Iva Honeysuckle Discovers the World (8 page)

Sunlight poured through the stained-glass window. The angel's halo seemed to shimmer around Heaven's head.

Iva pushed past her and ran out of the church. Her mother would probably kill her for flunking out of vacation church school.

At least she wouldn't have to go back.

I
va tried slipping through the gate like a rubber snake. She hoped to slink inside the house and hole up in her room until church school was over. It didn't work.

Her mother was planted in the rocking chair on the porch, an old enameled basin in her lap. Beside her, a peck basket overflowed with fresh-picked lima beans. She snapped each shell and flicked the beans into the basin with one smooth movement.

Sweetlips lay at her feet. He raised his head when he saw Iva coming down the sidewalk.

Both Iva's dog and Iva's mother frowned with disapproval.

“Hi, Mama,” Iva said with a cheerful smile. “Church school's out early, being it's the first day and all.”

Her mother tossed an empty hull in a bucket. “Then where are Lily Pearl and Howard? Where's Heaven?”

“Um…they're staying after for extra credit.” Iva let her mouth fall a little slack, a technique she had perfected. A tense jaw was a sure sign of fibbing.

Lima beans pattered into the pan. “Iva, I know you were told to leave.”

Who squealed? And how had the news gotten back to her mother so quick? Even Heaven couldn't tattle faster than the speed of light.

“Everybody is in everybody else's back pocket in this town.” Mrs. Honeycutt looked at Iva. “
Nobody
gets expelled from vacation church school!”

“Don't you always say there's a first time for everything?” Iva said, with a weak laugh.

“At least you owned up to it.” Her mother pushed the basket toward Iva. “I'm disappointed in you. You deliberately tried to get your cousin into trouble.”

Iva hated shelling limas. The tough hulls hurt her hands. She slit open one end of a pod, ran her thumb inside the damp waxy shell, and popped out four pale green beans.

Plunk, plunk.
Her mother hulled like she was unzipping a zipper. “I'm not going to ask you why you did it, because that's beside the point. What do you think you should do?”

“Apologize to Miz Compton?” Iva hoped this would be enough.

“Anyone else?”

“Heaven too. I guess,” she added slowly. She would rather crawl fifty miles over broken glass than tell Heaven she was sorry. “Are we having creamed lima beans for supper?” she said, to change the subject.

“I want you to make things right this evening,” her mother said. “I'll see Walser Compton at circle meeting tonight. If you haven't apologized by then—”

“I will, I will.”

Iva had no intention of going to Miz Compton's this afternoon. She had tried to show Miz Compton that Heaven was a phony. Instead, she had wound up making herself look terrible and losing the only friend she had. She had never felt worse in her entire life.

Arden and Hunter bounced down the steps.

“You flunked vacation church school!” Arden crowed. “That takes special talent.”

“Which is more than you have,” Iva fired back.

It was impossible to keep a secret in this town. Everybody
was
in everybody else's back pocket.

Iva checked the pocket of her shorts. It would be like just like Heaven to shrink herself teeny-tiny so Iva would unknowingly carry her around, like a germ.

* * *

At the end of a gravel road just outside of town rose a mammoth pile of trash. The town dump was ruled by Swannanoah Priddy, owner of the fastest pickup truck in Uncertain. The gleaming yellow truck was parked snugly by Swannanoah's little house.

Iva often went to the dump when she needed to think. Nobody there made her go to church school or yelled at her or tattled on her. It was peaceful. Old trees shaded the parking lot. A tiny creek trickled at the bottom of the hill.

On one side, garbage was heaped like a gigantic ice cream sundae. Hemmed in by a low wall, castoffs like stoves and lawn mowers paraded along the other side.

Iva crossed the lot. Sweetlips trotted along with his nose so close to the ground, Iva worried he would suck gravel up his nostrils.

Swannanoah was sorting through a big cardboard box. Even though it was hotter than smoke from a locomotive, she wore her year-round uniform of men's dungarees and a flannel shirt. She once told Iva she didn't need to dress up to wade through coffee grounds and oil rags.

“Hey, Swan,” Iva said.

“Anything new come in?”

“Just put some stuff out.”

Swannanoah rescued the better things people threw away and set them on the wall above a sign that said
Somebody's Trash Is Another Person's Treasure.

Iva was amazed at what people got rid of. Propped against the wall today was a perfectly good picture of a crying clown painted on black velvet. Next to that was a fancy silver thing that covered a telephone. A make-up present for Miz Compton?

And then she saw it. A hefty square of canvas with two rusty poles sticking out.

An army pup tent.

Iva clutched her chest. Every discoverer needed a tent. It was a requirement. They could hardly check into a motel if they were thrashing around in the wilderness.

