by Geof Johnson
When they returned from trick-or-treating, Jamie was so excited that it took him forever to fall asleep. The next day, he was not at his best. Too much candy and not enough sleep are a deadly combination for a three-year-old. After his fifth trip to time out, Evelyn let him wear his Walter costume, provided that he was good, and the rest of the day went much better. He didn’t take the costume off at all, except to bathe and sleep, for the next month. He would’ve slept in it too, except that his grandmother reminded him that it needed to be washed occasionally.
When he finally did take it off, the family put it in a box and stored it, never to be given away.
* * *
Three-year-olds get Christmas, too, or at least the Santa Claus part. The birth of Jesus concept is a little confusing to them, but Santa Claus and presents? They get that.
One holiday they don’t get is Thanksgiving. It’s not a holiday for kids, it’s for grownups. Grownups who like to cook too much, eat too much, and sit around and talk too much — not kid-approved activities. And it’s also a time when grownups temporarily forget that little boys are not the center of the universe. All grownups, that is, except for Gina.
Gina was Gramma’s niece from Greensboro, Rachel’s younger cousin, who lived in Gramma’s condo. She was on break from college, and since her parents had gone to Italy for a wedding, Jamie’s mother had invited her to stay with them. And Gina had all the time in the world for Jamie.
She stood guard duty in the driveway while he rode his tricycle. She watched cartoons with him on the couch and had popcorn fights. She taught him how to swing by himself, went down the slide and fire pole with him, and chased him around the back yard until his legs were out of breath.
“I think Jamie needs some kids to play with,” Rachel said to her mother as they watched him from the kitchen window. “He’s going to miss her when she leaves.”
“Maybe if you gave him a little brother or sister, it wouldn’t be a problem.”
“Mom, it’s not for lack of trying.” She felt her face grow warm. “My doctor said I should be happy with what I have. She said Jamie is a miracle.”
“Yes, he is.”
* * *
Rachel was a little jealous of all the time Jamie was spending with her cousin. Rachel hadn’t read to him in days because Gina was reading to him, as much as he wanted, nearly all of the Walter books. But Gina made Jamie save the last book for Saturday, her last night with them.
That night, they disappeared into his room after his bath, and after a couple of hours, Rachel started wondering what was going on. She tiptoed upstairs and silently opened his door, and when she looked inside, she found out why they were being so quiet.
Gina was asleep beside Jamie in his bed, the book still held loosely in her hand. Jamie was lying on his side with his arm resting on her shoulder, already in dreamland. What little bit of jealousy Rachel felt disappeared, because she knew she was seeing something special — another member of her family loving her wonderful little boy.
And he couldn’t have too much of that.
* * *
Renn rubbed his face with his hands. It was late, and he was tired. Mother was asleep in her room after taking the draught he had prepared for her.
He was poring over an ancient book that he had recently found — taken, actually, from another dead wizard — that might contain a potion that could help Mother’s deteriorating health. Problem was, he couldn’t concentrate. His mind kept returning to the question of Eddan. Where could the old sorcerer be? Was he dead, hiding and not using his magic, or did he have a way of shielding his power when he did?
Renn wouldn’t believe the old man was dead until he saw his bones. They weren’t in the cave where he’d burned his books — he must’ve escaped, alive. He couldn’t possibly be avoiding magic. Wizards were addicted to their magic. They wouldn’t break a sweat splitting firewood when they could easily do it with a thought. It was beneath them. And if the old man had found a way to shield his use of magic, well, that was a good trick, a new one. Renn would have to learn it himself.
The old man was hiding somewhere, Renn could almost feel it, and he would find him. But first, he needed to help Mother.
* * *
The second Saturday in June, just before Jamie’s fourth birthday, was a big day in the young boy’s life.
“It looks like they’re almost finished unloading the moving van,” Carl said, looking out of his front window at the house across the street.
“Good,” Evelyn said. “The pie is almost done. You can take it to them in about an hour.”
