Chapter Thirty-Two #2
“I’d like that,” she said. “But if I have a sister in this book…Well, there are a lot of Nancy Drew books that came after this one. Over six hundred.”
“You mean, if I stay here and live with you and your… our father, over six hundred books will change?”
She nodded, wincing.
“No wonder Dr. Fanshawe didn’t want me figuring out who I am,” I said.
“She freaks out if a single sentence changes in a single book. But a new character in six hundred books? Maybe I shouldn’t live here.
Your books mean so much to so many people.
Changing them might hurt readers who need these stories. ”
“You’re my sister,” Nancy said. “You’re welcome to stay, whatever the consequences.”
“Wish I could stay, but I still need to find Pops. Any idea where he is now?”
“I was wondering when you’d ask.”
—
“Pops!”
If there was ever a moment to use an exclamation point, it was now.
I ran to him where he stood in the doorway and threw my arms around him.
“Hello, Raindrop,” he said. “Long time no see.” He squeezed me tight and slapped me a few dozen times on the back. Hugs were an extreme sport with my grandfather.
I pulled back and glared at him. “Where have you been?”
“Where do you think?” he asked.
Whirling, I faced Nancy Drew, who was watching us with a little smile on her face.
“He was here all this time and you didn’t tell me?”
“Don’t get cross with poor Nancy,” Pops said. “I’m just as guilty.”
“Confess,” I said. “Immediately.”
“When I finally figured out what your mother had been trying to tell us all this time, that The Secret of the Old Clock wasn’t simply a book she loved but the answer to all our questions…
Well, I had to be sure before I said anything to you.
I’d always wondered why Fanshawe had confiscated all your mother’s case notebooks and papers when she died. What were they trying to cover up?”
“Me,” I said. “That a real person had a child with a fictional character.”
“Incendiary stuff,” Pops said. “But more important…I couldn’t risk telling you that you had a father and a sister without making sure I was right. I pretended I was leaving on a top secret mission to whereabouts unknown, hopped into the book, and was finally able to confirm my hunch.”
“Why didn’t you come back sooner?” I demanded. “It’s not safe for you to stay in a book that long. What if you’d forgotten who you were? Is everyone a rule-breaker in this family but me?”
Pops only shrugged. “Even if I spent a year in a book, Raindrop, I’d never forget I’m your grandfather. And in fairness, I tried to come back sooner. Mrs. Turner put the book in the safe.”
“Oh, no,” I groaned. “That woman is too tidy for our own good.”
“When I tried to get out, I did a bit of damage to the book.” The tears in the cover. The loose pages. That was all because Pops had tried to escape a closed book. Then he smiled. “But Nancy here snuck into the house and got the book out—”
I pointed an accusing finger at Nancy Drew’s innocent face. “ You stole my book? You sneaky, thieving…Ah, you’ll be stealing my clothes next, won’t you?”
“Rainy,” she said matter-of-factly, “whose name is on the cover of the book? And on literally every page? Face it, it was my book. Also I’m better dressed than you are. You’ll be stealing my outfits long before I steal yours.”
“Hurtful, but true,” I said.
“She wasn’t stealing the book,” Pops reminded me. “She was helping me escape from it.”
“So you did get free and yet you didn’t come home? Do you know how scared I was?” I demanded. “Very scared. Very, very, very. In italics very. ”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. But I had a marvelous time getting to know Nancy here.”
“So you were in on this mystery the whole time?” I demanded.
“Had to be done, Raindrop. Oh, and I promise we’ll fix that Little Free Library we sabotaged.”
“You did that? Why?”
“So you’d charm it with book powder,” Nancy said. “Then when I gave you the Duke of Chicago book, you’d assume it was because you accidentally charmed yourself, not because I was setting you up with Duke to solve a mystery.”
“I can’t believe it. My own sister and grandfather, plotting against me.”
“Plotting? Yes, but for you,” Nancy said, “not against you.”
“And it worked, because here you are.” Pops smiled a little wistfully and looked around the house. “Your true home, I suppose.”
