Between the Roots

by A. N. McDermott

  "Well, if it doesn't, we can throw your bikes in the back of my pickup and I'll take you home," Mr. Lanton said as he went to his office.

  "And I'm walking," Walt said.

  "You can't walk in this, Walt." Sammy went to the door to check on the bikes. "You're going to need a ride."

  "So are we, Sammy," John reminded him. "Let's take Lanton up on his offer."

  "I wish we could all four squeeze into Lanton's truck," Walt said to Sammy.

  Sammy approached the table. He understood what Walt was saying. Walt wanted to be a part of their lives in a way that only a peer could be. He wanted to be accepted by them as an equal, as a friend, as a kid in old man's trappings, but he'd gotten away with playing the adult too long for Sammy to make it easy on him. An idea began to form in Sammy's mind.

  "Listen, Walt, there isn't enough room in the cab. I'll call Mrs. West and see if she can give you a lift." Walt looked thankful. Sammy hurried to the back office to use the phone and accept Lanton's offer of a ride.

  When he'd talked to Mrs. West, Sammy came back and said, "She'll be here right away, Walt. By the way, I kept my promise. She thinks she's picking up an old-man friend of mine. I told her you were having car trouble, but I didn't tell it was because your grandma wouldn't let you drive alone." He looked at Walt, then turned and smiled at John. "She's about your age, and single. Wouldn't you say, John?"

  "Give or take a few years."

  "She doesn't need to know where you live," Sammy continued. "Just have her drop you off at one of those houses near the Colony."

  "I want to be your friend . . . " Walt said.

  "Sure," said Sammy, "but first you've got to prove it."

  Chapter Thirteen: The Game Plan

  THE INCREDIBLE REVERSE-AGING story left Sammy feeling torn between the wonder of what seemed impossible and anger over having been deceived. For two weeks Sammy wrestled with resentment toward Walt. Sammy had thought Virginia's birthing was a murder. And Walt had to have known his flimsy story about a play wouldn't allay Sammy's fears. Also, now that he thought about it, Sammy suspected that Walt came up with the moneymaking scheme more to provide entertainment for his friends than help Sammy out. Falling for AnLillie was the topper. It embarrassed and incensed him. Sammy decided Walt needed a lesson; he planned his retaliation well.

  "You know, Mom, it's been a long time since we've had anyone over for dinner."

  "You're right. What have you got in mind?"

  Oh, this is too easy. A piece of cake. Now play your cards right, Sammy. Just remember she doesn't suspect anything.

  "Well, you know that old man, Walt, that I met last fall?"

  "The man that helped you with the senior night at The Arcade. Nice old guy."

  "Yes, Walt. I've called him several times, and he seems lonely," Sammy added.

  "It's fine with me if you want to invite him for dinner."

  Sammy nabbed the opportunity, "How about this Saturday?"

  "That will work." she answered.

  Sometimes wonderful things happen to people without even trying. Do they deserve it? Maybe. Are they just lucky? More likely. His plan was coming together even better and easier than he anticipated. The ball is snapped to the mother, who catches it and looks for an opening. Now for the pass.

  "That's great. You don't suppose we could invite anyone else to kind of round out the table, do you?" Sammy knew very well who he wanted, but he didn't want to appear too eager with the suggestion.

  "Are you thinking of John?" Pass complete. Now run the field.

  "I'm not sure he's in town this weekend."

  "You know, Sammy, it would be really nice if we invited Mrs. West to join us." Touchdown! "She's been so sweet to us, and I'm sure she'd like the company. Walt and Mrs. West might find things in common." Extra point!

  "Good idea, Mom. Let's do it." He knew he should ask Mrs. West first because without her, there could be no plan. Yet he'd suggested the dinner with the idea that Walt was lonely. He'd have to call him first. All the maneuvers had to be executed in the proper order.

  "That's awfully thoughtful of you, Sammy. Just let me know if it's a go."

  Sammy felt a rush of wicked delight. His first inclination was to phone John, but he resisted; he'd see him soon enough in school.