“Whaddya say, Jamie?” Carl said to his son, who was also watching. “Do you want to come with me? I think they have kids, or at least one. I saw a little bicycle. A boy’s bicycle.”
* * *
An hour later, Carl and Jamie knocked on the door across the street with a peach pie in hand. Seconds later, the door opened and an African-American man in shorts and white tee shirt greeted them.
“Hi, I’m Carl Sikes, and this is Jamie. We live across the street.”
“I’m Garrett Wilkens.” He shook Carl’s hand. “My wife, Adele, is somewhere around here. The little guy hiding behind me is Rollie.”
Rollie and Jamie sized each other up from behind their respective fathers.
“We’ve been appointed to be the welcoming committee,” Carl said , “and my mother-in-law sent over this pie.” He handed it to Garrett. “You’ll like it. She’s a great cook.”
“Thanks. I’d invite you in, but the house is still a mess. Got a lot of work to do.”
“Well, if you need any help, let me know.” Carl looked at Rollie. “Hey, Rollie, we’ve got a pretty nice playset in our yard. Wanna see it?”
Rollie looked up at his dad.
“Let’s go have a look,” Garrett said. “I need a break, anyway.” He yelled toward the back of the house, “Adele, we’ll be back in a minute. We’re going across the street.”
* * *
Carl and Garrett sat in the gazebo, watching the boys swing.
“Man, you weren’t kidding,” Garrett said. “This yard is nice. I wish my yard was this big.” He pointed to the playset. “You built that?”
Carl nodded. “I’ve got plans for expanding it, soon as Jamie gets older.” He looked at the boys. “How old is Rollie.”
“Just turned four last month.”
“That’s great. Jamie will be four in three weeks. We were hoping somebody his age would move in. He needs friends.”
“I think he found one.” Garrett nodded toward the boys happily playing away.
* * *
The next day, Rollie came over after church, and the boys played in the backyard for the rest of the afternoon. They went down the slide and fire pole, swung like supercharged pendulums, and chased Sassy around the yard until Jamie’s grandmother brought out s’mores. Then they played in the sprinkler and ran around until their legs were out of breath.
That night, Jamie fell asleep at the dinner table.
* * *
For Jamie’s fourth birthday, Carl made a small addition to the playset: a tire swing on a swivel. It wasn’t an old-fashioned tire swing, but one where the tire hangs horizontally held up by three chains attached to a swivel above it.
Carl put it underneath the platform he’d built on the playset the year before, between the slide and the steps. When Jamie and Rollie got on it, they knew exactly what to do. They spun each other around and around until they were so dizzy they couldn’t walk straight.
As the family watched the boys playing on it, Carl said, “And to think I have to drink beer to feel that way.”
Evelyn shot him a disapproving look.
* * *
One of Jamie’s birthday presents was a T-ball set. It had a red plastic post that held a ball the size of a grapefruit about waist-high to a kid, and had a bat that was as wide as the Mississippi river. Carl thought it would give Jamie a good introduction to the sport of baseball.
T
he day after his birthday, Carl took Jamie and the T-ball set into the backyard for the boy’s first lesson in hitting, ready to start the long process of turning his son into a star athlete.
“Okay, this is how you do it.” Carl held the bat over his shoulder. “You hold it like this,” — he swung the bat — “and you swing like that.” He looked at his son. “Do you think you can do it?”
Jamie took the bat and Carl stood behind him, carefully positioning him next to the tee. “All right,” Carl said. “Take a big swing.”
Jamie swung with all his might, completely missing the tee, swinging all the way around and smacking his father on the knee.
“Ugh,” Carl grunted, hopping away and rubbing his leg.
“Did that hurt, Daddy?”
“No, I’m okay.” Carl limped back and set his boy in place again. “Okay, try again, but try to hit the ball.” Carl stood a safe distance back.
Jamie swung again, but whiffed.
“Don’t close your eyes, Son. Keep your eye on the ball.”
Jamie swung and hit the tee, knocking the ball to the ground.
