June Bug (5 page)

“Your dad’s a smart man. No, he wasn’t wearing a helmet.”

Her closet was full of clothes in neat piles on shelves or hanging up and there were all sorts of colors. Probably one to match every one of those fingernail colors. I wondered what it would be like to have all this room for your stuff, and then I thought about what dad had said. “Do you have a mortgage?”

She shook her head. “A couple of years before my husband passed, he bought an insurance policy that paid the house off if he died.”

That seemed like a lucky break to me, except that he died of course. “So you’re not tied down to a mortgage?”

“No, that’s one thing I don’t have to worry about. There are still enough bills, though, and Walter nearly eats my whole paycheck each month.”

From what my dad had said, living in a house was a bad thing. But as the miles rolled on, I’d look out at all those houses passing by and wonder, if it was such a great idea to live in an RV, why didn’t everybody live in one? I’d see these big white houses in Kentucky with the white fences and wonder what it would feel like to go to bed inside something that never moved and didn’t need parts. Then, because my mind tends to jump from one thing to another without a whole lot of warning, I wondered if my mother lived in a house and if she was waiting for me. Or maybe she’d gone out riding without a helmet like Sheila’s husband.

Across the way a horse blew some air through its lips, and I stared out the window at them. This whole setup didn’t seem bad at all.

“Who owns that farm over there?” I said.

“Mr. Taylor’s there alone. His wife passed last winter.”

All of a sudden I got an idea that we could trade Mr. Taylor the RV for his farm and he could go out on the road. You can meet a lot of people when you’re traveling.

“You said something about liking horses last night,” Sheila said.

“Oh yeah, they’re just about my most favoritest thing in the world, except for little dogs.”

She stood and looked out the window. “Well, maybe I can take you over there this weekend and he’d let you ride one.”

“You really think so?”

“Maybe we’d need to soften him up a bit with some homemade apple pie or some nut bread, but I think we could arrange it.”

She smiled and put a hand on my head, and it was the best feeling I’d had in a long time. I couldn’t resist hugging her right then and there and burying my head in her side. Her perfume smelled so good I didn’t want to let go.

Sheila turned and gasped. My dad stood in the doorway.

“I didn’t hear you come up the stairs,” she said. She didn’t know that he has a way of creeping around without anybody noticing. I don’t know how he does it or where he learned it, but it’s an unfair advantage when we’re playing hide-and-seek at a campground.

“The parts place said they lost the order. Just fell through the cracks, I guess. It’s going to be another few days. They can FedEx it, but that’ll cost at least—”

“Don’t spend that extra money; that’s silly,” Sheila interrupted. “You can stay here for as long as you’d like. I’ve got plenty of room.”

I could tell by the look on his face that the idea wasn’t going to fly, so I quickly spoke. “You should see the house, Dad. She has so many books it would take me years to go through them all. Lots of the classics you like. Plus, she said that Mr. Taylor will let me—”

“Hold on, June Bug. We have our own place. We’re not putting Sheila out any more than we already have.”

“I don’t mind,” she said. “There are two bedrooms up here not being used. One downstairs. You can sleep there and she’ll sleep on this level.”

Dad shook his head. “I don’t want to impose. You’ve done enough.”

“Nonsense. It’s no trouble. You’re just parking your RV. And you might as well take advantage of this old house before it starts falling apart.”

I was still hanging on to my dream of riding those horses, so when he said, “We’ll stay in the RV. If I could hook up to your electricity, that would be great,” I ran over to him and hugged him.

“She’s making pepperoni pizza for us.”

“Suit yourself,” Sheila said. And then she walked downstairs real fast.

He looked at her bedroom like it was some lost jungle where there might be a city of gold. Then he spoke in a quiet voice and took my hand. “Don’t get too attached to things around here, you understand? We might have to leave quick.”

“I want to ride the horses. She said I could.”

“Just don’t get too attached.”

Sheila gave me raspberry lemonade with my pizza and she offered Dad coffee or tea, but he just had the lemonade and she did too.

After supper, I went outside on the porch and sat next to Walter and rubbed his head while they stayed in the kitchen. I was watching some old bird fly from a pine tree to the fence and then over to the barn. It had black wings with white around, and it made a screeching noise. I think it’s called a magpie, but I’m not sure.

“How does she do school?” Sheila said.

I moved close to the window so I could hear more.

“I homeschool her. Actually, I RV school her.”

Sheila laughed. “Well, it looks like you’ve done a good job. She’s as smart as Einstein and cuter than a button.”

“To be honest, I don’t have to do much. She tears through books like there’s no tomorrow. I wish there was a way I could get her hooked up with a library, but moving around doesn’t lend itself to that.”

There was a pause. There are times when you want to turn up the volume on life and times when you want to turn it down and times when you just want to turn it off. This was a volume-up time for me. I guess Sheila was taking her time, thinking about what she was going to say because she didn’t speak very loud when she did talk again.

“I don’t want to overstep my bounds . . .”

“Didn’t bother you in the parking lot last night.”

Sheila laughed again. “A girl that age, moving toward this part of her childhood . . . It’s important for her to learn girl things. Like how to cook and how to make a bed and learn some things about the house.”

“She knows how to cook a few things.”

“I’m not criticizing your parenting. It’s just that there are some things a woman needs to teach a young girl. Things she should pick up from another woman. Has it been a long time since her mama was around?”

Another pause. “It’s been a while.”