  The ringing sounded distant. Now that he knew whom he was talking to, he wondered where Walt actually lived. Was he in one of the cottages with his parents? Now there's a strange thought. They must be about Mom's age, maybe a little older. Or maybe he's in some sort of dormitory where the phone rings at the end of a long hall. And it keeps ringing until someone stumbles out of bed and shuffles down the hall to answer it. Or is he living with AnLillie?

  "Hello."

  "Can I please speak to Walt?" What's his last name? I don't even know his . . .

  "This is Walt."

  "Walt, is that really you? You sound so much different." Sammy realized he had already adjusted to the idea that Walt was really his age. In his thinking, Walt's voice should be younger, too.

  "Sammy, good to hear you. I was beginning to think you were giving up on me."

  Sammy wished he had practiced his speech.

  "You're sure calling early."

  "I wanted to call you before school. Mom says she'd like to have you over to dinner on Saturday. She says you're a nice old guy."

  It was quiet on the other end.

  He needed to word this just right, no lies, and it was true she offered to fix dinner. He spoke in a rush. "I haven't said a word about my promise, Walt, if that's what you're thinking. I haven't said anything to anybody, never will, honest to God. Besides, they'd think I was crazy." Sammy took a breath.

  "Two weeks, Sammy."

  "I know, I was mad at you and, well, a whole bunch of other things. You laid a big heavy on us." Again there was a pause.

  "All right, Sammy, but AnLillie won't let me drive at night until I have more practice."

  "No problem. We'll pick you up. How about six by that house beyond the main gate? The place where Mrs. West dropped you off during the storm."

  "I'm sure it's okay."

  His mom would be coming down the hall any minute. But there was one gnawing question Sammy wanted answered. "Walt, who do you ask if you want to go someplace?"

  "I usually ask AnMike."

  The name sounded familiar. "Who's she?"

  "He . . . AnMike is one of my uncles. The 'An' stands for ancestor, the title we give all of our ancestors."

  "I see." He remembered hearing Walt call the boy in the computer room by that name. Now AnLillie's name had more meaning. "So, I'll see you on Saturday, six o'clock sharp." Easy, too easy. Now just one more piece to the puzzle.

  As he ran out, the front door slammed behind him. He jumped the side hedge by Mrs. West's front lawn. She was always up early, and he caught her wave through the front window as he headed to the porch. She held the door open. He wondered if she too might really be a kid, then realized he'd known her too long. He would notice her growing younger.

  "Is there a problem, Sammy?" Mrs. West seemed to think in problems.

  "No, Mrs. West, no problem." He stooped to pick up the newspaper against a planter box and handed it to her.

  "Come in. I know you didn't come over just to pick up my paper."

  "Mom and I were wondering if you'd like to come to dinner around six on Saturday night."

  "Why, that sounds wonderful. I'd love to."

  "Okay, then, see you later." Sammy started backing toward the steps before he realized he was still missing one vital piece to his plan. "Oh, say, Mrs. West, you wouldn't mind if Walt joined us for dinner too, would you? He's that old guy that helped us with the arcade project."

  "I know Walt. I took him home during the rain storm."

  "Oh, yeah. I hate to ask, but do you think you could pick him up? He's still having car trouble."

  "Car trouble, is it? Certainly I can pick him up and take him home. I know where he lives."

  "That
's great, Mrs. West. I'll tell him to wait outside his house. See you Saturday." Sammy jumped from the porch to the walk, missing the steps altogether.

  Later, telling John his scheme was the highlight of the morning. "He doesn't know who's picking him up, or who he'll be sitting next to at the dinner table."

  "Wish I could be there."

  "Why not? I'll tell Mom you had a sudden change in plans, which is true, isn't it?"

  "Right, I plan to be laughing a lot Saturday night."

  Today was Thursday; they had three afternoons to develop their plot. Sammy insisted on buying props to set the mood, so pooling their resources was the first order of business.

  "This better be good, Sammy. I was planning on buying a new headlight for my bike with that money."

  "Ah, you'll get another job. Besides, you could barely buy the batteries for that much."

  "So, who's gonna pick up the stuff?" John asked.

  "I'll get the candles and candy. You order the flowers."

  "What do I say? Nobody in our house has ever done that."

  "Just go to the store and tell them you want the most romantic bunch of flowers a guy can get for $5.25—better make that $4.25. I think you're supposed to send a card with that too," Sammy said.

