A Piece of Heaven (7 page)

My brother nodded.

“Where are your parents?” the policeman asked.

“Not here,” Otis muttered.

“Put your hands behind your back,” the policeman ordered. Then the officer put handcuffs on him. “You have the right to remain silent…,” the policeman began.

I stood there as if in a dream. He was telling Otis his rights, just like in some scene on television. Then, just like that, he was leading my brother away down the stairs. My brother had been arrested!

“Wait!” I cried. “Where are you going with him?”

Otis craned his neck and glanced up at me over his shoulder. “Don’t tell Ma,” he pleaded.

My legs wobbled. Nirvana hugged me. Dill was leaning against the wall, and Mrs. Brown was standing in her doorway. I didn’t know how long she’d been watching.

“I told your mother I couldn’t keep up with him,” she muttered sorrowfully. “Going out all hours of the day and night.”

“It must be a mistake!” I cried.

A different officer came upstairs.

“Where’s my brother?” I asked. Tears were streaming out of my eyes.

“We’re taking him in,” he said, striding into the apartment.

“Why are you going into my apartment?” I whimpered.

Dill touched my arm. “Hush, Haley.”

“Yes, let the officer do what he needs to,” Mrs. Brown said.

I pulled away and ran down the stairs. Dill and Nirvana followed me.

The crowd on the sidewalk had gotten bigger.

“There he is,” Nirvana whispered, pointing to the police car parked across the street. I spied Otis and Reggie seated in the back. Reggie looked a lot older.

“Why are they arresting him?” I cried. I made my way across the street, with Nirvana and Dill on either side of me.

“Reggie was selling hot clothes,” Dill explained. “Selling expensive dresses and stuff that he and his friends had ripped off.”

“But Otis didn’t know that!” I cried. “Otis wouldn’t steal anything!”

Venturing through the crowd, I tapped on the window of the police car. Otis turned to me sadly. “Go away!” I could hear him through the glass. “Go home, Haley!”

The officer who had gone up to our apartment came past with an armful of clothes. Dill pulled me out of the way.

“Where are you taking him?” I asked the officer.

“Tell your mother to call the precinct,” he directed.

“What are you going to do to him?” I persisted.

“We’re going to ask him some questions,” the policeman said calmly.

“Come on, Haley,” Nirvana said, pulling me gently. I tried to say good-bye to Otis, but he refused to look in my direction. I wandered back across the street and stood with Dill and Nirvana in front of my building. The officer getting the clothes made two more trips. On the last trip, I spotted the white princess dress. Finally, the officer carrying the clothes got into the front of the car with his partner. Then the car took off. Slouched low in the back next to his friend Reggie, my brother didn’t look out at me. Dill put an arm around my shoulder.

“Hang in, little chick.”

“What are we going to do?” I whispered.

Nirvana held my hand tightly. “You have to tell your mother. Otis will need a lawyer.”

“I can’t. Otis said not to.”

“Maybe he’ll beat the rap,” Dill said. “Maybe Reggie will take the blame on himself. Otis was probably just following after him.”

“Otis is only fifteen,” Nirvana said hopefully. “Maybe they’ll let him go. Maybe they just took him in to teach him a lesson.”

“Maybe the policemen just want to ask Otis some questions,” I added, perking up.

Dill smiled. “Maybe in a couple of hours, he’ll come sailing right home.”

“Come on in here, Haley,” Mrs. Brown called down from her window. She’d been watching from her apartment. “Hanging out will just give people something more to talk about.”

“I’ll be up in a minute.” I turned to Nirvana. “Tell me what to do.”

“Your mother ought to know,” Nirvana advised. “That’s her son, after all.”

“And the police told you to have her call,” Dill reminded me. “You should go and tell her.”

“Ma doesn’t like me visiting,” I said with a swallow.

“Is your ma getting calmed down some?” Dill asked.

