Something Old, Something New

by Beverly Jenkins

  “Frustrating, huh?”

  “Extremely, but I’m going to keep pounding away at it. I’m not giving up on him.”

  “Do you want me to talk to him?”

  She added barbecue sauce and a bit of brown sugar to the bubbling ingredients in the pot. “Yes, but let him finish first.”

  “What do you think is going on with him?”

  She shrugged. “Says he hates life.”

  “Probably wants back what he had with his grand.”

  Lily nodded. “Understandable, but how do you explain to a little boy that life makes us go on?”

  “Maybe the new reverend will help us figure out how to make that happen.”

  “Be nice, but as I said, I’m going to keep trying to reach him.”

  “How’s his eye and lip?”

  “Big.”

  “Zoey been by?”

  “Nope.”

  They shared a look of concern. Trent tried to ease her worries. “Those two love each other so much, they won’t be apart for long.”

  “I’m hoping on that, too.”

  Trent stood. “I’ll go see what kind of progress he’s made.”

  “Thanks. When he’s done, I’m going to walk him over to Zoey’s so he can apologize.”

  “I’ll take him over.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. Sounds like a dad mission. Might give me a chance to talk to him, too.”

  “You’re not bad at this dad stuff.”

  “Thanks. You’re no slouch at being a mom, either. In fact, Amari wanted to know if he could call you Mom.”

  She stilled, and next he knew, she had tears in her eyes.

  “Aw, girl. What’s the matter? You know I hate it when you cry.”

  “Amari is so amazing. Of course he can.”

  “Come here.”

  She went to him, and he took her into his arms and held her tight. “One day,” he whispered, “after we survive this child-raising business and they’re both grown and gone, we’re going to have Bernadine buy us an island to live on where no one can find us.” He pulled back and looked down into her wet eyes. “And I’m going to show you every day what an amazing woman you are.”

  “Promise?”

  “Scout’s honor. I’ll go up and get Devon.”

  “Thanks, Trenton.”

  “For you, girl, the world.”

  Trent went upstairs and knocked on Devon’s door.

  “Come in.”

  “Hey, Dev. How are you?”

  “Fine.” He was stretched out on his bed reading his Bible, and immediately focused his attention back on the pages. Trent’s slow look around the room showed it to be as neat as he assumed it had been before the trashing, and he contrasted that to the chaos that reigned in Amari’s bedroom. “Heard you and Ms. Lily got into a small spat this morning.”

  “What’s a spat?”

  “A little argument.”

  His lips thinned. “Yeah.”

  “She said you don’t like her anymore.”

  “She won’t let me do anything.”

  “Like what?”

  He glanced Trent’s way. “Be a preacher.”

  Trent sighed. “Did you worry your grandma this way whenever she told you no?”

  He didn’t respond for a long moment, then said, “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I knew better.”

  “So why should Ms. Lily saying no be any different?”

  “Because my grandma never said I couldn’t preach,” he threw back.

  “I see. You’ll get to preach when you’re older, Devon, but right now, your job is to learn how to be the best person you can be so that you can be ready. And your other job is to respect your mom. You don’t raise your voice, you don’t talk back, and you definitely don’t tear up your room when she tells you something you don’t like.“

  He looked down.

  “Do we have an understanding, son?”

  He whispered, “Yes, sir. Am I getting a spanking now?”

  Trent stared in confusion. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because when my grandma talked real soft like that, I usually got a spanking.”

  Trent understood. “I will never put my hands on you in anger, Devon, ever, okay?”

  Devon nodded hastily.

  “Now you and I are going to go see Zoey, and you’re going to apologize for the stuff you said.”

  “But—”

  “But what?”

  He sighed. “Nothing.”

  “If you have something to say, now’s the time, son.”

  He shook his head.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Downstairs in the kitchen, Lily was just putting the top on the sloppy joes when Trent and Devon walked in. She asked Devon, “Is your room picked up?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She looked to Trent, and he nodded in agreement, adding, “We’re going over to see Zoey now.”

  “Okay.”

