All That's Missing (20 page)

“You know, Ida's been going around telling folks she doesn't want to end up one of those strange old ladies who wanders around a big house not knowing what day of the week it is.”

“Ida wouldn't be like that,” Arlo said.

“I don't think so, either, but I heard there's this fellow named Garringer in Richmond who's itching to get a look inside the place.”

Arlo met Matthew's gaze in the mirror over the sink. In the background he could see Ida and Augusta having a heated discussion at their table. “She told me there was a man who wanted to see it,” he said.

“Is she going to show it to him?” Matthew lifted the fresh pot of coffee off the burner and started filling a thermos for the serving table.

“I don't think she wants to,” Arlo said, reaching for a dish towel to hand to Matthew when some of the coffee spilled on the table. “Not now, anyway.”

They looked at each other.

“It would be a mistake for her to sell that place. And you can tell her I said so.”

Arlo took the now-damp dish towel from Matthew and hung it over the rack by the sink. There was no doubt that Ida ought to stay in Edgewater. He didn't need convincing about that.

“Seeing you has already done her a world of good,” Matthew said. “You ought to stay as long as you can. Might help her decide to stay.”

Arlo didn't like to take credit for things he hadn't done, but Matthew was right about one thing. Selling the house would be a mistake. And besides, he'd barely had a chance to see where his dad had come from. It wouldn't be fair to lose that before he'd even had time to explore.

In the car on the way home, Ida nodded at Steamboat, who was nuzzled under Arlo's arm.

“Looks like you've made a friend,” she said.

“I like dogs,” Arlo said.

“Do you have one at home?”

Arlo paused longer than he meant to before answering. “Poppo says we can't. He says we don't have a big enough yard.”

Ida pressed her lips together so that the white pressure line appeared again. “A boy needs a dog,” she said. Then she was silent for a long time.

Arlo thought about what Bernice had said during the bus trip to Richmond.
A boy needs a father.
It seemed like a boy needed a lot of things Arlo didn't have. Things like parents and a home and family. Not to mention a dog.

His mud-and-twig dam was beginning to feel squishy again. What it needed was a little
fortification,
to use one of Matthew's words, something to make sure it stayed strong enough to withstand a full-blown wave.

Just before bed, they called the hospital. This time Ida handed Arlo the receiver.

“He'd rather talk to you,” she said.

“Poppo's on the phone?”

“The doctor said it might be good for him to talk to you.”

Arlo took the receiver. “Hey, Poppo.”

“Where are you?” Poppo asked.

He sounded kind of wild, which caused Arlo's heart to race. “I'm still here with Ida,” he said.

“With who?”

“Ida Jones. My dad's mother. Remember? The one who lives in Virginia?”

“I don't know. . . .” Poppo sounded really confused.

“You doing OK?” Arlo asked.

“Doing great. I had cherry pie,” Poppo said.

“Your favorite, right?”

“One of them. You coming to see me?”

Arlo's chest tightened. “Can't right now,” he said.

“'Course you can't. You're in school, aren't you? Come over later. OK?”

“Sure. I'll get Ida to bring me.” Arlo tried to keep his voice easy and relaxed, so Poppo would think they were having a normal conversation, like the ones they used to have at home . . . a year ago.
Or maybe longer.

“Who?” Poppo asked.

“Never mind. I'll see you soon. OK?”

“OK, buddy. You take care, now.”

“I will, Poppo. You take care, too.”

Arlo handed the receiver back to Ida and watched as she hung up the phone.

“I talked to the doctor this afternoon,” she said.

Her voice did not sound promising.

“He's getting better, right?”

“Yes,” Ida said. “And no.”

Arlo sighed.

“Dr. Simon said Albert was very lucky. There doesn't seem to be any serious permanent damage from the stroke.”

“So, he's OK.”

“But there are issues with his memory. . . .” She studied Arlo for a moment. “I believe you already knew that, didn't you?”

Arlo shifted on the stiff cushion. The upholstery poked the back of his knees. Whose idea was it to put spikes in fabrics? That's what those wiry fibers felt like, short little nails poking holes in Arlo's skin.

“He gets confused sometimes,” Arlo admitted.

“Funny you hadn't mentioned that.” His grandmother's eyebrows were tiny pinpoints again.

Arlo maintained a poker face, the way Poppo had taught him during their card-playing evenings at camp.

“I was going to tell you,” he said.

“When?”

Her sharp old-lady's voice sliced at him again. Arlo stared so hard at the peppermints in the candy dish, the stripes blurred into pinkish swirls.

“I thought he was getting better,” Arlo said.

“But he wasn't,” she said.

“Some days he seemed fine.”

“And other days he had trouble again?”

“Yes.”

“Does anybody else know?” She cocked an eyebrow at him.

