The Old House

by Willo Davis Roberts

  “I hope you do, too,” Buddy said sincerely. She wondered where she would be next summer, or even if she might still be stuck here in Hayseed. It seemed a more appropriate name than Haysville.

  That morning there were kids in the office at the school, along with Mr. Faulkner and Sylvia. The secretary was speaking sharply to a tall, unkempt-looking girl dragging a battered backpack on the floor.

  “I’ve told you before, Myra, you can’t come to school smelling like horse liniment and the barnyard. The other kids refuse to sit next to you.”

  “I can’t help it,” Myra whined. “My ma makes me.

  “Then tell your mother I want to talk to her. You’ll have to take a bath before you come to school.”

  “There’s no hot water. The heater’s broke, and we can’t get a new one until Dad gets paid next week. I’m not taking a bath in cold water, even if I have to stay home from school,” Myra said defiantly.

  “You have a kitchen stove, don’t you? Put some water in a pan, heat it on the stove, and take a sponge bath. And use soap, or that smell won’t come off.” Sylvia glanced past the unhappy student and saw Buddy. “Oh, good morning, Amy Kate. I’ll be with you in just a minute. Now, Myra, you can ask Mrs. Murphy if she wants you to stay and sit in the back away from everyone else, or go home and scrub up before you come back. Dust yourself with baby powder afterward; that might help.”

  Myra turned sullenly away from the desk, and Buddy felt a moment of compassion for her. The girl might not be homeless, living in a car, but she certainly had problems.

  “Now,” Sylvia said, smiling, “let’s see who we can find to take you to your room.” She glanced around the office at the milling kids, most of them looking unhappy. “Sara Jenks, you’re in Mrs. Hope’s homeroom. Will you take Amy Kate back with you, please, and introduce her?”

  Sara was a small, thin girl with very thick glasses. “I need a pass to leave school at eleven o’clock,” she said, giving Buddy only a cursory glance. “Mom’s got a doctor’s appointment in Kalispell this afternoon, and I have to go along and baby-sit Junior.”

  Sylvia’s smile congealed. “I told your mother she can’t keep taking you out of school to baby-sit, Sara.”

  The girl shrugged. “You want me to bring him to school with me? He’s only eight months old, and we can’t leave him home alone. I gotta go unless I can keep him with me here, and Mrs. Hope didn’t like it the last time. Everybody wanted to play with him and didn’t pay any attention to her.”

  Sylvia appeared to grind her teeth. “Well, I’ll give you the pass this time, but you tell your mother I need to talk to her about this. She’ll have to make other arrangements for the baby next time.” She scribbled out a pink pass and handed it over. “Now, show Amy Kate where to go, all right?”

  The girl said nothing to Buddy, who simply followed her out of the office. The hallway was full of noisy kids, laughing, yelling, and shoving. Sara led the way up the stairs, turning to the right at the top. She didn’t speak until they’d reached the door of a room with a sign on it that said MRS. HOPE.

  “You the one who’s been abandoned?” she asked then.

  Buddy’s heart was jolted. “No! My dad went away to take a new job, and something happened to him, but my brother’s looking for him. I’m only staying with my aunts until they come get me.”

  Sara nodded. “Everybody talks in this town, but they never get anything right. If they tell you my mom’s got cancer, it’s not so. She’s getting treatment for a disease with a big, long name, but it’s not cancer. She’s going to get better.”

  “I’m glad,” Buddy said, and she was. “My mom died in a car wreck.”

  Sara opened the door to Mrs. Hope’s room and moved toward the teacher’s desk. She laid the pink slip in front of the middle-aged lady and said, “This is Amy Kate, but they call her Buddy.”

  Buddy certainly hadn’t told her that. Her ears felt hot, knowing that people were talking about her, and they were saying things that weren’t true. Her dad never would have abandoned her and Bart.

  “Hello, Buddy,” Mrs. Hope said.

  Several kids snickered, and one boy even asked under his breath, “What kind of name is that for a girl?” Buddy felt the heat creep up her neck, flooding her face.

  Mrs. Hope was scowling at the pink slip. “Again? Sara, how do you expect to keep up your grades if you keep missing school?”

