Secret Signs by Shelley Hrdlitschka Page B

with not a cloud in the sky. Henry pulled on his clothes and did his morning chores. When he came into the kitchen carrying the egg basket, his mother had breakfast waiting. He washed his hands and sat down at the table.
    â€œJust in time, dear. Hot porridge—with a little brown sugar I found to sprinkle on top.” His mother set a steaming bowl in front of him.
    It wasn’t porridge weather, but that didn’t stop Henry from gobbling down first one bowl and then another.
    His mother waited while they ate, then looked at him and Anne. “I have somenews,” she began. “Yesterday the doctor stopped by to tell me the results of those fancy tests he did.”
    Henry leaned his elbow on the table and listened, just as his papa would have done if he were here. After all, as the man of the house he should know just how sick his mother was.
    Anne shot Henry an angry glance. “I painted a picture to make you feel better, Mama, but it got wrecked when Henry
pushed
me in the lake yesterday.”
    â€œIt was your own fault,” he snapped back.
    â€œNow, children,” his mother interrupted tiredly. “Anne, I’m sure Henry did what he thought best. He’s the oldest and you should mind him.”
    Henry grinned at his sister.
    His mother continued, “The doctor says I have to go into a special hospital for folks with bad lungs. The hospital’s a long way from here.”
    â€œHow far away, Mama?” Anne asked, her voice small and anxious.
    Their mother’s brow furrowed. “It takes us an hour to drive to Winnipeg, and the hospital is another two hours farther south. I’ll be there for a long time—many months.”
    Henry and Anne stared at her.
    â€œWhat’s going to happen to me?” Henry burst out, then glanced guiltily at his little sister. “I mean, who’s going to take care of
us
?”
    His mother sighed. “I’ve worked it all out. Anne, I’ve made arrangements for you to stay with the Sisters of Mercy in Winnipeg.”
    Anne clapped her hands. “I loved going to the convent school last year. Mother Superior always gave the farm girls an extra slice of orange at lunch. Going to the little school at the crossroads this year hasn’t been nearly as much fun.” She grinned smugly at Henry and then slurped her porridge noisily.
    â€œWe’ll do whatever it takes to help out, won’t we, Anne?” Henry thought he sounded very grown up. With Anne gone,his life would be so much better. His mother turned to him. “I’m glad you see it that way, Henry, because tomorrow you’ll leave to stay with your Uncle Paul in Nova Scotia. He says he can use a strong boy like you on his fishing boat this summer. I’ll send money for your upkeep. Think of the wonderful experience you’ll have being a fisherman.”
    Henry was shocked. His mother was smiling as though she truly believed her solution was a good one. She was going to send him away to work on a horrible, smelly, scary fishing boat! The idea of being on the water every day made his stomach lurch; the porridge rose ominously in his throat.
    It had all started last spring when he’d lied to his teacher and said he had to go to his aunt’s funeral. He and Jimmy Hutchins had gone to the creek, and he’d been showing off, diving in head first, forgetting the water level was very low. He’d hit his head on a rock and nearly drowned. If Jimmy hadn’t dragged himto shore, he’d have been a goner for sure. Ever since that terrifying day, he couldn’t even think of going swimming without feeling sick. The thought of spending every waking minute on a boat was horrifying.
    Henry swallowed, his throat tight. If he hadn’t been playing hooky, he could have told his parents what had happened, and they’d have given him the special treatment a near-drowning victim deserves.
    One thing was certain. He could not work on his