Sneak Thief

by Faith Harkey

  She walked up. Taking hold of my hand, she poured me a dozen or so peanuts from a cellophane package. “Because it’s over.”

  I closed my fist around the nuts. “What’s over?”

  “Your new beginning,” Desiree replied. “Mabel’s house is filling up again. School’s starting soon. Things are going to change.”

  How can you see my troubles so clear? I nearly asked. But of course she would see. She saw everything.

  “You’re right. It’s the end. I’ll own…it does hurt.” Head hung low, I set my back against one of them bright-white hospital walls.

  “Hush Cantrell, you don’t listen so good.” She tugged on my sleeve. “I didn’t say it was the end. I said it was the end of the beginning.”

  I chewed on that. “Not sure what you’re getting at.”

  A voice from a speaker called Nurse Cussler to the front desk. After its echo died out, Desiree said, “In the beginning of something, we’re tiptoeing. Figuring stuff out. Things are interesting—but they’re scary.”

  She folded up her peanut package and slipped it in her pocket. “In the middle, though, we steady up. We know what’s what. We don’t have to think so much about, oh, just squeaking by. We can start to have fun.”

  “Aw, you can’t tell me this morning wasn’t fun,” I teased. Maybe it was a poor joke. Surely Baron Ramey was no laughing matter.

  But she only smiled. “Different fun. Better fun. The kind of fun that can become something…real.” She thought for a second. “It took me a long time to learn to see the horse witches. But now I see them, and other things, too. Things wild and strange—and magical. I see the dance of nature.”

  With a sudden swoosh, she threw open her arms. “Welcome to the beginning of the middle!”

  I looked at her good and close. All at once, the blue light of her eyes shone with a fresh magic. It was something like believing, if you can make any sense of that. And it made me want to believe, too. Believe in what, I wasn’t quite sure. Maybe in us, twelve years old and breathing strong. Maybe in something without a name.

  * * *

  —

  We finished up Desiree’s peanuts, then ate a whole ’nother package.

  My growling stomach had me contemplating a third, when Desiree asked, “Think we could go in and look at the baby?”

  A goodly amount of time had passed, I reasoned, so maybe we wouldn’t be a bother to the Holts. I had to think of them that way. The Holts. It wasn’t just Mabel anymore.

  “Let’s go see,” I replied.

  * * *

  —

  From the doorway, I checked to be sure it wasn’t some greeting-card moment we were about to bust in on.

  Tom had pushed one of those comfy chairs up to the bed. He was sprawled out, fast asleep. Mabel was gazing dreamily out the window, her arm reaching out to play with Tom’s hair. Closer to us, Travis and a freckly girl—the one from the pictures on his closet—stood over Shaw’s crib.

  Travis spoke real low, but I heard him say to the girl, “Do you ever think…someday, you and me—?”

  “Travis Tromp!” The girl spun, her hand poised in front of Travis’s forehead, fixin’ to flick. “If you utter one more syllable, I swear I will thump you before Shaw and everyone!”

  “Dang, Genuine. I said someday.”

  But they were both smiling, and I knew the whole thing was a playfulness between them.

  Mabel looked up about that time and saw me and Desiree standing in the door.

  “Hey!” she whispered. “Come in!”

  Travis and his friend stepped back so Desiree could get a gander of Shaw’s sweet face. Me, I sat on the edge of Mabel’s bed. I was glad to see most of her pain imps were a pale red. A few had even disappeared entirely.

  “Where’d you run off to?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “You had other company.”

  She gave Tom’s head a pat. “I know you don’t know these guys yet, but they’re great. You’ll like them.”

  It was hard to know what to say to that. “I reckon they’re very fine.”

  “They’ll be going back to the house tonight,” Mabel went on. “But I’ll be staying here till morning.”

  “Sure. You need to rest.”

  “That chair folds out to a single bed.” She pointed to one of the soft seats. “I was hoping you might stay with me.”

  It wasn’t pity that made her ask it. I could see it, plain as day. She wanted me there. Even with the baby born and Travis and Tom back, she still wanted me there.

