Coming Apart (9780545356152)

by Martin, Ann M.

  Mae laughed. “The back end!” But when she realized no one else was laughing, she said, “What does that mean?”

  “It means they can’t wait to get rid of me. Come on, Mae. See if you can lift any of these boxes. Help hurry me on my way.”

  “I don’t want to hurry you….” Mae’s voice trailed off. She looked at the boxes, then at her father. “What do you really want me to do?”

  Tobias returned to the house and, grunting, lifted another carton. “Am I the only one who’s going to load the van?” he said over his shoulder as he struggled down the porch steps.

  “Daddy?” Mae asked.

  “I really couldn’t care less what you do, Mae.” Mr. Sherman grabbed the nearest garbage bag, this one filled with clothes he hadn’t been able to fit into his suitcases.

  Nikki reached for Mae, but Mae slapped her sister’s hand away and ran upstairs.

  “Let her go,” said Mrs. Sherman. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  Nikki, Tobias, and their parents worked wordlessly until all the boxes and bags had been loaded into the van.

  “Good,” said Tobias grimly.

  Mr. Sherman started for the house again.

  “Where are you going?” asked Nikki’s mother.

  “There are a few more things in there that are mine.”

  For several terrifying moments, Nikki thought that one of those things might be Mae. When her father returned from the house carrying the table that had sat in front of the couch, Nikki sagged with relief.

  “Hey!” exclaimed Tobias. “What are you doing?”

  Mr. Sherman hoisted the table into the van and then turned to stare at Tobias. “What does it look like?” He began to speak loudly and slowly. “I … AM … PUTTING … THIS … TABLE … IN … THE … TRUCK.” He shoved several boxes aside to clear space.

  “You can’t take the furniture!” exclaimed Tobias.

  His father waved his hand toward the table, like a game show host presenting a prize. “I think I just did.”

  “That isn’t part of the agreement,” Mrs. Sherman spoke up. “The furniture stays here.”

  “The furniture I bought and paid for?” Mr. Sherman walked heavily into the house again, this time emerging with a throw rug. “Nikki? Make yourself useful and get the lamp out of your mother’s bedroom. And the chair by the front door.”

  “This is not part of the agreement,” said Mrs. Sherman again. “You’re violating the agreement.”

  “I have a right to these things and a lot more, agreement or not.”

  Nikki watched her brother take a step closer to her father. She watched her mother take a step backward, toward the house and Mae. She felt the pain in her stomach increase a notch, as if someone had turned a wrench.

  “Tobias,” called Mrs. Sherman. “Forget it. Let him have the things.”

  Nikki realized that there wasn’t room for much more in the van anyway.

  “No!” said Tobias. “He’s not getting away with this.” He climbed into the van and began tossing things onto the driveway.

  In an instant, in one beat of a hummingbird’s wing, Mr. Sherman leaped into the van and shoved Tobias out. Tobias landed on the table, which splintered under his weight.

  “Howie, no!” cried Mrs. Sherman.

  “You stay out of this.”

  “No! Not this time.” Nikki’s mother advanced on the van.

  “I’m going to call the police!” Nikki suddenly shouted.

  Everyone ignored her. Nikki saw Paw-Paw peek out from behind one of the sheds and prayed he would stay out of sight.

  “I am! I’m going to call them right now!” Nikki had intended to start for the house, but her feet seemed rooted to the snowy ground.

  Tobias was standing shakily now, brushing at his pants, and Nikki tried to determine whether he was hurt. Mr. Sherman tossed the throw rug back into the van, pushed past Tobias, then past Nikki and once more hurried through the front door. This time he returned carrying Mae’s dollhouse, the furniture and dolls rattling from side to side, Mae’s carefully arranged rooms in disarray.

  Mae was behind him. “Daddy!” she cried, stepping onto the porch in her bare feet. “What are you doing?”

  “You’re going to come visit me sometime, aren’t you, Mae? I want you to have something to play with when you do.”

  Mae’s face crumpled. “I thought that was mine to keep.”

  “‘I thought that was mine to keep,’” repeated Mr. Sherman. “Boo-hoo-hoo. Well, we all have our disappointments. You’ll want your doll, too, when you come to South Carolina. Go get that for me, Mae.”

