Summer on the Moon

by Adrian Fogelin

  The woman sat down on the ground, the baby clutched to her chest, and let out a sob.

  Socko stopped the small group at the end of his own driveway, watching the frown on the face at the window deepen. “Hold on a sec.”

  Livvy threaded her arm through Ceelie’s. “We’ll wait out here.”

  “Yeah, let me go in first,” Socko said. “I need to explain things to my great-grandfather.”

  The door was barely open when the old man started. “Looks like somebody dumped a litter of kittens.” His one good eye pinned the family huddled at the end of the driveway.

  “They’re in a jam,” Socko said. “Luke lost his job and they’ve been camping in one of the vacant houses.”

  “Luke? Is that big guy some old friend of yours?”

  “No. I just met him, but—”

  The General hacked loudly and spat into the wastebasket he kept parked beside his chair. “Last I heard, houses are private property. Oh, but I’m sure there was a welcome mat out at the one they’ve been ‘camping’ in.”

  “Come on, General! They don’t even have water.”

  The old man turned his chair away from the window and stared into the kitchen. “I’m too old for all this mess!” he shouted at the refrigerator. “All I want is to die quiet and on my own terms—not in some drool palace surrounded by geezers who are all off their nuts. Is that too much to ask?”

  “Don’t you think the baby looks hot?”

  “Tarnation!” The chair turned, click, click, click. The General took a look and then glared at the baby’s parents. “Any fool knows you cover a baby’s head in the sun if you don’t want its brains to fry.”

  Socko’s nails bit into his palms. “Are you going to let that baby’s brains fry?”

  The General pressed his lips together.

  Socko turned away from the family standing in the hot sun and faced his great-grandfather. “It’s up to you, sir. Can they come inside?”

  “All right, all right!” the General sputtered. “But these are my terms. They take showers. We feed ’em supper. They call their relatives, and then they vamoose! Am-skray! No pajama party, no listening to their sad story. We put their relatives on the case, and they move on.”

  “I’ll call Mom and get her to bring extra burgers.”

  “You dial. I’ll talk.”

  Socko punched in the number and handed the phone to his great-grandfather. He wanted to invite the family in out of the heat but he had to hear what the old man would say to his mother; he didn’t quite trust him.

  Phone to his ear, the General pointed a gnarled finger at the scrap of paper Livvy had dropped on the floor and clicked his fingers. Socko handed it to him. “Put Delia Marie Starr on … No. I can’t hold until the fries are up.” He poked at the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Delia Marie. We have company for supper. I’m cooking.”

  “You’re cooking?” mouthed Socko.

  The General covered the phone. “We’re finally getting up to numbers I can handle,” he snapped. “Besides, Livvy’ll pester the daylights out of me until we cook something together. SOS is so crappy she’ll never ask again.” He uncovered the mouthpiece. “Delia Marie? Write this down.” As he read the list of ingredients, he glared at the woman and baby at the end of the driveway. “Better pick up a package of those paper diapers too … What size? I don’t know. The kid’s about as big as a good-sized turkey.”

  When Socko and Livvy ushered the family inside, Luke walked right over to the wheelchair. He held out a hand, then seemed to notice how greasy it was and hid the hand in his pocket. “Luke Olson. Thank you, sir. These are tough times and we appreciate your help.”

  “Tough times, hah! I lived through the Great Depression, son. My mother made soup out of twice-cooked bones. I know what hard times are and this little hiccup is nothing.”

  “Feels like a pretty big hiccup to me.” Luke ducked his head. “Anyhow, thanks for the help.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” Ceelie whispered.

  Socko signaled Livvy into the next room. “The General said they could take showers … but we don’t have enough towels.” Not only did they not have enough, but the towels they had were thin and bald, with most of the fuzz worn off.

  “Be right back.” Livvy returned in a few minutes with a pile of royal blue bath towels so thick she had to keep them from spilling out of her arms by holding the stack steady with her chin. When she passed them to him, Socko couldn’t believe how cushy they were or how good they smelled. Had they ever been used?

  He showed Luke and Ceelie to two of the three and a half bathrooms and grandly gave each of them a couple of towels.