  Buddy didn’t listen to their conversation. She was acutely aware of the other kids, already in their seats, watching her. Two girls sitting next to each other leaned toward the middle of the aisle, putting their hands over their mouths as they whispered and laughed.

  At what, she wondered? Her name? Her red face? Her haircut, or her clothes?

  What if Bart and Dad didn’t come for her soon? She’d have to stay here, going to this school, with these kids whose eyes appraised her hair and her clothes and everything about her. They probably all believed that she’d been abandoned. The heat spread from her ears to her cheeks, and she was helpless to control it.

  “Class,” Mrs. Hope announced, “this is Amy Kate, but she likes to be called Buddy.”

  Buddy wanted to speak out and deny that, to tell them to call her by her real name, but her tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of her mouth. She couldn’t make a sound.

  “Maybe she’ll tell us, when we get better acquainted, how she came by that nickname. There’s an empty seat in the second row, there, beside Elinor. Just take that desk.”

  Buddy slid into the designated seat, which felt strange, as if it didn’t fit her. She resented having to be here, when she was only going to be in town for a few more days. Surely she’d hear from Bart soon, and she’d have gone through all of this for nothing.

  Dad had said that if this job worked out, they might be moving, and then she and Bart would both have to enroll in new schools, but that would be different. They’d be in a town where they were going to stay, where she’d have time to make friends.

  None of these kids looked like friends. They were examining her as if she were a new variety of beetle in a glass jar.

  The girl across the aisle—Elinor?—asked abruptly, “Who cut your hair?”

  Immediately Buddy stiffened defensively. Did that mean the girl thought it was awful, or did she like it? She swallowed. “My aunt,” she admitted.

  “Hmm. I thought maybe it was one of those fancy stylists, like the models have. It makes you look kind of . . . exotic.”

  Exotic? That was good, wasn’t it? Tentatively, relaxing a little, Buddy smiled, and Elinor smiled back.

  That was the only friendly overture, though. The teacher was kindly, but clearly too busy to spend much time on a new student. Not that Buddy wanted her attention. She remembered what Max had said about the way Mrs. Hope knew everything about everybody and didn’t hesitate to talk about it.

  It was nearing the noon hour when an older student opened the door to the classroom. She conveyed a note to the front of the room, and Mrs. Hope paused in her explanation of a difficult math problem to read it, then looked directly at Buddy. “Amy Kate,” she said, not using the nickname this time, “you’re to go to the office immediately.”

  Of course Buddy hadn’t done anything wrong. She couldn’t have. But her heart raced as if she were guilty of something.

  Awkwardly, Buddy stood up and moved toward the door. Once more everyone in the room was staring at her. The student messenger handed her one of the pink slips that gave permission to leave the classroom, and Buddy followed her out into the hallway. “Is something wrong?” she asked the older girl.

  “I think your aunt is here to get you. I don’t know why,” the girl said.

  Buddy didn’t know whether to be excited or apprehensive. Was it about Dad, and Bart? Or had something happened to Grandpa?

  Addie was standing in the lower hallway at the door to the office. She didn’t waste any time. “Your brother’s waiting for you to call him back,” she said. “He’s found Dan.”
/>   Chapter Thirteen

  Buddy’s fingers trembled as she dialed the number Cassie had written down. She could hardly breathe waiting for Bart to pick up at the other end.

  “Buddy?” her brother’s voice asked over the line.

  “Yes! Is Dad okay?”

  “Well, he’s alive. Maybe not okay.” Buddy’s heart did a flip-flop, and she missed a few words. “He’s in a hospital now, and the doctors are still evaluating him. I didn’t want to wait until they finish that before I told you. It’s an incredible story—I won’t try to tell it all over the phone. He was conscious, though, when we found him. He knew who I was, and asked about you.”

  Buddy had to sit down because her legs refused to hold her up. Cassie and Addie and Grandpa were all standing around, staring at her.

  “Dad’s hurt, he’s in a hospital,” she told them, eyes suddenly brimming.

  “Oh, Buddy,” Cassie said, putting a hand on her arm.

  Addie didn’t say anything, but her knuckles were white where she gripped the back of another chair, waiting.

