Nothing Ventured Nothing Gained

by Roseanne Dowell

  “I’m sorry, honey pot. I thought it’d explain why the car was all over the road. I didn’t want you to think it was me.”

  “No matter. We’re home now.”

  “How about I make us a nice bowl of soup?” Ed hung his jacket on the hook, took off his shoes, and slipped on his moccasins.

  “Sounds good. Maybe it’ll help my voice. Can’t for the life of me figure out what happened. I don’t have a sore throat or feel like I’m catching cold. It’s the strangest thing.”

  “How about a cup of hot tea?” Ed filled the teapot and set it on the stove.

  “That and a bowl of soup sounds heavenly. I’m going up to change.” She kissed Ed’s cheek. “It’s good to be home.”

  Bea decided to take a shower, changed into her robe, and grabbed a towel from the linen closet. Darn Ed, when would that man learn to fold towels? How could he mess them up that way taking one out anyway? She took her clothes into the laundry room and picked up a pocket knife off the dryer. Wasn’t like Ed to leave his things lying around. “Ed, is this your pocket knife?” She carried it out to the kitchen.

  Ed took it from her, looked at it, and handed it back. “No, where’d you get it?”

  “It was on the dryer. You sure it’s not yours?”

  Ed reached in his pocket, pulled out his pocket knife, and showed it to her. “Satisfied?”

  “You don’t have to get testy.”

  “You act like I’m lying to you.”

  “Well, if it’s not yours, whose is it?”

  “How should I know? I didn’t put it on the dryer.”

  Bea clenched her hand around the knife. Suddenly it hit her. Ed couldn’t have messed up the towels, she’d folded them and put them away just before they left. “Someone was in here.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  Bea told him about the towels and looked around for other signs. “Where’s my cake dish?”

  Ed shrugged. “How should I know?”

  “It was on the counter.” She opened the refrigerator and freezer. “Lunchmeat and hotdogs are gone, too.” She checked the cupboards. “Cookies are gone. Time to call Callie. Again.”

  “Go take your shower, have some soup, and I’ll call her. Here’s your tea.”

  “Okay.” Bea sipped the tea and set it on the counter. “Is that dog hair?” She bent down and scooped up a tuft of fur. What’ the heck? Ed, look at this. Someone’s been in here with an animal.”

  “Go take your shower. Callie will figure it out.”

  “It won’t take me long.” Bea set her tea on the counter.

  Less than five minutes later, Bea put on her flannel pajamas and joined Ed in the kitchen.

  “Just in time. Soup’s ready.” Ed set a bowl on the table. “Callie’s on her way. It’ll probably be a while with the road conditions. Looks like it finally stopped snowing or at least slowed down. Now if it’d just stop blowing, the roads might stay cleared.”

  “Glad it stopped. That sure was a scary ride home. Hey, my voice is back.” You’d never know she couldn’t speak above a whisper not ten minutes before. Oddest thing she’d ever experienced.

  Ed finished his soup. “I’m going to jump in the shower. I should be done by time Callie gets here.” He put the bowls into the dishwasher.

  Bea finished cleaning off the table and before you knew it, Ed finished his shower, and Callie was at the door. She opened the door and Bixby dashed out. “Bixby, come back.”

  “Sorry about that.” Callie knocked the snow off her boots. “Not fit for man nor beast out there. Want me to go get him?”

  “No, I’ll go.” Bea grabbed her jacket, slipped into her boots, and opened the door.

  “Bea, no, I’ll go.” Ed called.

  Bea tromped through the snow following Bixby’s footprints. “Bixby, here boy.” Nothing, no sign of him.

  “Bixby, hey boy!” Ed’s voice echoed through the woods behind the house. “Bea, where are you?”

  “I’m looking for Bixby. I told you I’d get him. Go on back home. You’ll catch your death with that wet head.” Bea lost her footing, slid, and fell flat on her back into the snow. “Ouch. Ed, I think I sprained my ankle.”

  “I’m coming. Hold on.”

  No sooner were the words out of his mouth, he tripped, and landed on top of her. “I’m sorry, Bea, are you okay?” He rolled off and looked at her.

