Daisy Lane (3 page)

He laughed a short, humorless laugh and eased himself down to the base of the tree so that his back was against it. His face turned pale as he adjusted his legs so they stretched out before him.

“Just look after Sammy,” he said. “I’ll call my wife to come pick me up.”

It was then that she noticed the knees of his jeans were stained dark with moisture, and she wondered if it was sweat or blood. Where his ankles should have been metal rods were connected to prosthesis inside his hiking boots. Grace felt herself staring, trying to figure out how much of his legs were mechanical, and quickly looked up.

“I can stay with you if you like,” Grace said, “just until she gets here.”

Sam shook his head.

“I’ll be alright,” he said. “If you’ll wait with Sammy at the IGA, Hannah and I will pick him up.”

“I won’t take my eyes off of him,” Grace said. “I promise.”

“I saw you,” Sam said. “That was crazy; you could have been mauled to death.”

“I didn’t stop to think,” Grace said. “I just wanted to help.”

“I believe you,” Sam said. “I think he’ll be in good hands until we can pick him up.”

“C’mon!” Sammy said as he pulled Grace’s hand. “No talking!”

“What if those dogs come back?” Grace said.

Sam pulled up his work shirt so Grace could see a gun in a holster strapped to one side of his chest.

“I’ll be fine,” he said.

Grace shook her head, thinking, ‘Men and their guns.’

“All right,” she told Sammy. “Let’s go.”

Grace looked back as they reached the top of the wet, grass-covered bank and stepped onto Daisy Lane. Sam was talking on his cell phone. She hated to leave him but somehow thought he would be more comfortable alone. He obviously didn’t want Sammy to see how badly he was hurt.

Sammy was determined to pull the wagon all by himself, but Grace convinced him to help her do it instead. The two dogs, now looking more like harmless house pets than two deadly killers, kept running up ahead and then waiting, all the while keeping a 360-degree watch for further trouble.

“Those dogs are like your bodyguards,” she told Sammy.

“Them’s my friends,” Sammy said. “Them’s like me.”

“They love you,” Grace said. “There’s a big difference.”

“Why?” Sammy asked, in that way that a young child will persist in doing.

“Someone who just likes you would feel sorry for you if something bad happened but they would never risk their lives for you. Jax and Wally fought those dogs because they love you; they were saving your life.”

“Like superheroes?” Sammy said.

“Exactly,” Grace said.

“Me likes superheroes,” Sammy said, and then seemed to think about this.

Matt Delvecchio, the owner of the IGA, gave Sammy and Grace both a box of juice to drink while they waited for Sammy’s mother. When she finally arrived, driving an old pickup truck with Sam in the passenger seat, Sammy waved and said, “That’s my Hannah,” to Grace. “Her’s a superhero, too. Her loves me mostest best.”

Hannah got out and walked around the truck to where they sat on the loading dock. Grace jumped down and then helped Sammy get down.

Sam rolled the truck window down and said, “Grace, this is my wife, Hannah; Hannah, this is Grace.”

Hannah wore work boots with slouchy socks, khaki shorts and a faded Little Bear Books sweatshirt. The woman was not much taller than Grace, and Grace was tiny for her age. A dark blonde ponytail stuck out from the back of her baseball cap, and she wore no makeup on her plain face. To Grace’s surprise Hannah walked up to her and grabbed her in a tight hug. The woman’s body felt hard and wiry, and her hug almost knocked the breath out of Grace. When Hannah let go, she had tears in her eyes, which she quickly blinked away.

“Thank you, Grace,” she said. “Just when I think Sammy has run through all nine of his lives he survives another day due to a good egg like you. You must think I’m an awful mother, losing track of him like that. I swear he’s part husky and part hobo; he just likes to roam.”

“I think Jax and Wally wouldn’t let anything happen to him,” Grace said.

“Time to go,” Hannah told Sammy, but he hugged Grace’s legs and refused to let go.

“But her loves me!” he protested. “Her’s my superhero!”