  When Delia got home, Socko intercepted her in the driveway. “Tell me what’s going on,” she said. Her smile grew as he explained. “Is the old man having a niceness attack?”

  “If he is, it’s temporary,” Socko said. “He’s kicking them out right after supper.”

  When Luke saw the diapers in the top of one of the bags Socko carried in, he looked stunned—then embarrassingly grateful.

  “Give the vittles here,” the General ordered, commandeering the two bags of groceries. He balanced them in his lap. “Come on, Livvy. We’ve got cooking to do.”

  “I’ll be your sous-chef!” said Livvy.

  The General grimaced. “I worked with a cook named Sue in the army, a guy. Army cooks all had strange handles.”

  “What was yours?” she asked.

  He clamped his mouth shut and rolled into the kitchen.

  She hurried after him. “Come on … Tell me!”

  The sound of splashing and a voice singing about the eensy weensy spider filtered down from an upstairs bathroom. Delia smiled and grabbed the package of diapers. She headed up the stairs, leaving Socko and Luke in the living room with nothing to look at but each other.

  Luke shoved his thumbs into the back pockets of his jeans. “We don’t want to put you all out any longer than we have to. But we can’t go anywhere ‘til I get the car running, and I can’t do it without a little help.”

  “I’ll help,” Socko offered, “but I don’t know anything about cars.” Fixing cars was one of the things he’d missed out on by not having a father—he didn’t know much about sports either.

  Luke grinned. “You don’t have to know anything. You just have to have strong hands.”

  Socko liked standing next to Luke, their heads under the hood. And it turned out his hands were plenty strong.

  Twenty minutes later Luke said, “That should do it.” He had Socko sit in the driver’s seat. “Okay,” he called, head still under the hood. “Crank ‘er up!” Socko gripped the key. They cheered when the engine turned over.

  Luke pushed the hood shut with both hands.

  Before driving to Socko’s, they gathered up the blankets and everything else that was on the floor of the house and piled it in the already-overflowing backseat. Luke relocked the house. “Go on,” he said, climbing into the passenger seat. “You drive. It’s an automatic.” He showed Socko how to put it in gear and leaned back in the passenger seat.

  Socko’s pulse hammered. He drove as slowly as the General, the wheel slick with his own nervous sweat, but he didn’t drive over any curbs or mow down any street signs. When he pulled into his driveway, Luke cuffed his shoulder. “That was pretty smooth!”

  By the time they got into the house, Ceelie was putting the last few pieces of silverware on the table.

  “Grub’s ready,” the General announced. “Sue?” he called, and Livvy traipsed out of the kitchen holding a steaming pot. Her face was pink and sweaty, her normally board-straight hair wavy from the steam.

  At the General’s order to “park it,” they all sat, Ceelie with Emily in her lap. For the first time since the move, the china that had come with them from the Kludge was set out, with forks and knives on either side. Ceelie bowed her head and grabbed Luke’s hand, which everyone but the General took as a signal that they should do the same.

  Socko found
himself holding Luke’s hand on one side, Livvy’s on the other. Her hand felt warm. He stared at the platter of stiff slices of toasted white bread.

  “Our heavenly Father, thank you for bringing us to this safe haven, and for this abundant meal …”

  Socko checked out the steaming pot of lumpy paste. SOS was definitely school-lunch-worthy.

  “And thank you for the kindness of these good Samaritans.”

  The General coughed.

  “Through Christ our Lord, amen.”

  Luke was lifting a fork to his mouth when the General asked, “Do you all have family?”

  Luke set down his loaded fork. Ceelie swallowed the bite in her mouth and blotted her lips with a napkin. “I have a sister in Michigan,” she said quietly. “But she has three kids in a little bitty house. Her husband’s out of work too.”

  “Still, family are the folks who have to take you in.” The General looked pointedly at Delia.

  Ceelie’s eyes were shiny again. “Oh, they’d take us in, but I couldn’t do that to them.”

  “How about you, Luke?” the General asked. “Got anyone on your side who isn’t down on their luck?”

  “No, sir.” Luke picked up his fork again, the SOS on it now definitely cold. “But we’ll manage.”