“Swan! Can I have the tent?”

“If you can carry it off under your own steam, it's yours.”

Iva lifted the canvas. It smelled like mildew, and one corner was torn. She wondered if a grizzly bear had ripped it with his huge paw. The tent had probably been in a lot of adventures. And now it was hers!

Euple Free purred up in The Truck. He switched off the engine, hopped out, and gently shut The Truck's door.

“Hey, Iva,” he said. “Hey, Miss Swan.”

Swannanoah punched him on the arm. “Hey, yourself, Euple Free.”

They chatted about the blistering heat, Euple's pepper patch, Swannanoah's trip to Natural Bridge.

Iva stared at them. Last summer Swannanoah had beat the tar out of Euple in that race. If Iva had been him, she wouldn't give Swannanoah Priddy the pits from her prunes. Not that Iva ever ate prunes.

Euple echoed Iva's question. “Anything new?”

“Something came in just yesterday. The minute I laid eyes on it, I thought, I know a pickup that needs this.” She pointed to a shiny object sitting on a busted stove.

Euple ambled on over. Sweetlips trotted behind him, snuffling every inch of the way. Iva's dog loved the dump as much as she did.

“How come you and Euple are so chummy?” Iva asked Swannanoah. “After you beat him and all.”

“Why, Iva, Eupe and me was friends long before the race. We played in the sandbox together. Why shouldn't we be friends now?”

“Seems like you'd be enemies, I'm just saying.”

“Let me tell you something, Iva. If I thought Euple wouldn't speak to me if I won that race instead of him, I would never have put my truck in gear. Life is too short to spend it mad at somebody.”

Iva thought about Swannanoah's parents. They'd spent the last thirty-five years mad at each other. People in town laughed at Mr. and Mrs. Priddy, but Swannanoah probably didn't think it was so funny. Imagine growing up with parents like that.

Euple held up a silver statue of a panther. “Woo-hoo!”

“Look at him, grinning to beat the band,” Swannanoah said, grinning herself. “That hood ornament's a beaut.”

“How come you don't want it for
your
truck?” Iva asked.

“Because I knew Euple would be tickled over it. Well, this work isn't doing itself.” She dragged another box over and emptied it.

Euple came back, buffing the panther on his shirttail. “The Truck will be proud to wear this!”

“Look what I found today.” Iva showed him the pup tent.

Euple admired the tent. “You could go camping.”

Iva didn't tell him she wouldn't set up the tent for something so undignified. Her tent would be used for discoverer business only.

“You know, a famous person camped here once,” Euple said. “General Braddock.”

“
The
General Braddock?” Iva exclaimed. “How do you know about him?”

“I study up on things. Wars, mostly. The French and Indian War is my favorite war.”

She nodded. “Mine too.”

Euple pointed to an enormous oak tree near the creek. “That tree was a stripling when Braddock and his men camped here. You know who was with them?”

“Who?”

“George Washington. He was real young. Head of the Virginia militia. The militia was with Braddock's outfit.”

Iva nearly swooned. Her hero had stood in this very spot! Maybe fixed his own breakfast. She could practically smell bacon sizzling over a campfire.

“Did they have a battle here?” she asked.

Euple shook his head. “Just camped for a few days. Braddock was in a mighty big hurry to get to Pennsylvania to fight the French. I often wonder why they stayed here so long.”

Iva knew. General Braddock needed to bury that heavy war chest.

“Well, The Truck is anxious to try on his new hat,” Euple said. “Catch y'all later.”

Iva was thinking about the clues on Ludwell's map
…50 paces east of a stream, where the road runs North and South.

She tipped her head back so fast her neck cracked. The sun was setting to the right of the dump road. That was west. The dump road must run north and south!

The tree! She ran to the big old oak tree. The creek mumbled behind her. It was all just like the map said!

Iva shivered in the hot sun. This was the best day! First she found the pup tent. And now she had solved the last clue on Ludwell's map. None of this would have happened if she hadn't gotten thrown out of vacation church school.

Now Great Discoverer Iva Honeysuckle briskly counted off her steps. Too bad a photographer wasn't there to record her great moment.

She thought about how she'd pose for her picture in
The Uncertain Star
. Maybe she'd sit on the cannon as if she were riding a horse. No! She'd stack all those shiny beautiful gold coins into layers like Swannanoah's bride's cake.

Don't lose track. “Ten, eleven, twelve…”

Up the hill, past a stump. “Twenty-seven, twenty-eight…”

Around the edge of the parking lot. “Forty-four, forty-five…”

Famous discoverer Iva Honeysuckle stopped dead.

