The Summer Kitchen (33 page)

“ ‘I’ll not be someone’s dinner,’ said Grandfather Catfish, so he hurried underneath his rock just before the net could scoop him. He hid until the fishing boy was gone, and then he came out into the open to find he was the only fish left in the pool. ‘Ha!’ he said to himself. ‘I’m the wisest of all. God will send the rains, and I’ll have the entire stream to myself!’ He said his prayer a third time, and he waited, but no rain came.”

MJ frowned, like she was sad for the fish. “The fisher boy came back again, this time with a line and some bait, but Grandfather Catfish was far too wise for that. He didn’t touch the line, even though it sat all day, and he was very hungry and tired. Finally, the boy gathered his line and left, and he never returned. He knew there was no way he would catch the grandfather fish. Shortly after, the stream dried up, and Grandfather Catfish lay in the last patch of mud, gasping his final breath. ‘God of all things!’ he cried. ‘Why, when I prayed three times, didn’t you rescue me from my trap?’ ”

MJ tapped a fingernail on the countertop, smiling. “And do you know what Father God said to the fish?”

The answer to the story came to me, and I laughed. “I bet he said, ‘If you wanted out of the pool, you should of jumped in the bucket, or swam in the net, or grabbed hold of the line.’ The boy wasn’t trying to hurt the fish, he was trying to take him someplace where the water was deeper, right?”

MJ got a twinkle in her eye. “You’re very clever,” she said. “Sometimes we become so set on one possibility, we forget that in God’s eye the possibilities are infinite. It is not He who needs our wisdom, but we who need His.”

I felt a big smile going across my face, because it was the first time I’d figured out the punch line before the end. “That’s a good story.”

“I agree.” MJ grabbed her pen and made a quick note on the edge of her pad. “It’s worth trading for, don’t you think?”

I nodded, but outside Ronnie and Boo were fighting over Opal’s book. Somebody pushed, and somebody landed against the door. I figured I needed to go pull them off each other. “I better head out.” I took my stuff and started that way. “See you tomorrow.”

The door stuck when I tried to pull it open. I hoped Ronnie and Boo hadn’t tore it up. We sure didn’t have the money to pay for a door. I doubted MJ had much either, considering she mostly seemed to give away books.

She came around the counter to help me. “It does this sometimes. It’s old.” Butting the door with her hip, she twisted the handle at the same time, and it came open. I got out front just before Ronnie and Boo were about to knock over a flowerpot.

“You two stop that!” I yanked the book away from Ronnie with one hand, and picked Boo up by the arm with the other. For no bigger than he was, Boo was a scrapper. He kicked me in the shin so hard it hurt.

MJ helped Ronnie get up and dust off, and I pinned Boo to the wall until he quit being a brat. “We’re going home,” I told them, and looked for Opal. I figured she’d be up against the building trying to hide, because she didn’t like it when anybody’d get in a fight.

I checked by the front door and the gas pumps, and she wasn’t there. “Where’s Opal?”

Boo put both hands up with his palms in the air. Ronnie wiped his nose and did the same thing.

“She was with you two. Where is she?” My voice took on a sharp edge, and Ronnie pulled his shoulders up and ducked his head between them.

MJ and me checked all around the front of the building. We looked behind the flowerpots, by the trash can, on the side of the building where some old gas station signs were sitting. Both of us ran around to the back, yelling for Opal. By then, my heart was pounding, and I felt like someone had a fist over my throat.

“Calm down, now,” MJ said. “She couldn’t have gone far. Let me check inside and make sure she didn’t go back in. Keep watching for her out here.”

“Okay.” Tears crowded into my eyes, and I stood on the curb, turning in a circle, not knowing where she could of gone or what to do next. Keep looking? Try to go find Rusty at work so we could drive around in the truck? The construction site was, like, five miles away. It’d take me forever to get there. What would I do with Ronnie and Boo?

Should I call the police?

I couldn’t call the police.

What if MJ calls the police?

Settle down. Settle down. Think. Think where she’d go. . . .

I couldn’t picture anyplace Opal would go—not on her own, especially. Opal never did anything but stick herself to my leg.

“Opal!” I yelled up and down the street. “Opal! You come out here!”
She’s so little. She couldn’t go very far. How could she get away so fast? She was here a minute ago . . .

