by R. K. Latch
“I bet you’ve never spent a day in the kitchen, have you?” she asked in that sweet and calm way she said everything. Wade shook his head, his eyes downcast. “Oh sweets, don’t you worry. Luthor may be the businessman of the family but here,” she said gesturing around the large kitchen, “I am ruler of all things.” The smile was something else, Wade reckoned. “Here,” she said, handing him a dishtowel. “I will rinse and wash, you will dry them as I hand them to you and stack them. Then, once that’s done, I I’ll show you where everything goes. Sound like a plan?”
Wade, despite himself, smiled. “Yes, ma’am, it does.”
“Good, except it’s Gabby,” she said, and she dipped her hand into the fluffy white suds in the sink, brought it out and dashed him with water by flicking her fingers. She had a small radio on the counter and the signal came through clear and true. Wade didn’t know much about music, but she told him the artist and name of every song as it started. Wade wiped the dishes dry as Betty Hutton, Dinah Shore and the ‘incomparable’—Gabby’s word, not his—Glenn Miller played a soundtrack to their dishwashing.
Soon they were done, and all the dishes, pots and pans were stowed. She left him and Wade found his way into the living room. As he sat there on the comfortable sofa his mind was, in fact, somewhere else. Never in a thousand years would he think he would enjoy such hospitality. It was welcome and wonderful, but with those feelings came something else entirely. The soul sucking grip of dread was upon him.
He knew this could not and would not last. Even Mr. Duncan himself had said a few days. If you counted last night and today as separate days, which he knew they really were as everyone knew the day started over at midnight, how many more would be a few? Wade reasoned those two days could be called a couple but anything beyond that could be called a few. Three days, four days, certainly not five, wouldn’t that be a week, or would that be seven? If Mr. Duncan had meant a week, certainly he would have said as much. After all, he was a successful man in business. He would say what he meant and mean what he said, wouldn’t he? Of course.
Maybe another day, perhaps two more at best. That’s what he could expect and that’s only, surely, if everything went perfectly and Wade was the perfect guest. He doubted his ability to be that. Heck, he couldn’t even wash dishes properly. He would need to find a way to make himself valuable to them, maybe that could help. He didn’t see as it could hurt. Maybe it could buy him a day or two which would be sublime.
He eased himself up from the sofa. Lounging around was no way to make oneself valuable.
The house was eerily quiet around him. The only sound coming from the kitchen, the radio muffled by a closed door.
Wade had the run of the house. Mrs. Duncan, Gabby, had said as much. That didn’t mean he felt like he had the run of the house, and he was not about to start in on something without permission. More to the point, he had no idea where to start or what to do should he find such a starting point. He really was very worthless.
Instead of messing around and messing up anything. He chose to seek out Gabby.
Wade saw her through the window of the side door off the kitchen. She was in the backyard, a soft breeze blowing her wavy hair. She was pinning clothes to a line, and he thought he could help her well enough with such a chore. When he was dirty beyond belief and felt that the mere sight of him would give cause for concern, he’d seek out a creek, a pond, or any small body of water he could find and not only bathe but clean his own clothing as well. He had nothing in the way of a washboard or soap, besides a few crushed pieces of Ivory or Smythe’s he could collect in his daily adventures of survival. He did a poor job, but it was all he could do. But pinning clothes, he was sure he could manage something so simple.
“Young man, I don’t know what to think of you,” she said when he walked up to her. The sun was warm and good on his face, and he squinted as he neared her. He did not once feel foolish walking across the yard with an oversized tee shirt and shorts on. He did have to grab a time or two at his waistband or else chance them dropping. “Most boys your age would not volunteer so quickly for women’s work.”
“I don’t mind. I like being…useful,” he said almost forgetting the word. Gabby considered it.
“Fine with me, but after this, I think you should find something on the radio or maybe a board game from the hallway closest. I wish we had more things along your lines, but I’m afraid we have very few guests of your age.”