  “No.”

  “All right. You leave me no choice.” Mr. Sherman set the dollhouse down and again disappeared through the front door. When he stumped back out of the house, he was carrying Peppy by one stiff arm. Mae let out a howl. “That’s mine! That’s mine!”

  “Well, you can visit her in South Carolina.”

  Tobias picked up the dollhouse.

  “You take one step toward the porch with that,” said Mr. Sherman, “and —”

  Tobias glared at his father and then took one giant step in the direction of the porch.

  Mr. Sherman dropped Peppy and grabbed Tobias by the shoulders. Tobias lost his balance and fell but held tight to the dollhouse.

  Mae screamed and her mother gathered her in her arms.

  Nikki felt panic overtake her. “Okay! Now I really am going to call the police!” She fled for the house and returned with the cordless phone. She held it up so her father could see it. “Nine,” said Nikki, “one —”

  “Hang up the phone and I’ll let go of Tobias.”

  Nikki clicked off the phone.

  “Go,” Mrs. Sherman said to Nikki’s father in an even voice that Nikki knew meant trouble. “Take the dollhouse and the doll, put them in the van, and leave. You’ve made your point.”

  Mae, who had buried her head against her mother, pulled away and looked up at her. “Why are you letting him take them?” she wailed.

  “Honey, not now,” whispered Mrs. Sherman. She turned toward Mr. Sherman again. “GO!” she screamed so loudly that Mae burst into fresh tears and fled to Nikki. “GO!”

  “Mom,” said Tobias. “Calm down.”

  “I want Peppy,” Mae sobbed.

  “We’ll get you a new doll,” Nikki told her, although she knew that wasn’t the point.

  Mr. Sherman stood defiantly in the back of the van, unmoving. Nikki held up the phone again and began to punch in numbers. “Nine, one, ONE!” she shouted.

  Mr. Sherman closed the van and climbed into the truck.

  Nikki slipped the phone into her pocket.

  Mr. Sherman started the engine, rolled the window down, and leaned out. “Don’t you have a kiss for me, Mae?”

  Mae’s face turned a frightening shade of red. “Bad-bye! Bad-bye! I hate you! I will never visit you. Bad-bye!”

  Mr. Sherman roared off.

  Nikki sank to the ground, legs shaking. Mae slumped into her lap. A moment later, her mother was sitting on one side of her, and Tobias on the other.

  “It’s over,” whispered Mrs. Sherman.

  Nikki watched the back of the van to be sure.

  Flora, belted into the front seat of Mr. Pennington’s car, watched the February countryside glide leisurely by. If Mr. Pennington had been a faster driver, the countryside would have flown by, but he was not fast. He was cautious, glancing frequently into his mirrors, watching the sides of the road for errant squirrels and bunnies, and grumbling when cars approached too quickly from the rear.

  “It’s almost Valentine’s Day,” said Flora, feeling she should make conversation. “I can’t believe it.”

  “I’ll bet Three Oaks will be all decorated.”

  “Really?” said Flora, having a hard time imagining adults celebrating Valentine’s Day.

  “Sure. Very festive. Three Oaks gets decorated for everything.”

  Flora didn’t answer.

  “Ner
vous?” asked Mr. Pennington.

  “A little.” In fact, Flora was quite nervous. She was on her way to the interview with Mrs. Jasper, which would be followed by a trial hour of work.

  “Ever been on a job interview before?”

  Flora slid her eyes over to Mr. Pennington, who was intent on the road. He tooted the horn at a squirrel. Was he teasing her? Flora decided he wasn’t.

  “No,” she replied. “But Min has told Ruby and me lots of things about being a responsible employee and about how to behave on an interview. She told us that once somebody came into Needle and Thread about a sales position and the first thing she said to Min and Gigi was that she didn’t like to sew. Next she said she would prefer not to have to talk to the customers.”

  Mr. Pennington laughed. “I suppose she didn’t get the job.”

  “Not only that, but Min told her she needed to improve her attitude.” This was something Flora had heard her tell Ruby, although not lately.

  “Would you like to have a pretend interview now?” asked Mr. Pennington, swerving to avoid what turned out to be an oak leaf. “I could take Mrs. Jasper’s role and ask you questions.”

