by Watt Key
Mr. Wellington smiled but didn’t reply.
“Don’t look so smug over there,” the judge said. “If that constable had been half sane, all your fancy show business wouldn’t have helped this boy.”
“I’m not trying to fool you, Your Honor. I’m just glad things worked out the way they did.”
“I’ll tell you now, somethin’s bothered me about this case from the start. I really couldn’t put my finger on it until I got that bit settled with the constable.” The judge rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You see, there’s this boy who’s raised out in the woods and doesn’t know a thing about the world but what he’s seen within a couple of miles of his stick hut. One day this kid pops out of the woods, ten years old, and starts walkin’ down the blacktop. We automatically think we got to put him in the system. Get him in the boys’ home. Make him property of the state. Well, everybody can’t fit that slot. Why can’t you just put the kid on your sofa and help him out a little? Hell, put him on your floor. This kid would’ve been fine in somebody’s barn. You’ll kill a boy like this in an institution.”
“I’m guilty, too,” Mr. Wellington said.
“We all are. Damn system. This kid needs somethin’ different.” The judge turned around and looked at me again like he was trying to figure out what I needed. “Boy, what’re we gonna do with you now?”
“I don’t care anymore.”
“You don’t care, huh?”
“Nossir.”
“Your Honor, I’ve got it worked out where Moon will go,” said Mr. Wellington.
“Okay.”
“I’ve located his uncle. He says he’ll adopt him.”
“Uncle?” I said.
“Where’s this uncle while wild boy’s raisin’ Joe Cain all over central Alabama?”
“He’s been in Mobile, Your Honor. He didn’t know anything of the situation.”
46
We dropped the judge off on the steps of the courthouse. All of the reporters were gone and the place seemed empty. He got out of the car and stretched his arms over his head like he’d had a long day. After a second, he turned around. “Looks like we gave the press the slip. You two wait here a minute while I get somethin’.”
I climbed onto the front seat and began studying all the dashboard controls. “Where’d you get this car?”
“This is what I use when I’m trying to be fancy, Moon.”
“Lots of lights and buttons.”
It wasn’t long before the judge returned with my hats in his hand. He leaned into the window and dropped them into Mr. Wellington’s lap. “Moon, you write me a letter and let me know what it’s like in Mobile.”
“Okay.”
“Wellington, he’s under your care until his uncle comes for him.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
“Thank you for not wastin’ my time today.” The judge stood up, tapped the top of the car, and then turned away.
Neither of us said anything as we drove out of town. I found a button that made my seat lean back and another that made the window go down. I stretched out and watched the tops of the trees go by and the clear blue sky beyond. It was good to know Sanders was locked up and that Kit would be okay. It seemed like all of a sudden my mind was working easier and I felt better all over.
“What’s my uncle look like?” I finally asked.
“You’ve seen the picture.”
“I didn’t pay attention to it then.”
“It’s in that envelope under the seat if you want to see it again.”
I sat up and reached under the seat and pulled out a brown envelope. “Where’s Pap’s personal box?”
“It’s in the trunk with your other stuff.”
“How’d you get it all?”
“What do you think I’ve been doing for the past two days? Mr. Gene over there at Pinson’s not real eager to help you, you know.”
“Did you get my rifle, too?”
“Well, that’s still at the Livingston police station, but I think I can get them to release it to me after the paperwork’s complete.”
I leaned back and dumped the contents of the envelope into my lap. Pap’s watch and the money and the pictures were all there. The man in the photo was much shorter and skinnier than Pap but had the same face in a more boyish version. He seemed excited and energetic.
“He looks like he’s gotta pee.”
Mr. Wellington smiled. “I imagine if he’s related to you, he might have a little twitch in him.”
“You know what he’s like?”
“I haven’t met him, but I’ve talked to him on the phone. He sounds like a nice man.”
“What’s he do?”
“He’s in the tree-trimming business.”
“I’ve never heard of anybody doin’ that.”
“Well, it’s done all the time. A man can make a decent living at it.”
“How’d you find him?”
Mr. Wellington reached into his pocket and pulled out a penknife and gave it to me. “Pry open the back of that watch.”
“The back of it?”
“That’s right.”
I opened the knife and inserted the tip of the blade into a small depression in the gear cover. It popped off and fell into my lap. I picked it up and studied the writing on the inside. It said “Zundel’s Jewelers.”
“That’s the name of a jewelry company in Mobile that I happen to know about. I called them, and they told me the Blakes they knew. Eventually, I ran across the right one.”
I folded the knife and gave it to him. After I put the watch back together, I put everything into the envelope again and looked out the window. “I oughta whip Hal good for doin’ what he did today.”
“I told him he didn’t have to come. Once I got your pap’s rifle from him, I said we already had enough evidence. However, he said it’s what he wanted to do. He said that his time was up anyway and that you’d had a rough go with the world. He wanted to do all he could to get Sanders off your back.”
I looked at Mr. Wellington. “I haven’t had it so bad. Kit’s the one that’s had it bad.”
Mr. Wellington nodded.