  Bea lay on her back, laughing.

  “Well I’m glad you think it’s funny.”

  “Of course, it is. Look at us.” Bea sat up and threw a handful of snow at Ed.

  “I thought you sprained your ankle.”

  “I just twisted it a bit. I’ll be fine. Help me up.”

  Ed stood, grabbed Bea’s hand, and slid down on top of her again. “A little cooperation might help.” He stood and reached his hand out to her. She grabbed it, managed to get to her knees, slid and fell, pulling Ed down with her. “I give up. You’re on your own.”

  Bea got to her knees again. No way was she going to be able to stand on her own. “Come on, Ed, you have to help me.”

  “Are you going to get up this time?”

  “I’m really trying. I can’t help it if it’s slippery.”

  Ed planted his feet, grabbed her hand and this time she got up. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Bea shifted from one foot to the other. “It’s sore, but I’m fine. Come on, let’s find Bixby. Where’s Callie?”

  “I told her to come back later.”

  Barking dogs sounded in the distance. “Sounds like more than one dog. Bixby!” Bea called. Suddenly two dogs ran up to them, Bixby, and a medium sized mixed breed.

  “Well, who’s this?” Ed reached down to pet the dog while Bea grabbed Bixby’s collar and picked him up. The other dog ran off, barking, came back to them, barked, and ran off again, stopping a short distance away.

  “Looks like he wants us to follow him,” Bea said. “Come on, let’s see where he leads us. Maybe someone’s in trouble.”

  “Be careful, Bea, it’s hard to tell who’s out here.” Ed grabbed Bea’s hand.

  The dog stopped in front of the shed, barked, ran back to them, back to the shed, and barked again. The door to the shed opened. “Champ, get in here.”

  Champ ran back to Bea and Ed. “Champ, come!” Mark pushed the door open farther and stuck his head out. “Uh oh.” He backed up and slammed the door.

  “That was just a kid.” Ed took hold of Bea’s arm. “Looks like we found our food bandit.” Champ and Bixby followed as they approached the shed. Ed pulled the door open. “Wait, let me go first just in case.”

  “Just in case what?” Bea followed him in and looked around. A sleeping bag spread on the floor among the workbench and tools. Two boys stood in the corner, looking scared. Dark hair fell across the forehead of the short, stocky older boy, couldn’t be more than sixteen or seventeen. The younger boy, skinny and slightly taller than the older one, held tight to the blanket draped around his shoulders like a shawl. Red shoulder length hair, in dire need of a haircut, topped a freckled face. The boys, as different as apples and oranges, stared at them.

  “What are you doing in here?” Ed broke the ice. Champ sat at the feet of the older boy.

  “We…we didn’t have no place else to go,” the older boy said.

  “I see. Let’s start with your names.”

  “I’m Stanley Wallace, and this here’s my brother, Mark.”

  Bea never would have pegged them for brothers. “Well, Stanley, rather than carry on this conversation out here in the cold, how about we go in the house?” No point standing out here freezing when they had a nice warm house waiting for them. Besides, she needed to change into dry clothes.

  Back at the house, Bea stomped her feet on the porch to get rid of the excess snow and opened the door. “Take off your shoes.” She kicked off her boots and slid her feet into her slippers. Champ and Bixby followed her inside and took up residence next to the fireplace. “I’m going to change out
of these wet clothes.”

  Once everyone was settled inside, Ed took over the interrogation, if you want to call it that. Bea wasn’t so sure why he was being so gentle. After all, they were thieves. But that was Ed.

  “So where are you from?”

  “Centerville.”

  “That’s a far piece away. What are you doing way out here?”

  Stanley hung his head. “We ran away.”

  “What about your parents? They must be worried sick.” Bea got right to the point, no fiddling around.

  “Our parents are dead, ma’am. They died in a car accident last year.”

  “I’m sorry.” Bea’s heart melted a little. “Who took care of you?”

  “Our gram did, but she passed on, too, had a heart attack six months ago, so then we had to live with Uncle Otto.”

  “What’s wrong with Uncle Otto?”

