Penny from Heaven

by Jennifer L. Holm

  No one says anything else the rest of the ride.

  It’s late when I get home. Pop-pop is in the parlor listening to static on the radio. I go in and sit down next to him.

  “Me-me in bed?” I ask.

  “Went up at eight-thirty. I don’t know how that woman sleeps as much as she does. She’s sleeping her life away, that’s what she’s doing. How was the funeral?”

  “A real crowd,” I say.

  “Good food?”

  I nod. It was.

  “Mickey didn’t have a great big funeral. Took too long for his body to get home. We did it real quiet-like. I drank a bottle of whiskey by myself. Mickey loved his whiskey.” Pop-pop squints at me. “You know, you got Mickey’s ears.”

  “His ears, huh?”

  “He had real nice ears. Didn’t stick out.”

  “How ’bout that,” I say, and lean against Pop-pop. “Thanks for the ears, Cousin Mickey.”

  The static blares out of the radio, and we listen.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Better than Angels

  The morning of my birthday is like any other. You would think me turning twelve would at least cause an earthquake, but all that happens is Scarlett O’Hara comes in and tinkles on my rug.

  “Happy birthday,” Me-me trills when I go into the kitchen. “I’ve made you banana pancakes.”

  “Thanks,” I say as she sets a huge plate in front of me. Unfortunately, the bananas she used weren’t ripe and are hard little lumps in the pancakes.

  “How are they?” she asks, beaming.

  “Real good,” I say through a mouthful of sour pancake.

  When she turns her back, I give the rest of the pancake on my plate to Scarlett O’Hara.

  My mother comes into the kitchen and says, “Happy birthday, Bunny!”

  She pulls a small box out from behind her back and hands it to me.

  “Thanks,” I say. “Can I open it now?”

  “Of course,” she says.

  When I unwrap it, I see that it’s a jewelry box. I look up at my mother, who’s smiling at me. I remember her story about how she got a pearl necklace on her twelfth birthday.

  “Go on,” she urges me.

  I carefully open the lid. Set on a bed of velvet is a ruby necklace. I recognize the ruby at once.

  “It’s from my engagement ring,” my mother says. “I had it made into a necklace for you.”

  I don’t know what to say.

  “Do you like it?” she asks eagerly.

  “Sure,” I say.

  “Here,” she says. “Let’s put it on you.”

  I stand still as she clasps the slender gold chain around my neck. We go to the hall and I look in the mirror, my mother standing behind me, hands on my shoulders.

  “You look lovely,” she says. “Just lovely.”

  But all I can think is that she just gave my father away.

  After breakfast Frankie picks me up, and we bicycle over to the store. Uncle Ralphie’s the only one there and it’s quiet for once.

  “Where’s Aunt Fulvia?” Frankie asks.

  “Took the baby to her mother’s,” Uncle Ralphie says, and turns to me, handing me a wrapped package. “Here you go, Princess. Happy birthday!”

  It’s a pecan log roll, same as every year. He gets one special for me from a friend down south.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “You’re welcome,” he says, and gives me a big hug.

  “Where’s my candy?” Frankie asks.

  “You? All you’re gonna get is a smack on the head at this rate,” Uncle Ralphie says.

  “I was just asking,” Frankie says.

  Uncle Ralphie hands us a bag of groceries. “Take this over to your grandmother’s first. She wants to make one of her soups. When you get back, I’ll have you stack a couple of boxes that came in this morning.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  As we bicycle over, I ask Frankie, “What’d you get me for my birthday?”

  “Like I’m gonna get you anything,” he says.

  “Aw, come on,” I say. “What did you get me?”

  He pulls over and parks the bicycle. He tugs at something in his back pocket and pulls out a worn brown paper bag.

  “Happy birthday,” he says.

  It’s a crime comic, Crime Mysteries.

  “Neat,” I say. “Thanks.”

  “It’s a good one,” he says.

  “You read it?”

  “What?” he says. “It ain’t gonna hurt it.”

  When we get to Nonny’s house, it looks like nobody’s home. Uncle Dominic’s car is empty, and there are no cars in the driveway.

  “Where is everybody?” I ask.

  “Uncle Paulie and Aunt Gina went to Atlantic City again,” he says. “I don’t know where Uncle Dom is. You know him.”