  Trent didn’t pay any attention to Devon’s hangdog face. “We’ll be back in a few.”

  Reg met them at the door, ushered them in, and called up the steps for Zoey. While they waited for her to come down, Reg took a look at Devon’s injuries. “Your eye’s going be like this for a few more days, Devon. Is the pain medicine helping you sleep?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Zoey!” he called again. “She’s probably up there taking her bed apart. Caught her this morning trying to dismantle the dishwasher with a butter knife.”

  “What?”

  “She wants me to take her to a hardware store to buy real tools like Mr. Trent’s.”

  “Sorry,” Trent said.

  “No, I think this is pretty cool. Just have to keep an eye on her so she doesn’t undo every screw in the house.”

  Trent hadn’t any idea Zoey would take to tools the way she had, but he approved. “I’ll get her some tools and some things she can take apart, like old clocks and radios.”

  “That would help a lot. Zoey!!”

  She finally appeared, wearing a pair of winter gloves and swim goggles over her eyes. Trent supposed it was the closest she could find to genuine safety gear, and he wished Mal and Rocky were there to see her. “Looking good, Zoey.”

  She smiled back, but upon seeing Devon, turned away in a huff.

  Devon cut her a simmering look in response, but Trent ignored it. “Devon, you have something you want to say to Zoey?”

  “I forgive you, Zoey.”

  Trent stared as if the boy had suddenly grown three heads. “You forgive her?” he asked startled.

  “Yes. I called her names, but she resorted to violence. The Bible says—”

  Trent threw up a hand. “Hold it.” He bent down and looked into Devon’s eyes and said firmly, “Apologize to her now, or it’ll be you and a paintbrush on Ms. Agnes’s fence in two minutes.”

  Devon swallowed. “I’m sorry,” he said belligerently.

  Trent looked at Reg. The outdone Reg chuckled and shook his head.

  Devon had his arms folded over his chest like a put-upon child king.

  Trent wondered if he should have let Lily come over with Devon instead. Although he’d promised to never put his hands on the boy in anger, he wanted to smack him upside his little pea-shaped head. He calmed himself. “Devon. You’re going to apologize again, and this time, sound like you mean it.”

  The second attempt was only marginally better.

  Apparently, Zoey wasn’t buying any of it. She signed, Dad. Can I go back to my room?

  “Yeah, baby. Go on.”

  Before she departed, Trent told her, “Zo, one day next week, you, me, and your dad will go to Franklin and get you some real tools and safety gear. How’s that sound?”

  Her face brightened like the sun. She ran back and gave Trent the biggest hug she’d ever given him, and signed: Thank you!

  “No problem, but until then, no more taking apart anything that doesn
’t have Barbie’s name on it. Okay?”

  She nodded.

  “Promise?”

  She nodded again enthusiastically. Smiling, she ran up the steps and disappeared.

  Trent said to Reg, “Sorry this didn’t go better.”

  Reg waved him off and said to Devon, “Obviously Devon believes this is all Zoey’s fault. Right, Devon?”

  Devon stared ahead stubbornly.

  On the walk back to Lily’s, Trent looked down at Devon and said, “So now you don’t have a best friend. Not real smart, son. Not smart at all.”

  Devon told himself he didn’t care, but inside, his heart ached.

  And the day went downhill from there. First, Trent told on him the moment they got back, and Lily promptly put Devon on the first real punishment he’d ever received in his life. He tried quoting the Bible at her the way he sometimes did to his grandmother in order to shame her into lightening the sentence, but she wasn’t his grandma. To prove it, he was denied access to his DVDs, television, and video games until further notice.

  “You’re going to need your mind clear to think of all the words you’ll be putting into the three-page apology letter you’re going to write to Zoey,” she told him firmly.

  His eyes went wide as dinner plates.

  Second, Amari was there when they returned as well, and although he didn’t say anything while Lily was laying down the law, Devon could see him shaking his head with disappointment. When she was done, Amari started in on his what-it-meant-to-be-a-July speech, but before he could get going good, Mr. Trent stopped him. “You’re not in this, Amari.”