  “How?” the General demanded.

  Socko wished the old man would leave it alone. If Luke knew the answer to that, the Olsons wouldn’t be eating school paste at a stranger’s table.

  When dinner was over Ceelie insisted on doing the dishes, which took a while. Neither she nor Delia trusted the dishwasher. Neither one of them had ever had one. Ceelie washed, and Delia dried. Livvy held Emily in her lap. The baby clutched a spoon and was banging it against the table. The General and Luke were talking, not about where the family would go, but about Luke’s work as a landscaper. The General asked question after question as if he was really interested.

  As he listened to them talk, Socko forgot the General was about to kick the Olsons out. He wondered if this was what family felt like.

  27

  ONE HAND WASHES THE OTHER

  Livvy jumped, then slid her cell phone out of her pocket. “Hi, Mother.”

  Pinned down by the baby in her lap, Livvy was facing away from the front windows, but Socko could see a car in the driveway across the street. Livvy’s mother stood next to it, a cell phone pressed to her ear.

  “Can I stay a little longer?” Livvy smiled at Emily, who was waving the spoon around. “I already ate.”

  Socko watched the man who had accused him of vandalizing Moon Ridge get out of the car. He was holding a big sack of carryout, this time from a restaurant called Thai-One-On.

  “Livvy,” said the General. “Ask your parents to come over. It’s time we got acquainted.”

  “Can you guys come over here a minute?” Livvy’s eyes closed as she listened to their conversation. Although he couldn’t hear a word they were saying, Socko could tell the couple in the driveway wasn’t exactly thrilled about the invitation.

  “Great!” Livvy’s eyes opened wide. “See you in a sec!” She handed Emily to Delia and ran to the door.

  “Wipe your chin, Luke,” rasped the General. “And look intelligent. You’re about to have a job interview.”

  Luke took a swipe at his chin with his paper napkin and stuffed the napkin in the pocket of his jeans.

  Livvy leaned out the door and pulled her mother and father inside. “Everybody, these are my parents, Tim and Marsha Holmes!”

  Socko noticed the way his own mother smoothed the front of her blouse as she looked at Marsha Holmes. Livvy’s parents obviously spent a lot of money on clothes, haircuts, and manicures. They looked like they belonged in a place like Moon Ridge. But they also looked tired. The tie around Mr. Holmes neck hung crooked. His wife had circles under her eyes that makeup didn’t hide.

  Tired or not, their smiles flashed on like emoticons. Everyone shook hands. Delia gave Mrs. Holmes a hug. “So glad to finally meet you!”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you too,” said Mrs. Holmes, taking a step back. “Livvy says such nice things about all of you. We’ll have to have you over for dinner sometime.” She eye-signaled her husband with a quick glance at the door.

  “Absolutely,” said Mr. Holmes. “You’ll have to excuse us for now, though.” He held up the bag of carryout. “Dinner isn’t getting any warmer.” With his free hand on his wife’s back, Mr. Holmes turned toward the door.

  A battered wheelchair cut off their retreat. “Now that we’ve got the nicey-nice out of the way, let’s cut to the chase. Mr. Holmes, from the look of things I’d say you’re in a pickle.”

  Socko saw the shock on Livvy’s face.

  “I beg your pardon?” said Mr. Holmes.

  “Nothing dishonorable about it, son. The way I hear it the whole country’s in a pickle. And that includes Luke here.”

  Luke dipped his head in agreement and stared at the floor.

  “The economy being what it is, Luke and his wife and baby are living in a car at the moment, but normally Luke is a landscaper. The subdivision he was working on went belly-up.”

  “Which subdivision?” Mr. Holmes asked Luke.

  “Buena Vista.”

  Mr. Holmes nodded grimly. “Dave Mason’s project—I didn’t know it had gone under.”

  “Oh, yeah,” said Luke. “A couple months ago.”

  Mr. Holmes dragged a hand down his face.

  “Mr. Holmes, I don’t see you selling a lot of houses,” the General pressed. “And you won’t if you don’t get a little greenery going. I’m thinking that maybe the two of you could help each other out. Put Luke and his family up in one of these houses you have so many of, and in trade he’ll plant up a few of the yards, as well as that bare dirt around the entry to the project.”

