Salvaged (2 page)

"You know they can't wait for you to arrive." Gramps noticed my
apprehension and talked nonstop during our drive from the airport.
"Molly's been talkin' about you constantly, and she's made sure to tell
everyone at church that you'll be livin' with `em this summer."

Although my exhaustion level reached its max and I wasn't in
the mood to talk, I sensed his growing concern, so I chose to appease him by attempting to speak my first words since climbing into the
truck almost an hour before. "Has she?"

"She sure has. I hope you're prepared for the welcome wagon.
You know you'll be gettin' a lot of visitors."

"Ah, people want to come see the freak show, do they?"

He chose to ignore my comment. "Heck, I hear even Riley's
lookin' forward to seein' you."

"That's highly doubtful," I refuted with a groan. "Who in their
right mind decided we should spend another summer under the
same roof?"

"Now, Atticus-"

"Attie."

"-it's the best we could come up with under the circumstances.
It was this or you would end up sleepin' on a cot alongside the animals in my clinic."

"That would be better than having Riley torture me for three
months. I could swear that boy lives to make me miserable." My face
felt warmer, and I knew it wasn't the heat of the Oklahoma summer
that caused the discomfort. Just thinking of Riley Bennett made my
blood boil.

"Oh now, you're just bein' silly."

"Oh no I'm not. Remember the time he shot me in the eye with
that arrow? Or the time he locked me in the dirty clothes hamper?"
I ignored the laughter flowing out of my grandfather's throat. "To
this day the smell of dirty socks makes me feel claustrophobic. If it
weren't for Melody, her brother would have kept me in that hamper
for days."

"You were in there for less than five minutes."

"It felt like an eternity."

"You were no angel either. I seem to recall you doin' some haras-
sin' yourself."

"It was self-defense. Survival instinct at its best."

"You two were young and he was ornery."

"Ornery? Try devil-child."

"Atticus," he scolded. "You shouldn't talk like that."

"I only speak truth."

"You speak exaggerated truth. You always did have an active
imagination and a bend toward the dramatic."

"Active imagination my rear. Thank God for Mr. Bennett coming to my rescue a hundred times a day; there's no telling what would
have happened to me. That boy hated me before, and I don't even
want to think about how he must despise me now."

"He doesn't blame you, Atticus-"

"Attie."

"Nobody blames you. Really, don't worry. He's changed a lot,
grown up. Heck, who wouldn't given the situation."

"Great, another thing to hold against me. Let's see, ruin boy's
summer before junior year-check. Cause boy to have to grow up
faster than necessary-check, check. Now ruin boy's summer before
senior year-check, check, check."

"Well, I apologize," Gramps offered.

"Apologize for what?"

"Here I thought we were havin' a welcome home party, but it
seems to me that you're much more interested in havin' a full-blown
pity party. Do they make balloons for that kinda shindig?"

"You're right; I'm acting like a turd."

"Yeah, you are. Luckily, I love you anyway."

"Thank you." I started to gnaw on my thumbnail. "I'm just nervous and scared."

"I know you are, but I promise, you're gonna be pleasantly
surprised."

Making our way up the drive, I realized that not much had
changed appearance-wise. The home had the same pale yellow exterior with white trim and charcoal gray shutters. Weathered white
wicker furniture sat on the patio, and green ferns hung above the
railings between round white wooden columns. The only new addition that I could see was a porch swing, which now hung on the left
side of the patio. The old oak front door with its large oval window
beckoned guests to enter the once happy home, but I was hesitant
to oblige.

Pulling down the visor and flipping open the mirror, I checked
my appearance.

"Ugh, what's the point? There's no hope for me."

"Shush now, Atticus." My eyes turned to Gramps as he scolded
me. I noticed his crumpled forehead slightly showing under his old
brown cowboy hat and knew instantly that my comment bothered
him. "God made you perfect."

"Yes," I grumbled. "God made me perfectly plain."

My mother's beautiful almond-shaped eyes and dainty nose or
my father's olive skin coloring definitely hadn't passed down to me.
I looked more like my Gramps than either one of my parents. He
and I had small builds and paler complexions. Like his, my face had
no distinct features. If someone were to draw a portrait of me, all
they'd need to do is draw a large circle, two dots to represent my
beady eyes, an inverted heart for my pug nose, and two thin, straight
lines to replicate my lips. Heck, if they really wanted to outdo themselves, gluing some yellow yarn to the top of my head would make
it a darned near perfect reproduction. I'd resigned myself to the fact
that I was a very plain-looking girl and always would be. For some
reason, God wanted me that way, and although I didn't know why, it
wasn't as if I had a choice.

Looking back into the mirror, I realized that my dirty blonde
hair hung flat on my head, looking stringy, and my dreary green eyes
reflected a tiredness that made me look much older than my sixteen
years. A lack of sleep was catching up with me.

I slammed the mirror shut and flipped the visor back against
the roof just as Mr. and Mrs. Bennett entered my line of vision. My
apprehension dissolved as I noticed Mrs. Bennett jumping up and
down clapping her hands as Gramps pulled the truck to a stop. Mr.
Bennett stood motionless but wore a large grin on his face. The
appearance of the odd couple caused me to laugh.

"Attie." Mrs. Bennett was practically running in place. "Get out
here and let me give you a hug."

"Yes, ma'am," I said through the window. Mr. Bennett opened the truck door and grinned as an air of excitement rushed into the
truck cab.

"Look at you," she shouted. "Look at her, Tom; doesn't she look
amazing?"

"Yep, she sure does."

If there were any two people more opposite in the world,
I couldn't imagine it. Thomas Bennett, being at least six feet six
inches, with a stocky build, simply towered over his much shorter
and slimmer wife, Molly. And his quiet nature balanced her constant
state of excitement.