But a minute was long enough, and now it had been five minutes, maybe ten while we were looking for her. Opal could be anywhere by now. I pictured her running down the street, and I couldn’t even breathe. What if she ran out in front of a car? What if she got lost and didn’t know where she was? What if she wandered down by the highway bridge where the homeless people hung out?

Another idea hit me so hard it took my breath.
What if she didn’t run away at all? What if someone grabbed her? What if Kiki and Uncle Len came back, and they saw her, and took her while Ronnie and Boo weren’t looking?

If Kiki came to get her, Opal probably wouldn’t even fuss. She’d just let her mama take her by the hand and lead her away without a word.

Chapter 19

SandraKaye

“Mom, what’s going on?” Christopher stared agape at the collection of people waiting in line on Poppy’s driveway. There were groups of young children with older siblings, two elderly women who stopped to talk to Holly and give her a hug as they crossed the porch, a stooped-over man who, judging from his clothes and his backpack, was homeless, and a group of teenage girls, slightly embarrassed and slightly curious, as they eyed the food table with interest. Behind the table, Holly was pouring drinks. The front door swung open, and Angel came out carrying a large aluminum pan filled with sandwiches.

A young Hispanic woman had stopped on the lawn with her children, and they were having a picnic of sorts on a bright Mexican blanket next to the real estate sign, which Teddy had surrounded with transplanted iris, as if it were part of the yard décor. The young mother was taking care to keep her children from crushing the new plants. She gave Christopher and me a strange look as we exited our car and stood on the curb.

“Mom?” Chris muttered, his voice uncertain.

I couldn’t formulate an answer. I was still busy taking it all in. How in the world, in just a few days, could a couple dozen sandwiches turn into a line halfway down the driveway?

The answer was simple, of course. Behind the crumbling yard fences, and the windows covered with cardboard and threadbare sheets, and the leaning front porches overgrown with weeds and old plantings, there were people for whom a free sandwich mattered enough to walk down the street and stand in line in someone’s driveway.

“Holly didn’t tell me there were so many now,” I muttered. Over the past few days, communication between Holly and me had been rushed and limited. I was preoccupied with Christopher’s problems, and Holly was busy. Obviously.

“So many . . . what?” Chris pulled off his baseball cap, scratched his head, and put his cap back on.

“People,” I answered absently, experiencing a rising sense of panic at the idea that the situation at Poppy’s house was rapidly snowball ing. All I’d asked Holly to do was come down here, check on the kids, and make a few sandwiches. I hadn’t intended for anything like this to happen. Even though the action on the front porch was orderly, the situation seemed bizarre and almost surreal. “She didn’t tell me there were so many people.” Every time I’d asked Holly if things were
all right
at Poppy’s house, she’d responded,
Oh, sure. Word’s getting around now that school’s out, I think. Your little friend came by and helped me make sandwiches today. I told her you were busy at the hospital with Christopher . . .

It was just like Holly to keep all of this to herself. She probably didn’t want to worry me, but now I
was
worried . . . or in a state of shock. Something big had been set in motion here.

Chris pointed tentatively at Holly. “Why’s Mrs. Riley handing out food on Poppy’s porch?”

“It’s a long story,” I said, and gave a brief history of the restoration projects at Poppy’s; the handicapped lady at Wal-Mart; the kids digging in the Dumpster; Cass, Opal, and the sandwiches.

My son’s mouth hung open, and he blinked at me as if I’d grown two heads—as if he were certain I’d slap him on the shoulder any moment, laugh, and one of the heads would say,
Gotcha! You didn’t really believe all that, right?
We’d laugh at the joke, I’d turn back into his normal mom, and there would be some logical explanation for the mini-horde of people on Poppy’s lawn and the serving line on the porch.

“Ha-loo-oo!” Teddy came out the door, spotted us by the curb, and waved. “Ha-loo, lady. You comin’ back. I put the door on closets, ho-kay?”

Chris stiffened, owl-eyed. “What the heck?”

“That’s Teddy. He does the gardens down at the church on the corner. I hired him to help with the yard work.” I’d left Teddy out of the initial story. It seemed best to lead Christopher into Mom’s Alien World a bit at a time. Unfortunately, the new reality of Poppy’s house and the summer kitchen was rushing out to meet him faster than I could contain it.