“I think so. No telling how she’ll take this news about Otis, though.” My mouth went dry.

“Will you go to the hospital with me?” I choked, tightening my grip on Nirvana’s hand.

“I wish I could. I can’t take off from work,” she said. “I’ll be late as it is, if I don’t get moving.”

“I can’t go, either,” said Dill. “Sorry.”

I glanced up at Mrs. Brown. “Are you coming inside?” she called down.

“Maybe Grandma could go with you,” Nirvana suggested. “You can take a taxi. It’s hard for her to walk.”

“Or you could call your mother on the telephone,” advised Dill. “Break the news to her that way.”

“Or wait to see what happens and call her later,” Nirvana piped up.

“I could go to the police precinct and wait for Otis,” I ventured nervously.

“They might ask you a lot of questions if you show up at the station by yourself,” Dill objected.

“About what?” I asked, bewildered. “I didn’t steal anything.”

“You’re thirteen years old and practically living by yourself,” Dill reminded me.

“So what?” I said with a shrug.

“They might not like that,” Dill advised.

Nirvana and Dill hugged me and walked down the street. I felt completely alone. I sucked in my breath and turned in to the building.

When I got to the top of the stairs, Mrs. Brown was standing in the hallway. “Poor Haley,” she said, wagging her head. “That brother of yours is a pure scamp. I feel so sorry for you, child.” She clucked her tongue. “I feel so sorry for that poor mother of yours.”

“Can we do something for Otis?” I asked weakly.

She pursed her lips. “He and that Reggie got themselves into trouble. Let them get themselves out. As if your poor mother hasn’t got enough problems! I’ll call her now and break the news.”

“No, don’t!” I blurted out. “I’ll tell her myself, in person. I’m worried about how she’ll take it over the telephone.”

“Let me know before you leave,” Mrs. Brown said, edging into her doorway. “Maybe I can go along with you in a taxicab.” She shook her head. “That brother of yours, selling hot clothes. A couple of degenerates—that’s what those boys are.”

Tears sprang to my eyes. I hung my head. I’d called Otis a degenerate once, too. But I’d been kidding. “He’s not a degenerate, Mrs. Brown,” I cried. “He’s my brother. He’s my brother, no matter what he’s done!”

“Try to keep calm, Haley,” Mrs. Brown said gently.

“Okay,” I said, trying to pull myself together.

She went inside and shut her door. The door to my own apartment was still wide open.

“Don’t let this be real,” I murmured, stepping inside. “Please, let this be a bad dream.”

It wasn’t a dream, though. My brother had been arrested, and I had to tell my mother about it. And I didn’t want to do it alone. I didn’t want to wait until visiting hours at three o’ clock and go to the hospital with Mrs. Brown, either. But there was someone else I could turn to.

CHAPTER SIX

I stood outside Jackson’s house and rang the bell. He opened the door right away. His hair was sticking up as if he’d been napping.

“Come inside,” he said in a gentle voice. “Tell me what happened.”

I followed him indoors and took a seat in a chair next to the piano. My stomach was churning.

“You sounded upset on the phone,” said Jackson. “Has your mother gotten worse?”

“She—she might be pretty soon,” I stammered. “There’s this problem with my brother. When Ma finds out, I don’t know what she’ll do.”

“What sort of problem does Otis have?” he asked.

I swallowed. “He got arrested.”

Jackson looked shocked. “Why? How?”

“It’s a long story. But I’m sure he’s innocent. My mother has to get him a lawyer. But if I go to the hospital and tell her, she might really go crazy. She’s so depressed as it is.” I paused to catch a breath. “Ma was just getting better.”

Jackson tapped his foot. “When are visiting hours?”

“Not until three o’ clock,” I said with a moan. “I think I should go now, though. Otis needs Ma’s help right away.”

“Can you telephone your mother’s doctor? He might let you visit earlier.”

“I don’t know who he is,” I said helplessly. “Jackson, I’ve got to do something quick! The police have my brother.”

