Needle and Thread (15 page)

“They're all so skinny. Even Paw-Paw,” said Mae. “They really need the food.”

“I know.” Nikki thought of her dwindling funds. It wasn't easy for her to find ways to earn money. She lived too far out in the country to have a regular job in town, and anyway, she was too young to be hired for most jobs. Every now and then, her mother paid her to baby-sit for Mae, but mostly her mother didn't have any money of her own. Tobias sometimes offered to pay Nikki for helping him with one of his projects — repainting a car or fixing an engine — but Nikki knew he was only creating work for her; he could just as easily do those things on his own. The Shaws down the road were her main source of income. She often helped them with farm chores. Still, the bags of dog food were expensive, and Nikki could only afford to buy so many.

“What are you doing?”

A voice spoke loudly from the darkness, and Nikki and Mae jumped, Mae grabbing for Nikki's hand as Nikki tried to shove the dog food and dishes under a bush.

“Relax, it's just me.”

“Tobias!” scolded Nikki. “You scared us to death.”

“We thought you were
Dad
,” said Mae, and she ran fiercely toward Tobias and punched his leg.

“Ow!” exclaimed Tobias. “Mae, quit it. I didn't mean to scare you.” He picked up his sister and held her at arm's length, giving her a warning look, then hugged her.

“Sorry,” muttered Mae.

Tobias watched Nikki pull the dishes out from under the bushes. “How many dishes
are
there?” he asked, his expression turning to surprise. “Seriously, Nikki, what's going on here?”

Nikki sighed. “Mae and I just tried to count the dogs. There are twelve or thirteen coming around for food now.”

Tobias set Mae on the ground. He rubbed his forehead. “You know, the more dogs you feed, the more will come.”

“I guess. I didn't realize that would happen. And I don't have enough money for all the food.”

“Why don't you just put out less food?” asked Tobias. “This is nice, but it isn't really your responsibility. Besides, Dad hates the dogs, and he knows what you're doing, Nikki. Maybe he doesn't know how you get the food or where you hide it, but he knows you're feeding the dogs somehow, and it makes him angry.”

“Well, I don't care. Let him be angry. That's his problem,” said Nikki. “I'm not doing anything wrong. I'm doing a good thing. Besides, he's not the boss of me.”

“I know. I agree. Just telling you,” replied Tobias.

 

Two days later, on a warm afternoon that felt more like September than November, Nikki and Mae sat on the bare earth outside the shed in which the dog food was hidden. Nikki's solution to her problem — a temporary one, she knew — had been to set out three fewer dishes than before, to fill the other dishes only partway, and to feed the dogs earlier than usual, before her father was due home.

“… eight, nine, ten!” said Mae, counting with great authority. “See? Not so many dogs as before.”

“Yeah, but what happened to the others?” asked Nikki. “It doesn't mean they aren't hungry. It just means they know they can't get food here anymore.”

The hum of wheels could be heard on the county road, and Nikki and Mae paused in their conversation to listen. When the wheels slowed, Mae said, “That's Tobias! Tobias is home!”

Sure enough, the wheels began to crunch along the gravel driveway, and Mae jumped up. She ran toward the car, then turned around and dashed back to Nikki.

“It isn't Tobias! It's Dad!” she cried.

Nikki felt her stomach roll. What was her father doing home early? “Quick! Get the dishes while I put the food away.” Nikki reached for the bag, which was a new one and mostly full. It weighed nearly twenty pounds. She began to drag it toward the shed.

“The dogs are still eating!” said Mae. “I can't take the dishes away from them. They'll bite me.”

But Mr. Sherman slammed the door of his truck then, and most of the dogs bolted, disappearing from view. Paw-Paw and two others remained behind, though, stealing last bites from the dishes, even as their hackles rose and low growls rumbled in their throats.

Nikki had just reached the shed door and was preparing to heave the bag of food inside when her father stumbled toward Mae, a rake raised above his head.

“Mae!” shrieked Nikki, and she dropped the bag.

“What did I tell you about feeding these dogs, these filthy beasts, these mutts, what did I tell you?” Mr. Sherman spoke deliberately and slurrily, spitting when he said the word “beasts.” Then, stumbling, he pitched the rake in the direction of Paw-Paw and the last two dogs, who had finally abandoned the dishes and were slinking toward the edge of the property. Nikki heard a yelp when the rake landed in the underbrush.

Mr. Sherman teetered across the yard, collected the rake, and approached his daughters again. They stood as if frozen until he raised the rake again and began to swing it downward. Then Nikki sprang forward, grabbed Mae, and shoved her into the shed.

“You don't listen to me, you don't listen to me, any of you, what did I tell you, what did I tell you a thousand times?” said Mr. Sherman in a frighteningly quiet voice.

“Not to feed the dogs?” whispered Nikki.

The rake crashed to the ground.

“Not to feed the dogs?” mimicked her father.

Nikki heard the front door to her house fly open then, heard it open with such force that it crashed against the wall. (Years later, Nikki would still be able to see the dent it left in the siding.) The next thing she knew, her mother was running across the yard. “Howie!” she yelled. “What is going on out here?”

“These two,” said Mr. Sherman, and Nikki had the unsettling notion that her father couldn't recall her name or Mae's at that moment, “these two have disobeyed my orders.” He stopped to catch his breath. “Time and again,” he went on, “time and again they disobey my orders.”

Mrs. Sherman caught her husband by the elbow. “Calm down,” she said. “Just calm down. Leave the girls alone. Are you all right, girls?” she called over her shoulder as she led Mr. Sherman toward the house.

Nikki, on the verge of tears but not wanting Mae to notice, nodded in answer to her mother's question, then realized that her mother couldn't see this, so she managed to croak, “Yeah.” She waited until her parents had entered the house and her mother had closed the front door behind them before she led Mae out of the shed and knelt in front of her.

