“No,” I said. “Not right at all.”
He looked at me. “He’s in jail now. This may be our only chance.”
“Chance for what?”
“Well, if we were to, say, go somewhere, he couldn’t come after us.”
I felt the earth shift for a minute. Did he mean they were going to leave? I’d just made friends with Willis. And little Beth—how could I not see her anymore? Then I looked at Elliot and thought about not seeing him ever again. If I’d been the crying type, I’d have done it right then and there.
“So you can see the spot we’re in.” He looked at me as if he really needed me to understand.
I cleared the lump from my throat. “Yeah.”
Neither of us spoke. Finally I said, “But won’t he come after you later? I mean, my daddy would track us till the end of time if we up and left.”
Elliot snorted. “He’ll look for a while, mostly because he wouldn’t want anybody to think a woman got the best of him. The truth is, the only thing he’ll really miss is his pickup truck.”
We sat there for a minute. Without looking at me he said, “I don’t want to leave. And if I could change one thing, I’d change the way I turned away from you. We had some good times until then, didn’t we?”
“We did,” I said. “But I don’t blame you.”
His eyes shot toward me in surprise.
“I was wrong about Willis,” I said. “If I could change one thing, it would be the way I treated him.”
He gave a little laugh. “I guess you would. When I wanted you to be nicer to him, I never dreamed you’d be his girl.”
“His what?”
“I just never thought you might start liking him that way.”
For once in my life I thought before opening my mouth. I thought about how I’d worked in the gardens, just so I could be by Elliot’s side. I thought about how I’d quit riding my bike to school and going to Daddy’s gas station just so I could walk home with Elliot. Up till that minute I thought I’d done it because I wanted a big brother. But something snapped in me when he said I was Willis’s girl and, whatever that was, it made me realize how much I wanted to be Elliot’s girl.
I turned to him and said in my calmest voice, “Elliot, you’re an idiot.”
I stood up from the step, dusted my bottom off, and walked toward home.
He called, “Lydia! Wait up!”
He caught up with me. “What did I do?”
“Just showed your stupidity, that’s all.” I kept walking.
He jumped in front of me. “Hold on.”
I stepped around him and he grabbed my arm.
“I’m moving away,” he said. “Can’t you give me one minute?”
That did it. Saying he was leaving made me take a deep breath to ease the heaviness in my chest.
“Tell me what I did wrong. I don’t even know.”
“Let me give you a hint,” I said. “If I liked a boy, I wouldn’t act with him like I act with Willis. If I liked a boy, I’d probably work side by side with him in the hot sun, busting up dirt clods, just to be near him. Or maybe I’d walk home in the rain just so we could share an umbrella.”
Elliot’s eyes widened. “If you liked a boy, would you do something like offer to help him sell popcorn? Or maybe have him take a link out of your bike chain instead of your daddy who has a service garage for that kind of thing?”
“Yep, that’s something I’d probably do.”
He put his hands on his hips and took a deep breath. “Then I’m an idiot.”
“I thought I already said that.”
Neither of us spoke. Finally he said, “I don’t have a job anymore.”
“I know.”
“I’ve always worked, so I never got to take a girl to the Free Show.”
I swallowed hard. “I know that, too.”
He smoothed back his hair, made sure his shirt was tucked in nice, and said, “Lydia Carson, I would be honored if you would go with me to see the Free Show.”
I didn’t say anything. I put my hand in his and we walked toward the grainy black-and-white picture that flickered on the Laundromat wall.
18
I sat in the tree house alone, watching the sun rise bit by bit. He wasn’t coming. I’d been so sure he would. Suddenly his head popped up from the ladder.
I jumped and said, “You scared me to death! I thought you weren’t coming.”
“Why would you think a dumb thing like that?” Willis asked as he threw a sack onto the tree-house floor.
“Because we said sunrise. That was ten minutes ago.”
“Maybe it comes up faster on your side of the fence,” he said, smiling at his little joke.