  “Tomorrow,” she mused, “you could come back to the house. Tom’s a fair cook, but I could really use a skilled hand in the garden until the end of the season.”

  It was a nice notion, but…“There won’t be any room, with Tom and Travis in the house, plus the baby.”

  She waved away the problem. “Tom is staying, but Travis is heading to some RNN meeting with his dad. You won’t even have to move your stuff.” She poked my leg. “I really would love to have you there. And it would give you some time to think things over.”

  “You mean about where I’m headed after summer,” I said.

  “Yeah, that. But other things, too.”

  * * *

  —

  That fold-out hospital chair was so downright comfortable that I toyed with the idea of how a person might go about sneak thieving such a thing. Could I put a sheet over it and roll it out, like a wheelchair? Pretend I was a charity volunteer come to pick it up for donation? And once I got the thing out, where would I put it? In the middle of my cell at juvie?

  They were just silly thoughts, of course, a way of keeping my mind off the bigger things. I sure as heck wasn’t sleeping.

  The next morning, after Mabel fed the baby, I told her about ’Bagoville and Baron Ramey. What with the baby squeezings and all, she hadn’t heard.

  She gripped a pillow as I spoke, her expression tight with worry. “But they’ve got him now, right? It’s over?”

  “Mostly,” I told her. “The sheriff said he wanted to talk to me and Desiree, with you and Jimmy there. I reckon Jimmy will be enough, though, since you’re laid up.”

  Mabel shook her head. “The sheriff can come to my house. I’m not leaving you to do that on your own.”

  “Oh, I won’t be alone—”

  “Belle.” She dropped her chin all serious-like. “I’ll be there.”

  * * *

  —

  It was a big hooray, getting Mabel and Shaw out of the hospital and back home. And when we finally got there, so many folks had stopped by with balloons and stuffed bears and flowers, it was another huge to-do just clearing a path to get mama and son into the house.

  Eventually, though, we got everyone settled. Travis left shortly after, and the four of us—Tom, Mabel, Shaw, and me—crawled into our respective beds and slept until the baby’s hungry cries woke us some hours later.

  The next morning, Sheriff Thrasher came by, along with Desiree and Jimmy. After a heap of questions, he thanked us for our help and was fixin’ to leave.

  “Hold up, Hush. I want to show you something in my car.”

  The sheriff led me out to his cruiser and lifted out my box of borrows, the one I’d filled from my stashes the day before.

  “I found this while I was going over the scene.” The sheriff fixed me with a knowing eye. “There’s some funny stuff in here that don’t seem like it’s yours….”

  “No, sir,” I agreed. “Most of that’s things I stole. That’s why Desiree and me went to ’Bagoville in the first place. I was planning to collect those things and return them to their owners.”

  After a look that could have out-detected a lie detector, he said, “See that you do.”

  He was getting into the car when I stopped him. “Sheriff?”

  “Yes, Hu
sh?”

  “He is going to jail, right? Baron Ramey?” I confess, just saying that name out loud gave me a nervous jolt.

  He gave a sharp cop’s nod. “Threatening young girls? And your mama willing to press charges? I expect the judge will put him away for a long time.”

  That night, while Shaw slept, us big folks sat down to Tom’s triple-decker club sandwiches. I was three bites into mine when someone knocked at the door.

  “Y’all stay put,” I said. “I’ll get it.”

  I was wiping my cheek with my napkin as I opened the door.

  Standing on the porch—and holding a stuffed bunny—was Nina.

  My heart dropped into my gut.

  “Can I come in?” she asked.

  “Uh, I don’t—”

  I felt, rather than saw, Mabel appear behind me.

  “Nina! Of course you can come in. We were just sitting down to dinner.” In a louder voice, she called, “Tom, would you make up another club?”

  “I don’t know if I’m supposed to be here,” Nina admitted, stepping into the house. “But I heard the baby came early.” She offered the bunny to Mabel.

  It took me a second to realize the rabbit was a gift for Shaw. My mother had brought a present to Mabel’s boy!

