by Peg Kehret
The voices were louder now. T.J. paused, trying to hear what they were saying but all he heard was a jumble of laughter. He realized it came from under the branches of the weeping willow tree.
A hollow feeling settled in his chest. He wished that he did not know that drunken rowdies were now using The World’s Greatest Outdoor Restaurant as a place to hang out. The knowledge tarnished the image he had of his picnics there with Grandma Ruth. He wanted to keep his memories shiny; he wanted to remember only the happy times at The World’s Greatest Outdoor Restaurant.
He should not have come here. Even if Grandma Ruth had wandered this way, she would not go into a group of loud, unfamiliar people. She would turn and go back across the swamp and into the woods. Disappointed that his hunch about Grandma Ruth had been wrong, T.J. turned to sneak away before anyone saw him. As he did, one voice rang out above the rest.
T.J. froze. He would recognize Craig Ackerley’s voice anywhere, especially when it had the mean, teasing tone that he always used when he spoke to someone who wasn’t likely to fight back.
Craig had said, “What’s your name, old lady?”
T.J.’s heart thudded against his ribs and the hollow feeling became a cold ball of fear.
“What’s your name, old lady?” Craig repeated. “Don’t you know your own name?” His words slurred together and he spoke more slowly than usual.
“Knock it off, Craig,” another voice said. “Can’t you see she’s senile?”
“If she’s senile, what’s she doing out in the woods alone in the middle of the night?” Craig’s voice rose even louder. “I know. She’s Little Red Riding Hood’s grandmother!” He laughed loudly at his own humor and T.J. heard someone else laugh, too.
“That’s right,” Craig said. “This is Little Red Riding Hood’s little old grandmother, and I’m the big bad wolf.”
The drunken laughter seemed out of place under the stately weeping willow, like someone swearing in church.
T.J. moved closer to the weeping willow. He knew from experience that a bully like Craig thrived on an audience. If his companions laughed at him, he would keep on.
“Oh, Grannie,” Craig shouted, “what big eyes you have.”
“Oh, Wolfie,” said another voice, “what a big mouth you have.”
Lyle. T.J. was pretty sure the second voice was Lyle Mosser.
“Knock it off,” said a third voice.
“Look at these teeth, Grannie,” said Craig. “Big bad wolves eat little old ladies like you.”
T.J. was beside the tree now. A camping lantern lit the circle inside the branches. Through the leaves, T.J. saw Craig and three other boys. Their backs were to him. They faced Grandma Ruth, who stood next to the tree trunk, clutching her purse.
The scene reminded T.J. of an old picture he had seen once in an antique store. It showed a pack of dogs that had a rabbit trapped at the base of the tree. The terrified rabbit’s eyes pleaded for help as the dogs bayed triumphantly. T.J. had decided that day never to go hunting, and he had turned the picture face down, hoping no one else would look at it.
Now Grandma Ruth was trapped and her expression was just as frightened as that painted rabbit’s had been.
T.J. knew what could happen. He’d seen news reports of drunken thugs who beat up and robbed helpless elderly people. Through the leaves, he wasn’t sure who the other boys were but he knew Craig had a mean streak and even people who are good otherwise sometimes do things when they’ve had too much to drink that they wouldn’t dream of doing when they’re sober.
He knew he should turn and run. He needed to get help, fast, before Grandma Ruth got hurt.
Yet he didn’t move. It would take at least half an hour to get help, if he went back the way he had come. He couldn’t leave Grandma Ruth at the mercy of these hoodlums for that long. If he tried to go around the willow tree and run to one of the houses in Forest View Estates, Craig and the others would surely see him and prevent him from getting help.
He stood still, listening. Maybe they would tire of talking to her, if she didn’t respond. Maybe they would decide to leave.
“Let’s see what you have in that purse,” Craig said.
“Good idea,” said Lyle. “Maybe the old dame has some booze money for us.”
Craig reached forward and snatched the purse out of Grandma Ruth’s hands.
“No!” she cried. “Give me that. The baby needs milk.”
Craig’s mimicking voice said, “The baby needs milk.”
Grandma Ruth began to cry.
Craig opened the purse, looked inside and dumped the Monopoly money on the ground. “Where’s the real money?” he said.
Grandma Ruth dropped to her knees and began scooping up the play money.
“Maybe we should search her,” Lyle said. “Old dames like this sometimes have a lot of dough.”
“Good idea,” Craig said.
Anger burned inside T.J. and the cold hollow feeling was replaced by a red hot fury.
Craig bent and poked Grandma Ruth’s shoulder. “I asked you a question,” he said. “Where’s your money?”
“Leave her alone!” T.J.’s voice was icy and level as he parted the willow branches and stepped into the circle of light.