“It’s okay,” Wade was quick to say. He liked how she used the word guest instead of visitor. Even his young, uneducated mind could understand the difference. “I don’t play much.”
Gabby ruffled his hair and he thought was just about the best thing in the world.
There was the sound of tires on gravel and before long, Mr. Duncan was stepping around the house. Gabby smiled and waved. “Started to think you had run off,” she laughed.
“Never,” he said. He nodded at Wade as men do to each other and the world seemed okay, for once. “I have some things for you, Wade. A few changes of clothes and a baseball to occupy yourself with.”
Wade didn’t have any idea what to say to that. It wasn’t Christmas or his birthday or didn’t think it was. His foolish face must have betrayed something as Mr. Duncan put a hand on his shoulder. With the other hand he held paper sacks.
“Why don’t you run and get the other things out of the backseat and help me bring them in. Then, let’s get you out of that outfit,” Luthor said. As Wade could still think of nothing to add, he nodded eagerly and sprinted off.
“He’s such a good boy,” Gabby said.
“Yes,” he said. “And we shall soon see how good,” he gave his wife a knowing grin.
Chapter 6
The rest of that Saturday flew by in a great blur. Luthor was delighted that Wade took to his purchases so well as he was not known for his fashion sense. He wore suits more days than not and while he had never been a casual dresser after he’d forged a bit of financial success in his life, Gabby could always be trusted to pick out things for him that would not have him sticking out like a sore thumb, or better yet as a bean counter, on their rare weekend outings. When it came to picking attire for a child, he was incredibly ill-equipped. Thankfully, merchants anticipated such things and he’d bought from the most prominent displays in the store. He’d had to guess the boy’s size and looking at him now, in a pair of trousers and a nice button up, he had not done such an awful job.
Wade had guardedly accepted the new clothes and a baseball and a couple of gloves. To him, gifts were not given out of kindness, but always a debt that could only be paid in the most outlandish and vile ways. Luthor knew that all too well. Still, after careful prodding by both he and his wife, the boy had embraced his new, if limited, wardrobe with an appreciation that touched Luthor. That was a rare thing, indeed.
How the boy had room for lunch when Gabby finished with the sandwiches, he had no idea. Yet, the boy ate voraciously, but with more pronounced if poor, manners this time around. His etiquette did not bother Luthor. Manners were dandy, but when you’ve been half-starved most of your life, they were frivolous things. That he made an attempt to restrain himself was admirable.
After lunch, Luthor called the boy out onto the back porch. It was a deep, shaded deck, with overhanding roof and even more furniture than the front. They sat there in two wicker chairs with a small round table between them as the day heated up around them. A pitcher of lemonade and two glasses sat upon the table. Beads of sweat formed on the pitcher and the glasses. It was good lemonade, maybe even the best Gabby had ever made. Still, Wade drank in small sips before replacing it on the table. Luthor could tell the boy was nervous. Making him uncomfortable was not his intention. Still, things needed to be said.
“How are you enjoying your stay, Wade?” He asked at length. The boy looked at him. He seemed so insubstantial in the wicker chair with clothes that fit him well, if not perfectly. Luthor did not let this fool him. The boy had survived on his own
and sometimes in the company of bad people. He was a true survivor and Luthor respected that.
“It’s been real swell, sir,” the boy said.
“Good. I trust we’ve kept your hunger at bay.”
“Yes, sir. It’s the best food ever.”
“I’m sure Mrs. Duncan would like to hear that.” The boy nodded. “We need to talk over a few things, okay?” Wade looked up at him. He looked sad, weary of what would come. “No, nothing bad. I know that’s all you’re accustomed to, but just a talk between two fellows. Would that be alright?” Again, Wade only nodded.
“When you live as I can only assume you have, there’s not much stock put into rules. Am I right?”
“I’m not sure what you mean, sir,” the boy said. It was Luthor’s turn to nod.
