“Wow,” Kirby said.
Aggie chuckled. Then she held the patch out to Kirby. “Here,” she said. “You keep it.”
Kirby shook his head. “Naw.”
Aggie jabbed the patch at him. “Go on,” she said. “Take it. Harold would’ve been tickled pink for you to have that.”
Kirby eyed the patch. “Really?”
“Sure.”
Kirby took the patch from Aggie. A real war patch! He wished his brother, Ace, could see this.
“Thanks,” he said, tucking the patch into his shirt pocket.
“You’re welcome,” Aggie said.
Kirby pulled more things out of the box. A bowling trophy. Binoculars. A red plaid thermos. A hunting knife in a mildewed leather case. A clock with a cardinal on the front.
And then the rumble of a truck made him and Aggie stop what they were doing and look out at the parking lot.
“Who in the world could that be?” Aggie said.
Loretta
“Aren’t we lucky, Marvin?” Loretta’s mother patted Loretta’s knee.
Her father nodded and said, “Yep.”
Loretta forced a little smile.
They had gone for a drive, pulling over at all the lookout spots to see the view. Sometimes they put a quarter in the telescope and looked at the roads and cars and souvenir shops miles and miles away.
They had stopped at a roadside stand and bought boiled peanuts and saltwater taffy.
They had picked blackberries to take back to everyone at the Sleepy Time Motel.
But Loretta wasn’t having much fun.
She couldn’t stop thinking about the poodle dog pin.
Where had her other mother gotten it?
Had it been a gift, or had she bought it herself?
Had she seen it there in the store and just had to have it?
Had she worn it every day or only on special days?
And where was it now?
Loretta helped her mother clear off the picnic table, wrapping up the bologna and cheese and putting them back in the cooler.
Then they all climbed into the van and headed back to the Sleepy Time Motel. Now that the rain had stopped, the afternoon sun was peeking out from behind the clouds. Loretta held her face near the window, letting the cool mountain air blow her hair.
Maybe when she got back to the motel, Willow and Kirby would help her look for the pin.
Maybe Aggie had found it by now.
Or maybe it was gone forever.
Aggie
Aggie pushed herself up out of the lawn chair outside the storage room and followed Kirby across the parking lot to the roadside.
She read the words on the side of the truck parked there.
ALL-AMERICAN SIGN COMPANY.
Her feet kept moving but her heart stopped.
At least, it felt like her heart stopped. She clutched at Harold’s old brown sweater. Her head was spinning. Her ears were ringing.
Clyde Dover was saying something.
To her?
Yes.
Clyde Dover was saying something to her.
He was grinning.
He was pointing.
Aggie shook her head, trying to clear the ringing in her ears.
“ … that surprise I told you about,” is what Clyde Dover was saying.
Aggie made her eyes focus on the shiny new sign propped against the side of the truck.
MOUNTAINVIEW INN.
“Oh … well …” Aggie said.
Just those two words.
What else could she say?
Aggie felt herself leave.
Not her real self.
Not her achy old self standing there in the parking lot.
But her inside self.
Her happy young self who had met Harold at the magazine rack in the back of Walgreens Drugstore in Shelby, North Carolina, and had loved him right away.
Her inside self drifted right up off the ground and into the breezy mountain air and watched the scene taking place down there at the Sleepy Time Motel.
Here is what her inside self saw from way up there above the ground:
Clyde Dover, pointing at the shiny new motel sign and beaming at everyone.
Kirby, hopping around, splashing muddy water, fiddling with his yo-yo, tossing gravel into the road.
Willow, slumped in the rocking chair in front of Room 10.
Kirby’s mother, Darlene, flicking a cigarette into the ditch by the road.
Dear little Ugly, swishing his scrawny tail back and forth across the wet grass.
The Murphys’ white van bouncing across the parking lot and stopping in front of Room 6.
Loretta, jumping out and dashing over to join the others, that charm bracelet of hers jingle-jangling as she ran.
Loretta’s parents, climbing out of the van, holding hands and smiling after Loretta like she was an angel come right down from heaven.
And last …
The two men from the sign company, grunting as they dug and pulled and dug and pulled until the Sleepy Time Motel sign came right up out of the ground.
When the doors of the truck slammed with a bang, Aggie’s inside self fell from the sky above the motel and landed with a crash right inside her achy old self standing there by the road.
“Oh … well …” she said. “That’s it, then.”
She scooped up Ugly, wrapping him in the folds of Harold’s old brown sweater. Most times, Ugly hated it when she did that, but this time, he leaned against her and purred.
She turned and headed back toward the motel. She dropped into a chair by the office door, settled Ugly on her lap, and closed her eyes.
“Want some taffy?”
Aggie opened her eyes. Loretta was sitting on the sidewalk in front of her.
Aggie smiled. She didn’t have the heart to say No, taffy gets stuck in my dentures. So she took a piece of the gooey candy wrapped in waxed paper and tucked it into her pocket.
After Loretta said goodbye and skipped away, Aggie watched the sun sink behind the mountains—and the new motel sign glowing bright against the darkening sky.
