When Ratboy Lived Next Door (17 page)

Goodbye for now,

Your Nanna

P.S. Am enclosing a note to Carolyn. Please see that she gets it. Also enclosed is your picture of Robert. Must have put it in my apron pocket that day. Keep it and don't feel like you're doing anything wrong by it. I gave it to you. It's yours. Love, N.

I'd give Nanna's note to Mrs. Merrill later. I was glad to have Robert's picture back. I'd wondered what had happened to it but was afraid to ask Mother or Daddy. And it made me happy to hear that Nanna was having a hard time getting used to her sister. Maybe she'd be back before Thanksgiving. I just wished she'd sent a batch of cookies.

When I walked out of the post office, I saw Willis heading toward home. I didn't know if it was because of our conversation on the roof or because of Nanna's letter, but I was glad to see him. I put the mail in my bike basket, and Willis pushed the bike as if he'd done it a thousand times.

“I got a letter from Nanna. Look what she sent me.” I showed him Robert's picture. I hadn't told Rae Anne about Robert and I hadn't told Elliot. But here I was showing Willis.

“Looks like you.”

“He's my brother.”

“I didn't know you had a brother.”

“Well, he's dead. He died before I was born, but he's still my brother. This picture is all I have of him.”

“Then you'd best take care of it.” I could tell by the way he said it that he knew it was important to me.

When we got close to home, I saw his dad's pickup parked at a crazy angle. It reminded me of that other time we'd seen him stagger across his front yard and Nanna had declared he was drunk.

Willis got quiet when he saw it. He probably would have run away if he hadn't been with me. I kept talking as if nothing was out of the ordinary and walked toward the backyard. If we could reach the tree house, maybe Willis would be able to avoid his daddy.

Suddenly we heard Mr. Merrill yell in a horrible, growling voice, “That's it! You're dead meat! I'm looking at some buzzard's supper tonight!”

“Oh no, Willis!” I said. “It's Zorro!” He was hanging on to the Merrills' screen door exactly the way he'd hung on to ours.

Willis reached the door just as it swung open and Mr. Merrill came out with a baseball bat. Zorro jumped off and Mr. Merrill was face-to-face with Willis.

“This is all your fault, boy! What have you got to say for yourself?”

Willis turned back into the old Willis. He stood there with that dead look on his face, saying nothing. It was as if he could leave his body and go to a different place when he was being threatened.

I inched toward the tree house and quietly climbed up. Mr. Merrill kept yelling words that didn't always make sense. He even shoved Willis a couple of times. But Willis kept his mouth shut. Finally Mr. Merrill threw the bat against the side of the house and yelled, “You can kiss that raccoon goodbye. If he ain't run off already, I'm gonna kill him next time I see him.” He tore open the screen door and slammed it behind him.

Willis let out a deep breath and rubbed his stubbly hair with his hands.

“Psst! Willis!” I whispered.

He looked up and saw me. He was starting toward me when Zorro zipped past him and scurried to the tree house. Willis climbed up and grabbed Zorro. “Ain't he smart? He's about the smartest animal I ever seen.”

“Yeah, he's smart. But what are you going to do now? I think your daddy will kill him. I really do.”

Willis kept rubbing Zorro's fur as if he hadn't heard me.

“Now do you believe me that Zorro gets out of his cage by himself?”

I didn't think he was going to answer me, but he finally said, “That book. That one that told all about raccoons? It say anything 'bout turnin' them loose? You know, in the woods?”

Willis knew what it said. I'd read the whole book to him.

“They don't really know how to hunt for food or protect themselves because their owners have been doing that for them. It kind of kills their natural instinct. They have to be retaught and that takes time.”

We sat that way for a while, just the two of us, staring out over Maywood's rooftops wondering how to save Zorro. And Zorro sat nestled between us, probably thinking this was the best day of his life.

*   *   *

An idea came to me when I woke up the next morning. I threw on some clothes and hurried outside.

I rode to the library. Mrs. Green was walking up the steps to unlock the door when I yelled, “Miz Green! Wait! I need to talk to you!”