  It was the day’s only saving grace.

  After dinner, the sad-faced Devon helped Amari clear the table, then dejectedly climbed the stairs to his room. Once inside, he closed the door and threw himself across the bed. He would’ve much rather had a spanking.

  On Sunday morning, he and Ms. Lily shared a silent breakfast and then left for the school auditorium. It would be the last Sunday of his preaching career, and he prayed Zoey would show up to play the piano. She didn’t. In fact, the only people who did come were Mr. Trent, Amari, and Ms. Bernadine. He was very disappointed. “Where is everybody?” he asked Lily. Since late August, the crowds had been getting smaller and smaller.

  She shrugged. “Do you know what a novelty is, sweetheart?”

  Devon could see Amari and the others watching him. “No, ma’am.”

  After she explained what it meant, he asked, “So they weren’t really coming to hear the Word?”

  “Doesn’t look like it.”

  “Can we go back home?” he asked her. “My eye hurts.”

  “Sure, sweetheart.”

  They walked back out to the car, and she drove him home.

  Chapter 10

  But later that afternoon plenty of people showed up to begin the work on Gary Clark’s ancestral home, and Trent was pleased by all the support. Mal and his crew arrived first, along with a few of the local farmers and a large number of the area’s construction workers. Next came Bernadine and Crystal, followed by Jack and Eli and Reg and Zoey. Lily parked and walked up with an unhappy-looking Devon, and on their heels came Amari, Preston, and Leah, who rode up on their bikes. Sheila came alone; Trent guessed Barrett was still pouting. When Gary finally arrived with an obviously angry Tiffany Adele, who was decked out in a dress and ballet slippers, Trent was ready to get the ball rolling.

  However, before he could thank everyone for coming, Tamar and Ms. Agnes roared up in Olivia, and he had to wait for the dust to settle and for the latecomers to join them, too.

  “Okay. Looks like everybody’s here. First I want to thank you for coming. For those of you who don’t know Gary Clark, that’s him over there. He has two daughters. Leah, raise your hand, please.”

  She complied and smiled shyly.

  “And Tiffany Adele.”

  She didn’t raise her hand, but stood beside her dad smoldering instead, which of course drew the attention of Tamar, who walked over and stood beside her. All the kids shared a knowing look, and would’ve felt sorry for Tiffany if she hadn’t been acting like such a brat.

  Trent turned to Gary. “Do you have anything you want to say?”

  He nodded. “I just want to say thanks. I’m real grateful for the support, and I know my girls are, too. You’re giving us a home, and there is no greater gift.”

  “We’re glad to do it,” Trent responded. He opened his mouth to add more, but promptly closed it as he and everyone else watched Tamar march a mutinous-looking Tiffany Adele off to the side.

  “Uh-oh,” Amari said loud enough for them all to hear.

  Crystal added with a laugh, “You got that right.”

  Knowing grins and chuckles greeted that; most of them had been in Tiff’s ballet shoes at least once in their lives. It could be a very memorable and sometimes unpleasant place, but they knew Tamar would chew her out with love, so everyone turned their attention back to Trent as he began to divide all the volunteers into the crews that would be led by himself, Mal, Cliff, and Bing. Once each crew was clear as to its duties, the work began.

  The balance of the day’s efforts was spent emptying out the interior rooms of their old, unusable furniture. They took out old sofas, chairs that had been converted into nests by mice and other small mammals, and mattresses that had also been turned into wildlife homes. Trent grinned, watching Zoey carrying out a warped and rotting dresser drawer almost as big as herself and tossing it into the pile. There’d be a bonfire later for all the old wood. Tiffany Adele had been turned into an assistant to Tamar and Ms. Agnes, and was helping to set out plates and cups on the long table where all the food would be placed. She didn’t look happy. Neither did Devon, who kept trying to brush the dirt and dust off his suit pants and shoes while working alongside Mal, who kept chuckling and handing him more gunk-covered shingles to place in the industrial-sized Dumpster.

