Andy was torn, but it wasn’t long before he made up his mind.
He had to go through with this whether his father was looking for him or not. It had to do with honor, of following something through to the end. Wasn’t his father always telling him that being a man meant sticking to your goals, no matter what?
Well then, that’s what he was doing now.
He was following through on something that was important… at least to him. It wasn’t because of the two cents anymore or because of anything Jimmy had or hadn’t said or done. This was his mission, and he had to see it through to the end even if it meant getting punished once he got back home.
Hitching up his pants and taking another deep breath, Andy moved out from behind the tree and continued down the street, walking past Skippy and Coach Monroe’s house, and down Granite Street toward Miss Henry’s house at the corner of Granite and Curtis Street.
If he was going to be spotted, Andy knew it would be when he was on Granite Street where there was the most chance of traffic this late at night. Still, there were plenty of trees and hedges along the side of the road, and he could always scamper behind someone’s house if he saw headlights coming.
Although the leaves of the two horse chestnut trees in front of Miss Henry’s house had started to fall, Andy hoped the shadows would be dense enough to hide him as he prepared to dash onto the lawn, grab his bottles, and high-tail it home.
But the closer he got to Miss Henry’s house, the higher his nervousness rose until a cold, hard lump lodged in his throat. His knee joints were rubbery. He tried to convince himself that it was from playing football, not because he was scared, but he knew better. The truth was, as soon as Miss Henry’s house came into view, all he wanted to do was turn around and run home.
The front of the house was dark, shadowed from the glow of streetlights by the remaining foliage of the horse chestnut trees. The windows looked like slabs of black marble that caught what little light reached them and absorbed it, rather than reflecting it back. The front door and porch were lost in the shadow, but Andy could make out the rickety, paintless steps that led up to it.
His heart was pounding fast. Tingling, cold pressure was building up behind his ears. He leaned forward, straining to see the Coke bottles on the lawn, but they were lost in the shadows by the foundation. Either that, or someone else—maybe Miss Henry!—had already picked them up.
Andy’s palms were slick with sweat as he cautiously approached the edge of the lawn. After casting a quick glance left and right to make sure no cars were coming, he looked at the living room window. The curtains hung motionlessly in the night, like a frozen veil of smoke behind the rippled glass. Andy didn’t see Miss Henry’s silhouette in the window, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t there. Her presence loomed in the darkness, invisible and threatening. He imagined that she had sat there for so many years in the same position that her face was burned into the glass like an old-fashioned photograph. His teeth chattered as he raised one foot and placed it on the lawn.
He’d never done anything like this before.
As far as he knew, no one had ever actually dared step onto Miss Henry’s property. It would be nice, he thought, if Jimmy or someone was here to witness such a brave deed.
But he didn’t feel brave.
He was simply doing what he had to do.
There was no bravery in that. Stupidity, maybe—especially if his father drove by and saw him.
Andy scanned the dark ground until he saw one of the bottles on the dead, weed-chocked grass. His throat made a funny clicking sound when he swallowed. He crouched low, like he was playing soldiers, and then suddenly darted forward and snagged the first bottle. It was cold and slick with moisture. He felt a slight measure of relief with it in his hand, but he still wasn’t done.
He had to find the other bottle.
Even standing so close to Miss Henry’s house that he could reach out and touch the peeling paint of the shingles, he couldn’t see the other bottle in the dark. All he knew was that it was here—it had to be somewhere close to the stone foundation.
Tip-toeing silently forward, the dead grass crackling like broken glass under his feet, Andy leaned forward and brushed his hand back and forth across the ground until his fingers grazed the neck of the bottle. It made a soft clink sound when it rolled and knocked against the foundation.
Andy let out a soft sigh of relief as he picked up the second bottle and cradled it in the palm of his hand. His driving impulse was to spin around and run away from the house as fast as he could go, but he checked that urge and started backing up slowly, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on the living room window, tensed and waiting to see the tiniest hint of motion inside.
When he reached the edge of the lawn and was about to step back onto the sidewalk, he sensed more than saw or heard someone standing behind him. He almost screamed as panic shot through him.
There’s no one there!… There’s no one there!
His mind kept chanting that, but he knew better. The menacing presence was gathering behind him like a thunderhead.
Someone was there.
He knew it as surely as if they had reached out and tapped him on the shoulder.
“I… I …” Andy stammered.
He turned around slowly, fully expecting to see his father… or maybe a town cop… standing there, so he wasn’t prepared for what he saw.
Not three feet away from him, her hands on her hips, her eyes gleaming like wet stones in the darkness, stood Miss Henry.
****
“And just what do you think you’re doing, young man?”
Miss Henry’s voice cracked like the blow of a sledgehammer against stone in the night.
“How did… I just… Nothing… I was just…”
Andy wanted to run but was frozen where he stood.
“Are you stealing from me?” Miss Henry took a menacing step closer. “Are you stealing something from my yard?”