  "So who's gonna write on the card?"

  "You are, Doofus. And you get to deliver the stuff to Mrs. West. Just tell her a delivery guy got lost and asked you to do the job since you knew where she lives."

  "Why don't I just buy the candles and the candy and you do the flowers?" John said.

  "Look here, John, you get a free meal, and remember, you made me look ridiculous when you left me alone with AnLillie in the ice cream booth. Besides, I have to set things up."

  "So when does the princess get the flowers?"

  "It'll have to be sometime Saturday morning so it looks like Walt is really looking forward to seeing her. I'll make sure the candy shows up on her porch sometime in the afternoon."

  Chapter Fourteen: The Dinner Party

  SAMMY TOOK ONE LAST LOOK at the table. As an afterthought, he rearranged the place cards. Walt and Mrs. West were set next to one another facing Sammy. He wanted a front-row seat watching every awkward moment. John's card was at the foot of the table, while Sammy's mother was at the head, nearest the kitchen.

  The center of the table held a small vase of fake flowers borrowed from the bathroom. A fine coating of bath powder still clung to several of their freshly dunked petals. He dimmed the lights. The mood was perfect, Sammy thought. He placed a book of matches next to his plate, ready to light the pair of unmatched candles, one black, and one orange, Halloween-leftover bargains. They were secured with wax in crystal holders from his mother's China hutch.

  "Ta dum, Mom, what do you think?" He pointed to the table.

  "I hope the food is as good as the ambiance," she said.

  "It smells good. Do you need help?"

  "Aren't you and Mrs. West going to get Walt?"

  "She's picking him up herself."

  A knock on the door signaled John's arrival. The two boys greeted each other with devilish looks, giving a thumbs up behind Sammy's mother's back.

  "So when is our charming couple arriving?" John whispered.

  Sammy raised a finger to his lips and motioned John to follow him outside. Keeping his voice low, he said, "Soon. Mrs. West is usually on time. Wish I could be a bug on the windshield to see Walt's expression when she shows up, alone, and even thanks him for the flowers."

  "What about the candy? Did you deliver it?" John asked.

  Sammy said, "What a deal! I found a box of marked-down chocolate creams, a big four-pound beast, only cost three bucks, down from twelve dollars, really romantic stuff." Sammy gave a whistle and brushed his chin a couple quick strokes, grinning ear to ear.

  Headlights turned into the drive. The boys ducked into the shadows on the porch. The blue Buick, freshly washed and shiny, stopped under the yard light in front of the garage. They hadn't planned to be outside when the guests arrived. Walt opened his door quickly. He rushed around the front of the car as fast as his stiff legs would allow, then opened the driver's door. Mrs. West took his hand as he helped her out of the car.

  "I'd prefer if you drove on the way back, Walt. I have trouble with night vision."

  "I'd be happy to, Mrs. West." Movement on the porch distracted him as he caught sight of the boys.

  "Now, Walt, I meant it when I said to call me Helen."

  John poked Sammy's side whispering in a falsetto voice, "Just call me Helen, Sweetie!" Sammy smirked.

  As the couple approached the porch, the boys stepped back. Sammy grabbed the screen door, opened and closed it loudly. John followed him across the porch and down the front steps.

  "Good to see you. We thought we heard your car drive up, Mrs. West. Hello, Walt, how's it going?" Sammy could have kicked himself for the too-casual comment.

  "Hello, boys," Walt said, with a little too much elderly dignity, as he escorted Helen along the walk and up the steps. Sammy flashed a disgusted look at John. Boys! Who's the boy, anyway? Sammy thought. He's actually enjoying it! Walt swished his left hand ahead of himself and offered his right elbow to Mrs. West for support. Sammy winced. He's pathetic.

  As she took Walt's arm, Mrs. West waved Sammy closer. "Sammy dear, could you please bring in the package from the back seat? Walt was so sweet to bring me chocolates."

  The candy looked familiar, still in the red striped bag from the Priced Rite Pharmacy, the receipt still with it, marked "sale item, no refund." Maybe she didn't notice.

  By the time he reached the door, Walt was helping Mrs. West with her coat. He was also flattering Sammy's mother as only a very old man or a cocky teen might try. What! The old fake is even kissing her hand.

