The Barn by Avi

Author:Avi [Avi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2014-09-10T04:00:00+00:00

I had refueled the lamp when Harrison and Nettie came in. They were both exhausted and hungry. Even so, as he did every night, Harrison stood by Father and told him what he’d done. After Nettie changed to dry clothes, she did the same.

When we set to dinner, I had Father brought to the table and tied into his chair. That was no longer uncommon, and Harrison and Nettie made little of it. But then, in the midst of their chatter, I said, “I have found a way to cure Father.”

The house felt as silent as the moon.

At last Nettie said, “What are you talking about?”

I cleared my throat and said, “Father told me some things today.”

“Told?” she said.

“Yes.”

“Things?” Harrison asked. “With his eyes?”

“More than that,” I answered. “With his hand. He signaled me.”

Nettie put down her spoon. “What did you think he was saying?”

“He was telling me what was most important to him. I read him like a book.”

The moment I said that, I knew it was wrong to use those words. Nettie gave a frown; then the two of them studied Father for a moment. Finally Nettie turned to me and said, “Ben, I don’t believe you.”

So I got up, leaned over behind Father, and said, “Father, you told me what’s important to you, didn’t you?”

He blinked his yes.

“See!” I cried.

“Well, what is it?” Nettie demanded sharply.

I said, “He wants us to build a new barn.”

Harrison considered me with astonishment, whistled, then shook his head. Nettie stood and walked away. We watched her as she paced in agitation.

“Why shouldn’t we?” I asked them both at once.

Nettie said at last, “Put Father back to bed and we’ll talk.”

“But it’s what he wants us to do,” I insisted. “It will cure him! He told me.”

“Ben!” she said in a hard voice. “Do what I say!”

Harrison put Father back to bed. I pulled up his coverlet and came back to the table. But no, Nettie would have us go outside, which we did.

The earth smelled ripe. Now and again the wind blew in like the wheeze of an old horse. The rain had eased off to little more than a fog, so there were no stars. There was just the glow of yellow light from the window to give the three of us faces. Nettie, I saw, was angry.

“Look here, Ben,” she began. “This won’t do.”

“What won’t do?”

“It’s what Mother once told me: ‘A gift in dead hands is water in a broken jug.’ ”

To which I exclaimed, “He’s not dead!”

Nettie shook her head. “It’s all very well your saying you read him like a book. We know how good you read. We know how school smart you are. That’s why Father sent you there. But Ben, there are times I think you’re the only one writing that book.”

I said, “I don’t understand.”

“Ben,” she cried, “you’re having him tell you things you want him to say!”

“That’s not true!” I cried.

Nettie took me by the shoulders and gave me a shake. “Father won’t live, Ben.

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