  It was a gladness and a sorrow, both. Baby Shaw deserved all the good things the world could bestow on him. But hadn’t I once hoped and longed for a toy not so different from that bunny?

  Mabel accepted the stuffed critter. “Thank you, Nina. That’s very kind.”

  “I also heard about”—Nina swallowed—“Baron. I wanted to make sure everyone was all right.” Her eyes darted back from Mabel to me. “Are you all right?”

  I nodded.

  She threw herself on me and hugged so hard I couldn’t take a breath. “I’m so, so sorry! It was all my fault! I know it was!”

  “I know it was, too,” I said, pulling away.

  Mabel jerked her chin back. There wasn’t any faultfinding in her expression, precisely, but the Mabel in my head said, You can do better than that.

  Maybe I don’t want to do better, I thought. But it was only a passing thing. The spite in me wasn’t so strong anymore.

  “But not only your fault,” I admitted to Nina. “I reckon you never told Baron to bully my friend.”

  Her hand fluttered up to her heart, passing ghostlike through the deep red imps on her chest. “Is your friend all right?”

  Nina won herself some points there, asking about Desiree.

  “Yeah. She’s okay.” I sighed and added, “Did you want to come in for some food?”

  “I don’t want to be any trouble.”

  “It’s fine, Nina,” Mabel told her. “Come in. We should probably have a sit-down, anyway.”

  We sat down. Tom brought a fresh sandwich for Nina and excused himself to check on Shaw.

  Nina and Mabel traded uneasy smiles.

  “I’m staying here the rest of the summer!” was how I started things off. Loudly.

  “Oh,” Nina said. “Uh. That’s, uh, that’s all right with you, Miz Holt?”

  “Call me Mabel. Yes. I’m glad to have her.”

  “Well. Good, then.”

  Somewhere nearby, a clock ticked.

  Tick.

  Tick.

  Nina looked down at her plate. “This is a mighty big sandwich.”

  Mabel laughed. “Tom was a bachelor for a lot of years—”

  “If I come live with you,” I blurted, “we’re gonna need some ground rules! Big-time!”

  “Uh, sure. Ground rules,” Nina stammered. “I agree.”

  “Number one!” I held up a finger. “No con artists, no shady guests. If you have cause for legitimate company, you can meet them in the garden.” I mulled that over. “Or at Ham’s, if it’s raining. Can you live with that?” I spoke it like a challenge, which, truth to tell, it was.

  Then Nina did something that left me slack-jawed. She asked Mabel for pen and paper. When Mabel brought them, Nina picked up the pen and wrote, ONLY LEGITIMATE COMPANY. IN GARDEN OR AT HAM’S.

  “What else?” my mother asked.

  When I found my voice, I said, “No drinking. No smoking. Well, no. Smoking only in the garden until you can quit. You have an addiction, and fixing that can take time. I got a book you can read.”

  Nina wrote, NO DRINKING. SMOKING—GARDEN—QUIT. READ BOOK.

  I went on, “Even if you ain’t quit yet, if we’re low on money, we always buy toilet paper and food before cigarettes.”

  She took all that down. “Go on.”

  The next one was harder, mostly because it had a big, fat ribbon of shame tied around it. “There will be no poking fun in our house. Ever. You belittle me even one time, laugh at me, call me a nasty name—anything—and I swear, woman, you will never see me again.”

  Nina set down the pen and put her face in her hands. Two of her heart imps went crimson. It was a while before she said, “I was a fool to think—how could you ever forgive me? I’ve broken everything!”

  Mabel and I swapped glances.

  What do I do? I asked with a bite of my lip.

  Mabel canted her head. What do you want to do? I imagined her saying.

  One rageful chunk of me still wanted to throw nasty words at Nina and treat her like a dog. To hurt her as bad as she’d hurt me.

  A lot of me, though, couldn’t help recalling the way she’d whimpered in her sleep that one night in our RV, about a hundred years ago. A line from the Big Book came to me, too: People who hurt, hurt people.