The four other boys turned together, the way a flock of birds moves, as if controlled by one impulse. T.J. recognized all of them. He was surprised that the new kids, Allen and Nicholas, were hanging around with Craig. He thought they had more sense than that.
“Well, look who’s here,” Craig said. “It’s Stenson, the English major.” His words ran together, as if his tongue was too thick.
“It’s time for you and your friends to go home,” T.J. said.
“Since when did you give the orders?” Craig said.
“I just started.”
“Think again, wimp,” Craig said. He hiccuped loudly.
T.J. looked at the other three boys who now stood slightly behind Craig. “Does it make you feel good, to pick on a helpless old woman?” he said. “Real manly?”
The three looked at each other and said nothing. Craig took a step forward, glaring at T.J. He swayed slightly.
“She has Alzheimer’s disease,” T.J. said, “and she is scared and lost.” T.J. looked around Craig, directing his words at the other boys.
Allen and Nicholas looked down at their feet. “We weren’t . . .” Allen’s voice trailed off without finishing the sentence. Nicholas looked away, refusing to meet T.J.’s eyes.
“What makes you an authority on old ladies?” Craig said.
Grandma Ruth stopped picking up the money and tried to look around the other boys to see T.J. “David?” she said. “Is that you?”
“Yes,” T.J. said. “It’s David. I’ve come to take you home.”
Craig looked from Grandma Ruth to T.J. and back again. “You know this old dame?” he asked.
“She’s my grandmother.”
“Why is she calling you David? You got an alias we don’t know about?” Craig stepped closer to T.J., the way he always did when he was hassling him.
T.J. knew that Craig was itching to take a swing at him. With three friends to back him up, it wouldn’t be much of a match, even with Craig so drunk.
T.J. swallowed hard and looked at Grandma Ruth. She was staring at him, clearly waiting for him to rescue her.
Use your wits, not your fists.
T.J. stood tall and looked beyond Craig, at Allen and Nicholas. “I had you two figured to be decent guys,” he said. “I thought we might be friends.”
“We are decent guys,” Nicholas said.
“Then why are you hanging out with scum like this?” T.J. said, pointing to Craig.
“Who are you calling scum?” Craig said.
“He told us it was a party,” Allen said. “He said the whole team would be here.”
“Don’t believe everything Craig tells you,” T.J. said.
“Are you calling me a liar?” Craig punched T.J. in the arm.
“Le
t’s just say you know how to stretch the truth.”
Allen and Nicholas snickered.
“You’re good with words, Stenson,” Craig said. “Let’s see how good you are with your fists.”
“Sorry. I don’t want to fight.”
“Well, I do.” Craig punched T.J. again.
Nicholas spoke up. “Forget it, Craig. We aren’t going to have a fight.”
“I’m so glad you’re here, David,” Grandma Ruth said. “I thought I had lost my money.” She was still on her knees, picking up the Monopoly money.
Allen began to help her, gathering the money that had scattered the farthest and handing it to Grandma Ruth.
“Thank you,” she said. “I need this to buy milk for my baby.”
“We’ll find it all,” Allen said. “Don’t worry.”
“I waited for the preacher,” Grandma Ruth said, “but he didn’t come.” She reached for a piece of green Monopoly money.
“Let’s get out of here,” said Lyle, as he picked up the half-full wine bottle. “It gives me the creeps, watching her crawl around in the dirt after that fake money.”
“She’s sick,” T.J. said, “and scared.”
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Allen said and he patted Grandma Ruth’s arm. “T.J. is here and he’s going to take you home.”
Grandma Ruth looked up at the boys. When she saw T.J., relief spread across her face. “Hello, T.J.,” she said.
She knows me, T.J. thought. She remembers.
“Hello, Grandma Ruth.”
“Let’s go,” said Nicholas.
Craig took another step toward T.J. “We can’t leave yet,” he said. “Stenson’s been calling me names.”
“When the cops find out you’ve been bothering my grandmother,” T.J. said, “I’ll be calling you ‘jailbird.’ You’re going to be in deep trouble.”
“Hey, I was only kidding around with the old dame.”
“The cops aren’t likely to see it that way, and I do have three witnesses.”
Craig looked behind him.
“That’s right,” Nicholas said. “We’ll testify.”
“Assault and attempted robbery,” T.J. said.
Craig took a swing at T.J. but T.J. easily ducked out of the way.
Nicholas grabbed Craig’s arm and spun him around. “You’re going home,” he said. “Now.”
“Huh?” said Craig.
“Move,” Nicholas said.
Craig moved.
Nicholas looked at T.J. “I’ll call the police as soon as I get home, and tell them where you are.”
“Do you want me to stay here with you?” Allen asked.