“No… Honest, I…”
Andy was afraid that his legs were going to fold up on him. Gasping for breath, he backed away from her, but his heel caught on the edge of her lawn, and he fell, hitting the ground hard enough to knock the breath of out him. Backlit by the streetlight, Miss Henry loomed above him, her long hair haloed with silver in the darkness. She moved silently closer to him, sliding forward as silent as a shadow.
“What is it you want, then?” she asked sharply.
“Umm—today… my friend threw some… my soda bottles onto your lawn.” He scrambled to his feet and then stood there, shaking. “I just wanted to get them… for the deposit….”
Andy was amazed that he got even that much out. As if in proof, he held up the two Coke bottles for her to see.
“Money, is that it?” Miss Henry said. Her voice cracked on the last word. “You’re looking for money?”
“Not your money,” Andy stammered, hoping she wasn’t thinking that he’d been trying to break into her house and rob her. “I just wanted the deposit. That’s all. Honest.”
They were both silent for a lengthening moment. Andy could hear the short, rapid sound of his own breathing against the backdrop of crickets, singing in the night. Then something else—a faint chuffing sound filled his ears. It took him a moment to realize that Miss Henry was laughing.
Every muscle in Andy’s body tensed as he waited for the sudden outburst of maniacal laughter that was sure to follow. He coiled up, preparing to run. She was old. He knew he could outdistance her easily. If he was lucky, she hadn’t recognized him in the dark and wouldn’t be able to identify him later.
But something kept him rooted to the spot.
It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t curiosity. It was… something else—something he couldn’t quite pinpoint.
“You’re Hugh Draper’s boy, ain’t c’yah?” Miss Henry said as she took another step forward. Her question hit him like a dash of cold water. So much for her not knowing who he was!
“Uh… Yeah… I mean,
yes, ma’am, I am,” Andy replied, remembering his manners more out of fear than respect.
“Well, then,” Miss Henry continued, sounding pleased with herself. “I expect your daddy wouldn’t exactly appreciate it if he was to know you were out runnin’ around this time of night, now, would he?”
“No, ma’am. I don’t expect that he would.”
“If I was to tell him, maybe give him a call in the mornin’ before he heads off to work, you’d probably be in for a heck of a lickin’, wouldn’t yah?”
“Yes, ma’am. I expect that I would.”
Miss Henry grunted, sounding vaguely pig-like in the darkness. The shadows of the leaves hid her expression as she cupped her chin with one hand and nodded slightly. Andy cast a quick glance up the street when he saw the headlights of an approaching car. It was already too late to run, so he just stood there facing Miss Henry and let the yellow glare of headlights wash over him as the car turned onto Curtis Street.
“So it’s money you want, ’s that it?” Miss Henry said once the car had passed. The only sounds in the night were the distant whine of its engine and the steady song of crickets.
“It’s just two cents,” Andy said, knowing how foolish he must sound. He couldn’t help but wonder if she even believed him, or if she still suspected that he had intended to break into her house and rob her, maybe even murder her for her money.
Miss Henry started to speak, but her voice choked off, and she started to cough. A thick, watery sound rattled deep within her chest. When she doubled over, Andy took an involuntary step forward as if to catch her if she started to fall; but the coughing fit passed as quickly as it had started, and he stepped back.
“Well, then,” Miss Henry said, wiping her chin on the back of her hand. “If it’s money you want, what would you say to doing some chores around my place. Help me out a bit.”
Andy couldn’t speak. His mind was a roaring blank.
“I can’t pay you much, but at least I wouldn’t have to call your father and tell him I seen you rompin’ around out here after midnight.”
Andy chanced a shallow breath that did nothing to relieve the tension winding up inside him like a snake. He gripped the two Coke bottles so tightly the palms of his hands throbbed. His fingers and forearms tingled with pins-’n-needles. He knew he was in deep trouble, and it was all because of Jimmy and these two stupid bottles.
Sudden rage filled Andy, and he had to struggle not to scream out loud and smash the damned bottles on the sidewalk.
“Wha—what do you mean?” he asked as a tremor ran deep inside his gut.
“What I mean is, I have some chores that need doing, and I ain’t exactly a spring chicken anymore. The lawn needs attention, ’n there’s some paintin’ to do on the porch, ’n maybe you could clean out the gutters. They ain’t been touched in years.”
The night closed around Andy as he stared blankly at Miss Henry and considered her offer. It certainly beat the punishment he’d get if his father found out what he’d been up to.
What was a little work, especially if he was going to get paid for it?
One thing he knew was he couldn’t agree to do it and then not show up. He wasn’t so much afraid that Miss Henry would tattle on him as he was intent on keeping his word. Like his father was always telling him, a man was only as good as his word.
“Yeah,” Andy finally said, bobbing his head up and down. “I can do some work for you.”
“But just you,” Miss Henry said, jabbing her forefinger at him as if she were scolding him. “I don’t want that Nikanen boy helping you. It’s just you. Understand?”
“Okay. Sure,” Andy said weakly, surprised that she knew Jimmy’s name. Suddenly anxious to get home, he took a few steps away from Miss Henry.
