The Hole in the Wall

by Lisa Rowe Fraustino

  Miss Beverly waited a moment, then sighed, and said, “Okay, Stanley, I’ll leave you alone to work. Dinner’s at six.”

  We would have been home free if Barbie hadn’t picked that moment to let out her perfect bloodcurdling scream and bolted out of the closet. Straight into Miss Beverly.

  Miss Beverly backed away, covering her face as if she didn’t want to be seen, then uncovered, stood tall, and smiled meekly.

  “Barbie!” she said. “Why, you gave me quite a scare! And Sebby! What are you kids doing here?”

  I was fighting with the coat I’d been standing in, trying to get out of it, and tripping over all the junk in the closet. Milk crates and pails full of doodads, a bunch of furniture, and office supplies, just to name a few.

  Miss Beverly seemed not just surprised, but nervous to see us. Her hand fluttered around the hair behind her right ear. Something about her seemed very different. She looked five inches taller, that’s what! Most of it was her neck, sticking straight up.

  “Miss Beverly! What happened to your . . .” Oops, I better not say hump. I didn’t know what to say. Grum had told us enough times to go ahead and lie around the house slouching and not drinking our milk if we wanted our backs to look like question marks without answers for the rest of our lives. There wasn’t any cure for osteoporosis.

  From the top of her dahlia bulb nose to the bottom of her long, white, unwrinkled neck, Miss Beverly turned red. “It’s, oh my, ’twas my own fault, really. Stanley warned me not to use the . . . , but, oh dear, I can’t really say, I’ve said too much already. . . .”

  She stepped outside, looked nervously around the yard, came back into the barn, shut the door behind her, and said, “You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.” With her long neck she looked ludicrous, like Alice in Wonderland when she grew tall.

  “We actually came to visit you,” I said, “and we—” I looked to Barbie for help, but she was looking warily into the closet. I was on my own. “We were on our way to see you and just stepped in here to get out of the rain.”

  Miss Beverly opened the blinds and let the sun in. “Would you like to try that again?”

  Hey, when did the sun come out? The only thing I could think of to do next was cock my left eyebrow. A unique charm I got from Pa. He said the ol’ Daniels eyebrow could get a fella anything he wanted from the ladies.

  Sure enough, Miss Beverly melted into a smile. Then she looked closer at me and squinted. “Sebby, do you have something hidden under your raincoat?”

  “What?” My hand went to Celery’s head, and I imagined those chicken eyes moving. “Oh, that. It’s . . . kind of embarrassing, actually. It’s a . . . rare medical condition.”

  “Oh, dear. I’m sorry to hear that,” Miss Beverly said. Then, after an awkward pause, “Look, you children are welcome to visit me at the house anytime, but Stanley doesn’t allow guests in his workshop. He usually keeps it locked when he’s not here. He must have gone off in a hurry. He did leave the place a sight.” She stiffly bent to pick up the empty paint cups.

  On her way to the garbage can she paused in front of the map with the swirling patterns sketched under the ocean back to Kokadjo. To turn her head she twisted her whole body around, not just her neck. “Such an imagination he has,” she sighed, tracing her finger along the lines.

  And then my sister surprised me. Instead of taking the chance to get out of there unscathed, she started pulling items out of Odum’s closet, saying, “Sorry, Miss Beverly, don’t worry, I’ll put everything back. I just have to find out what bit me!”

  Out came a lampshade, lawn chairs, computer parts, pails of rocks and bones—bones? no, fossils—while Miss Beverly fussed. “Something bit you? Oh, dear! But if you just . . . Barbie, please don’t. Child, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Dear, if Stanley comes home and finds you—”

  She put her hand to her heart and gasped.

  “That bit you?” I said.