“Oh,” Chris murmured, with a cautionary look that reminded me of Rob. I could only imagine, if it were Rob driving up on this scene, what he would say. Now that I’d brought Christopher here, I’d have to tell my husband, too.

How would I ever explain all this?

Holly followed Teddy’s wave and spotted us. “Oh, hey!” she called as she changed out sandwich trays. “Hey, Christopher, don’t you look great! You’re back on your feet again!”

“Hi, Mrs. Riley.” Christopher returned an embarrassed greeting, and the teenage girls in the driveway glanced over to check him out.

Holly gave her place in the serving line to a woman I’d never seen before. Still sporting a bubbly smile, my best friend trotted down the steps and across the lawn, lighter than air. “You look so good!” She gave Christopher a hug. “Your mom didn’t tell me you were getting out today.” She turned what was supposed to be a stern expression in my direction. “You should have told me Chris was getting out. I would have baked him some brownies.” For Holly, brownies were a home remedy for everything from skinned knees to broken hearts.

“Holly, what’s going on?” I motioned to the yard. Three more kids had just come from somewhere across the street. The line was growing.

“What?” Holly chirped innocently.

“Holly . . .” Leveling a grave look at her, I pointed to the line.

“We’ve . . . uhhh . . . grown . . . a little?” she replied cheerfully, then lifted her arms and twisted first to one side, then the other, displaying herself like a fashion model on the runway. “But not me. I’ve lost four and a half pounds. Gosh, this place keeps you busy. I don’t know how you did it by yourself. I couldn’t keep up after the first couple days, even with the help of your little friend over there.” She motioned to Angel, who was now handing out drinks and telling children in no uncertain terms not to spill.

“Angel’s been here helping?”

Holly nodded. “She showed up the first morning, just like you said she would. She’s been here every day like clockwork. Usually she has her little brothers with her. I don’t know where they are today.”

Christopher’s head swiveled back and forth between Holly and me, his face pinched with confusion. I was baffled myself.

“But where’s Cass?”

Holly stopped with her lips parted and a new stream of words about to tumble out. “Cass . . . who?”

“The girl who was helping me. Cass. About five five, blond, blue eyes, around twelve or thirteen years old. . . .” Holly’s expression said that nothing was ringing a bell. “She always has a little preschool-aged girl with her—dark curly hair, green eyes, kind of quiet. A pretty little girl. Opal.”

“Oh!” Holly’s face took on a look of recognition, and I felt a quick burst of relief. Unless something was wrong, there was no way Cass and Opal would turn their territory over to Angel. All the time I’d been gone, I’d been assuming that when Holly said everything was fine at Poppy’s house, she meant that Cass and Opal were fine, too. I never dreamed that the sandwich helper had suddenly, inexplicably become Angel.

“That must be who Teddy was talking about,” Holly added. “He kept asking something the first day, but I couldn’t figure out what he was trying to tell me. First he was saying, ‘Where’s the girl and the other girl?’ And then it sounded like he was asking, ‘Where’s the gas for the Opal?’ ” Leaning close, she held a hand beside her mouth and whispered, “He’s a little hard to understand sometimes. I think I confuse him, but he’s very sweet. He’s been helping with the sandwiches, too. The lady from next door comes over, sometimes, but if we’re going to keep this up, San, we’ll need more help. I’m not sure sandwiches are the most efficient menu item, though. I’ve been counting up the food costs a little, and I was thinking, if I brought the catering dishes, we could cook big batches of . . .” Holly stopped to study my face. “What? I don’t like that look. Now you’re worrying me.”

“I can’t imagine why Cass and Opal wouldn’t be coming by . . . ,” I muttered.

Pulling her lip between her teeth, Holly tightened the bow on the cook’s apron she must have brought from home. “Okay, time out. I think we’re talking on at least three different wavelengths. Let’s start over. You had the sandwich thing going on here. You couldn’t come while Chris was in the hospital, so I came. There was a girl who showed up to help, but it’s the wrong girl . . . right? But now we don’t know why the right girl didn’t come here . . . right?” She ended the sentence by bobbing her head like a marionette. I might have laughed, but I was too worried.

“Hey, we need some help here!” Angel called from the porch. “The drinks got spilt!” On the table, a half dozen cups had tipped over, and red liquid was streaming onto the floor. In a panic, Teddy was trying to hold back the flood with his hands.