  “Listen, I’m going to get something to eat,” Bart was saying in her ear. “As soon as I get a full report, I’ll call you back. I’ll probably come get you and bring you here, because Dad’s going to be stuck here for a few days, anyway. Okay?”

  “Okay!” Buddy agreed tremulously. “I’ll be right here when you call back. Can’t you just tell me what happened to him?”

  “He and Rich went over a cliff along Highway 101, and nobody was even looking for them there until I came along. The trucking company apparently was convinced they’d hijacked the load and peddled it somewhere, then hidden the rig back in one of those canyons where nobody’d find it for a long time. Rich is here in the hospital, too, with a broken leg and a dislocated shoulder. I called his mom. Somebody wants to use this phone, and I don’t know any more, anyway. I’ll call you back, Buddy.”

  A click severed the connection, and she was unable to keep the tears from running down her face as she looked at her aunts and Grandpa. “He went over a cliff. The man with him was hurt, too. Bart’s going to call back as soon as the doctors can tell him anything,” she said. “But they’re both alive, even if they’re hurt.”

  “Praise the Lord,” Grandpa said. For once, his mind seemed perfectly clear. “I never believed that Dan would abandon his children. He was the best salesman I ever had. He never shirked his responsibilities. I like that in a man.” He looked suddenly at Addie. “You held it against him, Sister, that he married your little sister instead of you. But he never promised to marry you, did he, girl?”

  Addie loosened her grip on the table. “No, he didn’t.” Her face flamed bright pink, then faded out until she was very pale. “But we were good friends. He would have asked me if EllaBelle hadn’t come home from college and stolen him away from me. Everybody in town expected us to get married. Pastor even asked me when we were going to set the date.”

  Now twin spots of pink appeared in her cheeks. “It was so humiliating. Dan and I had run around together that whole winter, after he went to work for you in the store. We liked all the same things, read the same books, enjoyed the same music. I knew he was going to propose to me. And then she came home, and he couldn’t see anybody but her.”

  “She was so lively, wasn’t she?” Grandpa observed, not seeming to notice Addie’s pain. Still so strong, it was, after all these years, Buddy thought. But how could Mama have stolen Dad; he who hadn’t really belonged to Addie. “Always laughing, I remember. Looked a lot like little missy here. What’s your name again, child?”

  “She’s Buddy, Grandpa,” Cassie reminded him.

  Grandpa frowned. “Silly name for a pretty little girl,” he said.

  Buddy cleared her throat and swiped at her eyes. “It’s really Amy Kate, but when I was only about three, Daddy used to call me his little buddy when I went with him in the truck, and then everybody started calling me that.”

  Grandpa’s fingers touched the talking clock, and it announced the time. “Have we had lunch yet? I seem to be hungry.”

  “No, we haven’t, but I’ll fix it right now,” Cassie assured him. “Somebody’s at the door, probably the mailman. Would you get it, Buddy? I’ll start dishing up the soup, and I was going to make toasted cheese sandwiches.”

  Buddy felt shaky as she obediently headed for the door. Surely they wouldn’t make her go back to school now, would they? Even after Bart called back to tell her how seriously injured Dad was? If her brother was coming to get her in only a few days, there couldn’t be any compelling reason to return to school.

  It was, indeed, the mailman. He extended a handful of letters, and then dug into his pouch for a rather battered manila envelope. “Sorry about this one. Got damaged in the mail, somehow. Came open, looks like. They stuck everything back into it, I guess, but she’ll probably have to run off another copy of it if she sends it out again. Some of the pages are dirty, like they got walked on. Good thing she’s got one of those printer things.”

  Buddy thanked him and accepted it, only to have it fall apart again, scattering pages all over the hall floor. She set the rest of the mail aside, noticing that the one on top was addressed to Max. His mother, maybe? She got down on her knees to pick up the loose pages and heard Addie come up behind her.

  “What on earth’s going on?” Addie asked. “Is that one of my manuscripts?”

  “Yes. It broke open,” Buddy said, wondering if she should try to sort them out by page numbers or just gather them in a stack for Addie to straighten out. She picked up the next page and hesitated. “This seems to be a letter, not part of the book,” she said, and handed it up to Addie.

