Runaways (11 page)

“We need it,” Crystal said. I looked at Raven and she nodded. The two of us got into the back seat alongside them and we put our heads together.

“We're sisters. We'll always be sisters . . .” We chanted and held each other and after a few moments, it was as if the tension rose out of our bodies and floated away.

Then we sat back.

“Did you see the look on that Duke's face when Brooke put her foot down on the gas pedal?” Raven said and laughed.

“The door whacked him hard,” Crystal said.

“I wonder if he lost any of his own hair.”

“I felt the wheels crunch on one of the bikes,” I said.

“They can't exactly go complaining to the police either, can they?” Raven asked.

“Your ponytail guy sprouted wings,” I added.

We laughed again and then grew quiet for a moment.

“I think we make a pretty good team,” I said. “We're the super Orphanteers, aren't we, Butterfly?”

She nodded, smiling.

“Let's get back on the road,” I said and got behind the wheel. “How about a song, Raven?”

She thought a moment and began. Soon we were all joining her in the chorus. We're all right, I thought. We're going to be all right.

We traveled for nearly three hours before stopping for lunch and the bathroom again, this time in
a noisy restaurant. It was a little more expensive than I had thought and I could see that Crystal was right about how fast we'd spend our money. Despite using Gordon's credit card for gas, traveling was still going to be very expensive, especially on our budget. Thinking about ways to economize, I suggested fast food chicken for dinner and that was just what we had.

By this time, because we had traveled all night and most of the day, we were all feeling and looking drained. Night was some ways off, but I didn't think I could drive much longer.

“I think we're just going to have to turn in early tonight,” I said.

“Good idea,” Crystal said. “Find what looks like a dead end road,” she suggested.

We had to go almost another twenty miles before something looked promising to all of us. We nearly missed it because the entrance was hidden by lush maple trees, their branches forming a natural arch of rich green leaves and branches. The road had once been blacktopped, but now it was mostly gravel.

“Perfect,” Crystal remarked.

“Aren't there bears in there?” Butterfly asked worriedly.

“Bears are not normally aggressive unless they're threatened or a mother bear's cubs are in danger,” Crystal replied.

“Normally?” Raven said raising her eyebrows.

“We'll probably frighten most of the wildlife away anyhow,” Crystal concluded.

I turned in and drove very slowly until we found a place that looked safe beside the road.

“Now what?” Raven asked.

“Now, we can clean up the car and make it as
comfortable as possible,” Crystal said. “I think we're all tired enough to sleep on the roof.”

She was right about that. It took a while to get the back seat down. The latches were rusted and jammed. Under the seats we not only found candy wrappers, hamburger trays and empty bottles of beer and wine, but a tray that once had some Chinese food, now hardened and moldy.

“Let's sleep with the windows wide open,” Raven said.

“The bugs might get in,” I said. Crystal nodded.

We worked it out where she, Raven and Butterfly could spread out fairly comfortably in the back and I stretched out on the front seat. I didn't expect more than ten minutes to pass before we were all asleep.

The sun had just gone down behind the birch, maple and hickory trees that surrounded us. Darkness felt like a warm blanket. It was very quiet. The birds had gone to sleep, too.

“I wonder what Gordon's doing now,” Raven said.

“Thinking of us. that's for sure,” I replied.

Raven laughed.

“I don't want to think of him,” Butterfly said.

We all grunted.

“Good night,” I told them and they all said good night.

I didn't wake again until the car was filled with light. It lit up my eyelids and washed out my dreams. My lids flickered and I realized it wasn't bright because of the morning sun.

“Oh no,” I thought and sat up. A car was right behind us, right on top of us.

Before I could warn the girls, there was a tap at my window and the face of an elderly man. He was
peering in with his hand over his eyes. My heart did flip-flops. The window on my side had been rolled completely closed. Slowly, I lowered it. As I did so, the others began to stir.

“Well, I'll be darned,” the old man said, “a bunch of lambs who have lost their way. What'cha doin' sleepin' in a car, for goodness sakes, when there's plenty of room in the house? Go on,” he said, pointing ahead. “Follow the road. Go on. Nana will be happy to see you all. Go on.”

I looked back at Crystal.

“You better do as he says,” she whispered. “After all, we can't very well run a little old man off the road.”

I started the engine and drove slowly ahead. He got into his car and followed right on my bumper.

There was nothing else we could do.

T
he two-story house that appeared before us looked lost in time. There was a small patch of lawn, the grass in desperate need of cutting and weeding. Trees near the house, and especially three very large weeping willows, had been permitted to grow wild. Their untrimmed branches actually touched the roof in places. I imagined that in the daytime, the leaves blocked a great deal of the sunlight, and when the wind blew, the inhabitants probably imagined giant fingers scratching overhead.

The house had a fieldstone foundation and a rough, grainy stucco exterior. There was an arch on the right that opened to a small patio and garden. When the car headlights illuminated it, I saw what looked like a broken fountain shaped like a large saucer with a cherub rising out of the middle.

The windows had black shutters, and some of the
windows on the bottom floor had lights in them. To the right of the house was a field filled with tall weeds. It ran on for some distance until it reached a dark wooded area. The separate garage was on the left. The old man pulled around us, jabbing his finger at a spot where he wanted me to park and then pulled his car into the driveway, which was pitted and cracked. He got out of his car as I turned off the engine.

“Maybe we should just back up and get away while we've got the chance,” Raven suggested.

“He could call the police and have them after us in minutes,” Crystal said. “He's seen us and the car and the police surely have Gordon's description by now.”

