“Okay,” I said.
“You want to tell me what happened? Why you’re all scratched up?”
I shrugged, acting like it was nothing. “Just messing around.”
“Yeah,” Tommy chimed in nervously. “We’ve been out…uh…”
I turned my head slightly, cutting him a look from the corner of my eye, mouthing, “Keep quiet.”
“…goofing off and looking for arrowheads and stuff.” Tommy stuffed his hands in his pockets.
Daddy Joe eyed us awhile longer, making me fidget even more. He kind of grunted to himself, then took Carla’s hand and walked away. Her sticky fingers got swallowed up in his while she danced along next to him, trying to keep up with his long strides.
As I watched them leave, a wave of sadness carried me back to a sunny summer day, way before my real daddy had left for California. I still remembered it perfectly. Daddy had been teaching me to ride my bike without training wheels. Once I’d finally gotten the hang of it, I’d taken off like a cannonball down our bumpy sidewalk. “Go, Billie, go!” Daddy had yelled, laughing and whooping at the top of his lungs. I’d got going so fast, though, that I couldn’t brake, and I’d ended up crashing into a tree, scraping all the skin off my elbow. Daddy had rushed to me, scooped me up in his arms, and carried me all the way home. He’d pulled some ointment from the medicine cabinet and smeared it over my elbow, praising me the whole time.
“This kid’s a tough one,” he’d said to Mama. “Look at her battle scar. She’s a Wisher, all right.”
I looked down at the scratches on my legs, wondering if Daddy still cared about me as much as he did when I’d skinned my elbow. For the last few months—ever since he’d moved back—he’d been telling me how much he loved me, but as I fingered the stolen money in my pocket, I couldn’t help thinking he had a funny way of showing it.
“Shoot!” Tommy kicked the ground. “If my mom finds out where we’ve been, I won’t ever be able to leave home again. I’ll be grounded for the next hundred years.”
We left the ball field and headed up Church Street. The minute I was sure no one could see or hear us, I said, “I’ve got something to show you. But you’ve got to swear to God you’ll never tell a soul.”
“What?”
“Promise me you’ll never tell first.”
“Okay. I promise already,” he said. “What is it?”
I pulled a wad of the money from my pocket. “I found this at the cabin. It’s from the bank robbery.”
“Oh, man!” His eyes bulged out of their sockets. “Jeez, Louise! That’s got to be at least a couple of hundred bucks.”
I’d never seen him so excited. He kept after me to stop and count it, so we ducked into Mrs. Sumner’s yard—only three houses away from our church—and hid behind a giant peony bush, thinking we’d be out of sight. I dropped to the ground and dumped all of the bills out between us. Tommy snatched them up and started stacking them in piles, just like he always did with his rocks.
“What’s that?” He nodded at a scrap of notebook paper lying on the ground. I picked it up. My stomach did a somersault when I recognized the handwriting.
“‘Hinshaw,’” I read, “‘Here’s the $300 we agreed on. Had to get away. Laying low now. We’re having a car delivered to your place in two or three weeks when the heat’s died down. Remember, that was part of the deal, so keep it quiet. We don’t want trouble.’”
“Wow,” Tommy said. “What’s going to happen now? This money must be Old Man Hinshaw’s. If he thinks our dads cheated him, he’ll kill them the minute they show up.”
My hunch had been right. Sure enough, this was the payoff money, and I’d swiped it right out from under Old Man Hinshaw’s nose. Now he thought Daddy and Uncle Warren had double-crossed him. I didn’t doubt for a minute he’d shoot them both. Wasn’t that his motto? “Shoot first. Questions later.”
“Pick up the money!” I snapped. “Hurry! We’ve got to take it back right away.”
“What? Go back to Old Man Hinshaw’s? You’re nuts. No way I’m going back there—he’ll kill us, too.”
Just when I started telling Tommy to forget it, that I’d go by myself, I saw something coming our way that made every hair on my head sizzle.
“Hide it,” I said. “Hurry! All of it.”
“Why?”
All I could do was nod toward Mrs. Sumner’s front porch. There came Mirabelle, clomping down the front steps with a pie in her hands. We could see her through the bush.