He flopped down next to me, clearly excited. “Okay, I got everything I was supposed t’bring. How about you?”
“Yes.” I handed him my sack.
He rummaged around, then looked at me. “I don’t see no bandages.”
“Bandages. Shoot! You’re right. I forgot those.”
“No bandages! You can’t be trusted for anything, you know that?”
I could feel my blood boiling, but I tried to keep my tone light. “Well, it’s not like we’re going to cut off an arm or something.”
“You got that right. I’m not cuttin’ anything now! No bandages,” he muttered to himself. “You’re worse than worthless.”
I’d had enough. “Take that back.”
“No.” He looked as if he’d die before taking it back.
“Take it back, Willis, or I swear I’ll call this off right now.”
“Go ahead. Call it off. Who wants to be tied to you for eternity, anyways? I’m finding a new best friend. One I can count on. He won’t forget the bandages!”
He climbed over the side of the tree house, leaving me there alone. I sat still. I heard something rustle.
“Willis?”
“What?”
“You coming back up?”
“Yeah, beanbrain. Don’t know why, though.”
He came back up the ladder and opened his bag. He took out an old metal lunch bucket he’d found at the junkyard.
“Won’t that leak?”
“Might. I found a plastic tablecloth to wrap it in. I didn’t forget anything.”
“You’re so funny,” I said and handed him the scissors. “Don’t cut off too much.”
“Ah, tell your mom you got bubble gum in your hair. You got no imagination, you know that?”
I wasn’t worried what my mother would think. I didn’t want Elliot to see me with a big chunk of hair gone. All of a sudden, things like that mattered. But I just said, “You’re right. That’s what I’ll tell my mom. About the bubble gum.”
I felt the cold metal of the scissors against my head. One snip was all he took and I was relieved to see only a couple of dark curls in the lunchbox.
He handed me the scissors and sat down in front of me.
I ran my hand over his head. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to cut. Your hair’s so short your head is smooth as a potato. It’s lumpy as one, too.”
“That’s all those brains of mine. Not enough room in one head for all my brains.”
I laughed at that. He laughed, too. I sprinkled short pieces of his red hair on top of my darker strands. He pulled a pocketknife out of his back pocket and held it out to me. This was the part I dreaded.
“You go ahead,” I said.
“Fine,” he said. “I ain’t no baby.”
I couldn’t stand to look. When I turned back, he had a trickle of blood coming out of his finger. He held it over the lunchbox.
“I don’t think you’re getting the drops on the hair,” I said.
“Yes I am! Who thought this up, anyhow? You don’t think I know how to make us blood brothers when it was my idea?”
I’d been letting the “brothers” part of this go. Willis came up with this as a way to say goodbye, and I was trying to do everything he wanted.
“Does it hurt?” I asked.
“Nah, no more than a sweat bee’s sting.”
I took a deep breath, bit my lip, and ran the knife edge over my finger. At first I didn’t feel anything. Then a sharp pain shot up my finger.
“Sweat bee’s sting my butt!” I said as I held my finger over the rusty lunch box, letting the blood drop onto our hair.
“Well, it might hurt a pansy like you.”
“You’re a riot this morning, Willis.”
“Don’t get your shorts in a knot. Take off your sock and wrap your finger in it till the bleeding stops.”
“I’d never get the blood out,” I muttered.
“It won’t matter. Just throw the sock away.”
“Good idea,” I said.
“Who’s gonna take care of you when you don’t have me, Lydia?”
I peered into his face. He looked so serious. “I’ll get by, Willis. I’ll be okay.” We’ll both be okay.
He looked away quickly. “It’s all done except for our most prized possessions. I’m putting in Zorro’s collar.”
Seeing it reminded me of the first time I saw that piece of rope—the day I met Willis. It was a good choice for the box.
