Spitting Image

by Shutta Crum

  “Don’t know,” Baby said. He shrugged and bit into his bread. Robert was probably out looking for him right now.

  “We’re headed up your way,” I said. “We’ll walk you home.”

  “Does Lester have other family living at home?” Miss Woodruff asked.

  “No. Lester lives all by himself.”

  Miss Woodruff gave me a funny look. “Baby Blue just came out . . ..” Her voice trailed off and she pointed at Lester’s house.

  It took me a second to figure out what Miss Woodruff was getting at. Then I understood. “Oh. It’s OK,” I said to her. “When he’s hungry, Baby Blue just goes in wherever he’s at and helps himself.”

  “You mean, he goes into other people’s houses when they’re not home?”

  “Yup.” I nodded. “People don’t mind. Everybody knows there’s a good chance that Baby will come through while they’re at work or somewhere. Some folks even leave stuff out for him—except Preacher’s wife. She locks her door.”

  “Doesn’t he get enough to eat at home?”

  “Sure! Beryl Ann’s a good cook. It’s just that Baby doesn’t want to go all the way back home if he’s hungry. Old Mr. Dutton says Baby ‘goes grazing.’ I think people’s houses are just like the woods and the river and the mountains round here to Baby—some place to wander through and graze in. That’s all.”

  “I see,” Miss Woodruff answered thoughtfully. “He doesn’t . . . I mean, he doesn’t . . .?”

  “Oh, Baby would never steal anything or tear anything up, if you’re wondering about that,” I offered. “He mostly just eats, though he might move something from one place to another after studying on it.

  “Take Lester’s Bible, for example. Lester used to grumble, because every time Baby passed through his house looking for something to eat he’d move the Bible from the reading table to the little table by the back door. And after every one of Baby’s visits, Lester would have to move it back. Finally, Lester gave in and left it by the back door. Now every time Lester goes in or out of the house, he puts his hand on the Good Book. And you know what?” I asked Miss Woodruff.

  “What?”

  “Lester says it feels right natural, like the Lord is watching over all his comings and goings, and he wouldn’t have his Bible anywhere else but there by the back door. You see what I mean? I think Baby Blue’s got a feel for how things ought to be.”

  “Hmm.” She nodded as if she understood, and we both watched Baby munch on the second slice.

  We had worked our way through the “downtown” section of Baylor by now and had stopped in front of the long drive up to the Ketchums’ house. I didn’t see Doyle’s truck, and I knew Beryl Ann was at work. She always went in early.

  “Looks like you’ll have to come back later to meet Beryl Ann,” I said.

  “What about Mr. Ketchum?” asked Miss Woodruff.

  I sure wasn’t going to tell her that she could probably find him at the Howling Kitty. I said, “Sometimes he’s around. But I wouldn’t count on catching him.”

  “OK.” She nodded. “I’ll try to meet Mrs. Ketchum later.”

  We waited while Baby finished the last of the bread. Then Robert came around from the back of the house.

  “Go on,” I said to Baby, and gave him a little push up their steep drive. “Robert’s probably worried about you.”

  I waved to Robert, but he didn’t wave back.

  eight

  THE NEXT PLACE WAS up the road a piece, the Stanley farm, near Dog Gap Holler. So we decided to cross the road in front of the Ketchums’ and stop at Miss Maybee’s and then finish up back at my house. Miss Maybee’s house was next to the field where our old house used to stand before it burned down.

  We walked partway up the dirt drive and stopped. Miss Maybee’s old dog, Cooch, was standing on his head in the yard.

  “That’s Cooch,” I said. “Isn’t he great?”

  “My goodness!” Miss Woodruff said. “What in the world is he doing?”

  “Just standing on his head. He does it a couple of times a day.”

  “But . . . how?”

  I could tell Miss Woodruff, as she stood there with her mouth open, was plumb amazed. “He runs around in about twenty zillion circles first,” I told her. “Then he props his head on a rock or clump of grass and hikes his bottom up. He’s so short, I think his hind feet just naturally come up off the ground.