  We were gaping at the statue of a poofy giant poodle. It would have been cute if not for the horrified look on its face, its mouth in a wide-open howl of terror. The dog was made of beautiful white stone, every hair carved in place, except for a missing tail and one broken ear, complete with severed blood vessels. The sculptor had a sick sense of humor. The details looked so real, my skin prickled with the heebie-jeebies.

  Barbie was blushing now. “Well, my hand definitely got caught in some teeth. Sorry, Miss Beverly.” And she hustled to bury the dog again.

  Miss Beverly started to shake her head but stopped and put her hand to her neck, her lips set in a grim line while I helped Barbie return everything the way we found it. All but one thing that might possibly have fallen into my raincoat pocket. And then Miss Beverly shooed us out. I stayed as far away from the bathroom as possible, just in case Celery still had any funny ideas about getting together with the Easter egg.

  On my way past the computer, the screen saver flashed a photograph that made me jump. It was Miss Beverly when she was younger, at a dog show with a blue ribbon around her neck and a poofy giant poodle licking her face! A dog that looked just like the statue! Yikes! Get me out of here!

  I was a superhero blur of motion. Celery didn’t have a chance to resist.

  Miss Beverly walked with Barbie to meet me at the front gate. “You’ll have to come back soon for some Easter candy,” she said, feeling her neck and massaging the back of it with her fingers. Her eyes had welled up with tears. I felt bad for her.

  “Does your neck hurt?” I said.

  She made a painful noise that I took as a yes.

  “I know how you feel,” I said, my arms over my chick bump. “I’ve had a stomachache for days from eating raw cookie dough.”

  Miss Beverly blinked hard, took a tissue from her housecoat pocket, and dabbed her eyes. “Raw cookie dough? Sebby, that’s not good for you!”

  “Oh, he knows,” Barbie said.

  Miss Beverly used the tissue to blow her nose, sniffed, and said, “Stanley will figure out how to set things right. He always does.”

  The wind shifted, shaking the leaves overhead and sending a burst of water down on us.

  “See? It was raining.” I gave her the charming Daniels eyebrow again. She smiled a little. Pa was still good for something.

  By now it was almost time for Ma to pick us up. As we ran back to Skate Away, Barbie said, “This one time I won’t tell on you, Seb, because I’d get in just as much trouble for going along. But don’t expect me to cover for you. You’d better get a story ready for when Ma asks what happened to your raincoat. Or why you suddenly have a twin chicken. Or what’s in your pocket.”

  Innocently I peered down around the chick bump to the lump in my telltale pocket. Oh, booger. I didn’t want Barbie to notice that. She has a little problem whenever I borrow stuff without permission. Even if it isn’t her stuff.

  “Don’t worry, Shish,” I said. “If Boots still needed these, he wouldn’t have left them with a bunch of fossils in his closet, would he?” I pulled out the broken glasses and showed them to her. They only had one arm. Except for the cracks in the thick, milky lenses, they looked like the ones he’d put on to gaze around our yard the day he stopped for eggs.

  She pushed my hand away and peered over her shoulder, as guilty as if police were watching us from behind every tree. “Oh, Sebby. Wasn’t it enough for you to walk away with his paints?”

  “Very funny,” I said, scrunching my shoulder blades. My back tingled where the paint had landed. It felt kind of nice, like a massage.

  Getting into the SUV I made sure Ma didn’t see my back with the new improved color scheme.

  “Did you have a good time skating?” she asked.

  Barbie stared at me with her arms across her chest. She’d never tell a lie.

  I avoid lying whenever and however possible. “Oh, Ma, you know we always have a good time when we go skating.”

  “Awww, that makes me happy,” said Ma. “Money well spent. And speaking of spending m
oney, while I was at the grocery store I noticed a big empty space on the shelf where the Zenwater usually is.”

  “See?” I gave Barbie a so-there punch in the arm. “Not only did the Dogstars disappear, so did their business. Now aren’t you worried, Shish?”

  “I wouldn’t worry yet,” Ma said. “The cashier said they were just sold out. The water is on backorder. She hadn’t heard any rumors about the Dogstars.”

