Authors: Barbara O'Connor

Greetings from Nowhere (8 page)

BOOK: Greetings from Nowhere

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Kirby sat beside the swimming pool and opened the shoe
-box from Burla. Tucked inside was a lumpy foil package. Kirby pulled back the foil. Cookies. The kind with a dab of strawberry jam in the scooped-out middle. Thumbprint cookies, Burla called them.

Under the foil package were three sheets of paper, three envelopes, and three stamps.

A ballpoint pen from Southside Baptist Church.

Some bubble gum.

A purple yo-yo.

And a picture of Burla's dog, Barney, sitting on Burla's quilt-covered couch with his tongue hanging out and a doggy grin on his face. He looked a lot younger than he was now.

His face wasn't gray.

His eyes weren't cloudy.

His teeth weren't yellow.

Kirby felt a pang in his heart for Barney.

Kirby took a cookie out of the foil package and licked the strawberry jam out of the middle. Then he put his thumb in the scooped-out part. The part where Burla's thumb had been.

He took the folded postcard out of his pocket.
Greetings from the Great Smoky Mountains
. He tossed it into the box with the other things. Then he walked around the edge of the pool, thinking about what a mess he was in.

Kicked out of school for no good reason.

Hollered at all the time by his hateful old stepfather, Virgil.

Treated like dirt by his very own father.

The only time his mother paid any attention to him at all was when he got in trouble. Most times it was
Ace this
and
Ace that
.

Ace, his perfect brother.

Kirby had figured out a long time ago that the only thing he could do better than Ace was get in trouble.

So that's what he did.

Now
he was being hauled off to some awful school where they made you do chores and push-ups and say
yes, sir
and
no, sir.

The crunch of tires on gravel interrupted Kirby's thoughts. That red pickup truck. Mr. Dover jumped out, whistling. He waved at Kirby, then helped Aggie down from the other side of the truck. The two of them disappeared inside the office.

Kirby took a piece of paper and the pen out of the box and sat on the concrete steps of the swimming pool to write.

Dear Burla,

How are you? I am fine.

He chewed on the end of the pen and looked up at the sky. Then in front of the word
fine
, he squeezed in the word
NOT
.

I am NOT fine.

Then he made a list of all the reasons he was not fine. Number one was that bad-boy school waiting for him up the winding mountain road. Number seven was being stuck in this falling-apart motel. And in between was his mama acting so mean and their broken-down car and a girl named Willow with stupid plastic sandals and another girl named Loretta who talked all the time and jingled a bracelet every minute of the day. And a skinny old woman named Aggie. (But then he scratched out the word
old
because Burla was old, too, so maybe she wouldn't like it if he said that.)

Then he wrote two things that
were
fine: a cat named Ugly who liked him a lot and the thumbprint cookies.

The screen door of the office banged and Kirby looked up. Aggie sat in the lawn chair out front. Willow came out and sat beside her. Kirby looked down real quick, thinking that any minute Aggie was going to call to him. Wave her bony old hand and motion for him to come over there. Make him talk to her and Willow.

But she didn't.

Kirby looked over at them again. Aggie sat all hunched over and droopy-looking. Willow looked down at her hands, clasped in her lap. She crossed her ankles and swung her legs. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Tires on gravel again. The white van with
Murphy's Heating and Plumbing
on the side. That girl Loretta and her parents. All of them smiling and waving and acting like the Sleepy Time Motel was Disney World or something.

Loretta jumped out and ran over to him.

“Guess where we've been,” she said.

Kirby shrugged.

“Dollywood!” Loretta practically hollered.

Kirby said, “So?” but Loretta must have thought he said, “Tell me all about it,” because she went on and on about all the stuff at Dollywood.

“It's over in Pigeon Forge,” she said. “There's all these rides there. One's called the Thunderhead and it's really scary. And the Dizzy Disk made us kinda sick. And I went on the Shooting Star all by myself.” She sat on the steps beside Kirby. “And I tried on one of Dolly Parton's very own wigs,” she said. “From her Chasing Rainbows museum that has all her outfits and things.”

“How come?” Kirby asked.

“How come what?”

“How come you tried on her wigs?”

Loretta's eyebrows squeezed together.
“'Cause,”
she said real drawn out and whiny-like. “I mean,
Dolly Parton
?”

Loretta jingled her charm bracelet. “And guess what else?” she said.

Kirby swatted at a fly and waited.

“I got a charm for my bracelet,” Loretta said. “A little heart that opens up and has
Dollywood
on the inside.”

Kirby swatted the fly again. “So?”

Loretta nodded toward the shoebox in Kirby's lap. “What's that?” she said.

“Stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

Kirby put his arm over the top of the box. This crazy girl was liable to snatch it away from him or something.

“Just stuff,” he said.

“I have a box of stuff, too,” Loretta said. “From my other mother who died.”

Kirby sat up straight.

Other mother who died?

And then Loretta went skipping off across the parking lot, calling over her shoulder, “Come on, I'll show you.”

Loretta

“And look at these.” Loretta held out the silver scissors
shaped like a bird so Kirby could see.

“And that.” Loretta pointed to the Japanese fan.

Kirby picked the fan up and opened and closed it until Loretta took it away from him.

He examined the pocket watch. He thumbed through the white leather Bible. He picked up the sparkly poodle dog pin. He turned it over and studied the back. He ran his finger over the shiny green stones that were the poodle eyes.

“Emeralds,” Loretta said, pointing at the shiny little eyes.

“These ain't real emeralds,” he said.

Loretta snatched the pin from him.

“How come you have two mothers?” Kirby said. “And what happened to the other one?”