  “Miss Maybee thinks he does it only when he smells a critter like a chipmunk or a ground squirrel. She says he just wants to rub his head on the ground where there’s a good smell. But Robert and I swear he does it because he likes to. We’re going to time him one day and see how long he can stay up.”

  “What kind of dog is he?” Miss Woodruff asked.

  “Just an old mixed-mutt hound. Nobody knows for sure,” I said. “But he’s pretty famous around here.”

  “I bet!” Miss Woodruff laughed.

  “Be careful when you talk to Miss Maybee,” I warned. “We all say Cooch is crazier than a junebug on a string, but she doesn’t like to hear that.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said as we passed Cooch and went to the front porch.

  Like most of the other folks in town, Miss Maybee was glad to make Miss Woodruff’s acquaintance even though she didn’t have any ideas about what Baylor might need from President Johnson. But she promised to think about it.

  When Miss Woodruff was through talking with Miss Maybee, we headed out. Cooch was still on his head.

  “Do you think that’s harmful to him?” Miss Woodruff wondered aloud.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t think so, or he wouldn’t keep doing it, would he? Robert is always going on about how we should enter him in The Guinness Book of World Records. He’s studying up on how we go about doing that.”

  Just past Miss Maybee’s was the corner of our property. I led the way along the path through the waist-high grass in our vacant field. “You aren’t afraid of snakes, are you?” I asked.

  “No. Why?” asked Miss Woodruff, suddenly stopping.

  “It’s OK,” I said. “Just asking. My grandma’s deathly afraid of them. She won’t take the path; afraid they’ll crawl out of the weeds at her. She drives everywhere. But I’ve only seen a few along here, mostly old black snakes. And I’ve only seen one copperhead here. They’re mostly over along the loose rocks at the back,” I said, waving toward the rear of the property where Martin’s Creek zigzagged down to the river. “Oh.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve been up and down this path barefoot all my life, and I can spot a snake at ten yards. I’ve never seen a rattlesnake in here. Lester killed a big one over at the Gas and Go, though, a couple of years ago. It was out sunning itself, right on the concrete there. It pretty near gave Mrs. Boyd a fit.”

  “Oh, dear,” Miss Woodruff said.

  I hummed a little as we walked single file through the tall weeds. I thought about how nobody had given Miss Woodruff any really good ideas on how the War on Poverty could help folks. The only person who said we needed something was Mr. Dutton. And that was just a coffeepot. “Miss Woodruff,” I asked over my shoulder, “do you think you can get a new coffeepot for the church?”

  She laughed. “Oh, I think we can come up with some way of doing that. I’m here to help out, however I can.”

  I thought about what she’d said all the way back to my house. When we got there, I sat down on the porch step and picked at the little white label on my sneaker. Miss Woodruff sat down, too.

  “Miss Woodruff, I’ve been thinking,” I said. “You said the War on Poverty is about trying to help poor people.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Well, Beryl Ann and Doyle are poor, and Robert needs a new pair of glasses. Just a few minutes ago he didn’t even see me wave at him when we dropped Baby off. His eyes are really bad.”

  Miss Woodruff nodded. “I noticed that,” she said.

  “He usually gets new glasses every summer. But this year he hasn’t yet.
”

  “Why not?”

  “Baby says it’s because they don’t have the money. I figure that’s on account of their daddy being laid off with the mine closing. Robert won’t talk about it. But he needs them before school starts again.”

  I glanced over at Miss Woodruff. “So I was wondering, if you think you can get a new coffeepot for the church, do you think you could also get Robert some new glasses?”

  Miss Woodruff crossed her legs and tapped her chin. “We might be able to help . . . a little. Glasses like the ones Robert needs are fairly expensive, I would think.”

  “How much do you figure a pair would cost?” I asked.

  “At least thirty or forty dollars. Maybe more.”

  “That’s a lot.”

  “Well, in needy situations the government will pay for some dental and medical help for children. There’s a special program for young children—an early school we call Head Start. I just don’t know about eyeglasses, though, and Robert’s too old for the Head Start program. It’s for kids before they go to kindergarten. I’d have to check into it. One thing’s for certain,” she said. “The government won’t pay the whole bill.”

