A Sliver of Sun (13 page)

I was glad when bedtime finally came so I could wash the dust and grime from my hands and be alone with my thoughts for a while. I lay in the darkness and thought about Angela and what I’d done in the lumber store. And I thought about Ramsay, what exactly I should tell him. But for some reason, my thoughts kept veering back to Ben refusing my offer of the gumball. Sure, he’d taken the cookie, but that was from Mama so it didn’t count.

I knew it was plain silly to fret over something as goofy as a gumball, but I really wanted to know why he didn’t take it. Was it like he said—he’d been teasing about wanting one to begin with? Or was it that he really
did
want one, just not from me? I listened to Ginger’s quiet breathing coming from the top bunk, and tried to remember if her daddy had ever accepted
anything
from me. But then again, what had I ever offered?

I decided to try an experiment. I’d find something nice, something Ben was sure to like, and offer it to him. If he took it, then I’d know this whole gumball thing was just my imagination. But if he didn’t take it, then I’d have proof he really didn’t like me.

• • •

The next morning after breakfast, Ben started tearing off the back wall of the storage room. And the best part was, he let me and Ginger help. He gave each of us a pair of leather gloves and a hammer and showed us how to use the metal claw part to wedge under a nail or a board, and then he let us have at it. Ginger was slow and careful and winced every time I
thwacked
the hammer within two feet of her. But I thought it was great fun to demolish a wall, and I was disappointed when the whole tearing down and destroying part was done in only two hours.

Mama brought us out a pitcher of ice water, and all four of us stood back and looked at the big gaping hole left by the missing wall. “Looky there,” I said, “now we can go in and outta’ the house without using the door.”

“Not for long, I hope,” Mama said. “Wild animals might come in.”

Ben smirked. “That cat of Piper Lee’s is the only wild animal around these parts. But I’ll have it closed back in by the time I go to work tomorrow afternoon.”

Ginger and I spent the rest of the morning in the shade beneath the trampoline, working on Angela’s book report, with the constant music of screeching and banging and drilling in the background. I didn’t mind any of the noise except for the skill saw. Whenever Ben started sawing a board, I plugged my ears against the high pitch scream.

There was a half hour of quiet when Mama made Ben stop for a lunch of tuna fish sandwiches, carrot sticks and chocolate chip cookies. And right about the time he went back to work, a fancy silver car pulled into the driveway and rolled up close to the porch.

“Know who that is?” I asked.

Ginger shook her head. “Do you?”

“Course not,” I said. “This is your house.” But as soon as the driver climbed out with her big floppy sun hat and crooked smile, I knew it was Hattie Pierson. “It’s Mama’s boss,” I said, “from the Black-eyed Pea.” I scrambled out from under the trampoline. “Hey, there, Miss Hattie.”

“Well, hello yourself, Piper Lee. I was hoping this was the right place. How’s your mama doing?”

“She’s s’posed to stay off her feet,” I said. “But she’s not listening so well.”

Miss Hattie laughed. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” She held out hand to Ginger. “You must be Ginger. I’ve heard a fair bit about you and your daddy.”

Ginger beamed. “You have?”

“Of course. All good things, mind you.” She looked back at me. “So where is that mama of yours? I brought something for her.” She opened the back door of her car and hefted a black garbage sack into her arms. “Baby clothes, from all us gals at work.”

“Oh,” was all I could think to say. “Come on, she’s inside.”

Mama sat at the kitchen table thumbing through one her Woman’s Way magazines. She grabbed her cheeks when she saw who was behind us.

“Hattie!”

“Afternoon, Heather. I stopped by to see if you were following doctor’s orders or not.” She waddled across to Mama’s chair and set the black bag at her feet. “And to bring you these.”

Mama leaned forward and peered into the sack. “My goodness, what’s all this?”

“For your new young one,” Miss Hattie said with a wink. “From Clara Sue and Bitsy and me. We all sorted through our old baby things.”

Mama clapped her hands like a little kid. “Well, this is wonderful, Hattie. Thank you so much. These will be so fun to look through.” She pulled out green footed pajamas with an alligator on the front and giggled. “Oh, this is just precious.”

“We had no idea whether you’re having a boy or girl, so we just pooled everything in there together. Some will work for either, of course.”