“We’ll go directly to the hospital,” he said, picking his keys up off the front table. “If we can’t see your mother right away, we’ll wait until three.”

I bit my lip to keep from crying. “Okay. Thanks.”

He laid a hand on my shoulder. “How about a little breather before we leave? I’ll get you some orange juice.”

I nodded.

He rounded the corner to the kitchen and returned with a glass of juice and a couple of tissues. I blew my nose and drank the juice quickly.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Scared.” I sighed.

“Did the police come to your apartment?”

I nodded.

“That must have been very scary,” he agreed, holding his hand out to me.

“Can you help my brother?” I begged, grasping his hand.

“I’m not sure,” said Jackson. “I will do what I can to help you, though,” he promised.

We took off for the hospital, which was only a short walk from Jackson’s.

“Sorry to ask you to do this,” I said, bumping along next to him. “You don’t even know my family.”

“I don’t mind helping out,” Jackson assured me.

“My neighbor Mrs. Brown might have gone with me later,” I rattled on, “but I didn’t want to wait. Besides, I think Mrs. Brown hates Otis.”

“I’m glad you called me, Haley,” he said, giving my hand a squeeze. “We’re friends.”

When we got to the hospital, the receptionist at the front desk smiled at me. I smiled back weakly. “Do you think that I can visit a patient?” I asked.

She shook her head. “It’s a little early for visiting hours.”

“It’s an emergency,” I explained. “I need to tell my mother something.”

“Sorry,” the receptionist said. “I can’t let you go up without special permission.”

“The nurses have met me before,” I insisted. “They’ll let me come up.”

“Maybe we should wait until three o’ clock,” Jackson said, stepping in. “I’ll wait with you down here in the lobby.”

“I can’t wait,” I said, stamping my foot. “Can I talk to somebody in the admitting office?” I begged the receptionist. “My mother works there. She has a friend named Sylvia.”

“I’ll put you through,” the receptionist agreed. She dialed an extension and handed the phone to me. Luckily, Sylvia picked up.

“It’s me—Haley,” I blurted out. “I really need to see my mother right away, and they won’t let me.”

“Is there some kind of an emergency?” Sylvia asked in alarm.

“Yes. It’s about Otis. Can you ask somebody to let me up? My boss is with me. We’re standing at the reception desk.”

“Stay right there,” said Sylvia. “I’ll put you on hold and speak to the nursing station.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Sorry for all the fuss,” I told the receptionist.

Sylvia got back on. “You can go up, Haley. The nurses gave permission. Let me speak to the receptionist.”

“Thanks, Sylvia.”

I handed the phone to the receptionist and we hurried toward the elevators.

“Somebody has connections around here,” Jackson quipped, striding along next to me. We stepped into the elevator and went up. When the doors slid open on the fourth floor, Ma was standing there. I rushed into her arms. She gave me a hug.

“The nurses told me that you were on your way up,” she said softly.

Jackson was standing a little ways behind me.

“This is Jackson, the man I’ve been working for,” I told Ma.

“Pleased to meet you,” Ma said. “Thank you for giving Haley a summer job.”

“She’s a good worker,” said Jackson.

Ma motioned me toward a circle of chairs to the left of the elevator. “Let’s go over here.” Ma and I sat down and Jackson stood close by.

“You aren’t crying,” I remarked.

“I think that my tear ducts have stopped working,” she said matter-of-factly. She stared down at her hand. “I’ve broken a fingernail.” I peered at her hand politely.

I took a deep breath. “Ma, something bad happened to Otis.” My voice was shaking.

She nodded slowly. “I know. I got a call.”

“You know about it?” I exclaimed in surprise. “But you don’t seem upset.”

“I’m upset,” she admitted in a flat voice. “I’m just trying to keep it together.”

I looked into her eyes. All the light had gone out of them. Ma wasn’t crying the way she had been, but now she seemed like a robot!

