Read Time for Andrew for Free Online Page B

curtains fluttered at the windows. A round picture of three horses' heads hung above the bureau.
    My eyes kept returning to Andrew's sister. Hannah—not an old woman in her nineties but a girl fourteen or fifteen years old, even prettier than the faded photograph I'd seen of her. She wore a long white dress, wrinkled and creased from a night in the rocking chair. Her feet were bare. Her dark hair tumbled down around her face.
    Suddenly, she moved, changed position, yawned. It was like seeing a picture come to life. When she raised her fists to rub sleep from her eyes, I shut mine.
    Holding my breath, I lay as still as death and listened to Hannah walk toward the bed. She leaned over me and whispered Andrew's name, my name, touching my skin with soft, warm fingers. She was no dream, no ghost.
    "Mama," she cried, "Mama, come quick!"
    A door opened, and footsteps raced toward me.

    "His fever's gone, Mama. He's still alive." Hannah's voice shook and she burst into tears.
    "Praise be," a woman whispered. "Open your eyes, Andrew, look at me."
    Dumb with fear, I stared at Mrs. Tyler. Even if I'd wanted to, I couldn't have spoken. Suppose I didn't sound like Andrew? Suppose I said the wrong thing? Surely they'd know I was an imposter.
    Alarmed by my silence, Mrs. Tyler told Hannah to call Dr. Fulton. "His eyes, the way he looks at me—you'd think the boy had never seen me before."
    Hannah ran downstairs, leaving me alone with Andrew's mother, a kind-faced stranger I'd glimpsed once in an old photo album. Never doubting I was her son, Mrs. Tyler stroked my hair. "Are you uncomfortable, Andrew? Are you in pain? Is it your throat?"
    A sound in the hall distracted her. A boy stood in the doorway. He was eight or nine years old, thin and dark-haired. "Are you better, Andrew?"
    When I didn't answer, he came closer. "Can't you talk?"
    His face was inches from mine, so close I could count his freckles. He studied me for a moment, then turned to his mother. "He looks so strange. Are you sure he's all right?"
    Mrs. Tyler pulled him away from me. "Hush, Theo. Your brother's been very ill. Let him rest."
    Theo's forehead wrinkled. "I hope he doesn't have brain fever, Mama. After George Foster had diphtheria, he didn't know anyone for the longest time. Father says he's still not quite right in the head and probably never will be."
    "Not another word, Theodore." Giving him a gentle push,
Mrs. Tyler told him to wash and dress. "Today is Tuesday, have you forgotten? It's your turn to weed the vegetable garden."

    Theo lingered just outside the door, grumbling. He'd just wanted to see me, he'd missed me, he wanted to play. My goodness, couldn't his mother understand
that?
    Ignoring him, Mrs. Tyler patted my hand. "Papa cut his business trip short when he heard how ill you were. He'll be home on the afternoon train. Won't he be happy to see you looking so well!"
    Hannah came running up the stairs. "Dr. Fulton's on his way, Mama."
    "He's in for a surprise, isn't he?" Mrs. Tyler smiled at me. "Dr. Fulton didn't think you'd live till morning, Andrew. The very idea—Hannah told him it would take more than diphtheria to kill you."

    When Dr. Fulton arrived, he was just as surprised as Mrs. Tyler had predicted. After he examined me, he said, "If I hadn't seen Andrew yesterday, I wouldn't guess he'd ever had diphtheria. His throat is clear, his nose is clear. In all my years, I've never seen the like of it. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was a different boy altogether."
    Mrs. Tyler listened closely to Dr. Fulton, but she was obviously still puzzled. Speaking in a low voice, she said, "Andrew hasn't uttered a single intelligible word. He stares so queerly you'd think he was in a room full of strangers. Quite simply, he isn't himself."
    The doctor shook his head. "Fevers affect the mind in strange ways. I'm certain it's a temporary condition."
    Pausing in the doorway, he winked at Mrs. Tyler. "For heaven's sake, Mildred, enjoy the peace and quiet.