Free Wild Fell by Michael Rowe Page B

give it back.” Something indefinable in my father’s face stayed my euphoria. I waited for him to continue, but my mother cut in before he could.
    “His
brother
brought it in?” She exhaled smoke into the air above her. “And he just waltzed into the police station and confessed that his brother
stole
it from Jamie? What on earth would prompt him to do something like that? Not that I’m complaining, but it seems very unlikely.”
    “His brother is in the hospital, Alice,” my father said. “In the intensive care unit. He had some sort of an accident this morning, apparently.”
    Reflexively she stubbed the cigarette into the saucer of her coffee cup. “A car accident?” She lit another cigarette. “Good Lord. Is he all right?”
    “No, not a car. Something . . . well, something else. According to the policeman, this boy was riding the bike around in the field where he stole it from Jamie. They think he must have run over a nest of wasps. Maybe it fell out of a tree or something. In any case, they swarmed. It’s pretty bad, apparently. He can’t speak.”
    It was as though all the air was suddenly sucked out of the room. I felt dizzy and the kitchen swayed and dimmed around me. For a moment I thought I might faint. I steadied my hands on the edge of the kitchen table for balance.
    We’ll make him shut up, I promise. And we’ll get your bike back.
    When the vertiginous moment passed, my father was still speaking to me. He hadn’t noticed that anything was wrong. “The constable asked me if I wanted to press charges,” he was saying. “Of course, under the circumstances I said no, of course not.” He cleared his throat. “Jamie, the boy’s aunt would like to meet you at the hospital. She’d like to have her nephew—the thief’s brother—apologize to you on behalf of the family. Her sister, Mrs. Dodd, is with Terry in the ICU. Apparently some of the family is with her. The aunt and the younger boy want to speak with you. How do you feel about that? Shall we go down to the hospital after we pick up your bicycle at the station?”
    In a very small voice I said, “Okay.”
    “Are you sure, Jamie? You’re not nervous, are you? They just want to say they’re sorry. Apparently the police really gave the young fellow a good what-for about his brother stealing the bike from you. Told him it was your first bike and everything, and that you’d just gotten it for your birthday.”
    “No, it’s okay, Dad. I just feel bad for the kid, even if he did steal my bike.”
    “You’re going to be nice to them, aren’t you, Jamie? Even if the boy’s brother did take your bike?” My father looked at me hopefully. “They’re pretty upset, and it’s a hard time for their family, especially the boy’s mother. This would be a good time to be kind.”
    Before I could answer my father, my mother interjected again. “What on earth would have possessed the boy to return the bike on the same day his brother had that accident? I would have thought that’s the last thing he’d be thinking about. The whole affair is rather odd. Still, I feel badly for the other boy, even if he’s a thief. And his poor mother must be beside herself. On the other hand, how very odd to be worrying about apologizing to Jamie at a time like this. If it were me, that would be the very last thing I’d be concerned about.”
    I said, “I think it’s nice.”
    “Hmmm,” my mother said, lighting another cigarette.
    “Bad luck,” my father said. He rubbed his chin again. “Bad luck.”
    “Well, it’s certainly more than
bad luck
, Peter, isn’t it? It’s a rather serious accident, all told. The boy could sustain a brain injury from those stings.” My mother could always manage to picture the worst possible outcome for any given situation, with or without the benefit of actual facts.
    “No,” my father said. “That’s not what I mean, Alice. The boy’s brother—that’s why he brought the bicycle to the police station. He