Gee, thanks, I really needed to hear that, Nellie thought, watching her lift her robe as she tiptoed across the wet lawn. And yet she knew Dolly meant well. She was just the first of many adults who would be, one way or another, just enough off the mark to make Nellie feel bad for them.
She couldn’t wait to deliver Dolly’s complaint. Ruth didn’t believe her, but when Nellie threatened to call their mother, she finally lowered the volume. Lucky for her because her mother called right then. She had a very important errand for them to run. Charlie needed his medicine. He was sick again, some kind of “plumbing” problem. Obviously just something to keep them busy, Nellie figured, but it was better than being stuck in the house. So when his prescriptions were ready at three-thirty, they picked them up and made their slow way through the soft drizzle. Nellie could feel the warmth of blistery wet sun swelling through the gray sky. There was a funky smell in the steamy air. They kept sniffing as they splashed through puddles.
“Worms!” Henry declared of the fishiness, and he was right. The sidewalks were alive with them. Long, fat, wet crawlers, many already squashed under passing feet. Outside the coffee shop Henry pawed through the trash bin until he found a tall cup with ice still in it. Now as they walked, they picked up the liveliest worms and dropped them into the cup. They were for Charlie. Maybe he’d be so grateful they’d take them fishing, Charlie and Max. Probably today. Everyone knew the best fishing was right after a rainstorm. Soon the cup was full to the top, a mass of writhing bait they hoped would entice Charlie. Or more likely, Max.
The minute they turned the corner they were surprised to see the junkyard gate wide open. Max’s truck was gone.
“Must’ve left in a hurry,” Henry said, sniffing the cup, for signs of death.
“Damn!” she said. They’d probably just missed them. Soon as the rain stopped they’d probably headed to the river. Just in case, they looked in the barn, but when Boone didn’t come charging out barking, they pretty much knew for sure.
They climbed up into the hayloft, not that they expected to find anyone there, but because Charlie had forbidden it since the time Henry fell through the opening and miraculously wasn’t killed. Just banged up. It was hot in the loft, but a lot neater than before. Still, there was the two-hundred-year-old whetstone Charlie used to get mad at them for spinning because it was worth a fortune, he said. There were the same rusting milk cans, but now, in the far corner, a sagging cot and crate. Henry pointed and she nodded: Max’s bunk. They continued their silent investigation through boxes of old pitted bottles, some with plugs of dirt in their necks, stacks of brittle newspapers and magazines bundled in twine, a wooden box of rusted handsaws, another of lug wrenches, and a large musty trunk. Henry lifted the domed lid. Shirts, socks, underwear, a metal box were all they saw because the creaking hinge had triggered a flutter of small brown wings through the rafters, which sent them running down the stairs. Just then, there was a high beep beep beep beep outside. A large black-and-white truck was backing down the wide weedy driveway. It continued onto the narrow dirt road past the barn then stopped close by the first scrap metal pile. The driver jumped out. He was a big-bellied guy with a yellow baseball hat on backward, a look she and Henry both scorned. The driver let down the tailgate, then hoisted himself up onto the back of the truck and, fast as he could, began tossing insulated pipes onto the rusted heap. Nellie could tell by his furtive glances that something, as her father would say, wasn’t quite kosher.
“Memorize his plate number,” she whispered behind the bag of medicine.
“He’s not stealing anything,” Henry whispered over the worm cup clutched to his chest.
They watched for a moment.
“Hey, mister!” She stepped out from the doorway.
His head whipped around, but seeing two kids, he just smiled. Relieved. “Hey! How’s it going?” he said.
“What’re you doing?” she called back.
“What’s it look like? Working!” he grunted, reaching down for more pipes.
“My grandfather’s not here,” she said, and he glanced back.
“That’s okay. He said just dump it here.”
“Hey! Hey, Becker!” From the distance came Charlie’s thin voice. Barefoot and holding up the waist of his baggy pants, he limped out of the house. His white hair was stiff and unruly. It had been less than two weeks since she’d last seen him on his way fishing, but he looked years older. And frail. With a shaky stream of curses, he told the man “to put it all back in his truck and get the hell out of here!” Becker jumped down and clanged up his tailgate. He said he was just leaving, that he’d only been checking for any galvanized he could buy. By the time he’d reached the side of his truck Charlie was jabbing him in the chest and yelling, best he could in his weak state, for him to get all his shit out of there. No way was he getting stuck with asbestos pipe.