I reached into my pocket and took out Robert’s photo. I looked at his face for the last time, running my finger across the ragged part where Nanna had torn away his daddy. That picture had caused a lot of pain in our family, but it had also brought about healing. It was a good choice, too.
As I lay the picture inside the box, Willis said, “Lydia! You can’t put your brother’s picture in there! It’s all you have of him.”
“No, it’s not.” And I knew that to be true. “I have his hair. I have his eyes. And I have his mother. I don’t need his picture anymore to know who he is.” Or who I am.
I looked at Willis’s worried face. “I’m gonna miss you, Willis.”
“I know that.”
We heard Elliot, down in our yard, clear his throat. “Willis? It’s time to go.”
Willis looked at me as if it had just hit him that this was really goodbye. He grabbed the lunchbox, quickly wrapped it in the tablecloth, and shoved it into my hands.
“You’ll bury this right beneath this tree, right?”
“Right. And we’ll meet here and dig it up ten years from today.”
“Even if someone else is living here by then. And we’ll never tell anyone.”
“Blood brothers never tell,” I said.
He climbed down first and ran to the front yard. I’d bury the lunchbox later. Elliot waited for me at the bottom of the tree.
He held out his hand. I slid mine into his. He gave me his sweet smile and my heart did a flip. It figured that we’d start liking each other as soon as he was leaving.
“I can’t tell you where we’re going,” he said. “We can’t take a chance on Pa finding us.”
“I know.”
“But later, after we get settled and Pa leaves here,” he said, “I was thinking I might write you.”
If I thought my heart flipped before, it was doing regular somersaults now.
“And I might write you back,” I said.
He squeezed my hand and we walked that way, real slow, until we came around to the front of the house. Then we let go.
Mrs. Merrill was waiting behind the steering wheel of their truck with Beth tucked in beside her. Clothes were packed all around the little girl. Daddy was checking the ropes on the back of the truck, and Mother was talking to Mrs. Merrill. Elliot climbed over the furniture in the bed of the truck and sat down beside Willis and Zorro.
When Willis and I had asked for Zorro back yesterday, Mrs. Green had played it up just right. She said she had gotten attached to Zorro and wished he was hers to keep. She made me promise, in front of Willis, that I’d check out one library book every week in return for her giving him back.
Mrs. Merrill sat quietly, looking at their house.
Mother touched her hand. “This is for the best.”
“When Boyd gets out of jail, you won’t tell him where we’ve gone, will you?”
“Carolyn, please, we’ve been over this a hundred times,” Mother said. “We’ll tell him we have no idea where you’ve gone. It won’t be hard to do, since you’ve never told us where you’re going. It will be fine. Please don’t worry.”
But I knew I was the one Mrs. Merrill was worried about. I knew where she was going. That note Nanna had sent her had included a check made out to Mrs. Merrill for $250. Nanna told one of her white lies and wrote that she had won the money. She said there wasn’t a thing in the world she needed but a good beautician. Nanna wanted Mrs. Merrill to go to beauty school in Louisville with that money.
I picked up the box that I’d packed last night for Beth. It had every doll dress I owned. As I passed it to Daddy to secure, I reached inside and pulled out my Ginny doll.
“Hey, Beth,” I said. “I thought Betsy might be a little lonely at first in her new home. I thought she should take Ginny to keep her company.”
Beth blinked her eyes a couple of times and looked real fast to her mama. Mrs. Merrill nodded. Beth turned back to me, then fought through the padding of clothes surrounding her until she got on her knees. She reached through the window and wrapped her arms around me. She whispered into my neck, “But won’t you be lonely?”
I squeezed her tight. “Not for the dolls. Just for you.”
There was one last flurry of goodbyes as Mrs. Merrill started the motor. Nanna would be so proud. She pulled that truck out onto the road just as smooth as a bird gliding across the open sky.
I waved until Elliot and Willis turned into a small dot and then vanished.
Mother put her arm around me. “Feeling sad?”