  “He don’t want us. We’re just in the way. Besides, he travels a lot”

  “Uh huh.” Bea tapped her lip with her right index finger, and walked around the living room.

  No doubt in Ed’s mind, a plan was in the making. “What about his wife?”

  “Uncle Otto’s not married. It was just him and us. His place ain’t big enough for all of us, either.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Sure am,” the younger boy, Mark, piped up.

  “Mind your manners,” Stanley shushed him.

  That’s all it took, Bea high-tailed it to the kitchen. Typical Bea, feed someone and they’ll feel better. Food fixed everything.

  “Your uncle must be worried sick.” Ed took over the questioning. These boys didn’t look like the typical run-aways. Not the rebellious type.

  “I don’t think so, sir,” Stanley answered. “Ya see he really didn’t want us. We’re intruding on his life. He says he don’t know nothing about raising teenagers. Him being only 30 and all.”

  “We’ll have to call him, you know.”

  “Yes sir.” Stanley hung his head again.

  “Let’s eat first, then we’ll talk about this some more.” Ed headed to the kitchen. Whatever Bea found to cook sure smelled good. That woman could make sardines on crackers taste good and that was going some, because he hated sardines.

  After an excellent lasagna dinner, Ed got down to business. “How long you boys been gone?”

  “A week, sir.”

  “How’d you get here?”

  “Partly by bus, partly we walked.”

  “Walked?”

  “Yes, sir. I was afraid to take the bus after the first day. I figured people might be looking for us, sir.”

  Ed liked the way the boy called him sir. Definitely not your typical run-aways. “By now I’m sure Uncle Otto is worried. Time to call him.” He took out his phone. “You want to talk to him or do you want me to?”

  “You can, please.”

  Uncle Otto must be something, scared as the kid was to talk to him. “What’s the number? And what’s your uncle’s last name?”

  “Hagan.” Stanley gave him the number and Ed punched it in. Uncle Otto answered on the first ring.

  “Mr. Hagan, this is Ed Eberhardt over in Littleton. Seems your nephews wandered onto our property.”

  “Stanley and Mark? You have them? They’re safe?”

  “Yes, sir, safe and sound.”

  “Oh, thank God. I’ve been half out of my mind. If anything happened to those boys I don’t know what I’d do. They’re all I have left.”

  “Well, no need to worry anymore.” The relief in Uncle Otto’s voice surprised Ed after the way the boys reacted. Either they were pulling the wool over his eyes or Uncle Otto was. Still they all sounded sincere.

  “Can I talk to them?”

  Ed handed the phone to Stanley and left the room. Everyone needed a bit of privacy. It wasn’t any of his business what they said to each other. Bea, on the other hand, disagreed and walked right in there and sat down, listening to the whole conversation. Ed gave in and followed, she’d only tell him about it later and Bea loved to embellish. May as well hear it for himself. Not that there was much to hear.

  “Yes sir.” Stanley stood still as a statue, no emotion on his face. Whatever Uncle Otto said to him didn’t register fear, relief, or any reaction at all.

  Mark took the phone next and broke down crying. “Thank you, sir.”

  Mighty strange conversation in Ed’s mind. Mark handed Ed the phone.

  “I have a bit of a problem,” Otto said. “I’m out of town until tomorrow. Is it possible to keep the boys until then?”

  “No problem at all. What about the authorities? I assume you reported the boys missing.”

  “Yes, I did. I’ll contact the sheriff and let him know the boys are safe. Can I have your name again?”

  Ed repeated the conversation to Bea after he hung up. “Now we’re going to have a conversation about all the food you boys stole.” He motioned the boys to sit on the couch.

  “An awful lot of food’s gone missing around here.”

  “Yes…yes sir.” Stanley wouldn’t look Ed in the eye.

  “I…um.. I took most of the food, sir.” Mark crossed his arms and sat back on the couch, much bolder than his older brother.

  “I see, and why was that?” Ed couldn’t help being amused. Mark seemed almost proud of the fact he stole more food.

  “Well, sir. I was hungry, and we didn’t have nothing to eat.”