  Her aunt glanced at the sheet of paper, then for the second time in only a few minutes got white enough that Buddy wondered if she was going to faint. When Addie made a sort of gurgling sound, Buddy stood up quickly and grabbed Addie’s arm, guiding her toward the chair at the telephone table. “Are you all right?” Buddy asked, putting the rest of the mail down. “Shall I get Aunt Cassie?”

  Addie’s lips moved, but she didn’t make any sound at first. Then she thrust the letter into Buddy’s hand.

  Buddy read it aloud. “‘Dear Miss Ostrom: We are pleased to accept your historical novel, Winds of Change, and to offer you the enclosed contract for an advance of . . .’” Buddy’s voice trailed off in a little squeak.

  “Does it say ten thousand dollars?” Addie whispered, brushing her fingertips across her lips.

  Buddy wondered as if her own lips were pale, too. “Yes. Ten thousand dollars.”

  Addie appeared to collapse inwardly, as she were a tire going flat. “What does the rest of it say?”

  Buddy read it silently this time, feeling almost as stunned as Addie looked, then summarized. “They want you to do some revisions. It says they think Rosemary sounds too mature for a six-year-old. . . . Rosemary’s one of the characters?”

  “I based her on . . . EllaBelle, when she was six,” Addie breathed. “She talked . . . just like that. Grandpa said she was . . . a little dictionary.”

  “Addie? Buddy? What are you doing?”

  Cassie sounded cross. “I thought you two would come and at least set the table while I tended the toasted cheese. . . . Why is the mail all over the floor?”

  Buddy moistened her lips when it appeared that Addie was too stricken to explain.

  “Aunt Addie’s just sold one of her books. They want her to make a few changes, something about a little girl who seems too mature for her age.”

  Cassie’s mouth formed an incredulous O. She, too, needed to sit down, but there was only one chair in the hallway, so she leaned against the wall and clutched at her throat.

  Buddy wasn’t sure what else to say. She looked at the pages scattered on the floor. “Somebody walked on some of them. They’ll have to be done over, won’t they?”

  Addie was gathering her wits and her breath. “I’ll run off another copy, after I’ve done whatever revisions they’re
asking for.”

  “Are they paying you for this book?” Cassie asked, color returning to her face.

  “Yes, of course,” Addie said, sounding a bit short-tempered. “How could I sell it if they didn’t pay for it?”

  On her knees, trying to sort through the pages, Buddy heard footsteps behind Cassie and looked up to see Gus standing there. His mouth was sagging open.

  Addie noticed him and smiled a brittle smile. “You were wrong, Gus. I wasn’t wasting my time after all. I was practicing a craft, learning it, getting better at it, and it’s finally paying off. They’re buying my book.”

  “For enough to pay the bills?” Cassie asked breathlessly. “So you can replace the microwave? And the remote control?”

  Addie pulled herself together and stood up. “Yes, enough to replace them both. Pick up the whole mess, Buddy, and put it on the dining room table. I’ll sort the pages after lunch. I’ll take the rest of the mail.”

  “Lunch!” Cassie shrieked, and fled toward the kitchen.

  “I turned over the sandwiches,” they heard Grandpa say from the doorway. “That one got a little burned, but I like it that way. I’ll take that one.”

  Between hearing that Dan had been found alive, even though injured, and that Addie had at long last sold a book for a substantial amount of money, it was doubtful that any of them were aware of whether their sandwiches were scorched or not.

  And when the phone rang an hour later, everyone took it for granted that it was Bart calling back. Buddy raced for it.

  “Buddy? The doctors said Dad’s dehydrated, and he’s got a nasty gash on his head that’s infected, but they’re giving him antibiotics and fluids in IVs. He broke a couple of ribs and some bones in his left hand, but otherwise it’s practically a miracle. The cops said they’d have expected anybody who went off that cliff to have been killed, so it really is miraculous.”

  Buddy remembered her prayers in the long nights since they’d heard from Dad. Her throat ached as she asked, “How long will he have to be in the hospital? Where are you, anyway?”