“Yes, ma’am.” It was nice to lean on her after the weight of all those goodbyes.
Daddy put his arm around her and quietly said, “It’s time to go.”
She took a deep breath. “Yes. I’m ready.”
We were having a memorial service for Robert. Daddy had had a small marker placed at the cemetery as a remembrance. Mother was finally getting to say goodbye.
She said, “I hope God doesn’t faint when I show up in church.”
“I think he can take it.” Daddy winked at her.
She stooped to pick up a pot of yellow daylilies. She wanted to plant them by Robert’s marker.
It was nice that she would have a place to remember Robert. We climbed into the car and it suddenly dawned on me that I wouldn’t know which marker was his. “Mother? No one’s ever told me Robert’s last name!”
“It’s Emerson,” she said. “Robert Emerson. No middle name.”
My head jerked up at that and I’m sure I stopped breathing.
“I couldn’t think of a middle name I liked. Then someone I loved and respected said to me, ‘When that baby is born, look into his eyes. If he looks like he has character, he won’t need a string of names to tell the world who he is.’
“When I looked into Robert’s eyes, I just knew he would be someone the world would have to reckon with.” She turned to me and said, “I felt the same thing when I looked into yours.”
Tears rolled down my face. I wondered why I had ever hated crying. I’d never felt so good in all my life.
“Who—” My voice broke and I tried again. “Who was the person you loved and respected? The person who helped you decide not to give us middle names?”
“It was Nanna.”
“But you and Nanna fought all the time!”
“I know, honey.” She sighed. “Relationships can be so muddled and confusing. You’ll see what I mean when you’re older.”
Daddy pulled the car onto the road and I rolled down my window. As the sun shone on my smiling face, I thought, I don’t need to wait at all to know that.
Author’s Note
As I wrote this story, I wanted Willis to have an unusual pet. Since Willis is a little untame himself, I thought a raccoon would make a great one. But wild animals really don’t make good pets.
&n
bsp; Raccoons are intelligent creatures, and very curious. They are great at climbing, swimming, and running. While they aren’t normally aggressive, if cornered they can fight fiercely enough to kill a dog. Raccoons often carry diseases that can be harmful to humans, especially to children.
Most states have regulations concerning ownership of raccoons and other wild animals. In my state of Indiana, a permit from the Division of Fish and Wildlife is required to keep a pet raccoon, which needs special housing.
If you ever come across an abandoned raccoon, leave it undisturbed and contact a licensed rehabilitator, who will care for it, teach it how to survive, and then release it. Your state’s fish and wildlife agency can direct you to a licensed rehabilitator.
Acknowledgments
In writing this book, I was fortunate to have the help of a terrific writer’s group. Thank you, John J. Bonk, Lisa Williams Kline, Lee P. Sauer, and Manya Tessler. Thanks, too, to Laura Backes for her wonderful suggestions.
I was especially lucky to catch the interest of my discerning agent, Steven Chudney, who did a superb job of matching me with my editor, Beverly Reingold. I am truly thankful to both of them. I’d also like to thank Lisa Greenwald, editorial assistant, the second person at Farrar, Straus and Giroux to care about my little story, and Beata Szpura, for the terrific jacket art.
In researching the Linotype machine mentioned in the story, I spent a most enjoyable afternoon with Mr. Cecil Krebs, editor-publisher of The Boswell Enterprise (Indiana). I’m so glad I got to see his “working museum.” Thank you, Mr. Krebs.
Kathy Jones, Carla Lincicum, Linda Keller, Jane Woodworth, Richard Lincicum, and Jerry Keller provided input in recreating this era and/or gave enthusiastic support during the writing of this story, and I appreciate their help so much.
Last, but never least, special thanks to my family—Mark, Cam, and Catie—for their love and encouragement, and for putting up with me all those months in which I walked around with my head stuck in 1962 in a small Indiana town.
When Ratboy Lived Next Door Page 15