Kirby
Kirby walked along the side of the road, kicking a rusty soda can ahead of him. It bounced and clanged on the steamy hot asphalt. The early morning fog still hung over the treetops in the distance.
Every now and then a car whizzed by, stirring up a warm breeze. Then the air would settle back down.
Thick.
Still.
Hot.
The puddles along the roadside were drying up fast, the red mud turning back into hard-packed clay.
Kirby didn’t know how far he had walked. After a while, he went down a side street off the main highway, passing several houses, some gravel roads, a trailer park.
Eventually, he left the road and pushed through the weeds and low-hanging branches until he came to a clearing. Along one side were big, flat rocks with sparkly flecks of silver that glittered in the sunlight. Kirby climbed onto the rocks and lay back, feeling the heat seep right through his clothes to his skin.
He looked up at the clouds, studying their shapes. One looked like an elephant. Another like an angel with outspread wings. Another one looked like stairs. Soft, cottony stairs.
Kirby imagined himself walking up those stairs.
Up and up and up.
To where?
Anywhere would be good.
Anywhere was better than here, next to the winding mountain road that led to the school for losers like him.
He took Loretta’s pin out of his pocket and studied it. He tilted it back and forth. The tiny rhinestones sparkled in the sun.
He put the pin back in his pocket and stayed up there in the clouds all morning.
When he got back to the motel, Room 1 was empty. His mother was probably checking the mail again, looking for the money that Virgil had supposedly sent. Their broken-down car had been towed to the Texaco gas station a few days ago, but the mechanic wouldn’t fix it until he got so
me money.
Kirby took the shoebox that Burla had given him out to the picnic table. He fished through the stuff inside until he found the folded-up postcard.
Greetings from the Great Smoky Mountains
He crossed out the Great Smoky Mountains and wrote Nowhere.
Greetings from Nowhere
He turned the card over and thought about who to write and what he should say.
Dear Burla, I miss you.
Hey, Ace, I got a war patch.
Dear Virgil, I don’t miss you.
Dear Dad, Thanks for nothing.
Kirby looked up at the sound of someone running toward him on the gravel parking lot.
“Hey, Kirby!” Loretta called. She was wearing a vest with long, leathery fringe and a sheriff’s badge.
“Where’ve you been?” she said.
Kirby put his arm over the postcard.
Loretta sat at the picnic table beside him. “We went to Maggie Valley and rode a train,” she said.
Kirby pushed the postcard up under the box and went over to the swimming pool. He jumped down into the shallow end, ran to the deep end, trotted in circles around the drain a few times, and then climbed up the ladder. He bounced on the diving board. It made boing, boing noises that echoed in the still summer air.
“The train went through a tunnel,” Loretta said, sitting on the edge of the pool. “And then it stopped at a cowboy town.”
“That’s upid-stay,” Kirby said. His brother, Ace, would have punched him for saying that. Or run off to tell Mama. He might have even cried.
But Loretta just kept on talking about that cowboy town and how she had a Buffalo Bill burger for lunch, and then out of the clear blue she said, “Will you help me look for my poodle dog pin tomorrow?”
Kirby stopped bouncing. “What?”
“Will you help me look for my poodle dog pin tomorrow?”
Kirby glanced at the sheriff’s badge pinned to her fringed vest. He was thinking about telling her that she looked like an upid-stay aby-bay, but he didn’t.
“Maybe,” he said.
“We’re gonna make s’mores on the barbecue grill tonight,” Loretta said. “Wanna come?”
Kirby studied Loretta. Her freckly face. Her straight, dark hair held back with blue barrettes. “Okay,” he said.
Kirby slapped another mosquito and watched Loretta blow out her burning marshmallow.
Her parents sat in lawn chairs sipping beers. They called Loretta “LuLu” and hugged her a lot. They told Kirby to call them Irene and Marvin. They asked him questions nobody had ever asked him before. What was his favorite sport? Did he have a dog? How did he like the Smoky Mountains?
At first, Kirby had just mumbled a few words.
He liked baseball.
The Smoky Mountains were okay.
But after a while, he started talking more. He told Irene about the bird’s nest on his windowsill last spring. How he had seen the eggs hatch and he still had some of the broken shells in his dresser drawer back home. He told Marvin about the time he’d won a baseball bat signed by the Atlanta Braves when he came closest to guessing the number of pennies in a pickle jar at the 7-Eleven.
He even told them about Burla. Her teapot wallpaper. Her thumbprint cookies. Her old dog, Barney.
He showed Loretta a couple of yo-yo tricks. He tried to teach her Hop the Fence but she couldn’t get the hang of it. Everyone laughed when she got all tangled up in the string.
Even him.
After a while, Willow and her dad came out and joined them at the barbecue grill. Willow told them Aggie had a headache and had gone to bed early.
Kirby let Willow use his coat hanger to roast her marshmallow.
He did some more yo-yo tricks and everyone clapped.
When his mother hollered over from Room 1 that he needed to get hisself inside, everyone seemed disappointed.
“Ask her if you can stay a little longer,” Loretta said.
“Maybe tomorrow we can see if there’s any fish in that creek back yonder,” Marvin said.