She jumped. It did my heart good to be the loud one for a change.

“My stars! You scared the daylights out of me. What is it, Lydia? Another overdue library book?” She winked when she said it. Even scared, she bounced right back to her old loud, teasing self—like a ball you couldn't keep underwater for long.

“No, Miz Green. This is personal.”

“Ooh, personal. My favorite kind of talk,” she said as she held the door open.

Her shoes clacked loudly as she strode across the floor. She threw her purse and lunch sack on the desk and said, “Whew! It's sticky already. Going to be another hot one, I'll bet.”

I dropped my voice a notch, trying to get the conversation back to library level even though we were the only people there. “I have a big favor to ask. You know how much Willis Merrill loves his raccoon, right?”

“Of course I do! Do you need me to find another book on their care and feeding?”

“No, ma'am. What I need is for you to keep Zorro for him. You said how much you liked animals and how exotic you thought havin' a raccoon would be. Well, Willis can't keep him. It's a matter of life and death for Zorro. Willis needs somebody who'll take good care of him.”

Her eyes went from normal to about twice their usual size.

“Goodness! I might have said those things but I was trying to—you know—make Willis feel good about his raccoon. It seemed to be his pride and joy, and I know how much you care for the boy.”

“But you take your sister's hamster in the summer, right? And that's just 'cause she travels. Well, if someone doesn't take Zorro, he's gonna die. He'll either get murdered or die in the wild. Miz Green, please think about it.”

“Oh, I don't know. Sam and I don't live in the country, you know. Is Zorro housebroken?”

I smiled at that. “No ma'am. He's not an inside animal. He stays outside in an old rabbit hutch. It wouldn't take up much room, and we could come by and help you take care of him.”

Twenty long minutes later, I finally convinced Mrs. Green that we'd do all the work if she'd let us keep him at her place. Willis would be happy. That way he could still see Zorro.

“Don't bring him by before I get home. Sam will have a cow when he sees what I've done now!” But she was already piling all the books the library had about raccoons on her desk to read.

“One more thing. I know you're doing us a big favor, but Willis won't see it that way. He loves that coon so much, he'll think he's doing you the favor. Don't be hurt if he doesn't thank you.”

Mrs. Green folded her arms across her chest and her mouth twitched as she said, “Is there anything
else,
Lydia?”

“No ma'am. Just this,” and I gave her my biggest hug before I went to tell Willis.

16

As I pulled Mother's blue skirt out of the clothes basket and pinned it to the line, I thought of Willis. I hadn't seen him yesterday. It being the Fourth of July, Daddy, Mother, and I had gone to Aylesville to watch the parade and fireworks. But this morning, I could tell Willis wasn't the same without Zorro.

He had headed to Mrs. Green's house first thing to feed Zorro. Since he wanted Zorro to get used to his new surroundings, Willis planned to let him roam in her yard, calling him back if he went too far.

I reached for Daddy's shirt and looked across the fence at Mrs. Merrill. She had a customer in her backyard. She'd given the woman a haircut and was pinning her hair onto curlers. She'd had one or two people straggle in every morning since she put the sign in the Laundromat. She took them through her back door and washed their hair, but she always brought them outside to cut it. Maybe she didn't want the mess in her house. Or maybe she really didn't have much furniture, as Nanna had guessed, and didn't want anyone to know.

Holding Betsy in one hand, Beth was picking up the hair that had fallen to the ground.

I walked over to the fence and called out, “Hey, Beth! What ya doin' with all that hair?”

Just as she ran to show me, I heard wheels screech. I looked toward the street. Mr. Merrill slammed the truck to a stop in front of the house. I could tell he'd been drinking. Something wasn't right: he was never home in the morning. He almost fell out of the truck, then righted himself and slammed the truck door. He had a crazed look on his face.

Acting on instinct, I leaned over the fence and picked up Beth, then ran for my house with her in my arms. Whatever was going to happen, I didn't want her to see it.

At first she didn't say anything, but when we got to my back door her eyes were huge with surprise. I forced myself to laugh and swung her around so she'd think I was playing. I said, “Guess what? Your mama told me you could come play at my house today. I've got such big things planned for us!”