“When—uh, when do you want me to start?”
“Tomorrow morning will do just fine,” Miss Henry said without hesitation. “First thing.”
Andy started to protest. He and Jimmy had plans for tomorrow. They were thinking about taking the bus to Gloucester and catching the new Disney movie at The Strand. He wished he could put off this obligation, at least a day or two, but he knew he’d better keep his mouth shut and just go along with her.
“Okay,” he said. His throat was constricted and he felt lucky to get anything out. “First thing in the morning, then. I’ll be here.”
With that, he turned and walked away from Miss Henry, moving as fast as he could without breaking into a run. The echo of his footsteps sounded unusually loud in the night. But as he made his way up Curtis Street, a thought suddenly struck him.
How had Miss Henry done that?
How had she snuck up behind him so quietly, without him even knowing she was there until he turned around and saw her?
More than that.
Where had she been?
What was an old woman like her doing out walking around so late at night?
And where had she been walking from… or to?
Part Two
It was Sunday morning. A woodpecker was hammering away at a dead tree in the backyard. Sunlight filled Andy’s bedroom with a thick, honey-brown glow. Standing at the foot of the stairs, his mother called up to him that it was already after nine o’clock, long past time for him to get up, even if it was the weekend.
Andy opened his eyes to narrow slits and looked around the bedroom. He smacked his lips, wincing at the thick, iron-tinged taste on the back of his tongue. He’d gotten back to the house a little after two o’clock in the morning, relieved to see his father’s car parked by the shed at the top of the driveway. If his dad had been out driving around in the middle of the night looking for him, he’d gotten home before him. Andy had touched the hood of the car, which was still warm, but he told himself it just as easily could have been the lingering warmth of the day’s heat as it was a motor still warm from being driven after midnight.
Andy figured he’d find out how much—if any—trouble he was in as soon as he went downstairs for breakfast. There hadn’t been any particular edge in his mother’s voice when she called up to him a second time to get out of bed, but then again, you never knew when the hammer was going to fall…
You just never knew.
“Com’on, Andy!” his mother yelled. “You’re burning daylight!”
Andy let out a rumbling groan and ruffled his hair before flinging the bedcovers aside and swinging his feet onto to the floor. The sudden impact was jarring and made his back teeth ache as he stood up and stretched.
“How about Mike,” Andy yelled. “Is he still in bed?”
“Tell him to get up, too,” his mother replied. “I’ll make you some scrambled eggs and bacon if you’d like.”
From the sound of her voice, Andy could tell she was in the laundry room now. She didn’t sound angry or edgy, but he still didn’t feel all that secure as he dashed down the hallway to the bathroom and urinated before trundling downstairs to the kitchen. There was no way he was going to disturb his brother.
“Why are you such a sleepyhead today?” his mother asked, tousling his hair. Her voice was nearly drowned out by the sound of the washing machine filling up with water. She placed her hand gently on his cheek and looked him straight in the eyes.
“No reason,” Andy said, trying to avoid eye contact with her. Sometimes he didn’t like the way it seemed as though she could see right through him and read whatever he wasn’t telling her as clearly as if it were printed in black and white on his forehead.
“Too bad about the game being rained out yesterday, huh?” his mother said. Her back was to him now as she set about making his breakfast.
“We were smearing ’em,” Andy said as he fetched a glass from the cupboard and opened the refrigerator to get the orange juice. He didn’t even consider how habitual it was that, every morning, he always expected the container to be full of juice, as if it appeared magically overnight.
“I figure you and Jimmy are going trick or treating tonight, right?”
There was
a long pause when the only sound in the kitchen was that of his mother, whisking some eggs in a metal bowl. After filling his glass with orange juice and taking a big gulp, Andy shook his head and said, “Yeah. I guess so.”
“Well, I don’t want you two fooling around, causing trouble,” she said. “You can do Stockholm Avenue and maybe some of Oakland, but that’s it.”
His mother glanced over her shoulder at him with a sharp look in her eye. Once again, Andy found that he had to look away from her. She turned and poured the beaten egg mixture into the frying pan just as the toast popped. After giving the eggs a little stir, she took the two slices of toast and spread a glob of grape jelly over each.
While he waited in silence for his breakfast, Andy eased back in his chair and took a few deep breaths. He knew he should be excited about going trick-or-treating tonight, but it was no great mystery why he was feeling so wound up. If he’d been caught downtown last night, he’d probably be grounded for a week, if not until Christmas. He didn’t want to do or say anything that might prevent him from going trick-or-treating with Jimmy tonight.
But Andy’s nervousness cut deeper than that.
His mother and father weren’t the only ones he had to keep his secret from. His mother’s mention of Jimmy reminded him that he couldn’t tell Jimmy or anyone else that he had gone back to Miss Henry’s house last night… and that he had seen her… and talked to her… and that he had promised—no, been forced to agree to do some chores for her.
Was he crazy or something? he wondered.
Why had he agreed to do anything for that crazy old coot?
He didn’t owe her anything.
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