I pulled my legs up and put my feet on the glove box. “Well, Hal ought not have done that. He could have hid out for a while longer.”
“It’ll be a couple of days before they get around to taking him to the Hellenweiler. I’ll drive you to see both of your friend tomorrow.”
I nodded. “Good. I was wantin’ to do that . . . How long have I got?”
“It’ll be a few days before the paperwork’s done. You’re still property of the state, technically.”
“Then I go to Mobile?”
“That’s right.”
“You been there before?”
“Sure. Plenty of times.”
“What’s it like?”
“It’s a nice place to live. You’ve got Mobile Bay and the Gulf of Mexico out front. Stays warm most of the year.”
“Got some forest?”
“Yes. It’s got plenty of forest.”
“Got a lot of people?”
“Yes. More than Tuscaloosa.”
“That’s a lot. I’ve never seen more than that.”
Mr. Wellington reached over and patted my leg. I looked at the hand and realized it was the first time a grown person had touched me with kindness since my pap. “You’ll like it,” he said.
I stayed in Mr. Wellington’s guest room again. I got up around midnight and took the picture from the envelope and studied my uncle’s face under the lamp. Somewhere in the back of my mind, little black-and-white images of him flipped around. I thought I saw him standing beside a church. I thought I saw his face hovering over my own and smiling at me. As soon as I tried to hold on to one of these images, though, it fell away and left me with only the face in the photo. Then, a strange thought came to me. I walked across the hall to Mr. Wellington’s door. I knocked lightly until he answered me.
“Moon?”
“Yessir
?” I opened the door.
“Are you all right?”
“Yessir.”
“What is it, then?”
“Will I have a brother?”
He sat up in his bed in the dark. He rubbed his eyes. “Yes,” he said. “And a sister. You have two first cousins.”
“I never thought about it before.”
“Try to get some sleep. You’ll have plenty of time to think about it later.”
47
Mr. Wellington took me to see my friends the next morning. We stopped at Hal’s place first, since it was on the way back to Tuscaloosa. I saw dust rising from the clay pit, and I guessed Mr. Mitchell was down there loading a customer. Hal slid out from under the truck when he heard us pull up. He stood and slapped his hands against his jeans, leaving greasy finger swipes. Mr. Wellington stayed in the cab of his own truck while I got out and went to meet Hal.
“What you doin’ here?” he said.
“I’m property of the state for a few more days.”
“Then you goin’ to Mobile?”
“That’s right.”
“Your lawyer told me about your uncle.”
“Yeah. I’ve got one, all right. A little one that climbs trees.”
Hal smiled. “You gonna whip up on him?”
I shook my head. “I’m not gonna whip up on him.”
“I gave the lawyer that rifle. He said it might help. I don’t guess you want the crappy wheelbarrow back.”
“No, I won’t need it anymore.”
“That’s good.”
“You didn’t have to come out there with the dogs like that.”
“I know.”
“You still got ’em?”
“Sanders’s momma come and got the weiner dog. Daddy said he’ll keep the bloodhounds for company if nobody comes for ’em. They’re probly layin’ in the shade down at the shop.”
“Sanders won’t be comin’,” I said.
“He in jail?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. That’s where he needs to be.”
We walked over to the truck. Hal opened the door and got into the driver’s seat. “I got me some holes drilled in the muffler. Listen to her.” He cranked the engine, and it began popping and snapping small explosions from the rear. He grinned at me.
“I like it,” I said.
“You wanna tell Daddy bye?”
“Yeah.”
“Get in.”
“We’re gonna go see Mr. Mitchell,” I called out to Mr. Wellington. He waved at me that it was okay and I climbed into the passenger side of Hal’s truck. I held on to the dashboard when Hal straightened out his leg. We fishtailed out of his yard and down the hill towards the clay pit. When we passed the shop, the bloodhounds bolted out of the shade and fell in beside us.
A dump truck pulled away from the front-end loader just as we skidded to a stop. When the dust cleared, Mr. Mitchell was squinting at us from his driver’s chair. He finally recognized me sitting beside Hal and shook his head. He shut off the loader and climbed down while Hal and I got out and walked to meet him.
“I shoulda known it was you had him wound-out, Moon.”
“He’s goin’ to Mobile, Daddy.”
Mr. Mitchell put his arm around Hal’s shoulder and pulled him close. Hal didn’t complain this time. “I heard about your uncle,” Mr. Mitchell said.
“He’s gonna let me live with him.”
Mr. Mitchell smiled. “You gonna get fancy on us with a real house and grass and cars with all the windows?”
“I don’t know anything about that.”
“Well, we’re gonna miss you.” He squeezed Hal against him. “Especially this fellow.” Hal glanced away and didn’t say anything.
“I had the most fun ever here,” I said. “I wanna come back sometime. Maybe we can work some more on the truck.”
“Daddy says he’ll keep it waitin’ for me till I get out,” Hal said.
“You’ll have to come get me in Mobile and take me ridin’. I might have my own truck by then. We can race.”
“Jesus!” Mr. Mitchell said.
“What?”
“You with a truck. Racin’.”