And Willow, who hardly ever said anything to him, said, “Thank you for the coat hanger.”
As Kirby trotted over to Room 1, he could feel that poodle pin in his pocket getting heavier and heavier.
He glanced back at the folks sitting out there by the barbecue grill. The folks who had been so nice to him.
Then he went inside, letting the door slam shut behind him.
Aggie
“Maybe I should keep these,” Aggie said to Ugly.
She looked down at Harold’s old plaid slippers in her lap.
“Remember that time he forgot he had them on and wore them to Sandy Ganner’s piano recital?”
Aggie smiled at Ugly.
Ugly purred.
Aggie sighed.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe we won’t like that condominium in Raleigh.”
She put the slippers on top of the pile of clothes on her bed. Then she pushed aside the curtain over the doorway to the office and peered in.
Willow wasn’t there.
Aggie was surprised how disappointed she felt. Funny how quickly you got used to having someone around.
She studied the office. That new paint color looked nice. Brightened the place up a bit.
But where were the cup hooks?
The postcard rack was easier to reach over there in that corner.
But where were the complimentary maps?
“Well, good morning!”
Aggie jumped.
Clyde Dover stepped into the office, carrying a steaming cup of coffee.
Willow trailed behind him, sipping orange juice through a straw. “Has the mail come yet?” she said.
Aggie looked over at the basket where Clayton Underwood always left the mail.
“Not yet,” she said.
“I was thinking maybe you ought to go ahead and change your mailing address,” Mr. Dover said. “You know, so you won’t miss out on anything.”
Aggie chuckled. “Only thing I’d miss out on is bills and bad news.”
“Guess what,” Mr. Dover said. “There might be a tour group coming here in a few days.”
“Really?”
A tour group! Aggie felt a little twitch of excitement. “We used to have tour groups staying here all the time,” she said. “Well, not all the time. But once in a while.”
Aggie looked out the screen door to the parking lot, picturing the Greyhound bus full of folks from up in Gatlinburg or over in Chattanooga. One time a school bus came. A school bus full of children from some school in Charlotte. Harold had entertained them with magic tricks out by the pool. The pool had had water in it then. Clear, sparkling water.
“It’s not for sure yet,” Mr. Dover said. “But I’ve been talking to this travel agent over in Asheville, and I’m waiting to hear.”
Aggie adjusted her glasses and studied Mr. Dover. He looked proud. And hopeful. And a little nervous.
Just the way she and Harold must have looked all those years ago when the motel was brand-new.
“Of course, I got a lot of work to do on some of them rooms,” Mr. Dover said. “Carpets need cleaning. A couple of window blinds are broke. And that showerhead in Room 8 needs replacing.”
Aggie nodded. “That dang thing never did work right,” she said.
“I thought I’d have time to get the lawn chairs washed, but now I’ve gotta see about the light fixture in Room 3.”
And then Willow’s quiet little voice chimed in, “Maybe Aggie should stay and help us.”
Aggie looked at Willow.
Willow looked at her father.
Her father looked down at his shoes.
And the room filled up with silence.
Mr. Dover cleared his throat.
“Well …” Aggie said.
“Those rooms won’t be ready if that tour bus comes,” Willow said. “And then nobody will want to stay and then—”
“Willow,” Mr. Dover said, “why d
on’t you go put them tissue boxes in the rooms, like I told you to.”
Aggie watched Willow turn and push the screen door open like it was made out of cement. “I reckon I better go water my begonias,” she said.
Outside, the sun streamed through big fluffy clouds in a blue, blue sky. Everything seemed to glitter. The gravel in the parking lot. The still-dewy grass around the flagpole.
Aggie took a deep breath.
“Honeysuckle,” she said out loud.
“Hey, Aggie!”
Loretta was running up the sidewalk toward her.
“Hey there,” Aggie said. “Where y’all going today?”
“Tuckaleechee Caverns,” Loretta said.
“Oh, you’re gonna love it there,” Aggie said. “Me and Harold used to go there all the time.”
She snapped a dry, brown leaf off a begonia and tucked it into the pocket of her apron. “Some of those cave explorers used to stay here at the motel.”
“Spelunkers,” Loretta said.
“What?”
“Spelunkers. That’s what cave explorers are called.”
“Well, ain’t you smart?” Aggie hung her watering can on the hook by the outdoor spigot.
“I read it in the AAA book,” Loretta said.
Aggie dropped into a plastic lawn chair and wiped her neck with Harold’s handkerchief.
“It’s gonna be a scorcher today,” she said.
Loretta sat beside her. “Which place on my bracelet do you think we should visit next?” she said, holding her arm out and jangling her bracelet.
Aggie studied the little silver charms.
The starfish.
The cowboy boot.
The Statue of Liberty.
“Hmmm,” she said. “Well, I reckon if you don’t mind big cities, the Statue of Liberty would be a sight to see. And I imagine you’d like Disney World.” She jiggled the Mickey Mouse charm. “But me? I’d go to Niagara Falls.”
Loretta looked at her bracelet and cocked her head. “Or maybe Texas!” she said, pointing to the cowboy boot.
Just then a car pulled into the parking lot. Clayton Underwood.
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