Dorothy Garlock (36 page)

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Authors: More Than Memory

BOOK: Dorothy Garlock
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Kelly made no attempt to move even when Nelda went hesitantly into the room and lifted the edge of the blanket with the end of the walking stick.
“Oh, oh! Forever more. Where in the world did you come from?”
Coherent thought left her when she saw a rather large head resting on a small, folded arm. The face beneath the shaggy hair was so horribly ugly that she shuddered involuntarily at the sight. The head moved and the face turned toward Nelda. Extremely small, dark eyes opened to look up at her. She tried not to show her shock on seeing the flat face with the high, wide forehead, the small pug nose, and the mouth with the slash in the upper lip that looked like something from a horror movie. From his size, she judged this was a boy, but she could not tell how old he was.
“Hello.”
Nelda forced herself to smile and stoop down beside the rug. The small person sat up, cringed away, wrapped his arms around Kelly’s neck, and clung to the dog. Kelly whined as if begging Nelda to accept
the child. A wet tongue came out to swipe across the flat, deformed face.
Nelda was astonished at Kelly’s behavior. He had liked Eric, but had not reacted to him in such a protective way.
“Hello,” Nelda said again. She held out her hand. “How did you get here? Are you cold?” The flat, black eyes continued to stare at her. Her heart melted with pity for the small defenseless creature.
Maybe he can’t hear or speak
.
After a long silence, Nelda stood and went over to close the basement door, shutting off the cold draft flowing into the kitchen. How had this child managed to get into her house? She went back to where he sat on the mat with Kelly and smiled down at him.
“Would you like a cup of warm chocolate? I would. It’s cold in here.”
Nelda took the milk from the refrigerator and poured some of it into a saucepan. Out of the corner of her eyes she watched the boy. His arms slipped from around Kelly and wrapped around the blanket. His eyes stayed on her.
When the milk was warm, she carried the pan to the table and poured the milk into two cups so that the child could see what she was doing. She spooned Ovaltine from the can she had bought for Eric into the milk and stirred. Smiling, she motioned to the cup, then sat down across the table and sipped the warm drink.
“This is good. Come drink yours while it’s warm. Kelly, do you want a cookie?”
Nelda reached into the bowl of dog biscuits and held out the treat. It was too much of a temptation for Kelly. He got up and came to take it from her fingers. She stroked the dog’s head to keep him beside her while she watched the child sitting on the rug.
When he got up and stood uncertainly beside Kelly’s pallet, she kept the smile on her face despite the shock of seeing the short arms and legs. She pushed the cup toward him in invitation when he took a few steps toward the table, dragging the blanket with him. Keeping his eyes on her, he climbed up onto the chair and reached for the cup with both hands. As he drank, the chocolate dripped down his chin.
Nelda brought bread, butter, and peanut butter to the table. Without looking at him, she spread a slice, cut it in two pieces, and placed it on a plate in front of him. Although she wasn’t sure she could choke it down, she fixed a slice for herself.
“What’s your name?” She spread another slice of bread because the one she had given him was almost gone. “My name is Nelda. His name is Kelly.” She gave the dog a crust from the bread. “I bet your name is Johnny.”
The child shook his head.
“Billy? George? Herbert? Andrew?” He continued to shake his head. At least he can hear, Nelda thought. “No? Let me see . . . oh, I know. Your name is Santa Claus!”
What could pass for a smile stretched the boy’s mouth.
“A . . . l . . . n”
“Alan?” Nelda wished that she hadn’t made it sound like a question.
He nodded and reached for the slice of bread. Pity for the small boy swamped her. She glanced at the clock. It was four o’clock in the morning.
Why aren’t people out beating the bushes looking for this child?

 

 