  Bea laughed, Ed held back a chuckle himself. This really was a serious situation, nothing funny about it. Just the fact the boys ran away made them delinquents. But stealing, well that was another matter entirely. Besides they stole his peach pie.

  “Didn’t you realize what you did was wrong?”

  “It’s not Mark’s fault, sir, it was mine. I should have known better.”

  “Yes, you should have.” Bea suddenly joined the conversation. “Which one of you broke my grandmother’s cake dish?”

  Mark raised his hand. “That was me, but it was an accident. I didn’t mean to, honest.”

  The doorbell rang, interrupting their conversation. Champ darted to the door, barking like a banshee.

  “Champ, sit.” Stanley snapped his fingers at the dog.

  Bea hurried to the door. “I’ll get it.”

  “Callie, I was going to call you. You can call off your troops, we found out who was stealing our food.”

  “That’s great. Listen, Aunt Beatrice Lulu…” Callie followed Bea into the living room.

  “Our culprits.” Bea waved her hand toward the boys like Vanna White on Wheel of Fortune. “By the way, how did you boys get in after we locked the door?”

  “I found a key on a hook in the shed. It fit the back door,” Stanley answered.

  “The back door. Of course, no wonder my guys couldn’t see you coming and going.” Callie looked from one boy to the other. “About the boys, I’ve come to pick them up.”

  “What do you mean, you’ve come to pick them up?” Bea stood legs apart, hands on her hips, her fighting stance. Callie didn’t stand a chance.

  “I got a call from the sheriff over in Centerville, said pick them up.”

  “And just where are you taking them?”

  “Over to Juvie until someone comes for them.”

  “The hell you are!” Bea seldom swore. Callie was in for it now.

  “I’m sorry, Aunt Beatrice Lulu. I have to do my job.”

  “Um… Callie,” Ed figured it was time to intervene before things got out of hand. There was enough tension between Bea and Callie already, not that anyone knew why. They just naturally rubbed each other the wrong way. No point making it worse. “When’s the soonest someone would pick the boys up?”

  “Uncle’s out of town, so not until tomorrow.”

  “That’s what he told us.”

  “You talked to the uncle?”

  “Of course, I called him first thing. How do you suppose the sheriff in Centerville knew the boys were here?”

  “I had no idea. He c
alled, said pick the boys up and take them to juvie. Just doing my job.”

  “Listen, Mr. Hagan asked if the boys could stay here for the night. I agreed. So why don’t we just let it be? Either you can come by in the morning for them, or let their uncle pick them up himself. No harm, no foul.”

  Bea crossed her arms and the look on her face dared Callie to refuse.

  “Well, I guess that would be okay. Are you sure you don’t mind, Uncle Ed?”

  Ed laughed. Surely, she was joking. Even if he did mind, no way would he’d cross Bea when she’d made her mind up about something. “No, they’ll be fine here tonight. At least it’s warm and dry.”

  “Okay, if the uncle agreed. I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Who wants to play a game?” Bea asked after Callie left.

  “Can I watch TV?” Mark gave Bea a pleading look.

  “TV? You can watch TV anytime.”

  “I’ve not been able to watch it since we left, and Uncle Otto limited our time.”

  “Fine. We’ll watch TV.”

  Ed would have rather talked and found out more about Uncle Otto, but Bea switched on the TV and scrolled through the programs. He should have known she had a plan to get her own way. She always did. She pressed the button on the History channel. Something called American Pickers. Not something a 12-year-old boy would enjoy.

  “Okay, what kind of games do you have?”

  Bea turned off the TV. “We have Uno, Scrabble, Racko, Trouble, Sequence, Monopoly, Pictionary, or cards.”

  “Wow, you have a lot of games.” Mark leaned forward on the couch. “I like Monopoly.”

  “Stanley, how about you?”

  “Monopoly is fine.”

  “Good. Monopoly it is. I have to tell you, I usually win.” Bea opened the cabinet and pulled out the game.

  “I have to tell you, I’m pretty good at it myself.” Stanley looked at Bea and smiled.

  Was that a dare? Had Bea met her match? Ed stifled a laugh.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure, what?”

  “Well, you know our names and a little about us, but we don’t know your names or anything about you.”