Legal Artistry
Authors: Andrew Grey
Dreamspinner Press
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Copyright ©2011 by Andrew Grey
First published in 2011, 2011
To Dominic, Jennifer, and Vince.
Dieter hurried up the stairs and down the hall as fast as his legs would carry him, not thinking that of course his grandmother could hear every footstep he made. Slowing down, he stopped in front of the linen closet that was tucked beneath the stairs to the attic. Opening the door, Dieter ducked inside. He closed the door behind him and backed into the deep closet, careful not to knock anything over. He could barely see, as a thin line of light shone from under the door. Closing his eyes tight, he waited a few seconds before opening them again. Now he could see the outline of the shelves against the one wall that held all the linens, neatly sorted and stacked. Careful not to knock anything off, he inched farther into the closet, ducking under the tablecloths and quilts that hung from fat, fancy hangers, to where the ceiling started to meet the floor. Settling on the floor with a stifled giggle, Dieter knew he had found the best hiding spot yet, and he waited for Gramma to find him.
Listening for the sound of Gramma's footsteps kept him entertained for a while, but when he didn't hear anything, Dieter began to inch toward the door and bumped into a box that scooted across the dusty floor. Obviously Gramma hadn't been in here in a long time, because she hated dust of any kind anywhere. Once, he'd heard Gramma say she was looking for dust bunnies under his bed. Dieter had immediately gotten onto his knees to peer under the mattress so he could see the bunnies. Gramma had laughed before running a broom covered with a cloth under the bed to clean. Pushing the door open a little, he suddenly heard feet on the stairs, and he closed the door again, moving to the back of the closet.
"Dieter Johan Krumpf, come out of that closet this instant before you get all my linens dusty.” She'd used all three of his names—Dieter knew he was in trouble now.
"Gramma,” he said, walking forward before pushing the door open and blinking into the light. “I was hiding and you were supposed to find me."
"I was, was I? How about you help me with the dusting, and then we'll have milk and cookies. Katherine just took some molasses cookies out of the oven."
"I can dust in there,” Dieter said, pointing toward the closet. “It's really bad, see?” Dieter turned around and heard his grandma hiss before she started to dust him.
"You're filthy,” she said as she cleaned off his pants legs before swatting his butt lightly with the cloth. “There, that's better. Now, go get the dust mop from downstairs, and you can use it to clean the floor."
Dieter looked up at her stern face and didn't move until she broke into a smile. “What is it? Scoot,” she said.
"There's a box way in the back,” Dieter told her before hurrying back into the closet, ducking under the hanging things. Finding the box, he pushed it like a train across the floor. He would have made train-engine noises, but Gramma liked it quiet, and Dieter didn't want her to be mad. “See?” Dieter said happily as he pushed the box near her feet. He expected her to say something, but she slowly bent down and opened the box before gasping and putting her hand over her mouth.
"I haven't seen these in twenty years,” Dieter's grandma said softly, and he straightened up, smiling proudly that he'd found what he imagined was buried treasure.
"What is it?” Dieter asked, peering into the box.
"They're photo albums and pictures from when I was a girl.” Dieter watched as his grandma carefully pulled out two thick books with black pages, setting each one on the floor next to the box.
"Can we look at the pich-ers?” Dieter asked.
"Yes, but only after we get our work done,” she answered, placing the albums back in the box. Dieter lifted the box off the floor, following his grandma along the hallway and down the stairs. Setting the box on the coffee table in the living room, per her instructions, Dieter hurried to the broom closet to get the dust mop and finish his chores.
Back upstairs, he used the mop to clean the floors of all the closets, and he even pushed it under the bed the way Gramma did, before taking it back downstairs, displaying all the dust for inspection before Gramma took the mop outside to shake it. Dieter sat down at Gramma's round kitchen table. “Auntie Kate, can I have cookies?"
"Of course you can, sweetheart,” she answered, handing him a small plate with three small, brown disks covered with white icing. He immediately took a bite and then another.
"Auntie Kate, are you my real aunt?” Dieter asked as she set a glass of milk in front of him.
"Don't talk with your mouth full,” she replied, and Dieter took a gulp of milk before swallowing everything.
"No, honey,” Gramma answered from behind him. “Katherine isn't related to you by blood, but she loves you like you were her own. We both do."
Dieter sputtered as he was kissed on the cheek by Auntie Kate, but he didn't wipe it off like he normally would. “Then how come she lives here?"
"That's a story I'll tell you when you're old enough to understand.” That was Gramma's standard answer whenever she didn't want to explain something. “But Auntie Kate was the housekeeper and saw your Gramps when he was born and your mama when she was born.” Gramma had told Dieter once that Auntie Kate was eighty-two, which was really old, even older than Gramma.
"And she saw me when I was borned?"
"I sure did, sweetheart,” Auntie Kate said, giving him a hug, rocking him back and forth as she did. “I sure did.” Dieter put his arms around her, hugging Aunt Kate back before returning his attention to what was really important—the cookies.