The mountain of trash loomed before her. Banana peels, orange skins, doughnut boxes, bread crusts, tea bags, used Kleenexes, dog-food cans, half-eaten tuna sandwiches—all of it heated by the scorching sun and reeking to high heaven.

Braddock's gold was buried under the garbage from the town of Uncertain.

W
hen Iva heard her mother's car door slam, she hopped into bed and switched off the light. The front door squeaked shut.

“Lily Pearl.” Her mother's voice carried down the hall into Iva's room. “Pick up every one of those Cheerios and get in the bed. Arden, help her with her pajamas.”

Arden mumbled something Iva couldn't make out. Then she heard her mother's measured tread heading down the hall toward her room.

Iva shoved Sweetlips to the foot of her bed and lay on her side with her arm hanging off the mattress. She closed her eyes and breathed evenly and naturally.

Bright light fell across the rug as her mother came in. Sweetlips thumped his tail.

Her mother leaned over and tucked Iva's arm under the covers. Then she tiptoed out. Before she eased the door shut, she said, “We'll talk in the morning, missy.”

Iva sat up. She hadn't fooled her mother one bit! Well, at least she wouldn't have to face the music until tomorrow about why she hadn't apologized to Miz Compton. Meanwhile, Iva had some planning to do.

She switched on her nightstand light and pulled the flimsy Uncertain phone book out from under the covers. Riffling through the pages, she stopped at a listing for Acme Bulldozers.
Rent-a
dozer, fifty dollars an hour.

Iva had sixty-three cents, and she owed thirty cents of that to Arden. She doubted her mother would loan her forty-nine dollars and…sixty-seven cents. And she doubted the rent-a-dozer man would let an almost-nine-year-old girl drive his bulldozer, even if Iva did have the money.

She tossed the phone book on the floor.
How
would she dig under all that trash to get to the treasure? She wasn't strong enough to do it by herself. Much as she hated to admit it, she needed a partner. But who?

Miz Compton. She was Iva's closest friend. She'd ask her nephew Peter, owner of the second-fastest pickup and editor of
The Uncertain Star
, to dig the hole for Iva. Iva would give him one of the gold coins as payment.

Tomorrow after church school, Iva would go to Miz Compton's and tell her she was sorry about the flannel-board incident. After they'd made up over unsweetened cherry Kool-Aid and preacher cookies, Iva would tell Miz Compton she needed Peter's help. Now
that
was a plan.

If her mother and Aunt Sissy Two could have a grand plan, so could Iva.

As she cut her light out, Iva noticed Heaven's lamp was still on. Heaven was probably choosing the dumb quote for the day for church school tomorrow.
Be a friend, find a friend.

Yeah, right.

Iva sailed up Miz Compton's sidewalk, filled with breezy confidence. She rapped the brass lion'shead knocker twice, and smiled so all her teeth showed. She'd read in one of Ludwell's
National
Geographic
magazines that if you show all your teeth when you smile, people who don't speak your language know you're friendly.

The door swung open, and Heaven stood there. Iva's toothy smile slipped sideways.

“What are you doing here?” she asked Heaven.

“Visiting Yard Sale. And helping with tomorrow's craft,” Heaven replied. “What are
you
doing here?”

“I came to see Miz Compton. Let me in.”

Heaven started to shut the door. From somewhere within the house, Miz Compton called, “Who is it, Heaven?”

“Nobody,” Heaven called over her shoulder.

Iva was in no mood. Because she hadn't apologized to Miz Compton the evening before, Iva had spent the morning weeding the cucumber patch and swatting gnats.

She pushed past Heaven as Miz Compton came in from the dining room.

“Iva,” she said. “How nice of you to drop by.”

“
Un
announced.” Heaven placed her fists on her hips. “
Some
people are busy.”

Iva ignored her. “Miz Compton…uh…” Her breezy confidence popped like a balloon. She couldn't ask Miz Compton to be her partner with Heaven's big self there.

“Heaven,” Miz Compton said. “Let Iva see our craft project.”

Our
project? Now Heaven was doing projects with Iva's best friend?

“Come on,” Heaven said, none too graciously. Iva followed her into the kitchen.

Yard Sale was curled up in a sewing basket, one white-tipped paw draped over the side.

“Awww,” Iva said.

“Miz Compton fixed her a bed, but Yard Sale was bound and determined to sleep in her sewing basket.” Heaven petted Yard Sale's little head. “So Miz Compton had to take her needles and thread out.”

“Okay,” Iva said. “Let's see this big project.”

“Here it is.”

Mason jars lined the countertop, each filled with bendy stems of Queen Anne's lace, the white-flowered weed found along roadsides. The water in each of the jars was a different color: bright blue, yellow, green, and pink.