“You’re in charge, Ada Jane,” she said. “You girls git this pie over to the church kitchen right now. And don’t drop it. Rhubarb is your grandpa’s favorite.” Her old-lady shoes scraped across the concrete on the other side of the peony bush.
Tommy and I snatched a handful of bills and dodged under the bush, hiding the best we could. The note and most of the money still lay scattered on the grass.
“Is Grandpa Whitey going to be all right?” Ada Jane’s goody-two-shoes voice made me want to gag.
“His nerves is shot, honey,” Mirabelle said. “It ain’t no wonder, all he’s been through in the last two days. And them two kids running off with the money for my organ near killed him. I’d better get back to the church and check on him.”
Sweat started pooling around my eyes. What was she talking about, “them two kids” running off with the money for her organ? Did she mean Tommy and me?
“Come on, Ernestine,” Ada Jane said. “Let’s take this pie and then go get our bikes. I’ll let you ride mine if you let me ride yours.”
“I need to check Billie’s house first,” Ernestine said. “I want to see if her and Tommy came back.”
“Humph!” Mirabelle snorted. “If them two are anywhere around, they’d better be praying to God I don’t get my hands on them.”
I thought they’d turned to leave. I grabbed Daddy’s note and dropped it under the bush beside my leg, then reached out to pick up the loose bills.
Tommy thumped me in the side. A short, squat shadow fell over my hand.
I froze.
A shiny black shoe missed my finger by an inch.
My heart stopped cold. What if Mirabelle saw the note? I snatched it with my left hand—still blocked from her view by the bush—and tried to stuff it in my pocket. I wasn’t quick enough, though. Because at the same time, Mirabelle reached down and yanked me to my feet. The note missed my pocket and fell to the ground. It lay hidden under the bush.
Ada Jane clutched her throat and gasped, staring at all the money like it had just fallen from heaven. I couldn’t tell if she was going to scream her head off or dance around in joyful circles.
My eyes locked with Ernestine’s. A gum bubble hung out of her mouth. She looked down at the money, then back up at me. I could tell she was mad, from the way she scrunched her eyes at me. “Gee whiz, Billie,” she finally said, stuffing the gum back in her mouth. “You were supposed to wait for me in the church. Where’d you guys go? And where’d you find all that money anyway?”
“Grandma, look!” Ada Jane squealed. “That’s the same envelope Grandpa Whitey gave me. You were right. It was Billie and Tommy that took the deposit.”
“Well! If that don’t beat all.” In one swift move, Mirabelle reached down and snatched the bills off the ground. “Hoodlums. Just like your fathers, and that’s a fact. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves. You wait until Joe Hughes hears about this. He’s going to pack both of you off to reform school.”
Chapter 16
“We’ve got the culprits, Bud,” Whitey said, his voice quivering with excitement into the telephone. Tommy and I stood next to the door of the preacher’s office, quiet as midnight, trembling, waiting, watching Whitey spray spit all over the telephone receiver. He hadn’t wasted a minute making his call after Mirabelle dragged us back to the church. “Yes sir,” he boasted to Castor Oil, “Mirabelle and my granddaughter caught them red-handed.”
“Don’t say anything,” I whispered when Whitey turned his back. “We can�
�t give the hideout away. Besides, you swore you wouldn’t.”
Tommy’s mouth tightened. I wasn’t sure how long he could hold out, especially since he’d already reminded me at least ten times how none of this was his fault.
I heard a commotion in the hall and peeked through the slightly opened door. A group of ladies from Mirabelle’s church club was headed our way.
“Isn’t it a shame about those Wisher kids?” a tall, thin lady in the lead said. It was Mrs. Mitchell, one of Mirabelle’s friends. “Mirabelle’s been saying all morning she suspected those two.”
I nudged Tommy away from the door where we couldn’t be seen. Whitey stayed huddled over the telephone, droning on and on to Bud about our capture. He didn’t seem to notice the conversation in the hall.
“Mirabelle’s baby-sat them kids for years,” another lady said. “She says they have a wild streak, just like their dads. Especially that little Billie.”