  “I guess,” I say. I have to admit, I’m a little disappointed. I kind of expected the family to do something special for my birthday.

  We go around to the kitchen door and I open it.

  “Surprise!”

  Everyone’s there—Nonny, Uncle Dominic, Uncle Nunzio, Aunt Rosa, Uncle Paulie, Aunt Gina, Uncle Angelo, Aunt Teresa, Aunt Fulvia, Uncle Sally, and all the rest of them!

  Frankie slaps my shoulder, laughing. “Got you!”

  Uncle Ralphie walks in the door, still wearing his apron. “Fooled you good, huh?”

  “Yeah,” I say, and give him a big hug. “You fooled me, all right. Who’s at the store?”

  He waves his hand at me. “Closed.”

  “You’re only gonna be twelve once,” Uncle Sally says.

  Uncle Paulie pats Frankie on the head. “It was your no-good cousin’s idea to have everyone park down the street to throw you off the scent. A regular criminal mastermind, our Frankie.”

  “I’m good!” Frankie protests.

  “Yeah, good at sneaking around.” Uncle Paulie lowers his voice. “I better not catch you digging in the yard, you got me?”

  “Who said anything about digging?” Frankie says, all innocence.

  “It’s time for the birthday girl to blow out her candles,” Aunt Gina declares, carrying in a cake.

  The cake is huge. It’s got pecan icing, and in white piping it says “Happy Birthday, Princess!”

  “It’s a rum cake,” Uncle Nunzio says with a wink. “You’re a big girl now.”

  Uncle Dominic whistles, and Queenie V trots over. He starts singing “Happy Birthday to You” and Queenie V gets all excited and starts running in circles, her head in the air, yipping and howling along with Uncle Dominic so that it sounds like she’s the one singing! When the dog’s finished, everyone claps and shouts, “Encore!” and she does it again. Uncle Dominic kneels down and gives her a biscuit.

  “Gosh, that was something else,” I say, laughing. “Was that what you’ve been trying to teach her all this time?”

  Uncle Dominic nods. “I tried to teach her ‘Pennies from Heaven,’ but she couldn’t get the hang of it.”

  I lean over to blow out the candles.

  “Make a wish,” Uncle Dominic tells me.

  But I don’t know what to wish for. I have everything I want.

  After we eat the cake, we go into the dining room, where a huge lunch has been laid out. All my favorites: potato croquettes, rice balls, cold stuffed peppers, eggplant, lasagna, and pastiera—the whole works.

  “Your grandmother’s been cooking for days,” Uncle Paulie says.

  “Tesoro mio,” Nonny says. “Ti voglio bene.”

  I know these words.

  “I love you, too, Nonny,” I say back.

  Pretty soon everyone’s eating. I’m allowed a thimbleful of Chianti, and between that and the rum cake, I’m feeling giddy.

  Frankie whispers into my ear, “I think Uncle Paulie’s onto us. About the backyard and all.”

  They pass presents down the long length of the table. Uncle Nunzio and Aunt Rosa give me a fancy satin skirt, and Uncle Angelo and Aunt Teresa give me a brush and comb
set, and Aunt Gina and Uncle Paulie give me a pair of black patent Mary Janes.

  “Dancing shoes,” Aunt Gina says, grinning.

  Nonny gives me a lace collar she’s made, and Uncle Sally gives me five dollars.

  “Buy something you want, sweetheart,” he says.

  After all this, Uncle Nunzio wheels in a brand-new shiny bicycle with a big red bow. Frankie gives a low whistle.

  “We heard your old bicycle had an accident,” Uncle Nunzio says.

  “Gosh,” I say, stunned. “That’s a swell bicycle.”

  Baby Enrico toddles over to the bicycle and waves at it and says, “Carry you! Carry you!”

  Uncle Nunzio lifts him up on the seat, and Enrico gives a big grin and everyone laughs.

  “Better watch that kid,” Frankie says under his breath.

  “There’s one more present,” someone says, and I look up to see Uncle Dominic standing in the doorway. Naturally, he hasn’t joined us for lunch.

  “There’s more?” I ask.