“Don’t know whatcher talking about, old man. Sorry,” Becker said. He swiped away the old man’s hand and opened the door, but Charlie grabbed the back of his shirt. Becker gave him a quick shove that sent the old man reeling.
“Leave him alone!” Nellie shouted as she helped steady her grandfather, who charged right back at the man. She couldn’t believe it, half the man’s size, but Charlie kept trying to pull him down. She picked up a thick stick, holding it over her shoulder like a bat, determined to use it if she had to, while Henry pleaded with her to stop.
A red truck rumbled through the gates. It was Max, with Boone in back and grocery bags on the front seat.
“Some guy’s fighting Charlie!” she yelled over the commotion of the two engines. Max was already out of his truck and running with Boone barking at his heels. Becker had scrambled into his truck, and was trying to turn it around. Max threw open his door and told him to get out.
“No!” Becker yelled back. “I’m just leaving! I got no problem with you.”
“That asbestos’s his. Idiot’s tryna dump it on me!” Charlie shouted. His voice seemed stronger now with Max here.
Again Max ordered Becker down from the truck, but he refused, and who could blame him with the muscular dog snarling and baring his stained fangs? Max grabbed Becker’s arm and yanked him out. Becker was taller, and younger, but Max wasn’t fazed. He wanted all that asbestos pipe put back in the truck, and he wanted it done now. Becker stood his ground—the pipe wasn’t his and that was that. Enraged, Charlie flew at him, but Max held him back. It was the same as that there, what was already in the truck, Charlie yelled over Max’s restraining arm. Yeah, Becker said, because he was just starting to load up and then he realized what it was.
“That’s a lie!” Henry erupted, gesturing with his cup of worms. “Nellie and me, we saw him put it there.”
She was shocked by her brother’s intrusion into the fray. His eyes gleamed like Charlie’s. Cagey and eager. For the men it wasn’t as much about the asbestos now as wanting the fight. Which they were getting. The man was trying to climb into the truck, but Max kept pulling him back. This time he got one leg behind Becker and yanked him down so hard he fell to the ground. She and Henry looked at each other. The Hip Throw, the exact same, number 18 in the major’s holds. In all the times they’d tried it, never had it gone so smoothly as what they’d just witnessed. Becker was flat on his back, Boone straddling him. The dog’s muzzle quivered inches from his face.
“Get him off me!” he pleaded.
“Back!” With just that one word and Max’s raised hand, Boone sank onto his haunches and crept away. There was something loathsome in the dog’s cowering retreat, yet impressive.
Becker scrambled to his feet and raised his fists. “Okay, come on! Come on! You want it so bad, so come on. Come on, asshole!” he growled, and Max lunged, fists flying so fast all the man could do was try to cover his head. Blood spewed from his crooked nose. He sank to his knees, but Max continued pummeling him. Nellie’d never before seen two grown men fight, their groaning, grunting struggle sickening to watch. Finally, Charlie stepped forward. He’d been yelli
ng at Max to let the bastard go, but there was no stopping his frenzy. Just as Charlie touched his shoulder, Max’s arm swung back, knocking him onto his rump. He sat for a moment, looking almost amused to find himself in a scuffle again. Shocked that he’d knocked the old man down, Max’s fight was over. He lifted Charlie to his feet, then stood there with the strangest expression, as if flash frozen in death. Only Boone seemed to understand. Gazing up, he whimpered.
Holding his bleeding nose, Becker lurched toward his truck. Charlie did what he later said should’ve been done right off the bat: he grabbed Becker’s keys from the ignition. So now Becker had two choices. He could either load all his goddamn pipe back onto the truck and get his keys back, or Charlie was calling the cops. Mindful of their mother’s anger, Charlie sent the kids home, so they didn’t actually see the rest: Max loading the asbestos-bound pipe back onto the truck. He had to. Becker had a broken nose and dislocated jaw.