  As the sun began to fade, Trent took a look around at the progress they’d made and the good time everyone seemed to be having—Tiff and Devon notwithstanding—and he decided it had been a productive day. When Tamar announced that the food was ready, it got even better.

  Once the volunteers had washed up at the old pump behind the house, they feasted on hot dogs and hamburgers, ears of grilled corn, Ms. Agnes’s famous potato salad, and Clay’s spicy baked beans. There would be ice cream later during the bonfire, but from the happiness on all the faces, no one seemed to care about being made to wait.

  Trent took his piled-high plate over to where Lily was seated in the grass and sat beside her.

  “This was fun,” she declared.

  He agreed. “We got a lot done. Gives you an appetite, too. I could eat a horse.”

  She smiled, and as her eyes strayed toward the road that ran by the Clark home, she went still. “Look who’s shown up now that all the work’s done.”

  The big black town car belonging to Leo Brown came to a stop, and out of its expensive cream-colored leather interior stepped Marie, Genevieve, sporting her signed cast, and then the man himself. His gray suit looked imported and screamed money loud enough to be heard in Denver.

  Lily cracked sarcastically, “Doesn’t look like he’s dressed to haul wood.”

  “You’re going to make yourself sick hating on that man,” Trent noted amusedly.

  Her eyes followed their approach onto the Clark property. “Can’t help it.”

  Trent eyed Genevieve’s hand. “Wonder how Riley’s doing?”

  “I wish I could have been a fly on the wall when she knocked him out at the Dog. She sure has changed.”

  “I’ll bet Riley’s saying the same thing.” The memory of the way Riley slid beneath the booth and out of view made Trent chuckle. “He melted under that booth like a flattened Wile E. Coyote after one of his run-ins with the Road Runner.”

  Grinning, Lily crowed, “Beep beep.”

  He laughed and went back to his plate.

  Devon was ready to go home. He was
hot and tired, and his suit was a mess, but he knew he would have to sit through the bonfire first. He’d spent the day watching Zoey and being jealous of all the attention she was getting. Every time she walked by, carrying something out to the pile of wood, one of the adults would say, “Good job, Zo!” or “Looking good, Miss Z.”

  The Miss Z business had been started by Mr. Mal. He’d put himself on Devon’s list, too, for making him get so dirty. Each time Devon bent over to brush the dirt off his pant legs, Mr. Mal would say, “That little bit of dirt won’t kill you, boy. Here, come and get this.” And he’d hand Devon something to carry even dirtier than the last thing he’d been given. Once again, Devon wasn’t happy with his life or the people in it. He spotted Ms. Lily, sitting on the grass next to Mr. Trent. They looked happy. He wasn’t sure how he felt about having Mr. Trent for a dad. He’d never had a man in his life before. The one time he’d asked his grandma about his mother and father, she responded with, “I’ll tell you when you get older.” Now that she’d passed on, he’d never know, but sometimes he did wonder who they were and where they might be. He’d hoped they’d come and get him after his grandma’s death, but they hadn’t. No one came to claim him.

  “Hey, buckaroo. Why are you sitting over here all by yourself?”

  Devon looked up into the kind eyes of Mr. Malachi. In response to the question, he offered a slow shrug. “Nobody likes me anymore.”

  “Heard you were having a hard time. Things any better?”

  “Nope.”

  “Want to tell me about it? Sometimes having somebody to talk to takes the sting out of stuff, you know.”

  Devon thought that over for a moment and then said, “Okay.”

  So Devon talked about the fight with Zoey, his spat with Ms. Lily, and how he came to be on punishment. Through it all Mr. Mal listened. He didn’t fuss, nor did he judge. Instead he said, “You know, Devon, life sucks sometimes.”

  Devon drew back, horrified.

  “Sorry,” Mal said with a chagrined grin. “But sometimes only your OG will tell it like it is.”

  Devon wasn’t sure he really understood that, but he got the drift.

  Mal explained further, “No matter how many times we think we got life licked, she throws us a curveball.”