When Ratboy Lived Next Door (20 page)
Read When Ratboy Lived Next Door Online
Authors: Chris Woodworth
“Blood brothers never tell,” I said.
He climbed down first and ran to the front yard. I'd bury the lunchbox later. Elliot waited for me at the bottom of the tree.
He held out his hand. I slid mine into his. He gave me his sweet smile and my heart did a flip. It figured that we'd start liking each other as soon as he was leaving.
“I can't tell you where we're going,” he said. “We can't take a chance on Pa finding us.”
“I know.”
“But later, after we get settled and Pa leaves here,” he said, “I was thinking I might write you.”
If I thought my heart flipped before, it was doing regular somersaults now.
“And I might write you back,” I said.
He squeezed my hand and we walked that way, real slow, until we came around to the front of the house. Then we let go.
Mrs. Merrill was waiting behind the steering wheel of their truck with Beth tucked in beside her. Clothes were packed all around the little girl. Daddy was checking the ropes on the back of the truck, and Mother was talking to Mrs. Merrill. Elliot climbed over the furniture in the bed of the truck and sat down beside Willis and Zorro.
When Willis and I had asked for Zorro back yesterday, Mrs. Green had played it up just right. She said she had gotten attached to Zorro and wished he was hers to keep. She made me promise, in front of Willis, that I'd check out one library book every week in return for her giving him back.
Mrs. Merrill sat quietly, looking at their house.
Mother touched her hand. “This is for the best.”
“When Boyd gets out of jail, you won't tell him where we've gone, will you?”
“Carolyn, please, we've been over this a hundred times,” Mother said. “We'll tell him we have no idea where you've gone. It won't be hard to do, since you've never told us where you're going. It will be fine. Please don't worry.”
But I knew I was the one Mrs. Merrill was worried about. I knew where she was going. That note Nanna had sent her had included a check made out to Mrs. Merrill for $250. Nanna told one of her white lies and wrote that she had won the money. She said there wasn't a thing in the world she needed but a good beautician. Nanna wanted Mrs. Merrill to go to beauty school in Louisville with that money.
I picked up the box that I'd packed last night for Beth. It had every doll dress I owned. As I passed it to Daddy to secure, I reached inside and pulled out my Ginny doll.
“Hey, Beth,” I said. “I thought Betsy might be a little lonely at first in her new home. I thought she should take Ginny to keep her company.”
Beth blinked her eyes a couple of times and looked real fast to her mama. Mrs. Merrill nodded. Beth turned back to me, then fought through the padding of clothes surrounding her until she got on her knees. She reached through the window and wrapped her arms around me. She whispered into my neck, “But won't
you
be lonely?”
I squeezed her tight. “Not for the dolls. Just for you.”
There was one last flurry of goodbyes as Mrs. Merrill started the motor. Nanna would be so proud. She pulled that truck out onto the road just as smooth as a bird gliding across the open sky.
I waved until Elliot and Willis turned into a small dot and then vanished.
Mother put her arm around me. “Feeling sad?”
“Yes, ma'am.” It was nice to lean on her after the weight of all those goodbyes.
Daddy put his arm around her and quietly said, “It's time to go.”
She took a deep breath. “Yes. I'm ready.”
We were having a memorial service for Robert. Daddy had had a small marker placed at the cemetery as a remembrance. Mother was finally getting to say goodbye.
She said, “I hope God doesn't faint when I show up in church.”
“I think he can take it.” Daddy winked at her.
She stooped to pick up a pot of yellow daylilies. She wanted to plant them by Robert's marker.
It was nice that she would have a place to remember Robert. We climbed into the car and it suddenly dawned on me that I wouldn't know which marker was his. “Mother? No one's ever told me Robert's last name!”
“It's Emerson,” she said. “Robert Emerson. No middle name.”
My head jerked up at that and I'm sure I stopped breathing.
“I couldn't think of a middle name I liked. Then someone I loved and respected said to me, âWhen that baby is born, look into his eyes. If he looks like he has character, he won't need a string of names to tell the world who he is.'
“When I looked into Robert's eyes, I just knew he would be someone the world would have to reckon with.” She turned to me and said, “I felt the same thing when I looked into yours.”
Tears rolled down my face. I wondered why I had ever hated crying. I'd never felt so good in all my life.
“Whoâ” My voice broke and I tried again. “Who was the person you loved and respected? The person who helped you decide not to give us middle names?”
“It was Nanna.”
“But you and Nanna fought all the time!”
“I know, honey.” She sighed. “Relationships can be so muddled and confusing. You'll see what I mean when you're older.”
Daddy pulled the car onto the road and I rolled down my window. As the sun shone on my smiling face, I thought, I don't need to wait at all to know that.
As I wrote this story, I wanted Willis to have an unusual pet. Since Willis is a little untame himself, I thought a raccoon would make a great one. But wild animals really don't make good pets.
Raccoons are intelligent creatures, and very curious. They are great at climbing, swimming, and running. While they aren't normally aggressive, if cornered they can fight fiercely enough to kill a dog. Raccoons often carry diseases that can be harmful to humans, especially to children.
Most states have regulations concerning ownership of raccoons and other wild animals. In my state of Indiana, a permit from the Division of Fish and Wildlife is required to keep a pet raccoon, which needs special housing.
If you ever come across an abandoned raccoon, leave it undisturbed and contact a licensed rehabilitator, who will care for it, teach it how to survive, and then release it. Your state's fish and wildlife agency can direct you to a licensed rehabilitator.
In writing this book, I was fortunate to have the help of a terrific writer's group. Thank you, John J. Bonk, Lisa Williams Kline, Lee P. Sauer, and Manya Tessler. Thanks, too, to Laura Backes for her wonderful suggestions.
I was especially lucky to catch the interest of my discerning agent, Steven Chudney, who did a superb job of matching me with my editor, Beverly Reingold. I am truly thankful to both of them. I'd also like to thank Lisa Greenwald, editorial assistant, the second person at Farrar, Straus and Giroux to care about my little story, and Beata Szpura, for the terrific jacket art.
In researching the Linotype machine mentioned in the story, I spent a most enjoyable afternoon with Mr. Cecil Krebs, editor-publisher of
The Boswell Enterprise
(Indiana). I'm so glad I got to see his “working museum.” Thank you, Mr. Krebs.
Kathy Jones, Carla Lincicum, Linda Keller, Jane Woodworth, Richard Lincicum, and Jerry Keller provided input in recreating this era and/or gave enthusiastic support during the writing of this story, and I appreciate their help so much.
Last, but never least, special thanks to my familyâMark, Cam, and Catieâfor their love and encouragement, and for putting up with me all those months in which I walked around with my head stuck in 1962 in a small Indiana town.
Copyright © 2005 by Christina Woodworth
All rights reserved
First edition, 2005
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eISBN 9781466893634
First eBook edition: March 2015