  Immediately, Flora felt her face flush. The very thought of role-playing made her want to jump out of the car. Role-playing was far too much like acting, and acting was Ruby’s world. “That’s okay. Thank you. I think I know what to do. I’m supposed to be polite. And at the end, if Mrs. Jasper says, ‘Now, is there anything you would like to ask me?’ I’m definitely supposed to ask something. It will make me sound eager. So the question I prepared is, ‘Would you ever like me to teach another sewing class or help teach one?’ Then, if Mrs. Jasper doesn’t know about the class Min and I taught, I’ll tell her about that.”

  “Perfect,” said Mr. Pennington. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

  Flora felt that the interview would indeed be fine, but she was still nervous. Ten minutes later, as she sat across from Mrs. Jasper at her desk, she could feel her heart thumping. She clasped and unclasped her hands and realized they were sweating.

  “So you’re the famous Flora Northrop,” was the first thing Mrs. Jasper said. She smiled warmly, and Flora smiled back at the wide face and the dark brown eyes.

  “The famous Flora?” she repeated.

  “I’ve heard all about you from Mr. Willet. And I spoke to several of the residents here who took a sewing class with you and your grandmother.”

  Flora relaxed. “That was really fun,” she said. “I enjoyed meeting everyone.”

  “I understand you visit Three Oaks often?”

  “Pretty often.” Flora hesitated. She didn’t want Mrs. Jasper to think she was bragging, but she added, “I know my way around fairly well, and I’ve spent time with Mrs. Willet in the wing for people with Alzheimer’s.”

  “Do you feel comfortable there? Are you comfortable with people who might say strange things or make funny noises?”

  Flora nodded. “Yes. I mean, I wish they didn’t have Alzheimer’s, but their behavior doesn’t bother me.”

  Mrs. Jasper rewarded her with another smile. “And why do you want to work here?”

  Flora chose her words carefully. “The very first time I came to Three Oaks,” she said slowly, “I have to admit that I thought it was depressing. But that was because when I saw Mr. Willet’s apartment it was still completely empty, and I hadn’t known that Mrs. Willet was going to live in a place where the door was locked all the time. But then Min — that’s my grandmother — and my sister and I started visiting here, and I saw that Mr. Willet was happy, and I saw how much everyone cared for Mrs. Willet. I saw how busy Mr. Willet was, too. He joined committees and he’s always taking trips and classes and going to lectures and movies. He told me he’s going to start tutoring kids at a school that’s near here.

  “Every time I visit Three Oaks, I discover some other wonderful thing — the gift shop, the art gallery, the crafts room. I decided I wanted to be part of a place that’s made Mr. Willet so happy. He’s really lucky to be able to live here. So is Mrs. Willet. Anyway, I’ll do whatever you ask me to do. I mean, if I can start working here.”

  Mrs. Jasper got to her feet then, and Flora looked up at her in horror. The interview was over, that much she could tell. What had she done wrong?

  But Mrs. Jasper’s face broke into a smile again. “Flora, I like your attitude. Are you ready for a test run as a Helping Hand?” She reached into a box behind her and pulled out a blue smock with a yellow handprint on the front. She handed it across the desk to Flora.

  “Really? I can be a Helping Hand?”

  “Well, like I said, this is a test run. But I have a feeling you’ll be back here regularly. By the way, will you be able to come one afternoon a week?”

  “I think so. I’ll have to talk to Mr. Pennington about that. He’s a friend of Mr. Willet’s and he brought me here today. Min works full-time, so she can’t drive me. But I know I can figure something out. Mr. Pennington likes to visit the Willets.”

  “Let me know if you run into difficulty. We’ll see what we can do about transportation. For now, why don’t you put the smock on, and I’ll introduce you to Dee. She’s working at the front desk, and I’m sure she’ll have things for you to do.”

  Flora was kept very busy for the next hour. Wearing her Helping Hand smock, she delivered flowers to two apartments, escorted a visitor to the coffee shop, helped a resident carry groceries from her car to her kitchen, and assisted at a music program in Mrs. Willet’s wing.

  “Hi, Mrs. Willet!” said Flora brightly when she spotted her old neighbor seated in a semicircle of wheelchairs.