“Can you believe it? I’m fictional.”
He took my face in his dear old hands.
“Please don’t run away into a book and never come home to us. All I ask, Raindrop.”
I kissed his cheek, and he hugged me again.
When I turned my head against his shoulder, I saw Nancy grinning at both of us.
“Thank you,” I mouthed.
“Anything for my sister,” she said.
“Nancy Drew is my sister,” I said. “And I’m…I’m Carson Drew’s daughter. I’ll never get used to that.”
“And I have a new granddaughter,” Pops said as Nancy rushed to join me in his arms.
For one beautiful moment, the length of a single sentence in a story, we three held on to each other. If this were the ending of my story, it would’ve been a happy one.
But we weren’t to THE END quite yet.
I pulled away first and looked at them. “We have to go, don’t we?” I asked Pops. “Before we damage Nancy’s books by being here?”
“No,” Nancy pleaded. “Don’t go yet. I promise, we’ll put everything to rights soon. You want to meet Dad, don’t you?”
I did, more than anything. But…
“Will he even know who I am?” I asked, afraid I already knew the answer.
“No,” Pops said. “Fanshawe’s charm got him. He thinks I’m a traveling encyclopedia salesman. We can remove the spell, but Nancy and I decided to leave that up to you.”
“We remove the spell,” I said, “and he’ll know who I am, but he’ll also remember losing his second wife. I don’t know if I can do that to him.”
“You don’t have to decide tonight,” Nancy said. “We’ve been here ninety-five years. We’re not going anywhere.”
“I would like to meet him.”
“I promise, you’ll like him,” she said. “Ready?”
A moment later we stood outside the door of the living room, where Carson Drew sat in his armchair. He had dark hair, like mine, and with his horn-rimmed glasses he looked like a handsome, intelligent college professor more than the criminal lawyer of legend.
“He’s not that much older than I am now,” I whispered.
“He’s been thirty-nine for almost a hundred years,” Nancy said.
“What do I even say?”
“The truth. Say, ‘Hello, it’s very nice to meet you.’?”
“All right. Let’s go.” We started forward, but then I stopped her. “Duke’s waiting outside with Koshka.”
“I’ll fetch them for you.”
Nancy started to leave. “Stop,” I whispered.
She turned back around at the door.
“How did you escape being charmed by Dr. Fanshawe?” I asked.
“Oh, that,” she said, grinning broadly. “You know there are two Nancy Drew series, right? The original blue covers and the reboot with yellow covers?”
“Right…”
“Two timelines means…two Nancies,” she said. “So me and the other Nancy switched places!”
I knew it.
Nancy left to bring Duke inside. While she was gone I hid in the shadows and watched Carson Drew chatting amiably with Pops.
My father. He didn’t know who I was, but that was okay for now.
What mattered was that he was here, immortal in that way all beloved stories are and living people never can be.
His creator was dead. His writer was dead.
Probably every girl who’d read and loved this book the year it had come out was long gone.
But he lived on. The time would come when I could quietly reveal myself to him, but I didn’t need that yet.
I only needed one thing from my father tonight.
The front door opened. Nancy, Duke, and Koshka came quietly into the house.
Duke took my hand.
“I’ll let Dad know you’re here,” Nancy said.
“What will you tell him?” I asked. “About me and Duke?”
“Oh, I’ll tell him the truth, more or less—that you’re Rainy, a new friend who’s like a sister to me. And you,” she said to Duke, “you’re her boyfriend—”
“Fiancé,” Duke said.
“Fine, her fiancé, a famous private detective from Chicago who wants to meet local legend Carson Drew.”
She gave me a wink, then went into the living room. “Dad? We have company.”
“Anyone we know, dear?” Carson asked.
Out in the hallway, Duke leaned in and whispered in my ear, “What am I supposed to do here?”
I nodded toward Carson Drew, then looked up at Duke.
“I want my father to shake hands with the man I love.”
Koshka mrwwp -ed.
“Right. And shake paws with my cat.”