T.J. shook his head. It would be easier for Grandma Ruth if everyone else left. “We’ll be OK,” he said. “We’ll wait right here. It will be faster for someone to pick us up here than for Grandma Ruth to walk back through the swamp and the woods.”
“If you’re sure you’ll be OK,” Allen said. “I’ll go with Nicholas. He might need me. I’ll leave my lantern here for you.”
“I don’t need it,” T.J. said. “I have a flashlight.”
Allen patted Grandma Ruth’s arm again. “Good-bye,” he said. He moved to Craig’s other side so that he and Nicholas flanked Craig like a pair of bookends. “Let’s go,” he said.
“Wait for me,” said Lyle. “We never should have come here in the first place. This whole thing was a stupid idea.”
“We can’t leave!” Craig bellowed. “The party isn’t over yet.”
“Some party,” Nicholas said and he gave Craig another push.
“I like a party as well as the next guy,” Allen said, “but my idea of fun does not include hassling sick old gray-haired women.”
“Me, either,” said Nicholas.
T.J. gave them a grateful look. He had thought he was going to like Allen and Nicholas; now he was sure of it. Maybe he’d even invite them over for dinner on his birthday, and make his mother happy. They understood that Grandma Ruth was sick. He would have a party and invite Dane, Allen, and Nicholas. He would invite Grandma Ruth to come, too. She would probably love it.
The four boys stepped out from under the willow tree. As their light moved away, T.J. called, “If you ever bother me again, Ackerley, you’ll be in juvenile court on charges of molesting an old woman.”
“Some people can’t take a joke,” Craig muttered.
T.J. watched until the group disappeared around a corner, relieved that Craig was going along without any more protest.
T.J. knew he would never again be hassled by Craig. Even when Craig sobered up, he’d leave T.J. alone because Craig would worry that T.J. might really say he had caught Craig robbing Grandma Ruth. Craig was scared of him now and bullies only pick on people they can intimidate. They never go after anyone they’re afraid of.
He had won with his wits, not his fists. To be truthful, he had been so angry he would have enjoyed smashing his fist into Craig’s stupid face and bopping him on the head with the flashlight but he was glad he had not done it. That would have brought him down to Craig’s level and it would not have helped Grandma Ruth. She was frightened enough already; if she had to watch T.J. fight, she would really be upset.
It was dark under the tree, with the lantern gone. Only a little moonlight sifted through the thick branches. He switched on his flashlight and looked at Grandma Ruth. She sat on the ground, twisting her hands in her lap.
Her anxious eyes looked up at him. He could tell she was trembling. He wondered if she was shaking from cold, from fear or, most likely, from both.
“It’s all over,” he said. “You’re safe.”
“Is that you, David?” she asked.
“Yes,” T.J. said. “It’s me.” He picked up the last scattered pieces of Monopoly money and put them in her purse. “Come on, Grandma Ruth,” he said, holding out a hand. “We’re going home soon.”
She put her thin hand in his. Gently, T.J. helped her to her feet. Then he put his arms around her and held her close.
A deep love for the Grandma Ruth of his childhood filled T.J.’s heart. He had not realized until that night, when so many memories flooded over him, what an influence she had been on his life. Wishing won’t help . . . win with your wits . . . take action. For the first time, he appreciated how much she had taught him, how his thinking and personality had been shaped by the person she had been. He knew he would always treasure his memories of that wonderful woman.
But this Grandma Ruth, the here-and-now Grandma Ruth, was special, too, and despite her Alzheimer’s disease, he loved her, just the way she was. Never again would he waste time and energy longing for her to go back to her former self. He would quit denying the truth of her disease. He would quit wishing that she wasn’t sick and take action to make her happy, if he could, because he loved this mixed-up old woman with her purse full of Monopoly money and her childlike smile, the one who thought he was David.
Her voice quavered against his shoulder. “I waited for you back there, David. I wanted you to come so we could go to church. I was cold but I waited and waited.”
“I know. I’m sorry I was late. But I’m here now. We can go to church now, if you want. Would you like that?”
She stepped out of his embrace. A smile spread across her face, erasing the worry lines.
“Will we sing when we get there?” she asked. “Will we sing in the church?”
“We’ll sing. We’ll sing right now. We don’t have to go anywhere else because all the world is our church.”
All the world is our church, Grandma Ruth, and every creature has a special place on Earth.
Your words. Your words were right. The lessons you taught me were true.
He took Grandma Ruth’s hands in his and began to sing. “Holy, holy, holy.”
Grandma Ruth quit trembling. She threw her shoulders back, and joined in loudly.
“Holy! Holy! Holy! Lord God Almighty.”
Together, they stood inside The World’s Greatest Outdoor Restaura
nt and sang their joyful hymn.