  The wheelchairs had been arranged in front of a piano, and waiting patiently at the piano was a young man wearing a straw hat and a shirt with bold red and white stripes. He was smiling cheerfully. A card had been placed on top of the piano. It read RAGTIME JOE.

  “This looks like fun,” said Flora to Mrs. Willet.

  Mrs. Willet’s attention had been drawn to a spot on the carpet. “Bum-bum-bum-bum,” she murmured.

  Flora looked around and saw that absolutely nobody was paying attention to Ragtime Joe. In fact, a number of the residents were asleep, and one, whose head was tipped back, was snoring loudly.

  Ragtime Joe appeared unconcerned by his audience.

  A nurse wheeled another man to the entrance to the activities room and signaled to Flora, who made room for him in the circle.

  “I think that’s everybody,” said Joe, and he settled himself at the piano and began to play a jaunty tune. Two of the sleeping residents woke up, and Mrs. Willet raised one hand and said loudly, “Shoes!” Or maybe, “Choose!” Flora couldn’t tell which, but Mrs. Willet looked content. When Ragtime Joe said, “Clap your hands!” she clapped them smartly two times before her fingers found the bottom button on her sweater and her attention drifted again.

  Twenty minutes later, the door to the activities room opened quietly and a man wearing a Helping Hand smock entered. He leaned down to Flora and whispered, “Mrs. Jasper wants to see you in her office. I’ll take over here for you, okay?”

  Flora nodded. She checked her watch and was surprised to find that more than an hour had passed. She hurried back to the office.

  “How’s our newest Helping Hand?” Mrs. Jasper asked her.

  Flora grinned. “Does that mean I have the job?”

  “You have the job.”

  “Oh, thank you! When do I start?”

  “Next week, if you can. Why don’t you and Mr. Pennington and I discuss transportation?”

  On the way back to Camden Falls that afternoon, Flora said, “I can’t believe I have a real job! Well, a volunteer job, but that’s a real job, isn’t it?”

  “It certainly is,” Mr. Pennington replied. “Min is going to be very proud of you.”

  “I’m proud of me. I was so nervous when I was talking to Mrs. Jasper, but I think the interview went well. I can’t wait to go back next week. Thank you for driving me. I really apprecia
te it.”

  “It’s my pleasure. Shall we go to Needle and Thread and tell Min the good news?”

  “Definitely,” Flora said, and added, “just think, I am now Flora Northrop, Working Girl.”

  Ruby sat on the floor of her bedroom, counting her Valentines. “Twenty-seven,” she said aloud. “That’s a nice haul.”

  From her own bedroom, Flora called, “How many did you send?”

  There was a slight pause. “Thirty-four.”

  “Huh.”

  “Well, twenty-seven is still a lot. How many did you get?”

  “I didn’t bother to count.”

  “I’ll bet you didn’t need to count. You could just look at them spread out in front of you and say, ‘Oh, I got four.’”

  Flora didn’t respond.

  “You know what my best Valentine’s Day present was?” Ruby called.

  “Your best one? How many did you get?” It was February 15th, and the previous day had not included the giving of any gifts that Flora was aware of.

  “Well, just one. Ms. Angelo called a few minutes before you got home this afternoon and said my probation will be over on March first if I keep up my good work. That’s in just two weeks!”

  “Yippee,” muttered Flora.

  Min’s reaction to the news was slightly different. When she returned from Needle and Thread that evening and heard about the phone call, she said, “Ruby, the change in you has been remarkable. You really are growing up. It’s been weeks since I’ve had to remind you to do your chores.”

  “You haven’t had to remind me, either,” Flora pointed out as she finished setting the table in the kitchen.

  “You never need reminding,” Min replied.

  “You’re practically perfect in every way,” added Ruby. “Just like Mary Poppins. I, on the other hand, am not. I mean, I’m not naturally perfect. I have to work at it. You’re so lucky. Things come easily for you.”

  “In any case, Ruby,” Min continued, “I’m very pleased with everything — your chores, your homework, the news about your probation.”

  “We get progress reports in school tomorrow,” said Ruby. “I hope mine will show the results of all my efforts.”