Once the plate was empty and the dishes whisked away, Dieter and Gramma sat on the sofa in the living room with one of the photo albums on their laps. Auntie Kate sat in a nearby chair knitting a pair of mittens that Dieter knew were probably for him for Christmas. But he'd learned already not to ask if things were for him. Gramma said it was selfish. Dieter opened the album, looking at the photographs. “Where's the colors?"
"Pictures were only in black and white then,” Gramma said, and Dieter looked at the first picture.
"Who's that?” He reached to touch the picture. But Gramma gently stopped his hand.
"That's my father, your great-grandfather.” Gramma pointed to the picture next to it. “And that's your great-grandmother.” She turned the page, and Dieter saw pictures of them sitting together on a small sofa in front of a painting. “Is that her?” Dieter pointed to the painting hanging just behind them.
"Yes, it is,” Gramma said softly, and Dieter looked at her, wondering what was wrong. He'd only seen her cry once, and that was at his mama and daddy's funeral. Before he could ask any more questions, she turned the page, and Dieter saw more pictures of people. Gramma explained who everyone was, and Dieter listened, committing what Gramma said to memory as best he could. “What happened to them?” he asked, turning back to the first page of the album.
"I'll tell you when you're older,” Gramma told him, and he looked into her eyes, about two seconds from asking again, but stopped himself and turned back to the photo album. She turned to the page where they'd left off and began telling stories about what it was like growing up, and Dieter wondered what it would be like to live in these pictures. After a while, Dieter lost interest in the pictures and slid off the sofa.
"Can I go outside?” he asked, looking out the living room windows.
"Yes, you may,” Gramma answered, “but stay where we can see you, and don't go near the street."
"I won't,” Dieter promised as he pulled open the front hall closet door, pulling his coat off the hook before shrugging it on.
"Come here, sweetheart,” Auntie Kate said, and he walked to her. She made sure he was all zipped up before giving him a hug. “Have fun."
Dieter ran through the house and out the back door. Rushing into the garage, he carefully worked his bike out from next to Gramma's car. He had to be careful of the training wheels, but as soon as it was free, he hopped on and rode down the short driveway and onto the sidewalk in front of Gramma's East Side Milwaukee home. Auntie Kate had given him the bike for Christmas. The tag had said it was from Santa, but Dieter knew better. He'd heard Gramma and Auntie Kate fighting over it when they thought he'd gone to bed.
"It's too dangerous for him to have a bike in this neighborhood. What if he gets hurt?” his grandmother had said, as Dieter snuck down the stairs on his butt so he wouldn't make noise.
"What are you gonna do, Gertrude? Wrap him in cotton and wool? He's a little boy, and he needs to act like it,” Auntie Kate had said. “So he's getting a bike for Christmas if I have to walk to the store to get it.” A door had shut hard, and Dieter had slid back up the stairs, and a month later, he found a bike under the Christmas tree. Regardless if the card said “Santa” on it, he knew his Auntie Kate had given him his most prized possession, and he loved her for it.
Dieter rode on the grass to turn around before pedaling as fast as he could back toward Gramma's. “Hey, baby!” He heard from behind him, and Dieter pedaled faster, but he was stopped anyway. “Nice bike, little baby."
"Leave me alone, Billy,” Dieter said indignantly as he tried once again to pedal away.
"I want to ride your bike!” Billy said, and he began to push Dieter toward the grass.
"No. Leave me alone.” Then he was falling and Dieter found himself on the grass, and Billy was on his bike riding away. Dieter jumped up and began to chase him, but he was too slow, and his bike got farther away.
"That's enough, Billy!” Dieter heard someone call from up ahead, and Billy stopped. Dieter saw someone approach his bike and saw Billy jump off his bike and run away. As Dieter got closer, he saw Tyler standing next to his bike, smiling at him. “Are you okay?” Tyler asked, and Dieter nodded, smiling as he touched his bike. Tyler turned it around for him and helped Dieter get back on. “You have fun, okay?"
Dieter nodded again. “Thank you, Tyler."
"You're welcome,” Tyler told him, and Dieter waved before riding away, back toward Gramma's. Tyler was one of the big kids in the neighborhood. Dieter didn't know how old he was, but Tyler stayed sometimes with Mrs. O'Connor, a friend of his grandmother's, and Tyler was always nice to him. Dieter continued riding up and down the sidewalk, waving to Tyler whenever he passed, and Tyler waved back as he cut stuff away from the bushes in front of Mrs. O'Connor's house, making them round instead of pointy.
Once he got tired, Dieter rode his bike back down the driveway to the garage, carefully putting his bike away, taking care not to scratch Gramma's car. After closing the garage door, he hurried inside and took off his coat. “Don't forget to hang that up,” Auntie Kate reminded him.
"I will,” Dieter said, walking to the closet and hanging his coat on the hook that was at his level. Closing the door, he walked into the living room. Gramma still sat on the sofa with the photo album on her lap. Dieter scooted up next to her, looking where she was at the picture of her mama and papa. “Do you miss them?” His grandmother nodded. “Like I miss my mama and papa?” Dieter said as he leaned against her side, closing his eyes to try to hold back the tears that came sometimes.