C
hapter
T
wenty-two
“C
HIEF
L
ARSEN
? T
HIS IS
N
ELDA
H
ANSON
. Y
OU
came out to my farm to get Linda when her husband was killed. Your dispatcher said she would ring you at home when I told her it was urgent that I speak to you.”
“What can I do for you, Mrs. Hanson?”
“I know that this is out of your jurisdiction, but I’ve got a child here who has been in my basement all night and I think all day yesterday.”
“A child?”
“I
think
he’s a child. It’s hard to tell. He said his name is Alan. He’s . . . ah . . . terribly handicapped.”
“If he’s who I think he is, his name is Alan Oliver, and his folks live over on Lute Hanson’s farm.”
“Why in the world do they let him wander around when it’s ten degrees above zero? He’s been in my house before. I’ve noticed things moved in the house, and he has a blanket that I found in my garage last September and left on my porch.”
“You don’t need to be afraid of him. I’ve never heard of him hurting even a fly.”
“I’m not afraid of him. Right now he’s sleeping on my couch. Poor little thing was hungry and cold. I’m just angry that his folks don’t take better care of him.”
“Do you want me to call his folks and tell them where he is?”
“I’d appreciate it, Chief Larsen. It’s the strangest thing. I’m quite sure that Alan has been around here quite a few times when I was unaware of it. My dog, who is usually very protective, loves him and didn’t make a sound when he came up out of the basement last night to sleep on the rug beside the door.”
“Animals are sometimes more sensitive to physical frailties than people are. I’ll give the Olivers a call.”
“Thank you, Chief Larsen.”
Nelda had made a bed on the couch for Alan. She had coaxed him to take off his coat and boots. When he lay down he still hugged the dirty gray blanket though she covered him with a soft clean one. Sitting beside him, she smoothed the hair back from his face and spoke softly to him.
“Go to sleep. Kelly and I will be here.”
Responding to her kindness his hand came out and grasped hers. She took it between her palms and held it until he went to sleep.
Sometime later she saw car lights coming down the lane, and she rehearsed what she was going to
say to a parent who let a child like this wander a mile or more away from home.
She heard the footsteps on the porch. When she looked through the door pane it was Lute’s face she saw before she jerked open the door.
“You do get around.”
“Nels called me because the Olivers are not at home. Do you have any coffee?” Lute came into the kitchen and closed the door.
“I’m not serving this morning. Does Alan’s father work for you?”
“He does. You’ve seen him over here tending to the horses.”
“This child should be taken away from people who don’t take any better care of him than to let him wander over the countryside when it’s ten degrees above zero.”
“His folks take care of him. Their daughter was killed in a car-train crash yesterday morning up near Mankato. They left him here with his sister Vicky. She is sixteen and going over fool’s hill. She didn’t come home last night, so she didn’t know that Alan had wandered away.”
“This wasn’t the first time he’s been here. He’s been here so many times that Kelly knows him. I want to know how he gets in. If he can get into my house with the doors locked, others can.”
“I don’t know how he got in. Why don’t you ask him.”
“So far all he’s said was his name.”
“It’s seven o’clock. If you’re not going to offer me coffee, I’ll take Alan and go.”
“Leave him where he is if his folks aren’t home. He was tired and hungry and cold.”
“He didn’t scare you?”
“I was scared when I thought someone was in the house. When I saw him, I was shocked at first, but I was not scared of a poor little boy.”
“He’s eighteen years old.”
“He’s a little boy in his mind. I’ll bet that on the inside he feels the same as any other little boy. It’s on the outside that he’s different.” Nelda tilted her chin up and glared at him.
“His folks love him and take care of him.”
“Yeah, sure.” Her voice was heavy with sarcasm. “If you want to be the good Samaritan
again
,” — she emphasized the word—“go find his irresponsible sister and bring her over here. I’d like to give her a piece of my mind. And there’s another thing—”
“—I thought there would be,” Lute said dryly.
“I don’t appreciate it that you didn’t tell me about him. He’s been in my garage, in my car, on my porch, in my basement. The least you could have done, as caretaker of the vicinity, was to have told me that there was someone in the area like Alan.”
“I didn’t know he had been over here, Nelda, so get down off your high horse.”
“Good-bye, Lute. I’m going to take a nap while Alan is asleep. You can come back later.”
“Have you been sick? You’ve lost weight.”
“I’m not sick. I’m tired. Too much night life.”
“Lived it up in Minneapolis. Huh?”
“Of course. Why do you think I went up there?”
Lute shook his head. “I thought you were smart
enough to see through Smithfield. He’s a womanizer, for God’s sake. It’s what he’s always been. A leopard can’t change his spots even for you.”
“Don’t you dare say anything bad about Norris.” Nelda’s eyes blazed. “You don’t know him at all. You want to think the worst of him because he’s charming and he’s rich. He’s one of the nicest men I’ve ever met, and that includes you, Lute.”
“He’s not capable of anything . . . permanent.”
“I’m not looking for anything permanent. I’ll never marry again. Remember the old saying, ‘A burnt child dreads the fire’?”
“So you’d live with him?”
“He hasn’t asked me.”
“But you would if he did?”
“Maybe.”
“So that’s the way the wheel turns.”
“Take it any way you want. He’s my friend. I can depend on him.”
“And not on me. Is that it?”
“That’s it, Lute. You have your priorities, and I have mine. Now please leave. Come back for Alan this afternoon.”
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you. You’ve changed.”
“You’ve said that before. I have changed.” She turned to go into the living room, then turned back. “On second thought, come for Alan at noon. I promised to work at the library this afternoon.”
“You’ve taken a job there?”
“Only for three weeks, then I’m out of here.”
Lute went out to his truck wondering how things could have gotten into such a hell of a mess so fast.
• • •
Rhetta came into the library and asked Nelda to come to her house on Saturday and help make decorations for the Valentine’s Day dance to be held in a couple of weeks.
“Oh, I don’t think I’ll be able to, Rhetta. I think I’m coming down with a cold.” It wasn’t a contrived excuse. She hadn’t felt well for several days.
“You’re off the hook, love. Get the sniffles behind you, because we’re not going to let you miss out on the Winter Dance Party at the Surf. Buddy Holly and the Crickets will be there on February 2.”
“I’m not much of a rock and roller, Rhetta.”
“Honey, the Big Bopper will be there . . . and Richie Valens. You can’t miss it.”
“When did you say it was, Rhetta?”
“February 2. Mark it on your calendar.”
“I’ll mark it on the calendar, Rhetta, but I can’t promise to go.”

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