  He passes a small envelope down the table. I’m thinking maybe it’s money, but when I look inside, I can’t believe what I’m seeing.

  “What is it, doll?” Aunt Gina asks.

  “Tickets,” I say slowly, looking up to meet Uncle Dominic’s eyes, “to the Dodgers game tonight!”

  “You’re going to the game?” Frankie bursts out.

  I look at Uncle Dominic.

  “An old pal of mine at the ball club got ’em for me,” he explains.

  “Hey, what about me?” Frankie asks. “Did you get me a ticket?”

  “This is the Princess’s day,” Uncle Nunzio tells him.

  Frankie glowers. “Yeah, well, I better get tickets on my birthday, that’s all I’m saying.”

  “I got you a ticket too, Frankie,” Uncle Dominic says, shaking his head.

  Frankie’s face brightens. “You hear that, Penny? We’re going to the game!”

  Uncle Dominic looks at me and says, “Whaddya say, Princess?”

  Uncle Dominic and Frankie wait in the car while I run into the house.

  Mother’s standing on a ladder in the middle of the parlor with a garland of crepe paper. There are balloons everywhere, and the dining room table has presents on it.

  “Daddy,” she’s saying, “lift the paper higher.”

  “What?” Pop-pop asks. “What?”

  My mother sees me standing in the doorway and freezes. “Bunny, what are you doing home so early?”

  “Um, is this for me?”

  “Of course,” she says with a smile. “Although it was supposed to be a surprise.”

  “I’m surprised,” I tell her.

  She climbs down off the ladder. “Maybe you should go out and come back in a few hours. Act surprised.”

  “Look,” I say, waving the Dodgers tickets. “Tickets to the Dodgers game tonight. Uncle Dominic got ’em for me.”

  She goes still. “Did he?”

  Outside, Frankie leans on the horn.

  “Me-me made a special dinner,” my mother says. “And a cake, too.”

  “Please,” I say. “Please.”

  My mother glances at Uncle Dominic’s car idling at the curb. Some emotion flits across her face, and she closes her eyes briefly. When she opens them, she seems resigned.

  “Very well,” she says. “You can go.”

  I fling myself at her and give her a big hug.

  “Thank you!” I say. “This is the best present ever!”

  She smiles a little sadly. “We’ll eat your cake for breakfast.”

  “For breakfast,” I promise.

  Even though I’ve lived not far from New York City my whole life, I’ve never actually been. Mother’s always said that the city isn’t safe, which must mean it’s pretty exciting.

  Uncle Dominic drives us through the city so we can see the sights. It’s incredible! The buildings are so tall that I have to crane my neck to see the tops of them. We drive by Radio City Music Hall and Grand Central Station and the Empire State Building and finally downtown over the bridge into Brooklyn.

  The Dodgers are playing at their home ballpark, Ebbets Field. It takes a while, but we finally find a parking spot and follow the crowd. Everybody’s talking and cheering. There’s such a feeling of excitement in the air, like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It seems like the whole city is going to the game.

  A couple of boys are talking to a policeman at the gate.

  “You gotta let us in,” one of the boys is saying. “Look, our buddy here got crippled by polio. He ain’t got nothing to look forward to but baseball.”

  “Yeah,” the crippled boy says, waving a crutch. “I ain’t got nothing but Dem Bums now.”

  The policeman studies the crippled boy and shakes his head and says, “Aw, go on in. You’re breaking my heart.”

  The kids grin at each other and slide through the gate.

  “I’m gonna have to try that sometime,” Frankie says, impressed. “Just need to find a crippled kid.”

  We go into the rotunda. I’ve heard a lot about this rotunda. It’s one thing to hear it described but another to see it with your own eyes. The rotunda is marble decorated with baseball stitching. There are gilded ticket windows, and the lights are shaped like baseballs held up by baseball bats.

  “It’s beautiful,” I say.

  “Wait until you see this,” Uncle Dominic says, and I follow him through a gate.

  My eyes go wide in shock as I get my first look at Ebbets Field. The diamond is a brilliant green, and there are signs all along the walls by the scoreboard.

  Frankie’s looking at a sign. “What’s that mean? ‘Hit Sign, Win Suit.’”