So Loretta told him how she had been adopted by Irene and Marvin Murphy when she was a tiny baby. Then she told him about the box of earthly possessions that came in the mail and the note about her other mother passing on to the other side.

She jingled the charm bracelet in his face and pointed out each of the charms.

“We're going to visit all the places my other mother visited,” she said. “And look at this.” She smoothed the blue handkerchief out on the bed and pointed to the letter
P
embroidered in the corner with shiny pink thread. “I was thinking the
P
probably stands for Pamela. Or maybe just Pam.”

“You don't even know her name?” Kirby said.

“No, but I bet it was Pam.”

Loretta jammed everything back in the box, clamped the lid on, and said, “Let's go find Willow.”

“But why would she sell the motel if she doesn't want to?” Loretta asked Willow.

“Because she can't take care of it by herself,” Willow said. “Without Harold,” she added.

Loretta sat next to Willow in the damp grass surrounding the flagpole. Kirby hopped around them, counting.

Twenty hops on the right foot.

Twenty hops on the left foot.

The sun had begun to sink below the mountains and stars twinkled dimly in the clear sky.

“So why doesn't she hire somebody to help?” Loretta said. “Like a handyman or something.”

“Because she doesn't have any money.” Willow picked at blades of grass. “Because nobody comes here anymore. Everybody wants to stay at those fancy places down on the interstate.”

Loretta tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Then why does your dad want to buy this motel anyways?”

Willow's face crumpled up in a heap of wailing tears and she ran off to her room in her tippy-toe way, her plastic sandals making squeaky noises on the sidewalk.

Loretta looked at Kirby.

Kirby shrugged.

Loretta glanced over at the swimming pool. Her mother was sitting in a lounge chair talking to Mr. Dover. Her father was fiddling with wires hanging out of the floodlight beside the Sleepy Time Motel sign, his tools spread out in the weeds beside his toolbox.

There was a buzzing sound and then a popping sound and then another buzzing sound and suddenly the Sleepy
Time Motel sign was shining bright as anything in the glow of the floodlight.

Loretta's mother clapped and Mr. Dover whooped.

Loretta looked over at the office. Aggie was peering out from behind the curtain.

“Let's go talk to Aggie,” Loretta said to Kirby.

But before they got to the office door, Kirby's mother came storming across the parking lot from the road.

“Get on inside,” she hollered at Kirby.

Kirby's shoulders slumped and he mumbled, “Bye.”

Loretta watched him follow his mother up the sidewalk to their room and disappear inside.

Then she ran on over to the office to talk to Aggie.

Aggie

Aggie put a red X through the day on the calendar. A bad
day, she thought.

Everything had happened so fast. Clyde Dover had only arrived yesterday. Why was he in such an all-fired hurryâmaking lists and yakking with that inspector and driving her down to the bank to sign more papers? Why couldn't they just slow down a little bit?

Signing her name on all those papers over at the bank had made her head hurt and her stomach queasy.

Agnes Duncan.

Over and over again.

Each time feeling worse than the time before.

And then Agnes Duncan on the very last page and the Sleepy Time Motel wasn't hers anymore.

Aggie shuffled around the office in her bedroom slippers. She tidied up the postcards and straightened the stack of maps and then she noticed something. Down at one end of the counter. A pair of sunglasses. Some pens. A yellow folder with
Motel
scrawled on the front with a black marker.

Clyde Dover's folder.

Aggie switched on the lamp with a shaky hand. A jacket hung on a peg behind the counter. A denim jacket that wasn't hers and wasn't Harold's.

Clyde Dover's denim jacket.

“Well, now â¦” she said.

She pulled back the dusty curtains and peered outside. The Sleepy Time Motel sign glowed in the darkening sky.

“Well, now â¦” she said again.

She went outside to sweep the sidewalk in front of the office.

“Hey, Aggie.”

Aggie looked up to see Loretta running toward her.

“Willow said you sold the motel,” Loretta said. “How come?”

Aggie dropped into the lawn chair by the door. “It's a long story and a short day,” she said.

“Oh.” Loretta sat beside her, swinging her legs, slapping her bare feet against the sidewalk.

Aggie took a deep breath of the cool night air. She watched the lights flick on down in Kirby's room. She admired the glow of the Sleepy Time Motel sign. Then she sat back and listened while Loretta told her all about Dollywood. About the rides and the wigs and all. Every now and then, she reached into her pocket to feel the little china horse that Willow had given her.

“And I bet my other mother tried on a wig, too, don't you?” Loretta said.

Aggie nodded. “Most definitely,” she said.

“Her name was Pam.”

“Really?”

“Well, maybe â¦” Loretta clapped her hands at a mosquito that flitted around in front of them. “Or Patsy,” she said. “Maybe Patsy.”

Aggie was glad to have Loretta sitting there next to her, swinging her legs and jangling her bracelet and chattering on and on about her other mother in that happy way of hers.

And so it seemed like that bad day was going to end as a good one.

Or at least a not-so-bad one.

But then Clyde Dover came over and asked Aggie for a key to the office.

A key for him.

A key so he could lock up, since, you know, his stuff was in there now.

And the whole time Aggie was looking for that spare key that she knew was in the junk drawer somewhere, he was rambling on and on about all the things he was going to change. Paint the office. Move the soda machine. Maybe even pave the parking lot.

“And there's something else I've got in mind,” he said, “but it's a surprise.”

Aggie's not-so-bad day was turning back into a bad day.

That night, she slept sitting up in Harold's old lounge chair again, clutching the little china horse and dreaming about Dolly Parton.

BOOK: Greetings from Nowhere

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