“Let me say it this way. You’ve been doing pretty much what you’ve had to just to survive. Right.”
“I…I guess so.”
“Well, here, survival is much less an issue than order. Does that make sense?”
“I guess so.”
“Good, because order and structure, I feel, are important. Both Gabrielle and I have enjoyed having you here. As you can tell, we aren’t the most knowledgeable couple about children you’ll find. But it does us both good to have you around. Having no children of our own, just the last hours have been rewarding. But we must speak of the future now.” Luthor watched the boy’s eyes as his mind tried to process what he was hearing. Most likely he was waiting on the other shoe to drop, as folks sometimes said. His life was full of such things. Luthor gave him a moment.
“Did I do something wrong, Mr. Duncan?”
“No,” Luthor said quickly. “Not at all.” Luthor paused and took a sip of his own lemonade. Pleasantly tart with just a tinge of sweetness, he savored it all the way down. “I want to ask you once more about your parents. It is imperative you tell me the truth. Can you do that?” The boy looked unsure. No, that wasn’t quite right. He looked troubled. Luthor wasn’t sure if the boy was troubled by either the truth being required of him or the truthful answers themselves. Either way, there was no way past it but through it. “Where are your parents?”
Wade looked away at first, as if the words stung. They most likely did. Still, it was a necessary sting. Then he turned back. His lower lip trembled slightly.
“Dead. Dead and gone. At least my momma. I saw her. I saw her dead.”
“I see.” Luthor wanted to reach out, put a hand on the boy but he did not. “Your father?” The boy shrugged. He looked down at the ground when he answered. It wasn’t to lie. He just didn’t want Luthor to see him.
“I don’t rightly know, Mr. Duncan. Never met him. Don’t even know his name. Momma called him a sorry bastard. Guess that’s how I think of him. Just ‘Sorry Bastard’.”
“No kin out looking for you?” The boy shook his head. “All alone in the world, huh,” Luthor said gently.
He reached out and tipped the boy’s chin toward him. The boy’s eyes were wet and turning red. “Like I said, Wade. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. We don’t choose our family. They will leave us sometimes. Sometimes that’s for the best. Wished mine would have left me before they damaged me.”
Wade nodded. “Okay,” Luthor said. “Good enough. Me and Gabby, we’d like you to stay for a while. If, that is, you can abide by our rules.”
The boy acted as if he hadn’t heard him right. He turned his head to the side, but his eyes never left Luthor.
“You okay with that?” Luthor asked.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Duncan.”
“You’ll call me Luthor here at the house. Should we go out into the public, Mr. Duncan will be appropriate. We’ll say you’re a nephew of Gabby’s. She’s not from around here and has a sister, somewhere. No one will be none the wiser.”
The boy nodded again.
“Now, for the rules. I want you to listen to me. Listen very closely. More than that, I want you to hear me. Do you understand the difference?”
“I do.”
“I thought you might. Now, drink your lemonade before the ice melts all the way down and its half water. Sit back and think well over what I say. Will you do that?”
Wade did not speak but took his glass into his hand. It looked like such a large thing in that small hand. Luthor leaned forward, taking his own glass.
“Rule one.” Luthor used his index finger to emphasize the number. “Respect what is ours. You’ve seen we don’t mind feeding you and clothing you and giving you the run of the house. But always be respectful of our things.”
Wade nodded his understanding.
Luthor’s second finger went up. “Rule two. Respect our privacy and we will respect yours. Up to a point. You are a kid. I know you’re quite grownup for your age, but there come times when you will think we’re invading your privacy. That will not be the case. However, as we don’t know you all that well, we will be checking up on you. Still, we will be within reasonable bounds when doing so. Is that acceptable? “
“Yes, sir. Luthor,” said the boy.