I set her down in the kitchen and took her hand.

“Come on. I'll show you where our bathroom is so you can wash your hands.”

She looked down at her hands and asked, “Am I dirty?”

“No, silly! It's just that we're gonna have a big snack, so you need to wash them good.”

She put Betsy and her collection of hair on the kitchen counter and went into the bathroom. While she was there, I ran back to the kitchen and looked out the window. Mr. Merrill was screaming at his wife. The woman whose hair she'd been doing was running down the street, dropping little pink curlers as she went. I opened the window a crack. Mr. Merrill grabbed the chair that the woman had been sitting in and flung it to the side. I heard him say, “What do you think you're doing? Did you think you could sneak around behind my back?”

Mrs. Merrill answered so low I couldn't make out her words. By then Beth was back, so I closed the window. I got out the Bugs Bunny cup I'd used when I was little and poured milk into it.

“What would you like to eat, Beth? We have cookies, or I could make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Which would you like?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, what you said.”

“So you want both? Cookies and a sandwich?”

“Yes,” and then, “Please!” She looked proud that she remembered to say please.

I placed the box of cookies in front of Beth and took the fixings for the sandwich to the window. Mr. Merrill was screaming louder. He said, “First I get fired! Then I come home to find you sneaking in a job! You know I won't allow any wife of mine to work!”

Mrs. Merrill ran inside the house and Mr. Merrill charged after her. I was sure he would hurt her.

My hands shook as I finished making the sandwich. I put it on a plate, threw a few cookies beside it, and grabbed Beth's milk cup.

The louder Mr. Merrill got, the more I worried that Beth would hear him.

“We're not having an ordinary snack, you know, so we're having it in a special place. Follow me!”

I led her upstairs to my room and opened my closet door. When I was little, I loved to play in there. It was roomy and I had pretended it was my house. I pulled down a hatbox for a table and set Beth's food on it. Then I reached for my Ginny doll. I propped up Ginny at the box, put a cookie in front of her, and said, “Beth, I'd like you to meet Ginny. Ginny, this is my friend Beth. We're having a party!”

Beth clapped her hands together, then sat down very primly. If I hadn't been so anxious, I would have thought it was real sweet. Her forehead puckered and she said, “Lydia, Ginny doesn't have milk.”

“Oh, you're right. And Betsy's downstairs. I think she'd like to come to the party, too, don't you?”

“Yes!” Beth clapped her hands again.

“I'll be right back.”

I closed the door partway. I didn't want to scare Beth, but I didn't want her to come out and look over at her house. I made sure my bedroom windows were closed, then ran downstairs and out the back door.

Mr. Merrill was still yelling, and I thought I heard glass breaking. I didn't know what to do. I prayed that Willis wouldn't come home. I knew Elliot was at work and thought about calling him, but what could a fourteen-year-old kid do? He'd probably get hurt, too.

Then I heard Mrs. Merrill scream and I knew I had to do something.

I ran back into the kitchen and dialed O.

“Operator? Could you please get me the sheriff? It's an emergency.”

I'd seen people call the sheriff on TV but never thought I'd have to do it. My hands were so sweaty I could barely hold on to the phone.

“Sheriff Yates here.”

“Sheriff Yates? This is Lydia Carson.”

“Lydia? Glen and Evelyn's girl?”

“Yessir, that's me.”

“What can I do for you, hon?”

“Well, sir, maybe I shouldn't be bothering you, but our next-door neighbors are having a fight that sounds awful bad.”

“Next door? You mean Boyd Merrill?”

“Yessir. Daddy and Mother are at work, and I didn't know what to do except call you.”

“You did just fine, honey. But don't go over there. Stay inside your house no matter what happens, okay? I'll be right there.”

“Thank you, Sheriff.”

I must have been holding my breath because I felt I was letting it out for the first time since all this started. I finally got the phone back on the hook. I turned to the counter and tucked Betsy under one arm, then rooted around a kitchen drawer until I found two bottle caps to use as doll cups. I poured a dab of milk into each one and went back upstairs.