  Dang it.

  I closed my eyes and sent up a wish—a true, deep wish—for a heart that could love through the pain.

  “Nina,” I finally said. “You didn’t break everything. You didn’t break me. And that is how, someday, I’m gonna be able to forgive you.”

  * * *

  Not long after, we got word that Crispy had died. Mabel, who’d known him well, was sad, of course. But me, I couldn’t help recalling how much he’d looked forward to seeing his mama and his wife again. I remembered the handmade poster in his room, GRANPA’S BIG ADVENCHER! More than anything, I was glad for him.

  His memorial service was simple and small, just a handful of people in the chapel of the Pitney hospice. Roxie Fuller was there, wearing purple. When I admitted to her how excited I was for Crispy’s new beginning, she smiled and whispered, “Me too!”

  * * *

  —

  A couple weeks after that, a letter came to Mabel’s house, addressed to me. It was from a lawyer. Unopened envelope in hand, I plunked down on the floor to fret. I’d returned all my borrowed items to their owners, and nearly every one of them had accepted my apologies. Mister Barker even bought me an ice cream cone; that’s how glad he was to see his watch again. But maybe someone had a change of heart. Maybe they were pressing charges.

  “Maybe you should just open it,” Mabel suggested, hefting Shaw from one shoulder to the other.

  She was right. If “just desserts” were coming my way, best to take out my spoon and start chomping.

  Good day, Miss Cantrell, the letter began. I am writing on behalf of the estate of Mr. Dalton “Crispy” Freye. You have been named as a beneficiary in his will. It was his desire that these items from his estate be given to you. Item one—

  At first, I couldn’t even make sense of it. I had to read the letter five times before it sunk in.

  “What’s it say?” Mabel finally asked.

  “It says…” I shook my head in disbelief. “It says I got a cow! Of my very own! And a stall to keep her in! With pasture she can graze for free! At a place called Crispy Acres.”

  “That’s a beautiful place for a cow,” Mabel observed. “Very peaceful.”

  Dropping my hands into my lap, I wondered, “Why would Crispy lea
ve me a cow? You and Becky Orr are the only people who even know I like cows.” Of course, it didn’t take me long to connect those dots. “You told him?”

  Mabel reached for a rag and set it under the baby’s drool-sopped chin. “He had a nurse call me to ask if there was anything you needed or wanted. I was just joking, but I said you might like a cow.”

  My cockles warmed at the idea that Mabel cared enough about me to recall one tiny piece of one tiny talk we’d had so long ago.

  “I still don’t understand why would he do it in the first place,” I said.

  “You eased his heart in his last days, helping him resolve things with Roxie,” she said. “He was grateful.”

  In the eye of my mind, I saw Crispy’s relief after I’d promised to deliver his apology. I recalled, too, how the amends I’d made had lightened my own heart’s burden.

  Holding up the letter, I protested, “But this? It’s too much!”

  Mabel gave a half shrug. “Maybe. But it was his to give.”

  Those last two weeks of summer, I was living all over the map. Most nights I spent at Mabel’s, but a couple times I stayed with Nina at Brandy’s Lodge, just to see how it felt. Daytimes, when I wasn’t working in Mabel’s garden or teaching yoga, I got to know my new cow. It turned out she carried a calf! I decided to name her Bitsy—Bit for short—in anticipation of calling her baby Li’l Bit. She was a good girl.

  Desiree and I decorated Bitsy’s stall, painting the walls light blue with a glad sun and—you guessed it—clouds. We made sure Bit had a clear path to the pasture, and I told her she could eat as much as she wanted, especially since she had a little cow on the way.

  Mabel was generous with her land, too. She gave me a plot near the tire swing. It was mine to use, she said, “now and forever.” I started my own garden with seedlings Mabel gave me, filling it with flowers and foods, both.

  Besides teaching yoga classes, Desiree and I did our best to get me ready for seventh-grade math, reading, and science. I think we both knew it was fairly futile. There just wasn’t enough time. But I loved her for trying.