  Miss Woodruff was quiet for a moment and then continued. “If Beryl Ann can come up with, oh, say, twenty dollars or so, maybe I can get the rest covered as a special need. But I can’t promise you anything, Jessie.”

  “Twenty dollars. That’s still a lot of money especially for the Ketchums.” I sighed. “Thank you,” I said. I didn’t want Miss Woodruff to think I was ungrateful.

  “I’ll see what I can do, Jessie. Why don’t you talk to Mrs. Ketchum? Maybe there’s some way you and Robert can help raise the money if it’s more than she can get together right now. Where does Robert go to get his glasses?”

  “Bartlettsville. There’s a special eye doctor there, but I don’t know his name.”

  “That’s OK, I’ll figure that bit out,” she said and jumped up, brushing the dust off the back of her dress. She leaned toward me and tilted my chin up. “Think of it as a challenge. And I bet anything you’re one for taking on a challenge and seeing it through to the end.”

  Then she straightened up and thanked me for taking her around the neighborhood. I waved goodbye and smiled as I watched her get into her car and drive off.

  Now, somehow, we needed to get twenty dollars. That wasn’t going to be easy. I knew twenty dollars was about half of what Mama made in a week working at the Gas & Go.

  And I knew I wasn’t going to talk to Beryl Ann about it, or even Robert. Deep down I was afraid it’d be like that bike for Robert that Beryl Ann was always saving up for. I mean, you can save and save and save, but if all you can afford is a tiny bit out of a tiny bit, you just keep saving forever. It’d be next year, or longer, before Robert got new glasses. Already he took so much teasing. It’d only be worse if he started school this year hardly able to see. No. He needed them now, and I had to help.

  nine

  I KNEW THE REST of the week was going to drag by as slow as pouring molasses in January. But the next morning I got up early determined to do everything Mama wanted done and to do it right.

  I didn’t have to worry about staying busy. Mama had lined up what seemed like a whole year’s worth of chores. She had me cleaning out closets, scrubbing the bathroom—even dusting on top of the picture frames and the doors, which everyone knows nobody except a giant could ever see.

  While I worked, I thought about the letter I’d written and hidden in the secret place in my nightstand drawer. I wondered what Dr. Warren Harrison was doing right now. Maybe he was delivering a baby, or doing brain surgery. Maybe he’d come for a visit and invite me to go back to Chicago and tour his hospital. Maybe he would want to work at the Hiram hospital again. Why not? He could work here and be the biggest doctor in the hospital. Boy, wouldn’t Grandma snort about him then! I was smiling as I started to sweep the kitchen floor.

  When I went to sweep the dirt out the door, I found Robert sitting on our porch step, staring out at the field. Sometimes he does that—he just shows up.

  “Hey!” I said.

  He turned and said, “I told you you’d get grounded.”

  Honestly! Robert was getting almost as bad as Grandma about not saying howdy. “So?” I shrugged, and bit my tongue. Even though he’s such a goody two-shoes sometimes, I didn’t want to get in an argument with him today. I was glad to see him.

  Besides, he’d been right. “OK,” I said, giving in. “I guess I didn’t really need to slug Dickie, even if he did deserve it. But listen,” I rushed on, “can you do me a favor?”

  “What?”

  “Just a second and I’ll tell you.”

  I ran into my room and got the letter. “Will you take this and mail it?” I opened the door and thrust it at him.

  “Why don’t you just give it to your mama to mail?” he asked.

  “Because . . . because it’s a surprise.”

  “Oh, no. The last time you surprised somebody, Mrs. Salyers fainted and almost had to be taken to the hospital,” he said.

  “It wasn’t that bad. Besides, how was I to know she was scared of spiders? Nobody’s going to faint over this.” Or at least I hoped not. “C’mon, Robert, will you just do this one small thing for me? Please?”

  “I’m always doing stuff for you,” he said. “I did half your homework this year so you could pass sixth grade.”