Chapter 9
IT WAS ONE OF THOSE SLOW SUMMER DAYS, CLOUDLESS AND HOT, with just the gentlest breeze swaying the pink-and-white hollyhocks against the barn. Even the birds sounded lazy. Max was coming for the old recliner in their barn, the one Nellie’d had her eye on for Dolly, but no matter. Charlie needed it, and besides, it wasn’t looking as if she’d be with them much longer anyway. The broken window had been bad enough, but now her mother was even more suspicious. According to Lizzie, at the salon, her niece was living a very secretive life. No one knew what was going on. None of her relatives had heard from her. Every call to her cell phone went straight to voice mail. And yet whenever Nellie ran into Dolly, she was her old self, sweet and always interested in what she was doing.
She’d been talking to Nellie through her kitchen window. It was trash day and Henry had pulled a moldy blue tarpaulin from someone’s barrel. He wanted to use it as a temporary roof on the tree house. With his arm feeling better, work had resumed. Nellie’d been helping him, but every time she suggested anything, he scoffed, so finally she just quit, she was telling Dolly as she watched for Max’s truck. She was supposed to unlock the barn. Now that her mother knew he was an ex-con, Nellie figured she was afraid he’d take more than the chair. They hadn’t told her about the fight with Becker. Henry was dying to but knew if he did, they’d never be allowed back to the junkyard.
“You guys ever sleep up there?” Dolly asked.
“That’s the plan,” Nellie called over Henry’s banging hammer. “If he ever gets the tarp on right.”
“Yeah, but then you can’t see the stars. And that’s the best part, laying there with your eyes wide open. I did that once,” she said with a smile of shivery delight.
“Sleep outside?”
“Yeah.”
“Were you camping?”
“Kinda. Sorta. It was on a boat. Out on the deck. I never saw anything like that before. We just laid there. It was, like, the stars, you could almost reach up and touch them. They’re way closer over the ocean.”
“They’re not closer. Just brighter. Cuz there’s no light pollution.”
Nellie knew by her quick glance that Dolly thought she’d made it up. Especially the part about light pollution. She’d noticed that before, how when Dolly was unsure of something, she’d look hurt, almost afraid.
“Well, anyway,” Dolly said to end the conversation. Somehow, Nellie’d made her feel bad. Before she could close the window, Nellie invited her to come on out and see the tree house. Within moments Dolly was following her up the rickety wooden ladder, built just narrow enough to pull up after them. For protection if need be. Word had gotten back that Bucky was after them.
“No!” Henry protested, seeing Nellie climb in. “You don’t want to help, then—”
“Hey, cutie!” Dolly giggled, hoisting herself up next and in. Henry glared at his sister as Dolly walked from side to side. He had nailed tall posts into the four corners so that even with the tarp on you could stand up. “Cool! This is so cool. My first tree house! I never been in one before. You did this, made it yourself?” she asked Henry, who blushed and nodded. And she wasn’t just saying things to make him feel good. She was really impressed. And delighted. You could always tell with Dolly. Everything showed. She asked if they ever ate up here. Just crackers and stuff, Nellie said. Her mother was afraid food would attract skunks and raccoons. Dolly said she’d love sleeping up here some night. Her mother hadn’t let them yet, Nellie lied. She knew her mother would say no and then Dolly’s feelings would be hurt. She said it would make her mother too nervous, between rabid animals and prowlers. A house on Tremont Street had been broken into last winter. But that was in broad daylight, Henry said. But they never caught the guy, Nellie said, which meant he was still out there, looking for his next victims.
“Why would he break into a tree house?” Henry asked, logically enough but with a dismissive scowl.
“Yeah, especially this one,” Nellie snorted. “No roof, no door.” She didn’t like being shown up in front of the only adult she could impress.
“Then leave!” Henry snapped. “Why’re you even up here, then?”
“Nice, Henry. That’s really nice.” She rolled her eyes for Dolly’s benefit. “God, he’s so anal.”
“Nossir! He’s just a really hard worker. I see you out here every day, Henry, tryna make this the best tree house ever, and guess what? It is! Hey, maybe your mom’ll let you sleep up here if I’m here. I mean, with you guys.” Then she lay down and stretched out. She told them to come lie down and see if they’d all fit. Nellie lay down next to her. But not Henry. Looking down at them like that, he reminded Nellie of her father. “Come on,” Dolly coaxed, patting the rough board next to her. “We gotta see if this’ll work.”