  "Just call me Jane," his mother said.

  Oh please!

  Sammy poked the giant-size box of candy in front of Mrs. West.

  "It was so sweet of Walt to bring me candy. I can't possibly eat it all," Mrs. West said. "Jane, please offer it to everyone after dinner."

  Sammy's mother added, "Walt, how thoughtful of you. I didn't even know gentlemen did that anymore."

  Great, there goes Mom, gushing all over the place. Walt looked pleased. "Love's Labour's Lost." Whatever that meant, Sammy thought. He felt satisfied the old boy had dug himself plenty deep into the romantic notions of Mrs. West and his own mother. The sport would be seeing how he got out of them.

  Sammy nudged John and whispered, "She hasn't said anything about the flowers. Wonder why."

  His sheepish look said it all. "Heck, candy is good enough."

  Sammy snarled at John, "What? You didn't get the flowers!" They all began to take seats in the living room.

  A timer went off in the kitchen. Jane left to see to it, and Sammy stood up. "Hey, John, I need some help lighting those candles in the dining room." The boys left the elder pair in the living room together. Sammy lit into John: "No flowers, no food, Mr. Cheapskate!" The romantic alone-time was cut short when Sammy's mother called Helen to the kitchen.

  While Sammy got John to help light the candles, Walt entered the dining room.

  "It was thoughtful of you to have Helen pick me up, alone." Walt's sarcasm was unmistakable.

  Sammy, still holding a burning match, said, "Come on, Walt old man, you know you and Helen make a charming couple."

  John stood grinning like a used-car salesman. The lit match burned its way to Sammy's fingertip. He flicked it onto the tablecloth and smudged out the flame.

  "I knew you guys were up to no good, especially when she started thanking me for the candy. Can't say your choice is so good, though. I just bought a box like that for AnLillie's seventy-fifth germ day."

  "Germ day?"

  "Germination day, you know, birthday. There were little worms in the raisin-nut creams."

  "Great!" Sammy frowned. "And she wants to share them after dinner."

  "So, have you had enough laughs on me yet?" Walt sounded
amused, obviously enjoying messing up the boys' plans to make him sweat out his "first date."

  "You know you're pitiful," Sammy scoffed.

  "I'm just turning your lemons into my lemonade, Sam."

  Helen and Jane crossed the hall into the dining room, each carrying a steaming bowl. "Please sit down."

  Walt pulled Helen's chair from the table while she positioned herself to sit. When she relaxed her knees, Walt was still backing it away from her ample behind, now headed for the floor. The scene kicked into slow motion as Mrs. West dropped all the way. Instinctively, she reached to stop her fall. She managed to grab the tablecloth, which followed her, along with the dishes, silverware, and glasses. Amazingly, the hot dish she had just set down near the middle of the table stopped at the table's edge.

  The shocked look on Mrs. West's face, the sight of her lace-trimmed slip above her chubby knees hugged by the tops of knee-high nylons, was too ridiculous for silence. John laughed, and then slapped his own mouth, just before taking the hot dish thrust at him by Sammy's mother.

  "Oh, Helen, are you all right?" Jane exclaimed. She grabbed the candles that lay cattywampus on the tablecloth dripping wax, continuing to burn.

  Walt stood behind the chair, his shocked expression momentarily turned to mischievous delight. Before he checked himself, he caught Sammy's stare. Sammy knew he wore the same devilish grin himself.

  "Oh, Mrs. East, I mean Mrs. West, uh, Helen, I'm really sorry. Are you all right?" Walt cried.

  "I'll be just fine, just fine. Can you help me get up?" Mrs. West released the tablecloth and struggled to keep from hitting her head against the chair. Walt pulled it back even further. He hurried in front of it and behind Mrs. West to place his arms around her back and under her armpits. Once there, the only place left to grip and lift was her ample bosom. He lifted her a foot off the floor. Realizing his position, he quickly let loose. Again she hit the floor, in a soft bottom-bounce.

  "Oh, my goodness!" Mrs. West exclaimed.

  "Oh, I'm so sorry, here let me help you," Walt said with fresh resolve.

  "No, please, please, don't help me," she begged as she struggled to right herself.