“So, is Otis coming home?” I asked hopefully.

“No. I think they’re taking him to some facility for juveniles,” she reported.

“You’re letting them do that!” I cried.

“There will probably be a trial.”

“But he’s innocent!” I protested.

She sighed. “He confessed,” she said helplessly.

“Otis isn’t a thief,” I insisted.

“He didn’t steal the clothes, but he knew they were stolen,” Ma explained in a quiet voice. “He and some other boys were selling them at the incense stand. He was mixed up in the whole racket.”

“So, that’s that?” I choked. “He’s guilty, so you’re letting them keep him?”

Ma stared at her fingernail. “This thing is hurting,” she whispered. “There’s not much more I can do for Otis, as long as I’m here,” she said, gazing up at me.

“Then come home,” I demanded. Jackson stepped in closer.

A few tears glistened in Ma’s eyes. “The medication was supposed to make me less depressed, but I didn’t count on something like this,” she said, standing up. She reached for me. “I love you. I’ll call you later.”

“If I can do anything to help,” Jackson offered, “please let me know, Mrs. Moon.”

“Thanks,” said Ma. “I’m hoping to be discharged before long. And they’re sending a social worker to talk with me.” She gave me a distracted look. “So long, sweetheart. I’ll let you know when I hear anything.” She stared at her hand again, still crying. “Please excuse me. I’ll die if I don’t take care of this broken fingernail. Maybe one of the nurses can help me.”

She turned away from us and walked toward her room. My face got hot.

“Let’s go,” I said, slamming the elevator button. The elevator came, and we went back down. I kept my eyes straight ahead as we left the building. I pounded my fist into my hand. “I can’t believe it,” I muttered. “My brother is in jail, and all Ma could do is talk about her broken fingernail! Ma acted as if she doesn’t care about Otis at all!” I complained, trudging down the street.

“I’m sure your mother is very upset about your brother,” said Jackson.

“She didn’t act that way,” I spat out. “How can she talk about a broken fingernail at a time like this?”

“Sometimes when the big things seem like too much for us, we focus on the little stuff,” Jackson said quietly. “Or maybe your mother was just trying to keep it together, like she said.”

“Otis is the one who has to keep it together,” I fumed. “He’s rotting away in some jail!” My lip quivered. “If only I knew that Otis was all right!”

“Your mother will have some more news later on,” Jackson reminded me.

“If she can stop crying long enough to tell me about it,” I muttered.

He put his hand on my shoulder. “Let’s go back to my house and have some lunch. You’ll feel better if you eat something. Okay?”

I bowed my head. “I’m not hungry.”

“I don’t want you to be alone,” he insisted. “If you like, I can walk you back to Mrs. Brown’s.”

I shook my head.

“Is there a close relative we can call?”

“No one,” I said quietly.

“Then come with me,” Jackson said, putting a firm hand on my shoulder.

“What for?” I said with a sigh.

He gave me a little smile. “How about some weeding?”

“I don’t feel like it,” I moaned. “Besides, I can’t tell a weed from a flower.”

“There are no flowers in my yard, remember?” he quipped. “All that scrubby stuff along the fence is pure weeds. I know that you’re upset. But sometimes it helps to keep busy.”

“I don’t know…”

Jackson gave me a pat on the back. “I don’t have any students today. While you pull the weeds, I’ll dig out the dead grass. Don’t leave me in the lurch,” he cajoled.

“I don’t have anything better to do,” I mumbled, picking up my pace.

“That’s my girl,” said Jackson.

In spite of the rain that morning, the weeds seemed to be planted in cement. Jackson gave me a trowel to dig them out. I stabbed the earth and pried up the roots of one. Then I grabbed the weed by its throat and twisted as hard as I could and heaved it out. My knees stung and my hands were sore, but I kept on stabbing and prying and yanking and heaving. “Weeds are so stupid,” I murmured angrily.

