by Patricia Fry
“Yeah, I’d say about two months,” Peter agreed.
The officer moved closer to the boy. “Simon, what happened that you’re living in a camp? Did you ever live in a home?”
He nodded. “With my aunt. She died. I don’t know my mother.”
Obviously touched, the officer looked at Peter and Rochelle. “I’ll have to take him in.”
“I don’t want to go to jail,” Simon cried.
“You’re not going to jail,” the officer assured him, “but I can’t leave you out on the street like this without supervision. How old are you—nine?”
Simon sat up taller and said, “Thirteen.”
The officer rolled his eyes for Peter’s and Rochelle’s benefit.
Rochelle said, “Officer, let us take him home. He knows us. We have the room. Can’t he stay with us while you try to find his family?”
“Um…well, it would be a lot better than leaving him out here or subjecting him to the crowded conditions we provide.” He looked around. “I guess I could allow it. Give him a hot meal and a comfy bed to sleep in tonight and bring him down to the station tomorrow. Wait, that’s Sunday; how about Monday, and we’ll see what we can do to find his family. Are you willing to do that?”
“Sure,” Rochelle said. She looked at Peter, who appeared to be in shock. “Peter?”
“Um, yeah, I guess.”
“Is that okay with you, young man?” the officer asked.
Simon looked up at him through fresh tears and nodded.
The officer tousled the boy’s hair and smiled at him, then pulled a sucker out of his pocket and handed it to him. The boy’s face lit up. He quickly opened the candy and put it into his mouth.
“Well, come on,” Peter said, patting Simon’s shoulder. “Come help me find my phone, then we’d better get home.”
“Okay, Mr. Peter,” Simon said, wiping at his eyes.
Savannah watched the two of them disappear into the studio. “Oh my,” she muttered.
“Yeah,” Rochelle said. “What have we done?”
“I’d say you’ve warmed a little boy’s heart.”
“Yeah,” Rochelle said, “now let’s go warm his tummy. Good thing I saved some of my lasagna. I’ll put together a green salad and toast some French bread.”
◆◆◆
“You have birds?” Simon asked when he saw the cage from the Whitcomb’s kitchen. “I like making friends with birds.” He looked up at Peter. “They’re pretty smart, you know.” He approached the cage and stared at the parrots.
“That’s Clayton,” Peter said, joining the boy. “The smaller, shyer one’s Matilda.”
“Matilda?” Simon said, scrunching up his nose.
“Yeah,” Peter said, “we’ll probably change their names to Thor and Wonder Woman. Do you like that better?”
He nodded.
“You got them a new cage!” Savannah exclaimed. “This is really nice.”
“Yup,” Rochelle said from the kitchen. “They’re moving right on up.”
“Very nice and roomy,” Savannah said.
“What’s that for?” Simon asked, pointing at a bowl of water on the floor. “Do you have a dog, too?”
“No. A visiting cat. Savannah brought her cat.”
Simon looked up at Savannah. “Is that you?”
She nodded.
“Where is it?” he asked looking around.
“Well,” Peter hesitated, “he’s missing.”
When Simon heard one of the parrots making a racket, he returned to the cage. “Can I take him out? I think he wants out.”
“Um…” Peter stalled. “I guess so. He’s pretty good.”
“You know what I just realized,” Rochelle said from the kitchen. “The boy has nothing to wear.”
Peter looked at him and asked, “Do you have any clothes with you? I thought I saw a shirt or something when you were showing your pack to the officer.”
“Yeah, everything’s dirty. I have a couple of shirts and shorts—you know, underwear.” He winced. “Most of that stuff has holes in it.”
“How about taking them out and we’ll run them through the washing machine?”
“Oh, I’m okay,” Simon insisted.
“Take them out,” Peter said. “You can climb into your pajamas and we’ll wash the clothes you’re wearing.”
Simon became more serious. “What I’m wearing is my pajamas.”
Peter and Rochelle looked at each other and Peter said, “Hey, we have friends just up the street with a lot of boys about your age.”
“A lot of them?” Simon questioned.
“Well, four, maybe, and some of them are your size. How about we jaunt up there and see if we can borrow some pajamas?” He studied the boy’s shoes. “…and maybe a pair of sneakers.” When Simon looked confused, Peter explained, “…tennis shoes, sport shoes, or whatever they’re known as these days. I’ll call the Stricklands and make sure they’re home.”
“Peter,” Rochelle called, “let’s feed the boy first. Simon, are you hungry? I’ve made you a salad and heated some lasagna and French bread. Sound good?”
The boy’s eyes lit up. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, walking swiftly toward the table.
“Hey, how about washing up first?” she suggested.
“Yes, come with me,” Peter invited. “Let’s wash up.” He picked up the boy’s pack and tossed it to him. “Got a toothbrush in there?”
Simon nodded. “Yeah, but I ran out of toothpaste a while back.”
