The Bagpiper’s Ghost by Jane Yolen Read Free Book Online Page A

Peter’s bedside. The white cat was snugged on the pillow by his head.
    Mom looked up gravely when Jennifer came in.
    â€œHi, sleepyhead. Feeling all right?”
    â€œMe?” Jennifer shrugged. “Sure.”
    Mom shook her head. “This whole family seems to have a sleeping sickness today.”
    â€œIs Peter …?” Guilt stopped the rest of what Jennifer was going to say, like a cork in a bottle.
    â€œI think he caught something yesterday. We haven’t been able to wake him, though he’s been tossing and turning and calling out in his sleep. I’ve sent for the doctor. Do you know they still do house calls here? Thank the Lord for that.” She brushed a hand softly through Peter’s hair.
    â€œA doctor?” Jennifer knew a doctor wouldn’t help at all. Gran had said Peter needed magic, not medicine. She sat down heavily by his feet.
    Her mother continued. “I was worried about you, too. Found you right here, lying at the bottom of the bed. Your father had to carry you into your own room, and you’re no lightweight anymore.” She smiled and set the book down on her lap carefully, but her voice was tight with worry. “What’s this all about, Jen?”
    Jennifer suddenly realized that parents sometimes had to be protected from the world. What they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them, she reasoned.
    So she said, just as carefully, “I heard Peter crying out in the middle of the night, and I was afraid he’d wake Molly.” That wasn’t exactly a lie, just not the whole truth. “So I came in to see what was wrong. He was having a bad dream or something. I settled him down, then curled up here, waiting to see if he was going to be all right. I guess … I guess I fell asleep.”
    Her mother gave a tight little laugh. “Twins!” She touched Peter again as if to assure herself he was still there. “And you weren’t just asleep, Jen. It was as if you were dead.”
    Jennifer gave a tight little smile. “Well, I’m not dead. See.” She opened her arms.
    Her mother sighed, an uncharacteristic sound. “Gran sat with you until about an hour ago. For an old woman, she’s got an inexhaustible supply of energy.”
    Remembering Gran on the horse, Jennifer said, “She sure does.”
    â€œI’m going downstairs to phone and see if the doctor’s on his way. Will you stay with Peter a little while? I don’t want him to wake up alone. Then I’ll make you something to eat.”
    â€œNot hungry, Mom.”
    â€œNonsense. You will have something to eat. Porridge. That’s just the thing. And it’ll take only a few minutes to make.” She put the book and her glasses on the bedside table, reached over and picked up the cat, then straightened slowly, suddenly looking like an old woman herself.
    It was another fifteen minutes before the white-haired doctor got there, examined the still-sleeping Peter, and left a bottle of pills by the bedside.
    â€œOne when he wakes, and one every six hours after.” His voice was pleasantly English.
    Mom nodded and sat down again by Peter’s side. Pop sat at the foot of the bed. Exchanging dark looks, Gran and Da stood in the doorway. In the hall, Jennifer shifted from one foot to the other. Only Molly wasn’t with them. She’d been sent off to a neighbor’s to play with their children for the day.
    â€œBest to get her out of the way,” Pop had explained.
    Jennifer thought they should have sent the dog with her, for he lay whimpering by the bedside, as if by remaining close to Peter he might undo all the damage he’d done taking them to the cemetery.
    She felt like doing the same.
    Gran and Da accompanied the doctor downstairs, their voices floating back up to Peter’s room.
    â€œThey will overdo when they come on vacation,” the doctor said to Gran and Da. “Youngsters always think they’re