“That’s okay,” Henry mumbled. He seemed embarrassed for them. Her brother wasn’t one to cave in easily, Nellie knew, even if the pesterer was an adult. Even then, he had scruples.
Laughing, Dolly raised up on her elbows, a position that made Nellie realize for the first time just how big her supposedly fake breasts were—Ruth claimed to know by their perfect roundness. “I don’t bite, you know, and I like little boys. Specially ones as cute as you,” she teased in a breathy whisper.
In his full body slouch, Henry was about as miserable as Nellie’d ever seen him. His face was red, his shoulders so hunched they almost curled, one into the other, and he couldn’t look at her.
“How ’bout tonight?” Dolly said she’d ask their mother, and if it was all right, they’d meet up here when the sun went down. She’d bring the snacks, bug spray, and some blankets. But they’d need a flashlight, which she didn’t have. That was easy enough, Nellie said. Because of the store they had a ton of flashlights.
“Three,” Henry muttered and began nailing a corner of the tarp onto the post.
That’s when Nellie heard Max’s truck backing into the driveway. She climbed down the ladder and hurried toward the barn with the key. Max jumped down from the cab. Nellie hadn’t seen him since the fight. Something was different about him, but at first she wasn’t sure what. The first whiff of sweetness came as she was unlocking the padlock. Cologne. He was clean shaven with his hair combed. Instead of his faded T-shirt he had on a regular shirt, tight and shiny black, with small silvery buttons. She really wanted to tell him he looked nice but was afraid he might take that to mean he usually didn’t. She asked where Boone was.
“Back with Charlie.” He followed her into the barn.
The recliner was just inside the door, where her mother had asked her father to put it. The more her mother was learning of Max, the less she trusted him, no matter how good he was to Charlie. Nellie’d seen the effort it had taken her father to drag the big old chair, so when Max just picked it up and hoisted it into the back of his truck, she was impressed. She followed him as he clamped the truck gate shut, then slipped the cotter pins into place. She asked if he’d gone fishing again with Charlie. Been a while, he said. Charlie hadn’t been up to too much lately but maybe tomorrow.
“Said he�
��ll give it a good try, anyway. See what happens,” he added, looking toward the house.
“Can I come? I’ll be real quiet. I wouldn’t say two words, really. I mean, I know how important it is when you’re fishing, being quiet, that is.”
Max seemed amused. “Well, you tell him that, then. He’s your grandpa after all.” He smiled and tried to cover his mouth, his two broken bottom teeth jagged and discolored.
“When’re you leaving?” She was elated by the possibility of finally going fishing.
“After lunch, maybe. One or two.” Squinting, he peered past her.
Dolly was climbing down the ladder from the tree house.
“Hey, Nellie! We’re gonna go get ice cream!” she called, waving both hands in that little girl, wait’ll-you-hear-this way she had as she came closer. “I just told Henry. We’re gonna walk down to Rollie’s and—“oh, hi,” she said as if only just recognizing Max. She folded her arms.
“Hi,” Max said, grinning and quickly covering his mouth. “The other night. At the club. You were—”
“Yeah, I had to go,” she said. Her face was white.
“You were the best one. That was good dancing.”
“Yeah, well. Anyway,” Dolly sighed, and for a moment no one spoke. It was obvious she didn’t like him talking about her job. Or at least, not in front of a kid.
Saying she had to call her mother about going fishing, Nellie excused herself and ran into the house. She winced when Frederic answered. He sounded annoyed. Her mother was in the middle of a process, he said, and couldn’t come to the phone. When Nellie came back out, Dolly immediately stopped talking. Max looked upset. There was an uneasy silence. Henry watched from the tree house.
“Hey, guess what!” Nellie blurted, never at a loss for words herself. “Tomorrow I’m going fishing. Max said I could.”
Dolly stared at him. “Maybe Max oughta find some other fishin’ buddy,” she said in a low voice. “Somebody a little older.”
Light from a Distant Star Page 11