,” James said, looking up. In the shade behind the lamp’s light, his eyes looked sad.
    â€œMaybe so, but you’re the one who’s going to have to cook up a way to get us to Cambridge,” Sammy told his brother. “You’re the one who’s supposed to have all the ideas, so get going on that one. Okay?”
    â€œOkay,” James said. “O-K.” He folded up the birth certificate and gave it to Sammy. Sammy showed him where the envelope was in the drawer. “How much money do you have?” James asked. “Twenty-one dollars?”
    Sammy nodded. What was James thinking of, taking a taxi?
    â€œOkay,” James muttered to himself, getting up from the desk and wandering out of the room, thinking hard. Sammy hoped the idea he came up with wouldn’t be too complicated. He hoped when they got there, if they got there, there would be something for James to find out. James needed to find out something, he thought; although he couldn’t imagine what James thought that was.
    It didn’t matter to him if they found out anything or not. He’d never been to Cambridge and he never minded seeing new places, that was a good enough reason for going along. He could always find something to do, to amuse himself while James detected. And maybe he’d have a week or two of quiet while James tried to figure out a way to get where he wanted to be going to.

CHAPTER 4
    H e should have known better, Sammy told himself. He knew that once James’s mind got going on something, it worked fast. Dicey was barely packed into Mr. Lingerle’s car, heading back to College Park, with Gram going along for the change of scenery. “We have to go to Cambridge,” James said.
    â€œIf you say so.” Sammy didn’t care; he wished Dicey didn’t go away to school, hadn’t gone away. They were standing under the big paper mulberry tree in the front yard. The mulberry came into leaf later than any of the others. It spent all spring dropping seed pods around the yard, and you had to rake them up or they’d all sprout into saplings that would take over everything if you let them. Whenever Sammy stood under the tree he