“You put food coloring in the water,” Heaven said. “And then you stick the Queen Anne's lace in and leave it overnight. The flowers turn the color of the water!”

It was true. The white flowers were now pink and green and pale yellow and a soft sky blue. Iva had never seen such a neat trick.

“So what?” she said. “I mean, you can get flowers that are already colored.”

“The little kids will think it's a big deal,” Heaven said, straightening the stem of a pink flower. “Every day Miz Compton and me plan a new project.” She smiled, showing only her front teeth.

A false smile, Iva thought. People who couldn't speak her language wouldn't be fooled a second.

Miz Compton came in to fetch a jar of furniture polish from the cupboard. She struggled with the lid. “Heaven, dear, can you open this?”

Dear!
Miz Compton never called Iva
dear
.

“Sure.” Heaven untwisted the cap with ease.

“Isn't she amazing, Iva?” Miz Compton said.

Heaven crooked her arm and patted her muscle.

“Yeah,” Iva said. “Amazing.” She had to move things along. Obviously she wouldn't be making up with Miz Compton over Kool-Aid and preacher cookies. Not with “Heaven, dear” sniffing around.

“Can I talk to you?” Iva asked Miz Compton. “Someplace
private
.”

“I'll go pick out tomorrow's coloring sheet,” Heaven said carelessly.

“Thank you, dear. Iva and I will go out on the porch.”

Iva and Miz Compton went outside and sat in the rocking chairs.

“Now. Iva, what's on your mind?”

“I'm sorry about yesterday. The flannel board and all. I mean it.”

“I thought that might be it. And I accept your apology. Let's put it behind us, shall we?”

“Okay.” Iva felt damp with relief. The hard part was over. “There's something else.…You know that thing I've been hunting for all summer?”

As Miz Compton rocked, she fanned herself with one hand. “You never told me exactly what it was. Did you find it?”

“Almost,” Iva said. “I need—well, first I should tell you about it. You know that stuff Daddy gave me that belonged to his grandfather? Ludwell Honeycutt?”

She nodded. “Some old
National Geographic
magazines and things.”

“Well, I was reading one of the magazines one night, and this map fell out. Ludwell wrote it—it's got clues to a hidden treasure!”

“Is that right?” Miz Compton's voice had that downward turn grown-ups used when they didn't really believe you.

Iva barreled on, anyway. “See, General Braddock had to get rid of the gold he had because it was too heavy, and he had to go fight the French in Pennsylvania. When he camped here—Euple Free told me this, so I know it's true—he buried the gold in a cannon. Right here in Uncertain! And he wrote a map with the directions.”

“The same map in Ludwell's magazine?”

“Not the
same
map, because it's in Ludwell's handwriting.” Sometimes grown-ups, even good ones like Miz Compton, should pay attention more. “Anyway, I've been looking and looking. And yesterday I finally found the spot!”

Miz Compton stopped rocking. “You found the gold?”

“No, I found the
spot
where the gold is buried,” Iva explained. “It's under—something real heavy. Would you ask Peter to dig the hole for me? He's strong.”

“I'm afraid Peter is at a newspaper convention in Myrtle Beach.”

“How about you?” Iva said. “I'll pay you! The map says General Braddock buried thirty thousand pounds in gold. A pound is sort of like our dollar. And that was back in the seventeen hundreds! Who knows what it's worth today?”

Miz Compton smiled. Iva tried to count her teeth to see if it was a real friendly smile or a fake friendly smile, but Miz Compton was talking. “I wouldn't be much use in your treasure hunt. I can't even twist the lid off a jar of furniture polish!”

Iva started to cry. Her grand plan was a bust. Worse, Miz Compton and “Heaven, dear” were closer than boll weevils on a cotton stalk.

“Iva, don't take on so. I'm sorry I can't help you—” Miz Compton leaned forward, concerned.

“That's not it!” Iva swiped at her tears. “Well, not all of it. You aren't my friend anymore.”

“Of course I'm your friend,” she said.

“No, you aren't!” Iva said unreasonably. “I don't have a single solitary friend in the whole world.”

“Iva,” Miz Compton said gently. “You go around like you don't
need
any friends. And you don't see the people right in front of you who could be your friends. Remember the quote Heaven wrote yesterday—”

“Not that stupid quote again!”

“—if you
are
a friend, you'll
have
a friend.” She patted Iva's shoulder. “I'll let you get yourself together while I fix us something cool to drink.” She went inside the house.

Iva looked up.

Heaven stood in the doorway, staring at Iva. Her strong jar-twisting arms hung by her sides. Her sturdy tanned legs were planted like trees. Her ladies'-sized feet were splayed out like roots.