“I saw that child at Wanda’s yesterday. My goodness. She’s a beauty—the spitting image of Earl,” Mrs. Mitchell said.
A tongue clucked. “Now there’s a rascal for you, and oh, boy, does he ever love the ladies. Followed my niece around like a tomcat not two days after his and Wanda’s wedding.”
“It’s the gambling that was his downfall,” Mrs. Mitchell said. “I heard that’s what led up to the bank robbery.”
Gossipy old hens. I knew what Daddy had done was wrong, but it wasn’t any of their business. I bit my lip to keep from yelling at them to shut up.
“Warren’s the mean one,” Mrs. Mitchell said, dropping her voice. “Did you know he…” Their footsteps trailed down the hall.
I looked at Tommy. I knew he’d heard them, too, because he’d been poking me the whole time they were talking. As soon as his dad’s name got brought up, he swung around and studied a portrait of the preacher’s wife that was hanging on the wall.
Whitey finished his telephone business and escorted us outside, where we waited on the steps for Sheriff Castor Oil. By now the whole church was swarming with people setting up for the picnic. My cheeks burned with shame when Bud pulled up and whisked us into his car like we were bandits, right in front of everyone.
I couldn’t stand to even look at Ernestine. The expression on her face made me cover my eyes. Did she think, like the others, that we were thieves? I sunk into the backseat of the police car, wishing everyone would quit staring at me, wishing I could fade into the upholstery.
“We didn’t steal any money,” I insisted when Bud questioned us later. He sat with Mama and Daddy Joe and Aunt Charlene around our kitchen table. Carla was squashed between Mama and Daddy Joe, her eyes big and round and confused. She was sucking her thumb, too. She hadn’t sucked her thumb in over six months. I couldn’t help thinking it was my fault she’d started up again.
Mama’s face was set in a grim frown. Daddy Joe looked more curious than mad, but I noticed he watched Tommy and me real close. Aunt Charlene sniffled into a lacy pink handkerchief.
Whitey stood behind Bud, shaking his finger at me. “Now that there ain’t the truth, little missy. Mirabelle caught you two; the money was laid out between you.” He shoved his face in Bud’s ear. “They must’ve been divvying it up.”
“I already told you,” I said. “We found that envelope on the ground by Mrs. Sumner’s sidewalk. All we wanted to do was count it. Ain’t that right, Tommy?” He nodded, his face pale and drawn.
I told myself we weren’t really lying, just rearranging the facts a little. Besides, I didn’t dare tell the whole story. That would send Castor Oil and Chipmunk Cheeks straight out to Old Man Hinshaw’s cabin.
“So let me get this straight,” Mama said, her words clipped and angry. “You two ran off from the church, then—”
“Yes, ma’am. That they did,” Whitey blurted out. “Ran off right after they—”
“Then somehow, after two hours passed by,” Mama went on, ignoring Whitey, “you just happened into Mrs. Sumner’s yard, where you just happened to find the envelope of money? Where were you all morning, after you left the church? That’s what I’d like to know.”
Aunt Charlene blew her nose long and loud. “I’d like to know, too. Where were you, Tommy?”
“It’s just like we told you,” he muttered. “We were messing around, looking for arrowheads.” But Tommy looked scared, like he was ready to crack. I chewed at my lip, wishing he was tougher-skinned. He had a soft heart when it came to Aunt Charlene. What if he caved in and gave our secret away?
“I know where they was,” Carla piped up. “They was at the ball diamond, wasn’t they, Daddy Joe?”
Daddy Joe coughed. “Right,” he said.
“’Cause Billie almost bought me and Tommy something,” Carla went on. “But then she didn’t.”
“At the ball diamond spending money, huh?” Whitey said. “Now don’t that beat the band. Guess I hadn’t heard that story.”
“I’ve already told Wanda about seeing the kids there,” Daddy Joe said. His curt voice made it sound like that was the end of that.
The questioning went on and on, though, until I wanted to grab Tommy and run back out to Old Man Hinshaw’s cabin. I’d rather face him again than look in Mama’s doubtful eyes one more time.