“Good. Rule three.” Luthor extended his ring finger. “Nothing and no one, comes before or between the three of us. Long as you are staying here. We demand a certain amount of loyalty, you see. We have it for each other, and we will have it for you. But it must be reciprocated.” When he saw the boy’s brow furrow, he said, “It must be returned. I apologize, I sometimes forget you’re as young as you are. I know you might not understand…”
“But I do. I do.”
Luthor smiled.
“Rule four. Everything that happens is private. Not just private, secret.” This last one seemed to get Wade’s attention like none before it. He didn’t ask the question that hung on the tip of his tongue. “All of these rules are important, Wade, but this one is the most important of them all.”
“I can keep a secret,” Wade said.
“A lot of people say that Wade. But in the end, it proves much harder a thing to do. You know there is the saying, two people can keep a secret if one is dead.”
“I haven’t heard that, but I understand.”
“The thing is Wade. I really need to know if you can keep a secret. I think we must test that theory. Would that be okay?”
“If you say so,” Wade said, completely unsure.
“I think we have to. But not right now. It’s Saturday. Let’s say you and I get that brand new baseball and those gloves and see if Gabby will sit out here to cheer us on.”
Wade beamed and jumped out of his seat and took off into the house, heading for the hallway closet they’d stored the sporting items he’d brought from town. Luthor did not beam, nor smile.
+++
When the sun finally set on the three of them: Wade, Mr., and Mrs. Duncan, were still out in the backyard. Luthor had fired up his charcoal grill and they’d binged on hot dogs, potato salad and beans. While it was still early June, Wade would have believed it was the Fourth of July. It was one of the best times of his short life.
He was with adults, and they generally acted as such, but never in his life had he felt so relaxed with adults. But the Duncan’s were not just adults, were they? No. They were something very special. The thought of having someone closer to his age crossed his mind, but quickly slipped out as Luthor taught him how to properly throw and catch a baseball. One would think it was intuitive and would come after a few tries. One would be wrong, Wade found. There was more skill and technique involved than he would had ever guessed. He finally caught on but could not match Luthor’s trick pitches.
Later, Wade’s nose was buried in one of a few comic books Mr. Duncan had been kind of enough to pick up for him.
There was only one thing that bothered Wade. He was amazed that there was only the one thing. Usually, his mind was aflutter with worry, concerns, and very real fears. He did not have to worry where he would sleep tonight or from where his next meal would come. Last night, no one had crept into his room and slipped inside the covers with him, demanding sick and vi
le things that would make the bile burn the back of his throat. There was no one telling him to go out and beg for anything that could be had before breakfast would be provided. But the way he’d found Mr. Duncan looking at him, more than once, troubled him.
It was not the sick sneer of a molester. Nor was it the opportunistic look of a conman. No, nothing like that. And Wade well knew those looks.
It was something different. Like he was concentrating really hard, contemplating something quite serious.
It was if the man was thinking over something very serious about him. Of course, was not moving a child into your home, one that you knew nothing about cause for serious concern?
As evening faded to night through glorious twilight, Mr. and Mrs. Duncan collected the checkers board that had occupied them for the last couple of hours. Even with the overhead lights, Wade had given up on the comics books. He could barely read a word, but the pictures which told such rich stories were now hard for even his young eyes to discern in the growing darkness.
Before long, it was bedtime, Mr. Duncan announced. Sounded like a good idea to Wade. He was not exhausted like he was at the end of a normal day, if such a thing as a normal day existed for him. Still, this had been a day of many firsts for Wade. There was nothing about this day that could be construed in any kind of way as bad. Such wonders the day had brought were, only hours ago, akin to miracles to him, had nonetheless left him tired and sleepy but in the best of ways.
Luthor told him goodnight as Wade walked through the living room, Gabby, though, walked him to his bedroom as she headed to the master. At the door to his room, he stopped and turned to her.
“Gabby,” he said. His voice was deeper than usual. He was sleepy and it felt like he was walking on a cloud, as a matter of fact he felt surrounded by them too.
“Yes, sweetheart,” she said, stopping and looking down at him.