“That’s a little better. Try it again.”
Jamie swung. And missed. He swung again, and missed. He swung and swung and swung, but couldn’t quite get the hang of it. After a dozen tries, he managed to nick the ball enough to knock it off the tee and send it forward about two feet.
“Hooray!” Carl threw both hands in the air. “You did it. Ready to try again?”
But Jamie saw a butterfly and took off after it.
Later, Carl described the batting lesson as his wife listened with a dubious expression.
“It’s a start,” Carl said. “We’ll work on it.”
* * *
The next day, Rollie came over, and Carl let him have a try hitting off the tee. Rollie hit it on the first swing, half-way across the yard.
“That’s pretty good, Rollie,” Carl said. “Nothing like beginner’s luck.”
But Rollie hit it again. And again. And again. Jamie wasn’t interested, though. He’d found another bug.
* * *
One lazy afternoon, Rachel walked with the boys as they explored the creek. They all carried long sticks in case they saw a snake.
“If I see a snake, I’m gonna kill it like this!” Rollie jammed his stick in the ground and made a fierce face.
“What if it’s a good snake?” Jamie said.
“All snakes are bad.”
“No they’re not. They eat rats and stuff.”
“How do you know that?” Rachel asked.
“Everybody does.”
Rollie frowned. “Well, I’m not letting no snake near me.”
The boys walked up and down the banks of the creek, poking every hole in hopes of finding something. Rachel enjoyed watching the boys explore together, grateful that they had become friends. Rollie seemed to be a happy, energetic boy, with the biggest grin she’d ever seen, and he livened things up when he was around.
Rollie stopped to turn over a rock while Jamie walked on. Rachel thought she saw something move right next to him. “Jamie, hold still,” she said. Something slithered. “There’s a snake about three feet from you.” She crept toward her son.
“Kill it, Jamie!” Rollie said. “Use your spear. Stab that snake!”
Jamie stood calmly, looking at the reptile. He held his hand out in front of him, but didn’t approach the animal.
“I think it’s a copperhead, Jamie!” Rachel crept toward him. “Step back! Don’t touch it!”
But Jamie didn’t move. The snake reared up slightly as if regarding the boy, then slithered away.
Rachel ran to her son and picked him up, carrying him away from the creek, Rollie trailing behind.
“What were you thinking?” she said. “You could’ve been killed! That’s a poisonous snake.”
“She wasn’t going to hurt me. She was just looking for a frog. She’s hungry.”
“How do you know that?” Rachel asked.
“Everybody does.” He shrugged. “Don’t you?”
No, she thought. How could I?
Chapter 9
One evening in early August, Rachel and Evelyn cleared the table after dinner while Carl and Jamie went upstairs for a bath.
“Mom, are you sure you won’t change your mind?” Rachel stacked some dirty plates. “We can still book another hotel room.”
“No, I want to go to Greensboro. I haven’t seen my sister in quite a while.” Evelyn opened the dishwasher. “Besides, I don’t really like Atlanta.”
“But after that we’re going straight to Panama City. You like the beach.”
“My doctor said to stay out of the sun. That’s hard to do at the beach.”
* * *
Two days later, Rachel, Carl, and Jamie were in Atlanta at the Georgia Aquarium. Jamie seemed to be fascinated by everything, little and big, from the seahorses to the whale sharks. Rachel thought the Beluga whales looked like they were dancing — large, white, and graceful — to music that only they could hear. One in particular seemed to be dancing for Jamie, who had his hands pressed to the glass while he watched it swim close and look right into his eyes.
“Jamie, is that a boy or girl whale?” Rachel asked jokingly.
“It’s a boy,” he said.
“How do you know?”
“He told me.”
Rachel and Carl looked at each other and exchanged a nervous laugh.
* * *
The next morning, they were on their way south to Panama City when traffic slowed to a crawl.
Carl smacked the steering wheel with his palm. “How can this be? We’re thirty miles south of Atlanta.”
“Maybe it’s a wreck,” Rachel said.