Another bad thing was that Whitey swore the envelope contained $352, but all they found on me and Tommy—plus the money Mirabelle had grabbed from the ground—only added up to $300. We even had to empty our pockets in front of everyone to prove we didn’t have more money hidden on us.
I thought about Daddy’s note when I turned my pockets inside out, relieved that I’d dropped it under the bush. But what if the note blew down the street and someone found it? Somehow, I’d have to get back to Mrs. Sumner’s house again and look for it.
“See there?” Whitey said when our pockets were emptied. “Fifty-two dollars is gone, clear and simple.” He turned to Bud. “That money was put in the church office by my granddaughter and her little friend. No one else but these young’uns here knowed nothing about it.”
Somehow, Tommy and I got through all the quizzing and questions. We stuck to our story the whole afternoon, but I worried he couldn’t keep the secret much longer.
“It ain’t fair,” he said later that night. We were talking through the window screen in his bedroom because I’d snuck over after Mama and Daddy Joe went to bed. “Now I’m in a bunch of trouble, and I ain’t even the one who went to the cabin.”
“You can’t say anything now,” I said. “That would mess everything up.”
“Are you in bed yet, Tommy?” Aunt Charlene called from the other side of his door.
“Please don’t tell,” I begged him. “Not yet. We’ve got to find them first. We’ve got to give them a chance to turn themselves in. Daddy will come back and tell the truth. He’ll tell them where the money’s from—I know he will. Swear to me again! Swear you won’t tell until I find him.”
“Aw, heck. I swear it,” he said. “I ain’t no rat fink. I just hope your dad shows up real soon, that’s all.”
Neither of us mentioned a word about his dad helping us out.
I spent practically the whole next day—my eleventh birthday—alone in Carla’s and my room. No cake. No party. Nothing. I just sat on the bed for a hundred hours, listening to a thunderstorm brew in the distance and sewing the rip in my blouse that had sent Mama into a fit when she saw it.
Around noon, I heard a commotion in the kitchen; then Carla yelled that Mirabelle and Whitey were there. I peeked out the bedroom door. Shoot! What did they want?
Mama came out of the bathroom with her mop bucket, grumbling under her breath, and headed to the kitchen to join them. I followed, slipping silently down the hall.
“Hey, there! Glad you stopped by.” Mama’s sweet singsong voice—the phony one she used for big tippers at the diner—floated out from the kitchen. “Why don’t you two sit here a minute with Joe while I change? I need to get out of these dirty work clothes.”
I dove
into the hall closet, burying myself in a bundle of heavy winter coats until her footsteps clipped by. The second her bedroom door closed, I cracked the closet door open, hoping to hear what they were talking about.
But the coats muffled the conversation. The only thing I could hear was Mirabelle’s screechy voice say, “School for delinquents…”
I stuck my head all the way out the door, in time to hear Daddy Joe answer her. “Don’t mention that to Wanda.”
“What’re you doing, Billie?” Carla yelled when she saw me. “How come you’re in the closet?”
Later that night I hid outside Mama’s bedroom, eavesdropping again. I had to, because I had to know if she knew something I didn’t about Daddy.
“I’m at my wit’s end with her,” Mama said, sounding close to tears. “I don’t know what to think about this. It’s obvious she’s acting up because of what Earl did. Charlene thinks the kids are looking for attention.”
“I don’t know. Something about this doesn’t add up,” Daddy Joe said. “If they had the church money, then where’s the missing fifty-two dollars?”
“And that’s another thing.” Mama went on like she didn’t even hear him. “Whitey wants that money back. He’s hell-bent on it.”
“Don’t worry about Whitey,” Daddy Joe said. “I’ll take care of him.”
I heard a muffled sound, like Mama crying against his shoulder. I slipped back to my room and shooed Carla off my side of the bed. I listened to the thunder and the wind whip through the branches outside my window, more determined than ever to find Daddy.
Chapter 17
The next morning Aunt Charlene stopped by on her way to work at Miss Mona’s Beauty Parlor. I overheard Mama telling her how Daddy Joe planned on giving the church fifty-two dollars to make up for the missing money. “He’s pulling it out of the savings account this morning,” she bragged. “That’s the kind of guy he is.”
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