“Of course,” Mama said. She pulled out a tiny pink onesie with a ruffle on the back. “Oh … my, you forget how tiny everything is.” She turned it toward Ginger and I. “Look girls, bet you can’t believe you used to wear things this small.”

I tried not to gag. I prayed that Mama had never dressed me in a pink onesie with a ruffled butt.

“So what do you think of getting a new little brother or sister?” Miss Hattie asked. I figured the question was probably aimed at both of us girls, but she was looking straight at me, and it tied my tongue up in knots.

“The girls are still warming up to the idea,” Mama answered, giving Miss Hattie a knowing look. “It’ll be a big change, for sure. Piper Lee, get our guest a glass of sweet tea.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, glad for something to do.

The whine of the skill saw filled the air, but it wasn’t so bad inside the house.

“You’ll have to excuse all the ruckus,” Mama said. “Ben’s building us a nursery.”

“How exciting,” Miss Hattie said. “Do you have your colors picked out?”

I expected Mama to ask what colors she was talking about, but I guess I was the only one who didn’t understand, ’cause Mama started talking about how she’d probably stick with sea green, since that would work for a boy or a girl, and how she’d decided on a farm animal theme.

My heart shrank as I listened to Mama’s bubbly voice. I wanted to go back to working on the book report, if for no other reason than to get away from all the baby talk, but Ginger settled herself on the floor next to the bag of clothes and didn’t look like she planned on moving anytime soon. So I handed Miss Hattie her sweet tea, and hung around, fidgeting as Mama ooohhed and awwwwwed over each stupid outfit she pulled from the bag. And just when I didn’t think I could stand it a second longer, some interesting stuff started coming out of the sack. First some stray quarters, then a couple pens, and a small book on cabinet repair.

“Oh, goodness,” Miss Hattie said, “see what happens when you bag up stuff that’s been sitting in your garage for who knows how long?” She set the odds and ends aside in a small pile.

I didn’t pay much attention until Mama pulled a baseball cap from the bag. It was olive green corduroy with the silhouette of an eagle embroidered on front.

“Well, looky there, Piper Lee,” Mama said. “It’s a lot like your aviator cap.”

“You like caps?” Miss Hattie asked me. “I’ve got no use for it. Would you like it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “Thanks.” She tossed it to me, and I traced my little finger over the soft ribbing of the eagle. The hat had a plastic strap in back with holes punched to adjust the size, and I knew I could make it fit. But I had a better idea.

Ben liked caps, and this was a nice one.

It was just the thing to carry out my experiment.

I
still hadn’t decided what to say to Ramsay by the time he caught me in the hallway the next morning. He shook the bangs from his face and leaned forward with puppy-dog eager eyes. “Did ya’ ask him?”

I swallowed. “Uh, yeah, I asked him.”

“What’d he say?”

“He knows him.”

“And he’s okay?”

“Yeah. He’s not sick or anything.”

Ramsay grinned, and relief spread over his face like a mask. “What else did he say?”

I scratched my cheek real slow and careful as my mind raced. This was my chance to get off the hook. To say Ben hadn’t told me anything more. But Ramsay looked so hopeful, like he was just sure I had the answers. And I thought about how much
I’d
hated not knowing the truth about my own daddy. The years I’d spent hoping he might come back, while my mind meandered all kinds of crazy directions trying to guess the truth about what had really happened to him. And I figured that’s probably what Ramsay’s mind had been doing too—coming up with all kinds of guesses about why his daddy had stopped writing him. He was sick, one of the prisoners had done something awful to him … he didn’t love him anymore. And even though I knew the truth would hurt, it wouldn’t hurt as bad as all the guessing.

I glanced over my shoulder. The hall buzzed with the hub-bub of a hundred kids, but I still hushed my voice anyhow. “I’m not ‘sposed to tell you this. But your daddy got himself in trouble. He attacked a guard last month, and he’s in solitary.”

Ramsay’s mouth dropped open, and he stumbled back into the path of a tall, skinny kid with a Spiderman back pack. “Watch out,” the kid growled.

Ramsay blinked, startled, before turning back to me. “But he wouldn’t do that! He’s tryin’ to be good so he gets out next year.”

I shrugged. “Well, he did. Don’t know why. But he’s in solitary for now, so he can’t get mail or make phone calls or anything.”

“For how long?”

“Don’t know. My step-dad said it could be a while.”