  “No, you didn’t!”

  Robert tilted his head and stared at me.

  “Oh, all right. Maybe you did,” I said. But he’d always helped me with my homework since we were real little. He liked schoolwork. “Anyway, can you do this, please?” I asked again.

  Robert sighed. He took the letter and held it up close to his face. “It’s to a doctor . . ..I don’t know about this.”

  “It’s a good surprise, believe me. I’ve been working on it for a while.”

  After I assured him about twenty times that he wouldn’t be an accessory to anything bad, I talked him into running the letter over to the Gas & Go and sneaking it into the mailbox by the door when Mama wasn’t looking. I knew I could depend on Robert.

  I flipped back the living-room curtains to peek out as he looked in the store window, walked over to the mailbox, and slid the letter into the slot. Good! That’s done, I said to myself as I watched Robert walking home.

  I was going to get started on my next chore when I passed Mama’s bedroom door. I thought about the letter from Dr. Harrison I’d found in her drawer. Had it gotten stuck there, or was she hiding it? I knew it wasn’t right, but I wondered if I ought to peek at that letter. Maybe he’d written something about me in it?

  Mama would be working all afternoon and I wouldn’t have to worry about getting caught this time. I went into her room and opened the desk drawer. I reached in and rooted around, but the letter wasn’t there. Even her address book was gone. I bent down and looked way back. Nothing there but pencils and chewing gum and some odd scraps of paper. That was strange. I stood up and looked through the stuff on the top of her desk. There was the address book, under the telephone book. Mama must have gotten it out and used it. Ah! There was the letter, too.

  I held it lightly in my hand and sat on the edge of her bed staring at it. I squeezed the envelope open where it had been slit across the top and saw the letter. I could tell there were several folded pages, all with the same neat handwriting as the address on the outside.

  I sat and thought for a long time. It was Mama’s letter, not mine. I thought about how I’d feel if Mama discovered the secret hiding place I had and read something private of mine. I’d be really mad. And what did it matter if I read it now, anyhow? I’d already written my letter, and Robert had mailed it. I stood up and slipped Mama’s letter back under the telephone book.

  Someday, I thought, I’ll meet him. Then we can talk in person, and that will be better. I smiled as I stood there with my hand on the phone book. And I bet he’s got green eyes, I said to myself.

>   Then I sighed, and dragged myself back to my chores.

  Mama was bound and determined to make me think twice about ever fighting again. When she was home, we sat down and talked about things I could do to control my temper, like counting or trying to come up with something really helpful to say. I said I’d try, but finding something helpful to say to Dickie was going to be downright hard.

  Every day Robert or Baby Blue stopped by to visit. We talked through the screen door. Robert told me about the new Head Start program Miss Woodruff had mentioned. It was starting up in lots of places around the country and was supposed to give kids an introduction to school. Beryl Ann was excited about it because Baby might qualify to attend.

  I could tell Baby Blue was pretty excited, too. Every time he came by he took his thumb out of his mouth without being told to, long enough to tell me that he was going to go to school. Then his pale blue eyes would light up like Christmas lights.

  Robert, too, was already looking forward to school starting, and it was just July!

  The only thing I missed about school in the summer was not seeing Mr. Prichard, our favorite teacher, and not getting to go down to the little library in the school’s old janitor’s closet once a week to pick out a book to read.

  I wasn’t as much of a reader as Robert, but I’d read a whole bunch of books already. I’d read Swiss Family Robinson and all the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew books the school had, and I was working my way through the books by Edgar Rice Burroughs and Jules Verne. Sometimes I thought about the future, like Jules Verne did. If I lived on another planet or in a big city under the sea, I could be a warrior princess and I wouldn’t let bad guys like Dickie get away with anything—ever! And when I got mad, I wouldn’t have to think about counting or about helpful things to say to mean people. I would just put them all in jail or exile all the bad people to their own undersea city, and that would be that.

  On Monday, the day before the raffle drawing, Robert and Baby stopped by Baby was wearing a pair of clean red jeans. “Where’d you get those?” I asked.