“No problem, we have toothpaste. Come on,” Peter urged.
“Can I take the bird out? Maybe he’d like to play in the water while I wash my hands,” Simon suggested. “Birds like water. I see them taking baths all the time—you know, in puddles and sprinklers.”
“Okay, I guess,” Peter said.
The boy opened the cage door and chirped, “Come on, Clayton or Mildred…I mean Thor—Wonder Woman. Who wants to come with me? I’ll let you play in the water.”
Clayton hopped onto Simon’s hand when he held it out, then fluttered up onto his shoulder. But the bird seemed more interested in flying than riding, and he flew off Simon’s shoulder, through the kitchen, into the living room, and down the hallway.
“Hey, where are you going, bird?” the boy asked, trotting after him.
Peter followed and they both watched as Clayton flew into Savannah’s room and landed on the large cat pen. When Peter turned on the light, he said, “Oh, he’s looking for Rags.”
“Rags?” Simon said. “What does he want with old rags?”
“Rags is the cat,” Peter explained. “That’s his pen and his bed and his litter box. Clayton seems to be looking for him. The two of them are pretty good friends.”
Simon tilted his head. “A bird and a cat?”
When Peter nodded, Simon approached Clayton with one hand out and said, “Come on, bird, the cat’s not here. Let’s go play in the water. Want to?”
It took a little coaxing, but Clayton finally accepted the offer and accompanied Simon and Peter into the second spare room, where Simon tried out the bed and examined the furniture and closet. “I have my own bathroom?” he squealed.
Peter nodded. “It’s all yours.” When he saw the bird fly into the bathroom and land on the sink faucet, he laughed. “Yours and Clayton’s.”
“I told you birds like water,” Simon said. He and Peter laughed while watching Clayton splash around rather clumsily in the water trickling from the spigot.
“Supper’s getting cold!” Rochelle called from the hallway.
“Coming!” Peter shouted. He then said, “Okay, Simon, it’s your turn. Wash your hands and face now.” Hey,” Peter said once the boy had dried off, “you’re a pretty good-looking kid under all of that dirt. Do you have a comb? Want to comb your hair?” When Simon balked, he said as if it were a secret, “Women love it when we come to the table with our hair combed.”
Simon thought about this, then pulled a brush out of his pack and ran
it through his chin-length brown hair.
Peter smiled. “Nice job.” He helped the boy unpack, set aside the dirty clothes, then found a tube of toothpaste in the bathroom and handed it to him. “Here, in case you’d like to brush your teeth. You can take a bath or a shower after dinner when we have some pjs for you.”
As the pair walked back toward the kitchen together, Clayton riding along on Simon’s arm, the boy said, “I’ve been thinking, if the cat’s missing and the bird really likes the cat, why not let the bird see if he can find the cat? I tell you I’ve had a lot of bird friends and they are smart. Where is the cat, anyway? Where did you lose him?”
“At the old Bamford Building,” Peter said.
Simon looked wide-eyed. “Really? I was there with Cricket and Bennie earlier. We saw a lady with a cat. I didn’t know there’d be cats there, just books.” He thought for a moment before saying, “Once I saw a whole lot of cats going in there—cats in cages. It was a show for cats. I couldn’t go in to see them because it cost money, so my friends and I hung around outside and watched people take in cages and cages of cats.”
He smiled. “I got to go in to see the books because it was free, but I sure didn’t think I’d see a cat today.”
“You were at the book fair?” Savannah asked, hearing Simon’s statement.
He nodded.
“You probably saw me carrying him. Rags was there with me.”
He looked at her for a moment, then shook his head. “No. It wasn’t you, and it wasn’t during the book show. It was tonight.”
“What did the cat that you saw look like?” Peter asked.
“I think black and white or maybe grey—mostly grey—dark grey.” He studied Savannah again and said, “The lady who was carrying him was kind of running with him. She didn’t look like you. She had dark hair and she was shorter.”
“Really?” Savannah said. “What was she wearing, do you remember?”
He grimaced. “Not really. I didn’t really look at her clothes. It was dark, you know, and she was running to get in her car.”
Savannah stood quietly for a moment, thinking about what Simon had said. “Well, it sure didn’t look like there was any way he could get out of that building. I imagine the cat you saw was probably a neighborhood cat.”
“Simon suggested letting Clayton help find Rags,” Peter said.
“Yeah. I can tell he likes the cat,” Simon said. “He flew to the cat’s cage and was looking for him. Birds are smart, you know.”
Savannah thought for a moment, then muttered, “Yeah, I wonder if Clayton could tell us just where Rags is, that is if he’s still in the wall. But what if Clayton gets lost inside there with Rags? We’d have two lost animals.”
Rochelle shuddered. “That would be awful.”