“I gotta go pee pee,” Jamie said.
“You’re going to have to hold it, ’cause we’re not moving, and the nearest exit is about five miles ahead,” Carl said.
“I gotta go bad.”
“Rachel, do we have a bottle or something he can pee in?”
“No, I just cleaned out the car.”
“I’m gonna wet my pants.”
“We can pull over and you can go on the side of the road,” Carl said.
“Uh uh. I can’t pee if people can see me.”
“Then you’re going to have to hold it.”
“I can’t!”
“Traffic’s moving a little,” Rachel said. “But you seem to keep picking the wrong lane.”
Carl threw his hands up. “I can’t help it. One lane will start to move, and then I get in it, and it stops. Then the other lanes move.”
“Get in the middle lane, Daddy.”
“Don’t you go being a back seat driver, too,” Carl said. “Your Gramma’s bad enough.”
“That’s not nice,” Rachel said.
“It’s true.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“Middle lane, Daddy.”
“Okay, okay, if it makes you happy. Just don’t wet yourself.”
Carl slid into the middle lane, and a car ahead of them pulled out of it. The cars in front of them moved ahead slightly. Farther ahead, another couple of cars cleared out.
“Jamie, can you hold it? We’re moving some.”
“Hurry, Daddy!”
Though they weren’t going fast, they began to pick up speed as more cars shifted lanes. Pretty soon they were blazing along at 25 mph, just enough to get them to the closest gas station before Jamie wet his pants.
It wasn’t the only coincidence on the trip to Panama City, but it was the one that made Carl wonder.
* * *
Jamie and Rachel sat on the couch in the family room, looking at the book of Florida wildlife they’d bought in Panama City.
“Okay, what’s this fish?” Rachel asked.
“Barracuda,” Jamie said confidently.
“What does barracuda start with?” She looked at him. “Say the beginning of the word.”
“Ba,” he said. “B!”
; Evelyn sat on the recliner nearby, watching. “That’s very good, Jamie.” She looked at Rachel. “I don’t know which is better, that he knows those fish or that he’s learning to read.”
Jamie pointed to a picture of a big cat. “Panther!”
“Very impressive” Evelyn said.
“It is, Jamie.” Rachel looked at Carl. “He’s only four, and already he’s reading as well as some kindergartners do by the sixth month of school.”
“It’s a shame we didn’t try to get him in school early,” Carl said.
“No, no. He’s too young. Even next year, he’ll be one of the younger kids, with a July birthday. Hopefully, he’ll grow some. He’s still a little guy.”
“Yeah, but he’s tough,” Carl said. “Right, Buddy?”
* * *
Jamie and Rollie sat side-by-side on the couch, their legs sticking straight out, feet dangling in mid-air. Jamie showed Rollie how he could read.
“What’s that say?” Rollie pointed to a page.
“The f…f… Mommy? This one’s hard.”
Rachel glanced at the book. “Say the F and L together.”
“The…fl…flower. The flower is pink!”
“Wow,” Rollie said.
Adele, sitting at the kitchen table, said, “Ever since Rollie found out Jamie’s starting to read, he’s been real hot to try it.”
“That’s all it takes. Do you read to him?”
“Most every night.”
“I can help. We’ve got these books he’ll really like, I bet. Jamie loves them. It’s the Walter the Littlest Wizard series.”
Adele frowned. “That’s probably not a good idea. Garrett doesn’t want Rollie reading any books or watching movies about wizards. He’s got some strong…convictions about that.”
“What do you mean?”
“He thinks they’re all about Satan.” Adele whispered the last word.
“Okay. I won’t read any of those to him. I’ll make sure Jamie doesn’t either, though he’s not up to that level yet.”
Adele looked at the boys huddled over the book. “Won’t be long, Rachel. You wait and see.”
* * *
October arrived and Jamie’s excitement about Halloween grew daily. “I’m gonna be Walter the Wizard again. Gramma, can you fix my cape? Is it still torn?”