Grace laughed, feeling embarrassed, as Hannah pried her son loose.

“Me bweeded but me okay,” he told his mother. “Me fighted the bad dogs and me winned!”

“Oh Sammy, you’re gonna be the death of me,” Hannah told him as she hugged him tight. “Your grandmother probably thinks you’re still in her TV room watching cartoons.”

“Her’s in a nap,” Sammy said. “Her’s gots a headache.”

“Come up to the farm,” Sam said to Grace. “Anytime; you’re always welcome.”

“Thanks,” Grace said as he rolled his window back up.

“Wow,” Hannah said to Grace. “You really made an impression. He doesn’t invite just anybody.”

The two dogs had already hopped up into the back of the truck, as if eagerly anticipating a ride. As the family drove away, Grace found she was sorry to see them leave. It was unusual for her to feel attached to anyone, but there for a few moments she had felt almost like she was part of their little family.

“How fun it would be to have Sammy as a little brother,’ she thought.

Grocery store owner Matt Delvecchio opened the back door to the loading dock just moments after she rang the bell, as if he were standing there waiting.

“Exciting morning, Gracie?” he said.

He was a tall, jovial man with dark curly hair shot with gray. He wore wire-rimmed glasses and a too-short tie with his short-sleeved shirt. He was one of the kindest people Grace knew and the only person who called her “Gracie.”

“These sure are some beauties,” he said, as she unloaded the zinc vases into a grocery cart. “Hold on a sec and I’ll get your money.”

Grace waited outside the back door until Matt returned with an envelope full of cash.

“The weeks before and after Easter were really good,” he said. “Almost as good as Valentine’s Day.”

“Thank you,” said Grace, as she stuck the envelope in her back pocket without opening it, and turned to go.

“Hey, Gracie,” Matt said. “I’ve got some dented cans and open box items I was just about to toss if you want them.”

Grace smiled to herself as she turned around. Matt was always saving things for her, and she suspected he dropped a few things on her behalf as well. He handed her a bag full of various cans and packages.

“Thanks, Matt,” she said.

“As soon as you turn sixteen you’re coming to work here, right?” he asked. “You’ve got a birthday coming up.”

“I know,” Grace said. “If Grandpa will let me.”

“Don’t you go working for anyone else,” he called out as she left. “Remember, I have first dibs.”

Grace smiled and waved to him.

Taking the wagon back down Pine Mountain Road didn’t require pulling; it was more holding on tightly to keep it from barreling down the hill into the barriers at the edge of the Little Bear River. At the intersection of Iris Avenue and Pine Mountain Road she met Tommy, who was riding his bicycle. He stopped, hopped off, and walked next to her.

“Scott found out the old man’s name,” he said. “He called the bus company. It was Nino something and he was from Italy. You were right about that.”

“Did Scott find out why he was here?” Grace asked.

“No,” Tommy said. “He’s still trying to find his family so he can let them know he died.”

“Did they say why he died?”

“Heart attack,” Tommy said. “It’s kind of like a mystery, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Grace said. “I hope they figure it out.”

“We could, like, investigate it ourselves,” Tommy said. “Do you want to?”

“What could we do that they couldn’t?” Grace said.

“Scott probably doesn’t have time to do research,” he said. “We could look up stuff on the Internet, maybe find his family.”

“You know I don’t have a computer,” Grace said.

“We could use Ed’s,” Tommy said. “Or go up to the library and use theirs.”

“I don’t think I should get involved,” Grace said.

“You mean your grandpa wouldn’t like it,” Tommy said.

Grace nodded.

“He wouldn’t have to know,” Tommy said. “We could use the library’s computer today and the computer lab at school during lunch.”

Grace looked at him to see if he was serious. This was a big commitment.

“We could do it that way,” she said. “If you really want to.”

“Awesome!” Tommy said. “Meet me up by the funeral home after dinner and we’ll go up to the library.”

“If I can,” Grace said.

Tommy hopped back on his bike, and said, “See ya later.”

He had to stand up to pump the pedals hard enough to ascend the steep grade of Pine Mountain Road.