I heard the refrigerator open and close and the clink of dishes.

“I expect that manager of yours thinks you’re crazy letting us stay here,” my dad said.

“He’s not somebody I go to for advice on life, if you know what I mean.”

Dad laughed.

“He cares, I guess. Thinks you might be bad news.”

“And what do you think?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. He actually let us stay longer than I thought he would. Can’t blame him for being cautious. This the first time you picked up a couple of strays?”

“It is. Except for Walter, of course. And he’s a keeper.”

I had bugged Dad about a dog for a long time, and he said it wasn’t fair to bring an animal into a life like ours. Now, petting Walter and seeing him close his eyes in pleasure at my touch made me want to have a dog all the more.

“She can’t go over to a friend’s house to play,” Sheila said. “I see her walking the aisles of the store, just staring at other girls. I’m not trying to be hard on you—you’ve done the best you can—but there are some things a father can’t give. Some things only a mother can.”

I listened close, thinking Dad was going to run out of there, but he didn’t.

Then Sheila spoke again. “She’s shown an interest in the horse farm next door. Is it okay if I talk with the owner about letting her ride?”

Walter put his head up.

“I don’t think we’re going to be here long enough to do much riding.”

“It might take a few days for that part, though. And on the weekends I help Mr. Taylor clean his barn. If she helped, I suppose he’d let her ride as a fair trade. It teaches responsibility, that an animal comes with hard work—”

“I can see why you’re in retail. You’re good at sales.”

Sheila chuckled. “I really think it would be good for her.”

“Let me think about it.”

Another pause. Then my dad said, “I was noticing a few loose shingles on the roof. You get a lot of wind out here, don’t you?”

“Blows like a hurricane in the winter and spring.”

“I’d like to repair those for you if you’d let me. I can’t pay you for the hookup and for parking in your driveway . . .”

“There’ll be none of that. I invited you here as a friend. I’m not hearing any talk about payment. That’s like a slap in the face.”

“All right, but let me work on the roof. And if that Mr. Taylor would let me help in the barn, I’d do that too.”

“So she can ride?”

“Yeah, I guess it’ll be okay. Just don’t let her get too attached to those horses. She’s probably already named them.”

Walter put his head down, and his leg moved in a phantom scratch. I guess I hit the spot with him, and Dad’s words made me feel the same way.

“You a handyman?”

“I can fix a thing or two.”

“Writers do that sort of thing?”

“Writers do what they have to.”

Walter’s ears went up and he loped off through the yard. I wanted to follow him, but the conversation was too interesting. There was a long pause, and I figured Sheila was getting ready to back the question truck up and unload.

“What happened to her mama?” Sheila said. “Did she pass away? If it’s something you don’t want to talk about, I understand.”

“It’s complicated. Let’s just say I was put in a position I didn’t expect. You know, being a father and all wasn’t what I had planned.”

“But it’s grown on you.”

“Yeah, I guess it has.”

“So her mother isn’t dead.”

“Not that I know of.”

“You haven’t spoken with her? Does she know where her daughter is?”

“Look, I appreciate what you’re doing. I don’t know where we’d be if you hadn’t extended your kindness.”

A chair moved back.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, you have a right to know what you want to know.”

“Sit down, please. I ask too many questions.”

The chair creaked with his weight again. “Why don’t we talk about you?”

“What do you want to know?”

“Something easy. Like why you’re out here all alone.”

“I like it here. It’s peaceful. It’s paid for. It’s not far from work. It’s the best of both worlds. Out in the country but close to civilization.”

“It is nice, but that doesn’t explain why you’re alone. I know your husband died, but that was a while ago, right?”

“True. And I knew it was going to happen. It was a matter of time and whether he was going to give control to God or Budweiser. But it’s hard to move on after something like that.”

“You a religious person?”

“I try not to be religious. That sounds stuck-up. Like you just follow rules. I read somebody once who said religion is man’s way to God. We make a list to follow that makes us good people in our own eyes, but we don’t take into account what God wants.”

“I read the Bible every now and then.”

“Why?”

“Guess I’m looking for guidance. You know, like there might be something in there for me.”

“Guidance for what?”

“Which way to go. What to do with her. That kind of stuff. I’ve never been a churchgoer. It’s hard on the road to do that type of thing.”

“Still, it seems like you want to give her something spiritual.”

“I bought her a Bible storybook a while back. We’d read it at bedtime. David and Goliath. Daniel and the lions. She devoured it. She read the whole thing in one night.”

“That’s good. Shows she’s hungry.”

“Part of my dilemma. I can tell there’re some things I can’t give her. Things a little girl deserves. But I can’t let her go either.”

I’d never heard Dad talk about stuff like this. Was this what it was like to have a father and a mother? two people who cared about you?

“What are you running from?” Sheila said.

“Excuse me?” Dad said, almost choking on whatever it was he was drinking.

The two of them laughed until Sheila said, “It just seems like you’d want to settle down. If you’re this anonymous guy driving around the country, you must be running from something.”

“What’s the difference in us out on the road and you here in this big old house by yourself?”

“Maybe everybody is running from something inside. It’s just a little more obvious for you.”

“You’re probably right,” Dad said. “Only it gets really hard to run anywhere when your engine part is sitting on a shelf in Michigan.”

“Sleep here in the house,” Sheila said all of a sudden. “No strings. The downstairs is all yours. You can close the door down there.”