“You mean, besides the doctors and nurses and Miss Hasslebarger?” Arlo asked.

“That's right. What about the people at school?”

Arlo shook his head. “But we were doing fine before. . . .”

“You aren't doing fine now, are you?”

It was a statement rather than a question. Arlo's chest was so tight he could hardly breathe.

“You wouldn't be here unless there was a serious problem,” she said. “Albert needs
professional
help. You can't take care of him on your own.”

“But I can learn how. . . .”

This time her sigh was so deep, it seemed to cast a pall over the room. “No, you can't, Arlo. You're twelve years old, for Pete's sake.”

“Eleven,” Arlo corrected her.

Ida's face turned crimson. “All right. Eleven. That's even worse. Adults are supposed to take care of children. Not the other way around.”

Later that night, Arlo lay awake in the dark listening to the thrum of mourning doves huddled under the eaves. Was it ungrateful to feel relief at the thought of not keeping Poppo's secret any longer? There had been times when Arlo had worried all through the school day if Poppo might set the house on fire. It had nearly happened once, when Arlo had come home from school to find tomato soup melded to a dry saucepan on a hot burner. If he had stayed to play soccer that day, the house might have burned to the ground.

Arlo thought about Poppo propped up in his hospital bed. He thought about the nurses pouring Poppo fresh cups of water and adjusting the pillow under his head. He wondered if Poppo missed him, or if it was only Frankie that Poppo wanted to see. In a way, Arlo hoped Poppo wasn't thinking about him. If it was only Frankie that Poppo missed, then Arlo wouldn't feel so guilty about leaving him.

If you added up all the moments over the past three months when Poppo had actually recognized Arlo as his grandson, they didn't amount to much time, really. Funny how Arlo hadn't considered that before. Now that he was here with Ida, he saw the past differently. He saw the present differently, too. It was strange how you could talk yourself into believing things were better than they really were. Arlo supposed that was a good thing, too. It was how a person got himself through the tough times. If you realized how bad things were when you were in the middle of them, you might never make it to the other side.

The next afternoon, Arlo helped Matthew with the bakery deliveries. Matthew drove his van, and Arlo helped carry boxes inside.

“Tell me what you already know about your dad,” Matthew said after they had made their last delivery and were on their way home to Edgewater.

“Not much,” Arlo said. He slipped the wood carving out of his pocket and held it up for Matthew to see. “I know he made this.”

Matthew glanced over at the object in Arlo's hand. “The eagle,” he said. “I'd forgotten about that. Did you show it to Ida?”

“Yes.”

“She recognize it?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What'd she say?”

Arlo's stomach churned. “She said he made it at camp.”

“That's part of the story.”

“Will you tell me the rest?”

Matthew didn't say anything for the longest time. His eyes were glued to the empty road in front of them as if there was something out there that Arlo couldn't see. “You ever heard anything about your other grandfather?” Matthew asked finally.

“You mean my dad's father?”

“That's right.”

“Not much,” Arlo said. “Ida mentioned him a couple of times.”

“What did she say about him?”

“She said he liked to eat in the dining room.”

Matthew snorted. “Sorry,” he said, regaining his composure. “That sounds like Slocum, all right. What else?”

“She said he liked linen napkins.”

“I'll bet he did.”

“Did you know him?” Arlo asked.

Matthew squinted at the sun, working the muscles in his jaw like he was trying to figure out how to say something unpleasant. “Everyone around here knew Slocum,” he said. “He was a man of strong opinions, I guess you'd say.”

“Did you like him?”

Matthew coughed. “Slocum wasn't the kind of person you warm up to. Besides, things were different in those days.”

“Different how?”

“Between black and white people.” Matthew took a long, slow breath. “You know what I'm talking about?”

“Yeah.” Arlo tucked the wood carving back in his pocket.

“No offense, Arlo, but there're a lot of folks around here who wouldn't have crossed the street to help Slocum if he collapsed on the sidewalk.”

Arlo paused a moment to take that in. “My dad wasn't like that, was he?”

“No. Nothing like that. You have your grandmother to thank for it, too. Partly, anyway.”

“She's not like that, either, right?”

“That's right. Ida had sense enough to send your dad away to camp as soon as he was old enough. Wanted to get him away from your grandfather. Wake carved that bird the last summer he went to camp. Showed it to me the day he came back. Said it was a reminder that there was another world out there and all he had to do was make it through high school and he'd get away from your grandfather.”

“Did you go to camp, too?”

Matthew laughed. “Camp wasn't exactly an option for me, Arlo. Least not the kind of camp your daddy went to. I had my share of church camp, though. And believe me, I wouldn't have traded places with Wake for anything.”

On Saturday, Maywood was tossing pennies into the fountain outside the post office when Arlo and Ida caught up with her on their way home from mailing a get-well card to Poppo.