  Barbie punched me back and said, “And anyway, if the Zenwater really is contaminated, doesn’t that explain why they left so fast? I sure wouldn’t want to live there anymore. Take the money and run.”

  “Good point, Barbie,” Ma said. “I hope the Dogstars took Boots to the cleaners.”

  Good point, Barbie, nyah nyah nyah. After that I gave quite a bit of thought to her advice about getting a story ready. For about sixty seconds. Before I fell asleep. I awoke when the car came to a jolting stop and Ma said, “What the heck is he doing here?”

  11

  It was none other than Boots Odum, sitting in his shiny truck with a phone to his ear. When we got out of the SUV with our plastic grocery bags, he hurried over to help Ma. He carried six bags on two fingers of his right hand—the same fingers he had fluttered at me the day he came for eggs. What was it with those fingers?!

  Pa yanked the door open for us. He had on his dress pants, a clean collared shirt, and a bodacious grin. The house smelled like apple pie, and it wasn’t even Thanksgiving. Something was going on.

  “Well, if it ain’t Mr. Stanley Odum,” Pa said. As if it was a big surprise to him. “Come on in and have a seat.”

  The room filled with Boots Odum’s heel clacks. The smell of leather joined the crowd of bleach and mustiness and apple pie. Pa had already dragged the comfortable living room chair over to the head of the table. Barbie started putting away groceries. I ran upstairs and pulled on two loose sweatshirts to hide Celery, then slipped onto the bench at the far side of the kitchen table behind the empty egg basket. Normally Barbie would have manipulated the situation so I’d have to help her put the groceries away, but she took pity on my secret predicament.

  “Thanks for calling last night to warn me about the eggs, Claire,” Boots Odum said, pulling two empty egg cartons from his rucksack and holding them out like a sacred offering. “Don’t worry yourself about a refund. We’ll find a use for the eggs. They’ll make good anchors for a space ship.” He smiled proudly at his joke.

  Pa guffawed and rubbed his hands together. “Claire, pour this gentleman a cup of coffee and cut him a piece of that delicious apple pie my mother made. Fresh out of the oven.”

  Ah, so. Grum was in on it, too. Whatever it was. But she was nowhere to be seen.

  Boots Odum rubbed his hands together eagerly and said, “Don’t mind if I do!” After an awkward pause, he added, “Enough rain for you folks?”

  “Have a look in the basement, Stanley, and see for yourself,” said Ma. There was no missing the edge in her voice, blaming him. She slammed a huge steaming mug in front of Boots Odum. Coffee spilled.

  He looked around helplessly. Barbie tossed him the roll of paper towels off the counter.

  “Thanks, cutie. Now, Claire, isn’t the sump pump I sent over doing the job for you?”

  Ma took a deep breath and said, “How much sludge could a sump pump pump if a sump pump could pump—”

  Pa cleared his throat and laughed. His voice sounded higher than normal. “All Claire means is, we do get a lot of water when it rains. An old house. You know.”

  Odum nodded. “No offense, Craig, but I think Claire means it’s my fault that water runs off the gore into your basement.” He reached out to stop the dish of pie Ma slid down the table at him. “No eggs in this, I hope?” he said, winking at her.

  She winced a sickly smile. I held my stomach. Well, technically I held Celery. Then I picked my pie apart and studied the apples for penicillin. Grum wasn’t big on cutting out the spoiled parts.

  Boots Odum took a long time chewing and rolling his eyes around ecstatically before he swallowed his first bite. “Yummee! Your mother-in-law’s quite the cook, Claire. She always was. I’ll never forget the brownie bribes she used to give Craig and me to stay out of her hair when we were little ruffians.” He showed us all a smile with a big scoop of friendly on top of the rich and powerful. Ma fake smiled back.