I smiled and looked at the ground. “Thanks for lettin’ me stay with you.”
Mr. Mitchell patted me on the shoulder. “Any time, son. You get in touch with me if you ever need anything.”
Hal and I drove out of the clay pit. He went slow this time and I realized how much I’d miss the place. I figured Hal would miss it more.
“It ain’t gonna be so much fun without you around anyway,” Hal said, like he knew what I was thinking. “I might as well let ’em take me off for a few more years.”
“It won’t be so bad.”
“Daddy’s pretty pissed off about it.”
“Let him come visit you in this truck. That’ll make you feel better.”
“Yeah.”
“You’ll be all right, Hal.”
Hal started to say something, but didn’t. “I know,” he said.
We pulled up next to Mr. Wellington’s truck and stopped. He was still waiting patiently. Hal got out and I met him by the tailgate. I lifted my hand in a wave. “I guess I better go.”
“I guess you better. You gonna see Kit?”
“Goin’ there now.”
“Tell him I said ‘hey’ again. And tell him I’m gonna whip his little ass if he doesn’t take his medicine.”
I smiled. “Okay. I will.”
Mr. Wellington let me out at the entrance to the hospital, and I walked into the lobby holding Kit’s deerskin hat. This time, I waved to the woman at the front desk and she lowered her head and looked at me over her glasses.
I rode the elevator to the fourth floor and walked down the hall to Kit’s room. I knocked on the door and waited. After there was no answer, I opened the door. The room was clean, the bed was made, and Kit was gone. I walked back to the nurses’ station and stopped in front of the attendant. “Did Kit leave?”
She eyed me for a few seconds like she was trying to remember who I was. Finally, she asked me if I was related to him.
“I’m his best friend,” I said. I held up the hat. “I brought him this.”
She didn’t look at the hat. “Are your parents with you?”
“No. I don’t have any parents.”
“Who are you here with?”
“Mr. Wellington. Where’s Kit?”
“He’s in the intensive care unit. Only immediate family members are allowed in there.”
“What’s an intensive care unit?”
“It’s where people who are really sick go.”
My ears began to buzz with panic. “But he’s better. I just saw him a few days ago.”
The nurse looked around and then back down at me. “He’s had a relapse. He’s become very sick again.”
“Where’s his room?”
“No visitors are allowed in the intensive care unit.”
“I can’t see him?”
The nurse shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
“But he doesn’t like to be alone!” I yelled.
The nurse stood and leaned over the counter at me. “I think you need to go find the person who brought you here.”
I sat on the floor and crossed my arms. “I’m not leavin’ until I see him.”
The nurse picked up the phone and watched me while she dialed. “Security,” she said, “I’ve got a young boy up here without a guardian and he’s giving me trouble . . . Yes . . . I don’t know . . . Okay.” She hung up the phone and sat down again.
“I’ll whip anybody that tries to take me out of here before I see Kit.”
When the security officer arrived, he bent down to grab me. I sprang to action and rolled over and clamped onto a metal pole. He followed and began to pry my arms loose. I was just about to punch him between the legs when I heard Mr. Wellington behind us. “Hey!” he said. “That’s enough. I can handle him.”
The security officer stood, ste
pped away, and took a deep breath.
“Thank you,” Mr. Wellington said. “I can take it from here. Moon?”
I hugged the pole tighter and didn’t answer. Mr. Wellington knelt down and put his hand on my shoulder. As soon as he touched me I began to cry. “I just saw him a few days ago!”
“There’s nothing more we can do here, Moon. The doctors will take care of Kit.”
“I don’t trust anybody. Leave me alone!”
“Sir,” the nurse said, “may I speak with you privately?”
I saw Mr. Wellington step away with the nurse. I hugged the pole and fought off my tears, still keeping the shoes of the security officer where I could see them.
After a few minutes Mr. Wellington and the nurse returned. “Moon,” he said. “Kit’s in very serious condition. There’s a chance you might not see him again.”
I didn’t answer him.
“He—”
“I’m not leavin’ him. He doesn’t wanna be alone.”
Mr. Wellington stared down at me without speaking for several seconds. Finally, he turned to the nurse and said, “I can tell you that it’s going to take more than one security officer to get him out of here. Can he stay for the night?”
“Not right there.”
“He’ll stay in the waiting area.”
“Fine with me,” the nurse said. “Just as long as he doesn’t cause trouble.”
There were no windows or clocks in the waiting area down the hall, so there was no way for me to tell how long I was there. I didn’t sleep but just stared at a picture of a flower garden that hung on the wall over a telephone. People moved in and out of the room, some crying and some without any expression, all talking in whispers. But none of them talked to me. Mr. Wellington had said that he would come back, but I didn’t care.
At some point a nurse came into the room and asked me if I needed anything, and I shook my head.
“Mr. Wellington’s been calling to check on you. He said to tell us if you need anything to eat or want him to come pick you up.”
I nodded and she watched me for a minute before walking away. I continued to stare at the picture and after a while began to count the flowers. Many more people came and went from the waiting room before Mr. Wellington came through the door and sat down beside me.