When Grace got home she pulled the wagon around the side of the house and took the cash envelope into the second greenhouse. Her grandfather opened the envelope, took out a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to Grace. He seemed neither pleased nor displeased at the number of twenties that were left in the envelope.

“Matt said it was a good week,” Grace said.

“You want more money?” he said. “Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“No, sir,” Grace said.

“Well, keep your tongue in your head,” he said. “No one cares what you think.”

“I turn sixteen next week,” Grace said. “Matt offered me a job.”

“No,” her grandfather said. “I won’t have you consorting with tourists and college students. I know how the world is and you’re better off out of it than in it.”

“I was just thinking it would be nice to have the extra money,” she said.

“For alcohol and drugs, you mean,” he said. “You are your mother’s child.”

“I need some clothes,” Grace said. “Some shoes.”

She looked down at her sneakers, which cramped her toes and had a hole in the sole that kept her socks perpetually soggy. The laces had broken and been re-tied so many times there were more knots than string.

“If anyone deserves new shoes it’s me,” Grandpa said. “Who does all the work that keeps a roof over your head and food on the table? I’m not paying for you to dress up like a whore and get yourself in trouble.”

“I don’t want to do that,” Grace said. “I want to save money for college.”

“College?” he said. “Talk about a useless waste of money.”

“But I think …” Grace said before he cut her off.

“What did I just tell you about saying what you’re thinking?” he said. “I forbid it and that’s all that needs said.”

Grace took the wagon around the back of the house and stowed it under the steps. She carried the bag of groceries into the cold house, through the kitchen into the pantry, where she could unpack it without Grandpa watching her. In the bag were dented cans of vegetables and soups, open boxes of soda crackers, rice, oatmeal, and macaroni. Tucked away at the bottom of the box were six instant cocoa packets which were neither dented nor opened. Matt always included a treat, which she hid in a drawer under some tattered dish towels. If it weren’t for Matt’s contributions Grace didn’t know how she could feed herself and her grandfather on the twenty dollar weekly budget he allotted.

Grace got started on her Saturday chores, which included sweeping and mopping the rooms on the first floor. Grandpa only allowed hot water for baths on Sundays, so she had to boil the water to get it hot enough to clean. The sharp-smelling mixture of borax powder, vinegar, and baking soda reminded Grace of her grandmother, who had taught her everything she knew about housekeeping. The best part about cleaning was the feeling of hot water on her hands. The worst part was waiting for Grandpa to find fault with everything she did.

By lunchtime the kitchen floor was dry so that she could make a meal for her grandfather. He never commented on what she cooked, only noisily ate whatever was provided after a long, verbal prostration to God that he wasn’t worthy of the crumbs under His table. Meanwhile Grace hovered in the doorway to the pantry in case he wanted more, which he rarely did. Afterward, he left his dishes on the table and returned to his work without a word of thanks.

Grace waited until he returned to the greenhouses before she ate her lunch. She knew from health class that she needed protein to grow, and because she had a vested interest in not always being the smallest person in her class, Grace ate a lot of peanut butter. She heated up some milk from the small cartons she had dug out of the trash cans behind the school cafeteria, and made a cup of cocoa. As she sipped the warm liquid, Grace felt deep gratitude toward Matt Delvecchio for the hot chocolate; it filled her not only with physical warmth but a gratifying feeling of well-being. Not for the first time she wished Matt was her father. She liked how he called her “Gracie.” She liked that he thought of her when she wasn’t around, and saved things for her.

After lunch Grace tidied the bedrooms and then washed her and her grandfather’s clothing in an old washing machine that sat next to the sink in the kitchen. Grace filled the washtub halfway up with cold water and then added boiling water from the pan on the stove so that the Borax would have a shot at actually cleaning the mud off her grandfather’s clothes. The washing cycle made the machine chug and rock. The dirty rinse water emptied through a long black hose into the deep enameled kitchen sink, causing a cloud of steam to rise in the chilly air and fog the windows.