Being the same age as my dad meant that they weren't quite
forty years old, and with Riley going off to college next year, they
had a whole new life ahead of them. They were both wonderful
people, and they loved me.

Riley caught my eye as he walked out onto the porch. Never
one to hide his emotions, his body language spoke volumes. With
shoulders slouched, he kept his head down, which caused his moppy
brown hair to partly cover his face. He refused to so much as make
eye contact with me, and as if I were on a roller coaster, my anxiety
level rose again.

"Thanks for letting me come stay with you, Mr. and Mrs. Bennett. I know this can't be easy on you."

"Now don't you talk like that, Attie," Mrs. Bennett said. "We're
thrilled to have you here."

"That's right, Attiline," Mr. Bennett added. "This'll be the highlight of our year."

Hearing Mr. Bennett call me Attiline instantly calmed my
nerves back to a more manageable level. He'd called me Attiline for
as long as I could remember, and the fact that he still referred to me
with his special term of endearment meant that his feelings for me
hadn't changed.

I continued to study Riley as he shoved his hands into his blue
jeans and tensely curled his toes over the edge of the porch step. He
was annoyed, and I felt guilty for intruding on his life.

Unfortunately, the time had finally come, and I couldn't go on
ignoring him any longer.

"Good grief, it's Riley Bennett," I teased.

"Hey, Charlie," he muttered.

I never understood why in the world he called me "Charlie."
He'd been doing it for years, and more than any other reason, I could
only assume he did it to drive me crazy. Normally it worked, but
today I refused to let it get to me.

"Are you happy to see me?" I asked.

"Sure, why not."

Looking down, I noticed his feet shuffling on the patio. He was
agitated by my arrival and turned to go back inside, but his mother's
voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Riley, get Attie's bags and take them up to her room. Make
yourself useful for cryin' out loud."

If nothing else, no one could call Mrs. Bennett dull. She talked
like a crazy woman, with arms flying around in the air and her eyes
all buggy. Melody and Riley had always found her to be a constant
cause for embarrassment. I, on the other hand, had always found her
to be a breath of fresh air just like me.

Slowly turning on his heels, Riley rolled his eyes and glanced at
me. In an attempt to convey a certain amount of solidarity, I rolled
my eyes as well. I couldn't help myself; I felt bad for him. He obviously didn't want me here in the first place, and now he was stuck
having to haul my bags inside.

"Sorry," I whispered.

"It's all right," he muttered.

Growing up, torment and torture had been Riley's game plan
every time I visited. He'd pulled my hair, locked me in closets,
thrown ants in my sleeping bag, and blown up several of my Barbie
dolls with an arsenal of firecrackers. Now, here we were about to
spend the summer together. If nothing else, the next three months
would be interesting.

Gramps thanked the Bennetts for letting me stay with them and
then turned, grabbed my hands in his, and prayed. "Lord, thank you
for bringin' Atticus back to Guthrie. I'm so blessed to have her as a
part of my life. Thank you for the Bennetts and their willingness to
allow Atticus to stay with `em. Please bless `em in return for lovin'
this precious child. In Jesus's name. Amen."

"Amen."

"I love you, Atticus Elizabeth Reed. Welcome home, princess."

"I love you too, Gramps, and I'm glad to be here, even if I don't
act like it."

His heavily calloused, rough hands still cradled mine. "All's
forgiven."

"Thank you. But can I ask one little, teensy, weensy favor?"

"You can ask me anything, although I may not give you the
answer you wanna hear."

"Could you call me Attie from now on?"

"But your name's Atticus."

"My horrendous, forced-upon-me name is Atticus. My preferred name for years now has been Attie."

"Atticus Finch was a great man. You should be pleased to be
named after someone so brave and honorable."

"Good grief, he's not even real. Try telling your friends that it's
worth having a name like Atticus just so you can honor a completely
fictional character. It's utterly ridiculous."

"Enough of this silliness. You'll always be Atticus to me, and I'm
way too old to be tryin' to start a new habit."

"Pff." A blast of air escaped from between my lips and caused a
tuft of my hair to soar.

"Get on now. Be a good girl and be sure to get some sleep. You
look a little tired."

"Yes, sir."

A little tired? He was being polite because I actually looked
like a school bus backed over me several times. I was falling apart
at the seams, and nothing but my glue-white skin was holding me
together.

Maybe a new location would do me some good after all.

Even standing just inside the front door, a sense of security
engulfed my body. I was home and I felt safe and loved-except by
Riley of course.

Directly in front of me, the staircase sat in all its old craftsman-style grandeur. The dark brown oak wood stood out against
mossy green covered walls. I noticed the same fake plant sitting on a
tall planter in the corner of the landing, and Mrs. Bennett's framed
postcard collection dotted the stairwell walls.

I sent several of the postcards during our many family trips
around the country. Every time Dad was invited to speak at a university, he would turn the visit into a family vacation. I'd seen practically
every state in the continental U. S. but had yet to leave the country.
Every time we found ourselves somewhere new I made sure to purchase two postcards: one for myself and another for Mrs. Bennett.

Turning left, I headed toward the kitchen and made it halfway
through the family room before noticing a new television sitting
next to the old gray stone fireplace.

"Get yourself a new television, Mr. Bennett?"

"Isn't it great, Attiline? It's a fifty-inch flat screen HDTV." His
chest puffed out, and a large grin spread across his face. "It was the
family Christmas gift this last year."

"It's awesome." I nodded enthusiastically. "I guess I know where
I'll be watching football this year."

"Oh, you'll love it." He spoke with as much enthusiasm as I'd
ever heard him use. "The picture is so clear you can see each individual blade of grass."