Mae sank down until she was sitting cross-legged on the ground. She rested her head in her hands and began to sob.

“It's okay, Mae,” said Nikki. “He's inside. Mom took him inside.”

Mae didn't answer, but her sobs grew quieter. Nikki put her arm around her sister.

“I was scared,” said Mae.

“So was I. But this is what you have to think: Nothing happened. He didn't hurt us and Mom came outside in time. So it's okay.”

Mae jerked her head out of her hands then and stared off into the gathering dark. “He hurt Paw-Paw!” she cried. “I heard Paw-Paw cry.”

Nikki remembered the yelp. “You might be right. We'd better go check.”

Nikki found a flashlight in the shed, turned it on, took Mae by the hand, and led the way into the underbrush.

“Paw-Paw, Paw-Paw!” Mae called softly.

“I'm not sure he'll come to us after what happened,” said Nikki.

But at that very moment, Paw-Paw poked his head out from between two mountain laurel bushes and looked warily at the girls.

“It's okay, Paw-Paw. It's us,” said Mae. “We won't hurt you.” She held her hand toward his soft brown snout.

Nikki, moving slowly, extended her hand, too.

Paw-Paw sniffed the hands and finally emerged from the bushes.

“Are you all right?” said Mae.

Nikki passed the beam of the flashlight over Paw- Paw's body. “I see a scratch on his back, but that's all. He'll be okay.”

“Shouldn't we put something on the scratch? Like a Band-Aid?”

“Well, not a Band-Aid. It would stick to his fur. But maybe some ointment or something. We'll have to wait, though. I'll try to do it later tonight. Maybe Tobias can help me when he gets home.”

Mae nodded, then sat down, wrapped her arms around Paw-Paw's neck, and began to sob once again.

Nikki's father didn't stay awake long. He wanted to leave, he said, wanted to take the truck out again, but Tobias, who had returned by then, shoved his father onto the couch, where Mr. Sherman immediately fell into a deep slumber.

“Good. He can sleep it off tonight. He won't wake up until the morning,” said Tobias, who gave his father a look of disgust before heading out to his shed.

That was when Nikki did something she had never before done, not once in her life. She waited until her mother was putting Mae to bed, then tiptoed into the kitchen, checked to see if the phone was working, and called a friend.

“I just needed to talk to you,” said Nikki.

“I'm really glad you called,” replied Olivia, who could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she and Nikki had spoken on the telephone. “What's the matter?”

Nikki hesitated. She knew she couldn't relate the whole story to Olivia. Her mother had told her and Tobias and Mae many times that the authorities would come after them if they found out about Mr. Sherman. Nikki wasn't positive what that would mean, but it didn't sound like something she'd want to experience. So she focused on the dogs.

“There are just so many of them,” she said to Olivia. “I can't keep up with their food. I don't have enough money.”

“Won't your parents help you?” asked Olivia.

“They can't. They don't have enough money, either.”

“Maybe I could help you. I've saved a little money from working at the store.”

“Thanks,” said Nikki, “but I really don't want money. I just wanted to talk to you. Cheer me up. Tell me something funny.”

“Well …” said Olivia thoughtfully, “how about this: I got a little bit mad at my mom this afternoon — it's not important why — so I decided to play a trick on her. I took Sandy out of his cage, put him in the cookie jar, brought the jar into the living room, and asked my mom if she wanted a cookie. When she lifted the lid, Sandy poked his head out and my mom screamed and fell off the couch.”

Nikki giggled. “Didn't you get in trouble?”

“A little,” admitted Olivia, “but it was worth it.” She paused. “Did that make you feel better?”

“Yes,” said Nikki.

“Then it was definitely worth it.”

When Nikki and Olivia went to bed that night, each was smiling: Nikki because she had discovered the sweet pleasure of talking with a friend when she was having a bad time, and Olivia because she had been able to help her new friend.

When Flora had lived with her mother and father and Ruby in her old town, she had not known nearly as many people as she now knew in Camden Falls. There had been only a few families on her street, and they had not been as closely knit as the Row House neighbors. And when Flora had gone downtown, she barely knew anyone in the shops. She recognized the couple who ran the bookstore, and her mother was friendly with one of the women at the hair salon, but that was about it. It was a big town and people were busy and many of them, Flora reflected, didn't seem to have time for children. But in Camden Falls, partly because it was a small town and partly because of Min — where she lived and where she worked — Flora had a huge network of friends and an extended family.

And yet, there were times when Flora felt lonely. These were usually the afternoons when Ruby was at a rehearsal and Olivia was at a Whiz Kidz class and Nikki had gone home and couldn't come into town. Flora would walk into town after school by herself on those days, drift into Needle and Thread, and either begin her homework or pull out a sewing project. She knew she wasn't alone at these times, but still, she occasionally felt lonely.

On one of these afternoons, a drizzly day at the beginning of the second week in November, Flora flopped onto a couch in Needle and Thread and looked around the store. Her eyes fell on Mary's worktable, which Mary had tidied the last time she'd been in the store. Flora studied the rack that held Mary's spools of thread, arranged by color, and the neatly laid out markers and scissors, measuring tape, pincushion, and needle case. Sitting squarely in the middle of the table, Flora saw, was a paper bag with an index card taped to it. On the card was written
Mary
.

Flora stood up, threaded her way through the aisles of fabric to the worktable, and peeked in the bag. She could see a pile of clothes, which she suspected needed to be hemmed or mended.

“Min?” said Flora.

Min was holding a bolt of fabric and discussing it with a young man who was frowning over a pattern. She glanced at Flora and held up one finger.