  “Too bad the ol’ lady’s not here to hear you say that herself,” Pa said. “But I just delivered her over to the church for the weekly gossip.” He grinned.

  “Nobody’s busier than a retired widow.” Boots Odum winked.

  “Cut to the chase, Stanley,” Ma said, lighting a cigarette. “You didn’t drop by to make small talk. Why are you here?”

  “A woman who doesn’t waste time. You’re a lucky man, Craig,” Boots Odum said and, grinning Pa straight in the eye, reached into his rucksack to pull out a loose pile of green and white. Cash.

  Me and Barbie gaped at each other across the kitchen as she put a fresh gallon of milk away. Then I stared back at Boots Odum’s hands because I’d noticed something strange as he neatened the stack of hundred dollar bills. His left hand looked a lot like Pa’s, hairy and sinewy with veins popping out. But his right hand was as smooth as a mannequin’s!

  He caught me staring and gave me his little two-finger hummingbird wave. “It’s bionic,” he said, then placed the stack on the table between Pa and Ma.

  “The money’s all yours, Craig. And Claire. Right now, if you want it. All you have to do is sign your deed over to ORC. I’d like to see you in a more comfortable place as soon as possible. And to help you move, you can have use of an ORC company van and a couple of men with strong backs, gratis. No charge.”

  “Is that what you said to the Dogstars?” Ma asked. “I went up there last night to warn them about the eggs and saw your sign on the door.”

  “You did?” said Pa.

  Odum nodded. “I’m aware of that, Claire, and I’m prepared to let the trespassing go, since you didn’t realize the property had changed hands. No hard feelings. We’re all friends in this town. So, what do you folks say? My people will help you move any time you’re ready.”

  Pa stared down at the Ben Franklins, licking his lips. No apple on them, either. Ma glared at him, her lips tight over her teeth. I could see the fight behind her eyes. But would she say what she was thinking? Would she dare? In front of us, in front of Boots Odum? Ma’s careful with what she says. You can almost see her weighing her words in her hands, the way her fingers knead at each other while she thinks.

  Ma leaned forward. She took a deep pull on her cigarette, blew a sharp stream of smoke out the side of her mouth, and said, “Tell me something, Stanley. Can you sleep at night?”

  “Like a log,” he said. “I’d say like a baby except they wake up every two hours.”

  Pa cracked up at that. He says it himself all the time.

  Odum put his hands behind his head, leaned back a bit, and said, “That’s a strange question, Claire. Why would insomnia want to take hold of me?”

  “Oh, I thought maybe you might have a pang of conscience over turning a beautiful chunk of nature into a cesspool, ruining the lives of your friends and neighbors, a few little things like that.”

  “Well, now.” Boots Odum cleared his throat and looked at Pa as if to say, “Will you shut her up?” Pa was just staring at the money, hardly even listening.

  Our visitor went on, “Claire, you are my friend and neighbor, and that’s exactly why I’m here, offering you more money than you could ever get from this place on the conventional real estate market. Kokadjo is one heckuva fine community and I want to keep it that way by helping you folks out.”

  Ma shook her head, laughing. “Help us out is right, Stan. Do you really think anyone’s buying your baloney? You’re throwing money around hoping you won’t get sued!”

  Way to go Ma, I thought. Jed would be so proud! I was grinning inside, until I caught the look on Pa’s face. It was red, ripe, and ready
to pop.

  “Claire!”

  “Craig?”—and then she said with her eyes, Don’t you dare raise your voice to me in front of a visitor. When he blew his stack at her, she always made him take the argument behind closed doors or else made us kids go outside.

  I’d rather be out at the Hole in the Wall, anyway. I started to stand up, but Ma stuck out her arm and held me down in my seat.

  “There’s nothing wrong with raising your voice when you’re good and mad!” Pa yelled. “This man is laying cash money on the table, and you’re treating him like a criminal!” Then he took a quick look at the man. Boots Odum was frowning—just a little—but definitely frowning.