“We should probably clean,” I said reluctantly. “Then let’s go hang out with Uncle Joe. We can brainstorm good-deed ideas up there.”
“Ooh, good call,” said Abby. “Maybe Joe can—” She stopped. Her eyes went out of focus. She spun and looked at the fort, then back at me. “Mags!” she said, slapping at my arm. “Mags-Mags-Mags-Mags!”
“What? Ow! Why do you do that? I’m right here!”
“I’ve got it! Another good deed! One we can do right now!”
“Great,” I said, fending her off. “What?”
“Greens.”
“Greens?”
“Greens!”
“Are you speaking in code right now?”
“No, I mean greens! Like vegetables. And fruit, too, I guess. But greens! For your uncle Joe. Remember how he said he was craving fresh stuff because he couldn’t get any up in Alaska?”
“Yeah . . .”
“So let’s make him a big salad for lunch and bring it to him! Your mom said she got plenty of groceries.”
“You want to bring a salad,” I said slowly, “for lunch, to Alaska. That’s your good deed idea.”
“Totally!” Abby said. She sighed at the look on my face. “Admit it, Grumpy McGrumperton, it’s great!”
I shook my head, but my mouth twitched into a smile. There was no way it would work, but it was better than cleaning, and it would give me more time to figure out how to keep the links without losing Abby to all these new kids.
“Fine,” I said. “But you’re carrying it up through that spinny-whirly link.”
“Deal!” said Abby. She looped her arm through mine and steered me into the kitchen. “Come on, time to make the most epic salad the world has ever seen!”
Twelve
“Knock, knock,” I called as we crawled out of Fort Orpheus an hour later. “Hello? Uncle Joe?”
No reply. It looked like he wasn’t in.
“He’s probably out on the water,” Abby said. “Sweet, that’ll make this more of a surprise.”
We brought our thoughtful good-deed salad into the kitchen and went to look out the windows. Things had changed up in Alaska. Instead of a shiny blue sky, a solid bank of gray clouds loomed from one side of the horizon to the other. It was bright and warm in the cabin, but for some reason the sight of that sky made me shiver.
“Look, there he is,” said Abby, pointing down to the water’s edge. She squinted, then grabbed my arm. “Hey, I think he’s hurt!”
I looked where she was pointing. Uncle Joe was limping slowly over the rocks, headed our way.
We threw on coats from the closet and ran to meet him.
Outside, the wind was blowing hard, making little whitecaps ripple over the waves. Maybe a storm was coming. Thank goodness we’d shown up when we had. It hadn’t really occurred to me before how very, very alone Uncle Joe was up here.
He caught sight of us racing toward him and raised a hand, smiling.
“Here comes the cavalry,” he called as we approached. “Don’t worry, don’t worry, I think I’m okay.”
Abby and I pressed around him, offering hands and asking what had happened. He rested an arm on my shoulder, steadying himself as we inched back to the cabin.
“Just a twisted ankle,” he said. “I slipped getting out of the boat and went down like a giraffe on ice. Probably looked pretty funny, to tell you the truth.”
“It’s not funny at all!” I insisted. “What if you were really hurt? What if the boat rolled over and crushed your foot? What if you broke your leg and got pulled into the water by the tide? You need to be more careful!”
Uncle Joe grinned. “You sound just like your mom. She hasn’t stopped worrying about me since the day I was born.”
I stumbled on a loose rock, almost pulling him over. I sounded like my mom? Huh. That was new.
Back in the cabin Abby and I examined Uncle Joe’s ankle, decided we had no idea what we were looking at, and settled for tucking him into bed while we heated up soup to go with the salad.
“Dude, we are doing good deeds galore,” whispered Abby, arranging crackers on a paper plate. “Sprained-ankle rescue? Good deed! Thoughtful salad bringing? Good deed! We’ll be in the club in no time.”
“We still haven’t shown him the salad,” I reminded her. “He might just close his eyes and put his fingers in his ears again.”
But luckily Uncle Joe didn’t start la-la-ing when we shouted “Surprise!” and brought the salad out of the kitchen. He plowed his way through three helpings plus two bowls of soup, and announced that all the fresh greens were making his ankle feel better already. I made up a batch of double-strength cocoa for dessert, Abby cleared away the dishes, and as heavy raindrops started lashing at the windows, Uncle Joe pulled a blanket over himself and fell fast asleep.
With the cabin to ourselves and the whole afternoon stretching ahead, Abby and I resupplied on cocoa, settled in, and got to work brainstorming a backup list of more outstanding good deeds. Just to be prepared. Just in case.
“Will you show me what we’ve got?” I asked an hour or two later from the arm of the sofa. Abby, sprawled on her back in the entrance to Fort Orpheus, heaved her pad of paper at me. I caught it and read:
Ideas for more good deeds:
Cook surprise romantic dinner for Dad and Tamal
Help Joe with his sciency-science research (details to be determined)
Tune up the twins’ bikes for them
Fill house with flowers as surprise for Maggie’s mom
Find a cat friend for Samson
Surprise wash Caitlin’s ice cream truck
Other
I smiled to myself. It wasn’t much to show for an afternoon’s work, but that was fine by me. I hadn’t been trying all that hard. The rain was hammering against the windowpanes, the cabin was warm and cozy, and I was just enjoying hanging out with Abby, making plans.
“Okay, so hey,” said Abby, running a finger down the list. “These are good, but I see problems with some of them.”
“Like what?”
“Like does either of us know how to cook a surprise romantic dinner?”
“Maybe?” I