“Let's see what he wants,” I said.

“Don't just sit in there. Get out, get out,” he cried as he drew closer, rubbing his hands together. “Nana's in there listening to music, knitting something for Gerry's kids.”

“Who's Gerry?” I asked. No one moved.

“My boy. He's the only one left living around here. Helen got married and moved to Akron. Burt's down in Atlanta. I don't expect Burt will ever get married. Come on,” he urged. “We'll all have some hot chocolate.”

I glanced back at Crystal. She nodded and the four of us stepped out of the wagon.

“Well, lookie here,” he said fixing his eyes on Butterfly. “Aren't you a pretty little thing? Gerry's got a daughter with Goldilocks hair just like yours. What's your name?”

“Janet,” Butterfly said shyly.

“Janet, Janet,” he repeated, scratching his scalp as if he was trying to find her in his memory. He had small clumps of thin white hair around his
bald crown and very bushy, Santa Claus eyebrows. His face was round and jolly, too. It was too dark to make out much more about him except that he was just an inch or so taller than Raven, who was the tallest of the four of us. He had long arms with thick forearms and big hands. He was stooped over, his shoulders rising close to the back of his wide neck. Despite his apparent age, there was still something powerful about him, something that reminded me of an old tree stump, aged, pale, but stubborn and strong.

“Come on,” he urged and headed down a slate walkway, some of the stones cracked and some rising up from years of freezing and thawing.

The front door had a small multicolored window at the center. He just turned the knob. It wasn't locked.

“Nana, we got guests,” he called and stepped back to let us enter as he held the door open for us.

As soon as we stepped into the house, I smelled the aromas left from the evening's dinner. It smelled like pot roast and home-baked bread. The house had the warmth of an old blanket, comfortable, broken in, cozy. Family photographs filled the walls on both sides of the small entryway. There was a wooden hat-and-coat stand on our right and an old cast iron radiator on the left. A knitted light pink cover had been placed over it and some unopened mail lay on top of that.

We could hear music coming from one of the rooms off the entryway.

“Debussy,” Crystal whispered. She said it so fast I thought about that game, Name that Tune. Crystal can name that tune in two notes.

Raven closed the door quietly behind us as a
thin, elderly lady, her white hair loosely pinned over her ears and around the back of her head, appeared. She wore a light blue cotton dress with a large cameo pin at the neck. The hem of the dress went down to her ankles. It had three-quarter length sleeves and we could see the glitter of her gold, jeweled bracelet on her right wrist and her expensive looking watch on the left.

She had large, hazel eyes and nearly perfect lips that formed a gentle, friendly smile. Her skin looked remarkably soft with just deep crow's feet at her temples and some age spots on her forehead and cheeks. She wore no lipstick or makeup. I didn't think she needed it. She must have been a very pretty woman when she was younger, I thought.

“Who's this, Norman?” she asked in a soft, friendly voice.

“Four lost chicks, Nana. I found them sleeping in their car in our driveway.”

“Oh dear,” she said.

“We didn't mean to trespass,” I said quickly. “We thought it was an unused driveway.”

“Yes, it does look like we never use it. I told you, Norman. You should have Gerry get Billy Powers up here to fix that.”

“Gerry says it'll cost an arm and a leg and you know how he feels about this place,” the old man said. He turned to us. “My son don't want us living here anymore. He says it's too much upkeep—especially for prime candidates for the rest home like us.”

“Oh stop that, Norman Stevens,” Nana chastised. “He never said nothing of the kind.”

Norman smiled at us.

“He don't have to say it. I know what he's thinking. He's my boy. I should know, eh? Well,” he continued, “tell Nana your names. Go on.”

She smiled at us with her hands folded against her stomach and waited. I wished I had asked Crystal if she thought we should use our real names, but there hadn't been time.

“I'm Brooke,” I said and each of us introduced ourselves. When Butterfly spoke, Nana's eyes softened even more and a wider, deeper smile settled on her face.

“Oh look at her. She's so precious,” she said. “Imagine, sleeping in your car. I want to know all about you girls and why you're sleeping in a car when I have all these bedrooms available,” she added as if we had known her all our lives.

“I was thinking I'd make us all some hot chocolate,” Norman said.

“You do that without dirtying up my kitchen, Norman Stevens,” she told him with a kindly twinkle in her eyes.

“She's always after me,” he said with a chuckle. “For nearly sixty years, too.”

“You all come right in here,” Nana indicated and led us into their living room.

Cluttered was the word that came immediately to mind, but not dirty or messy. Every table top, every shelf, every available space was covered with antiques, vases, picture frames or figurines. There were lots of brass and rich woods, soft cushioned chairs and two sofas, all worn but not ragged. Some vain attempts had been made to polish and redo the arms of chairs and the tables. On the right wall was a bookcase filled with what looked like first editions, leather and cloth bindings. I saw Crystal's eyes get magnetized immediately. She was sweeping
the book spines, absorbing the titles and authors like some literary explorer who had just stumbled on a real discovery.

“Just find a place to sit anywhere,” Nana urged. “It will take Norman a while to locate a pot and measure out six cups of hot chocolate. His eyes aren't what they used to be. Gerry doesn't want him driving anymore, but Norman's not one to admit to age or weakness of any kind. Never was.”

“You've really been married sixty years?” Raven asked, lowering herself to a chair slowly. Nana sat in the rocking chair.

“Sixty-two years this coming November fifth,” she said proudly.