Jackson worked in silence, clearing the dead lawn with a hoe.

“So, what do you think of my mother?” I muttered, digging my hands into the earth to help out the trowel.

Jackson wiped the sweat from his forehead. “She loves you.”

“She’s off her rocker,” I said snidely. “I still can’t believe the thing about the broken fingernail.”

Jackson listened patiently.

“If it hadn’t been for Ma, Otis might not have gotten into trouble,” I vented.

“How do you figure that?” Jackson asked, applying pressure to the hoe.

“If Ma hadn’t been in the hospital, Otis wouldn’t have had the nerve to stay mixed up with a bad person like Reggie.”

“Has your brother been in trouble before?” he asked.

“Not like this,” I said. “Ma was beginning to have a hard time controlling him,” I admitted. “But Otis wouldn’t have done it if Ma had been around.”

“I don’t think you can automatically blame your mother,” said Jackson. “It’s hard to figure out why people do the things they do.”

“Especially if the people are crazy,” I said, stalking over to the shed to get a big garbage bag.

“Your mother couldn’t control getting sick,” Jackson said quietly. “Mental illness is like any other illness. People don’t choose it.”

“I know,” I said, clenching my jaw. “Ma can’t help herself.”

Furiously, I began to stuff some weeds into the bag. “So, what’s Otis’s excuse? Why did he do the crazy stuff he did? Didn’t he realize that if he sold stolen clothes, he’d be caught eventually? And to think, I was so proud of him getting a job!”

I tied up the bag of weeds and dragged it to the edge of the yard. Jackson put down the hoe, and we sat under the tree. He offered me some bottled water and I took a swig.

“How do you feel?” Jackson asked.

“I’m not sure,” I answered, stretching out on the ground.

“You told me that you were scared,” Jackson ventured. “You sound angry, also.”

“I feel a lot of things,” I murmured. “Inside, I’m totally discomboomerated.”

Jackson lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t you mean
discombobulated
?”

“Discomboomerated,” I insisted, sitting up. “It means upset. It’s in my thesaurus. I’m feeling so many things that my whole body is booming.”

“Interesting,” Jackson said. “I’m not familiar with that word. But I certainly get what you’re talking about.”

“You probably think it’s wrong of me to be mad at Ma and Otis,” I challenged. “They’re both having such a bad time. But I can’t help being angry.”

“I’d be angry, too,” said Jackson. “Just because you’re mad at them doesn’t mean you don’t love them.”

A lump rose in my throat. I forced it down.

“Before she went into the hospital, Ma bought a ton of groceries. Otis joked that she thought that the world was coming to an end. Maybe she knew that she was going into a bad depression,” I said. “Maybe the world
is
ending,” I added.

“The world is not ending,” Jackson said in a gentle voice. “Lots of good things are in store for you.”

I looked into his eyes. He sounded so sure.

He stared out at the yard. “I think our project is shaping up,” he said.

“There’s no more mess,” I admitted, “and almost no weeds.”

“I’ve dug up most of the dead grass,” he pointed out. “All I have to do is rake it up.”

“It’s still not very pretty,” I muttered. “Maybe I can make something nice with the fieldstones.”

“It’s up to you,” Jackson said. “You have total artistic freedom.”

“I’m not much of an artist,” I said. “I like to paint in art class, but lots of other people are better than me.”

“I used to be an actor,” Jackson said with a little smile. “Lots of people were better than I was, too. But I still enjoyed it.”

“You were an actor?” I asked in surprise.

He nodded. “My wife and I had a little theater all our own, before Brielle was born.”

“Is that why you had that box of costumes in the shed?”

He nodded.

“What happened to your theater?” I asked curiously.

“We closed it,” he replied. “We couldn’t make enough money to keep it going.”

“Still, it was ambitious of you,” I commented.

Jackson chuckled. “You have a way with words. Did anybody ever tell you that?”

I shrugged.