Meanwhile Simon had sat down at the table and started eating. “He wouldn’t get stuck,” Simon insisted, between bites. “I tell you, birds are smart—smarter than most people think. I know he likes your cat because he didn’t even want to come with us out of the room with the cage. He wanted to keep looking for the cat.” He then said, “My aunt told me a story once about a bird that saved a dog from drowning.”
Rochelle asked, “How’d he do that?”
Simon took another forkful of lasagna and a bite of French bread. “Well, this bird knew that his friend—the dog—was in trouble and he flew really fast to get help. When people saw the bird acting all weird, they followed him and they found the dog trying to climb out of the water. The bank was slippery and he kept falling back in, so they lassoed him and pulled him out. Yeah, birds are smart.”
Rochelle looked at Savannah. “What do you think?”
“I’d try anything to get Rags back, of course, but I sure don’t want to put Clayton in danger.”
“Birds have a built-in GPS system,” Peter said. He turned to the boy. “Isn’t that right, Simon? We discussed that the other day—about how birds migrate and manage to find their migration route year after year.”
“That’s right,” Simon said. “Birds don’t know how to get lost.”
◆◆◆
“How’d you sleep?” Rochelle asked Simon the following morning when he joined the others in the kitchen. “Is something wrong? You look like you’re lost.”
He shook his head. “This is just so pretty. Everything’s clean and bright. I’m not used to waking up in a place like this.” He ran into the service porch and greeted the birds. “Hi, Clayton. Hi, Mildred.”
“Matilda,” Peter corrected, chuckling.
“Oh, Matilda,” Simon repeated. He looked at the others, while he stroked Clayton’s head with one finger through the wire cage. “Can’t we name her something different? I have trouble with that name.”
“You can call her Wonder Woman,” Peter suggested.
Simon appeared to ignore him. Then his face lit up. “How about Miss Picket?”
“Miss Picket?”
Simon nodded. “I used to go to school, and my teacher was Miss Picket. She was really nice.” He then said, “Hey, I think Clayton remembers me.” He faced the others and asked, “So are you going to let him help find the lost cat?”
Peter nodded. “We’re thinking about it. Hey, how about joining us for breakfast?”
“Yes, sit down,” Rochelle invited. “It will be ready in a minute. Want a glass of orange juice?”
“Yes, please,” Simon said. He faced Peter. “Where’d you get the birds?”
“From a cat,” Peter quipped.
The boy looked puzzled. “You saved them from a cat?”
“No. Savannah’s cat—you know, Rags—he made friends with them.”
Simon looked at Savannah. “The cat that’s lost?”
Rochelle smiled while placing a couple of platters on the table. “You’re full of questions today, young man. Are you hungry? Do you like pancakes and eggs?”
He smiled. “I sure do. With syrup and butter and ketchup?”
“Ketchup on pancakes?” Peter asked.
Simon laughed. “No, on the eggs.”
“You sound like a real gourmet,” Peter teased.
Simon grinned at Peter, then asked Savannah. “What does your cat look like again?”
She pulled up a picture on her phone and showed it to him.
He stared at it for several moments, and then said, “Yeah, it sure looks like the one I saw last night with that lady, but it was kind of dark.”
“What were you doing over there so late?” Peter asked.
“It wasn’t late,” Simon said. “We were looking for cans to turn in for money, but I guess someone beat us to them.” He took a swig of orange juice and swiped one hand across his mouth. “That lady we saw with the cat sometimes comes there to dig in the dirt.”
“You’ve seen her digging in the dirt?” Savannah asked.
“Yeah, I see her there sometimes. I hang out there with Benny and Cricket when there’s nobody around, but sometimes she’s there. Benny says she’s looking for a fortune.”
“A fortune?” Rochelle repeated. “In the dirt?”
“No. I think it’s in the walls. Benny says she’s looking for a secret way into the building.” He looked wide-eyed at the others. “Benny’s older. He has lived—you know, on the streets for a long time. He watches over the building. He can tell you just about everything about that old place.”
He asked, “Did you know they’re going to knock it down? Benny thinks everyone will be surprised when the building is knocked down; they’ll be surprised about what they find inside.” He squinted. “I think he knows a secret he isn’t telling; he isn’t even telling me, and I’m just about his best friend in the whole world.”
“How many pancakes can you eat?” Rochelle asked.
“How many do you got?” Simon asked.
“Let’s start with a couple, okay?” she suggested, plopping two on his plate. She faced Savannah. “So could someone have taken Rags? That would be awful. How would you ever get him back?”
Without acknowledging her, Savannah asked, “Simon, what color clothing was the lady wearing yesterday when you saw her with the cat? Do you remember that?”
He shook his head, then said, “Oh, wait. I remember. She almost glowed in the dark because she wore white. White shows up real good in the dark.” He glanced up at Savannah. “It wasn’t all the way dark. There were street lights not too far away. A car turned the corner and shined lights on her. That’s when I saw she had a cat.”