Ramsay’s throat bobbed out as he swallowed, then he ducked his head so his bangs slid over his face, but not before I saw his eyes get blurry.

Heat rushed to my cheeks. I felt real bad for him, but not bad enough to let the other kids see me talking to him while he was crying. “Sorry,” I mumbled. Then I shouldered past him into Mrs. Holloway’s classroom.

I figured I could say something to make him feel better when we got together to read, but I never got the chance. Not long after the bell rang Ramsay told Mrs. Holloway he felt achy all over and asked if he could go to the office and call his mom.

Watching him walk out left me with a heavy feeling in my belly, like something important had been interrupted and left dangling. The feeling only got worse as Ramsay’s desk sat empty on Tuesday, and again on Wednesday.

Mrs. Holloway said he probably had the stomach bug going around, but I knew it wasn’t his stomach that hurt, it was his heart. And it made me a little sick myself that I’d told him the truth. Ben was right. I should’ve kept my mouth shut instead of getting mixed up in something that didn’t concern me.

By the time Ginger and I got off the bus Wednesday afternoon, I’d made up my mind to try and find Ramsay’s phone number so I could check on him. I wanted him to come back to school, I just didn’t want anyone
else
to know I wanted him to come back. I traipsed across the yard, plotting ways to get rid of Ginger for a few minutes when Ben poked his head out from the garage. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey, Daddy,” Ginger said.

“How was school?”
“Fine. But I’m starving now. Gotta get a snack.” She bounded up the porch steps ahead of me.

“Piper Lee?” Ben said. I turned to glance at him, and he wiggled a finger at me. “Come on over here a minute.”

I froze, with one foot on the bottom step. He didn’t sound mad exactly, but he didn’t sound none too happy either, and all my nerves wrapped themselves into a tight ball under my ribs. Ginger hustled through the screen door ahead of me, and I suspected she hadn’t heard a thing.

I crossed toward him with cautious steps, and he disappeared back inside the garage, leaving me no choice but to follow. The coolness of the garage felt good against my hot skin. But Ben fixed me with a hard look that made the nice feeling go away.

He pulled an envelope from the chest pocket of his shirt. “Guess what came in the mail today?”

Beads of sweat broke out on my forehead as I stared at the envelope. I didn’t have a clue what it might mean, but I was willing to bet it was nothing good. “What?” I said.

Ben smacked the envelope against the palm of his hand. “It’s from that boy in your class—Ramsay Tate. He sent me a letter to give his daddy.”

I took a step back. I couldn’t believe it. A strange little squeak came from my throat. “He … did?”

“Yep. You talked to him, didn’t ya?”

I nodded, because what else was there to do?

“What’d you tell him?”

“Just … what you told me.”

“I also recall telling you to stay out of it.”

He put a little lilt on the last few words, like it was a question, but I knew it wasn’t. “I had to tell him something,” I said. “He kept begging me to ask you ’bout it.”

Ben looked off into the air above my head a minute, then he leveled his gaze at me. “You know, Piper Lee, I’m not trying to take the place of your dad. I wish you’d quit fightin’ me at every turn.”

And right that very second I totally forgot about Ramsay. In fact, every thought in my head disappeared, except for just one—how Ben could be so wrong about me, about how I felt, about what I wanted.

“But I’m not,” I whispered. “I’m not tryin’ to fight you.”

Ben sniffed and raised his eyebrows, like it was the biggest, bold face lie he’d ever heard. “Oh yeah? Well, what would you call it then?”

I locked my knees in place to keep from crumpling onto the cement floor. Ben had just provided absolute proof of what I’d feared most—he thought I was a pain, and all I did was make his life hard.

“I just felt sorry for Ramsay,” I whispered. “I didn’t want him thinkin’ his daddy didn’t love him anymore.” And that’s all the words I could squeeze out before my throat closed and the tears came. And I ducked my head and let them come, because I didn’t have even an ounce of energy to fight them.

Ben didn’t say anything for what felt like a long while. But when he finally spoke again, his voice was softer. “I can respect your reason,” he said, “but sometimes you need to think things through a little more, Piper Lee, think about how what you do affects other people. Cause this situation leaves me in a real pickle. I can’t give Mr. Tate any mail while he’s in solitary, and I can’t get involved with Ramsay either. So that means you’re gonna have to explain it to him.”