  Socko stared at the General as though he had just pulled a rabbit out of his hat. But would Livvy’s dad go for the idea?

  “Tim?” Mrs. Holmes said quietly. “This is ridiculous! We are not that desperate.”

  Livvy looked back and forth between her parents. “How desperate are we?”

  “Cash flow is a little tight right now, honey,” her father said, “but we’re fine.”

  “Then why can’t we help Luke and Ceelie?”

  “It’s kind of complicated, Liv.” Mr. Holmes turned to his wife.

  “Mother, please?” Livvy begged.

  “We are not a charity, Olivia,” Mrs. Holmes whispered.

  Socko saw Luke stiffen.

  “We don’t want charity, ma’am,” Luke said. “I do an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay. You can call Dave Mason. He’ll give me a reference.”

  Livvy stood between her parents, looking back and forth. “Mother? Daddy? We’ll help the Olsons, won’t we?”

  Mr. Holmes put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “What do you say?”

  She sighed. “All right.”

  “Thank you, thank you!” Livvy gave her mother a hug.

  Having given in, Mrs. Holmes looked even more tired, but the emoticon smile switched back on.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse us,” said Mr. Holmes, steering his wife toward the door. “It’s been a long day. We’ll firm up the details in the morning, Mr. Olson.”

  “Thanks,” Luke said, watching Mrs. Holmes’s stiff back as she walked out.

  “One hand washes the other,” the General called after them. “This’ll turn out good for everyone.”

  Mrs. Holmes was opening the door when Delia said, “Just a second, Marsha.” Delia had been walking back and forth to the laundry room all evening, delivering stacks of clean clothes. She walked into the laundry room one last time and came out with Livvy’s mountain of towels. “Thanks for the loan.”

  Mrs. Holmes raised her eyebrows at her daughter before turning to Delia. “Keep them, please.”

  “Are you kidding?” Delia tried to force the towels into the woman’s arms. “Take ’em! Towels cost money.”

  Mrs. Holmes hel
d up a hand. “No, really. I insist. They’re not the right color for any of our new bathrooms.” She slipped her arm through her husband’s and headed for the door. “Olivia, I expect to see you at home in fifteen minutes. Good night, everyone.”

  “Night,” added Mr. Holmes.

  “Come over anytime,” Delia called after them, hugging the stack of towels.

  Livvy didn’t do anything with her fifteen minutes. She just held the baby and rocked nervously back and forth.

  “I’ll walk you,” said Socko when the time was up.

  “No kissing on the first date,” the General rumbled as they walked out the door.

  Livvy didn’t even blush—so Socko didn’t bother to either.

  “Sorry I got you in trouble about the towels,” Socko said. “But I don’t get why your mom was so bent about taking them back.”

  “Mother’s acting weird lately. Plus she’s a germ freak.”

  “You can’t catch homelessness.” He thought it was kind of funny, but Livvy didn’t laugh.

  As they walked through the open door of the three-car garage, Socko spotted a large map leaned against the wall. Having spent days making a map, he had come to appreciate their ins and outs, and this one was as big as the classroom map that had been his bedroom wall at the Kludge. “Nice map.”

  “Map?”

  “Yeah, over there.” It was only when he walked over to it, Livvy at his heels, that Socko realized he was looking at Moon Ridge Estates.

  He was about to check it out and see how it compared to his own map when Livvy whispered, “That should be hanging on the wall of their office.” She stared at Socko, a look of panic on her face. “They’re going out of business!”

  “No way. They’d tell you if it was that bad.”

  “Really? I didn’t know we were moving until my mother began putting things in boxes! They don’t tell me anything.”

  Not being told anything was hard for Socko to imagine. Delia shared all her worries with him—her hours were going to be cut, she didn’t have the rent money— sometimes way more than he wanted to know.

  Livvy’s eyes darted around the unfinished garage. “What if we can’t keep this house?”

  “Why wouldn’t you? Your dad owns Moon Ridge.”