  “That’s Abe Stark, kid,” a fella next to us says. “Any ballplayer who hits that sign gets a free suit. Abe Stark’s got a shop on Pitkin Avenue.”

  “Bet I could hit that sign,” Frankie says, sizing it up.

  “See that?” Uncle Dominic says, pointing at a big sign for Schaefer beer on top of the right-center-field scoreboard. “The H will light up for a hit and the E for an error,” he says.

  I’m expecting we’ll be sitting way up high, which is where it seems like most of the people are going, but Uncle Dominic just heads straight to the front row along the first-base line, right above the dugout for the Dodgers. We’re so close to the field, we can almost reach out and touch the ballplayers.

  Then Uncle Dominic slides down the row and sits down.

  “We’re sitting here?” I ask, astonished.

  Uncle Dominic nods.

  Frankie leans over the front rail. “Hey! That’s Jackie Robinson! He’s right there! Hey, Jackie!” he hollers.

  They’re all there—Pee Wee Reese and Duke Snider and Gil Hodges and Roy Campanella!

  The organist, Gladys Gooding, bangs out “Follow the Dodgers” and the game gets under way. It feels more like a carnival than a ball game. There’s so much to look at and hear. Men hawking hot dogs and cold beer chant, “Getcha cold one now, heah dey are, cold as da Nawt Pole.” The Brooklyn Dodgers Sym-phony Band plays “Three Blind Mice” when the umpires come out, and a funny woman sitting in the bleachers named Hilda Chester rings her cowbell and shouts, “Eatcha heart out, ya bum!”

  We sit in the best seats in the house, and I don’t even have to look up at the sky to know that this is better than anything the angels can offer.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  All for the Best

  A few days later I wake up and there’s a bad smell in the air.

  At first I think the toilet is leaking, but then I look down and see Scarlett O’Hara lying on the rug next to my bed right in her own mess.

  She blinks up at me and whines.

  “Scarlett O’Hara,” I say. “Not again.”

  I step over her and go to the bathroom for a towel. When I get back, she’s still lying there.

  “Scarlett, come here,” I say, kneeling down next to her.

  She scrabbles with her front paws, but something’s wrong, becaus
e she can’t move her back legs and she looks kind of confused. That’s when I notice her tail isn’t moving either. I pick her up gently and wipe her off and then wrap her in the towel and carry her into the kitchen.

  Me-me’s sitting at the table, sipping coffee.

  “Good morning,” she says, and then sees the tears streaming down my cheeks. “What’s the matter?”

  “I think Scarlett O’Hara’s hurt,” I say. “She can’t move her back legs.”

  “Oh, Penny,” she says.

  I go into the parlor and call the store. Uncle Ralphie picks up on the other end.

  “Uncle Ralphie,” I say, “I can’t come to work. I gotta take Scarlett O’Hara to the veterinarian. She’s sick.”

  “Sorry to hear that, sweetheart,” he says, but there’s a rushed sound to his voice. “Say, you seen Frankie lately?”

  “No,” I say.

  “If you see him, you tell him to give me a call, all right?”

  “Is something wrong?” I ask.

  “Nothing for you to worry about, sweetheart,” he says. “You just take care of your dog.”

  “Okay,” I say, hanging up the phone.

  When we get back from the veterinarian, Me-me goes down to the basement and finds my old cloth diapers from back when I was a baby.

  “Use these,” she tells me.

  Scarlett O’Hara’s real good when I put the diaper on her.

  “Dog ain’t well?” Pop-pop asks gruffly.

  I don’t bother to put up a brave front. “Dr. Brogan says she’s real sick. He says to just make her comfortable.”

  Pop-pop looks thoughtful. “Best thing for her.”

  I take her dog bed out to the summer porch and place her in it so that she has a nice view of the yard. I sit next to her, brushing her fur. She whines softly at the squirrels running around in her backyard. I’m tempted to go out and chase them away myself, seeing as she can’t do it.

  “Feeling better, Scarlett?” I ask, patting her fur.

  I see a flurry of movement in the bushes out back.

  “Pssst!” the bushes say. “Penny!”

  At first I think maybe I’m losing my marbles, but then I see a hand wave at me from behind the biggest bush. I walk out into the yard, and when I reach the bush, the hand grabs me and pulls me behind it.