The Truth as Told by Mason Buttle
Page 20
Calvin has to sit. Just watching. But he likes it. He checks out all the parts when we walk them by on the way to the truck.
He says, “There! That has to be one of the capping pieces. Look at the old spike that held it in place. There’s the board we cut the circle from.”
I say, “Calvin! Remember? That circle hit me right in the lip!” I make it sound funny. I make people laugh.
I tug a pretty long board out of the heap. Push that behind me as I go. I feel the weight lift. Got help on the other end. I look. It is the lieutenant. We carry that board. Toss it up on the truck. Tell you what. One more thing in Merrimack feels a little closer to all right.
When the big stuff is gone we switch to shovels and rakes. Out comes the old rag rug. Two five-gallon buckets. Both busted and cracked. We sweep to get the last of it clean. Hard dirt and dust.
Something shows up there on the pale painted floor. Charcoal lines. And I know the shape. I know what it is.
I shout, “Calvin! It is your dead man! Dead man with the bird head!”
Well, don’t you know it. Everyone comes to see. And Calvin tells how it worked. How the shaft put light on that little stick drawing of a man. How Calvin drew him. True and important. Like the dead man in the Caves of Lascaux.
He tells and I listen. Then I take a step out. I look up. Have to squint at the bright round sun today. What I feel is this: the loving memory of Benny. Benny who told me beams of sunlight will take you up to heaven.
Grandma comes down with the hot apple crisp. Pot holders wrapped around that wide baking pan. And Shayleen comes behind her. Shayleen outdoors! She carries the dishes. Runs back for spoons and cream.
We pull off our work gloves. The crisp is served. Passed all around. Noses breathe in. Deep and long. Then every spoonful melts in every mouth.
Uncle Drum says, “Gift from the orchard.” He looks out to the trees.
I say, “And from Grandma.”
The bowls are scraped clean. Then funny thing. It is Shayleen who stands looking long and hard at the cellar. Clean, square hole with stony walls. One aurochs, one dead man. She says, “You boys sure made a ruin!”
But Calvin is smiling. He says, “Actually, it’s a relic.”
Don’t know why but I guess it’s not surprising. I like the sound of what Calvin said better.
chapter 74
LAST APPLE
Late October comes to the orchard. I’m thinking about winter. Because it will come too. These rows will rest. Snow will fall.
I get an idea about sledding down the back hill. I think I can put the blade on the tractor. Go down and bank up the snow. Keep us from skidding into those yards. Down at the bottom. See, I cleaned out the shed for progress. Deep in the back I found our two old sleds. One was Uncle Drum’s. The other was my mom’s. And I can see it. We’ll go doubles. Calvin and Corey on one—because I hope he will come over. And me on the other—and you won’t believe this, but Annalissetta Yang too. Turns out she is the after-school-care girl. The one that Grandma helps now. Uncle Drum and I built a ramp onto the new porch. Did that together. Annalissetta gets in and out of the crumbledown on her own just fine. Pretty sure she can go sledding. Like, if we leave her Crocodile walker at the top of the hill. Then I can pull her back up again. I will ask first. But I know this: She will sure like to go fast.
Well. Easy for me to get ahead of myself. There is no snow yet.
So for now, I walk with this dog of mine. Best one in the world. High tail and curious. Seems like he is pretty happy with me. I reach up and pull down an apple. Last one on this tree. The season is pretty much past. I roll it for Moonie. Good and hard down the row. That dog loves to go. Ears back. Hind legs pumping. And I think this: How good it must feel. Digging in like he does. Paws and toenails hitting earth. Belly skimming that yellow grass.
Moonie Buttle has his eyes, nose, and heart on just one thing: that last apple. What a dog loves.
Gets me thinking. I know what I love too. Family and friends. All the ones here and all ones gone. I love my dog, and this orchard, and a crumbledown house.
Funny thing. The way that feels. It’s not dark, unlucky, or stupid. Tell you what. Stupid can go sit on the head of a pin somewhere.
Knowing what you love is smart.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It occurs that the writer and the orchardist have something in common: both learn to prune judiciously. It can also be said that both do well to surround themselves with like-minded friends who carry sharp and helpful tools.
On that very point, I’m fortunate to count these brilliant, creative women in my community of writers: Sandi Shelton, Nancy Hall, Doe Boyle, Leslie Bulion, Mary-Kelly Busch, Lorraine Jay, Kay Kudlinski, Judy Theise, Nancy Elizabeth Wallace, Ali Benjamin, Molly Burnham, Jackie Davies, Lita Judge, Grace Lin, Lynda Mullaly Hunt, and Cammie McGovern. You are the stars inside my sliced apples. My heartfelt thanks to all of you.
Katherine Tegen, I am forever grateful to be published by your imprint. Thanks for leading the hardworking team that takes such good care of every page of every project—you are all the best! And thank you, Katherine, for our friendship.
Miriam Altshuler, I’m so grateful that you took me on. Thanks for your guidance and friendship.
Thank you to the Fan brothers for the stunningly gorgeous cover art (it’s like you were there!) and to Amy Ryan, senior art director at HarperCollins Children’s Books.
Bushel baskets of thanks to:
Valerie Pierce-Grove for notes on using voice-recognition computer programs.
Amanda and Merry Marrone for generously sharing your experiences so that I could better understand the character Annalissetta Yang.
Mary J. Elliott for sharing your knowledge and skill as an EMT, particularly notes on the fine art of extrication.
Diane Blinn, who showed me by example the daily warmth and caring that happens in a school social work office.
Gail Brown, who, along with Deb Sternklar, hosted my two all-time favorite library visits up in Voorheesville, New York.
My writing dogs, Luna, Broomis, and Atticus (my “Moonie Drinker” dog), for sitting on me until the work is done.
My family—near, far, and right under the roof—without your good love there’d be no shiny apples in my life. Jonathan, Sam and Kristy, Marley and Ian, all the Petrequins, Peards, Pierce-Groves, Buellers, Caufields, Rices, and Youngs, thanks for your support. I love you back with all my heart! Same to my Schmidt-Goetzes, for you are my extended family.
Finally, love and thanks to my uncle Dick, who once dug a cellar out from under his house. (How could I not believe that all things are possible after that?) You are my Mike Mulligan. I miss you.
BACK AD
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo by J. F. Connor
LESLIE CONNOR is the author of several award-winning books for children, including Waiting for Normal, winner of the ALA Schneider Family Book Award, All Rise for the Honorable Perry T. Cook, Crunch, Miss Bridie Chose a Shovel, and the young adult novels Dead on Town Line and The Things You Kiss Goodbye. She lives in the Connecticut woods with her family and three rescue dogs. You can visit her online at www.leslieconnor.com.
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.
ALSO BY LESLIE CONNOR
FOR MIDDLE GRADE READERS
All Rise for the Honorable Perry T. Cook
Waiting for Normal
Crunch
FOR YOUNGER READERS
Miss Bridie Chose a Shovel
FOR TEENS
Dead on Town Line
The Things You Kiss Goodbye
CREDITS
Cover art by The Fan Brothers
Cover design by Andrea Vandergrift
COPYRIGHT
Katherine Tegen Books is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
THE TRUTH AS TOLD BY MASON BUTTLE. Copyright © 2018 by Leslie Connor. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the
required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Library of Congress Control Number: 2017934896
ISBN 978-0-06-249143-5
EPub Edition © January 2018 ISBN 9780062491497
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FIRST EDITION
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