The Sweet Gum Tree (3 page)

“Tell me, why this sudden interest in the Anderson boy?”

“I don’t know. I guess I feel sorry for him.”

“You’re sure that’s what it is?”

13

Katherine Allred

“Not just that. I like him. He’s not like his daddy,” I said with a touch of defiance.

A smile lifted her lips. “Good. Helping someone because you feel sorry for them is one thing, but doing it because you like them and care about what happens to them is better. That means you aren’t doing it for yourself.”

“Aunt Darla says her charity work with the children’s home makes her feel good.”

“I know, but that’s different, Alix. The home is an institution. They depend on people’s charity to help them care for a lot of kids that wouldn’t have a place to live without them. Nick Anderson isn’t an institution. He’s a person. How do you think he’d feel if he thought you looked on him as a charity case?” I knew how I’d feel. Insulted, indignant, mad, hurt. “It’s not like that, Aunt Jane. I swear.”

She nodded. “I didn’t think so, but I wanted to make sure you knew the difference.

Be his friend, Sweetie, but don’t insult him by feeling sorry for him. No one wants pity.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

So I gained another ally in my mission to save Nick. And while I didn’t know it yet, the Judge would prove the greatest attraction of all for this lonely boy with the strong, steady heart.

14

The Sweet Gum Tree

Morganville has one city park, a well-manicured ten acres that sits on the side of a hill and offers a fine view of the town below. A few years ago the community built a restroom, a jogging track and added another, more modern playground. But the day my family met Nick, there were only numerous picnic tables, a few blackened iron grills on pipe stands, one swing set and a slide, all grouped under the shade of stately oaks, elms, and sweet gum trees.

Church, never my favorite way to spend a warm summer morning at the best of times, had been pure torture for me. I was anxious and fidgety, unable to muster even a pretense of interest as I sat on the wooden pew, squeezed between Mama and the Judge. Mama told me twice to be still, and the Judge kept offering me gum. I had to stop accepting after five pieces. My teeth were sticking together and I could barely open my mouth to chew.

When the last amen was said, I made a run for the bathroom, dodging through the parishioners like a steel bearing in a pinball machine, to skin out of my good dress and into my denim shorts and red top. By the time I got back outside, most of the women, including my mother and aunts, had left for the park and I knew they would be pushing tables together, setting the food out, and laying claim to each family’s eating area. Most of the men were gathered in knots outside the church, smoking, talking and laughing.

I located the Judge under a cloud of pipe smoke and shifted from foot to foot, waiting for a break in the conversation. What if Nick and Lindsey showed up, then left because I wasn’t there? That thought was enough to have me tugging on the Judge’s hand, and a surge of relief filled me when he headed for the truck.

Our church socials could have done justice to a presidential gala as far as the food was concerned. Six tables were shoved together, their worn tops covered with an assortment of multicolored linen tablecloths. They groaned from the weight of bowls and dishes, huddling together without an inch to spare between them. Women bustled around the food, removing foil coverings and plastic lids, sneaking surreptitious looks at the offerings of others, secretly comparing it to their own.

As soon as the truck slowed to a stop, I bolted out the door, winding my way to Mother. She was laughing with Helena Morgan when I reached her. “Have you seen them?” I whispered urgently.

Leaning over, she put her lips near my ear. “Over by the woods. You make sure he stays, Alix.”

15

Katherine Allred

“I will.” My gaze was already scanning the shaded area at the edge of the park. It took me a while to find him. His dark shirt and pants blended in with the shadows and he stood so still he seemed part of them. He was alone.

Reaching down deep for a dignity I was far from feeling, I forced myself to stroll casually in his direction. Even though I could only see his outline, I could feel him watching me.

“Hi.” I stopped in front of him and he straightened, looking down at me as if I were a mystery he had to solve. “I’m glad you came.”

“I’m not staying. I only showed up to tell you not to wait. Lindsey doesn’t like to be around strangers.” His clothes were cleaner than normal, his shirt neatly ironed and no stains decorated the worn jeans. If he hadn’t wanted to stay, why go to the trouble?

That insight made me even more determined to keep him there.

“You can’t leave.” I took his hand. If I’d thought it would help, I’d have wrapped my arms around his legs and hung on for dear life to keep him at the park. How was I going to save him if he wouldn’t cooperate? “I have something for you.”

“What?” He tried to shake me loose, but I refused to let go. His hand felt good in mine. Strong and warm.

“I brought you some of my books.”

Longing flowed from him even as he denied it. “I don’t take charity.”

“It’s not charity. I’m not giving you the books, I’m loaning them to you. Just like a library does. Besides, I’ve already read them, so they were sitting there gathering dust.” That wasn’t exactly the truth, but I was hoping God understood the deception.

After two hours of anxiety-ridden deliberation, I had made up my mind to give him the most treasured jewels on my bookshelves, Tolkien’s
Lord of the Rings
trilogy. I didn’t understand back then that most kids weren’t at my advanced reading level, but even if I had, I would have trusted Nick to grasp the concept behind the stories. I’m not sure why I believed in him so strongly. I only know that I did.

He hesitated, his gray eyes moving over the crowd of people filling the park. I could almost read his mind.
I don’t belong here
, he was thinking.
They’ll make me leave.

“Mama said to make sure you stayed,” I tempted him. “Her feelings will be hurt if you don’t eat with us. She and my aunts have been cooking for days.” In the south, we absorb polite manipulation and velvet-edged diplomacy with our mother’s milk.

“You told her you invited me?”

“Yes. And she said you’re welcome in our house any time you want to come.”

“You wouldn’t be lying just to get me down there, would you, Peewee?” His eyes were as soft as his voice when he looked at me.

“I don’t lie.” My free hand behind my back, I crossed my fingers. Just in case God had been listening when I’d told Nick about the books. “You go to hell for lying.”

“She really said that?”

“Yes. And the Judge said it was okay for you to come, too.” 16

The Sweet Gum Tree

Visibly, he braced himself, then nodded.

When I stepped out of the trees, tugging Nick along behind me, every kid in the park stopped what they were doing and gaped at us. There was no doubt my reputation had just risen another couple of notches, or dropped, depending on your point of view, but for once I didn’t care. The only thing I cared about was his grip, getting tighter and tighter on mine the nearer we got to the picnic tables. Part of him couldn’t believe he would be accepted as easily as I made it sound, and he was waiting for the axe to fall.

The hum of adult conversation rippled to a halt as I led Nick to my mother. A dull red flush tinted the skin on his face and neck, and sweat made his hand slick on mine.

“See, Mama? I told you he’d stay.”

“So you did.” She smiled at Nick. My mother was always beautiful, but when she smiled you could almost hear a heavenly choir break into song. “Nick, I’m glad you made it. Our table is right over there and I expect you to join us, you hear?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

He must have heard the choir too, because he was looking at my mother as through he’d seen an angel. Behind Mama, Helena Morgan’s lips thinned to a tight line and she shared a disgusted look with Gretchen Treece, the mayor’s wife. I hoped Nick hadn’t seen them.

The two women, along with my mother and aunts, were the core of high society in Morganville. The town had been named after one of Ian Morgan’s ancestors, and they owned the lumber industry that employed most of the people in the area. Mr. Howard, my best friend Jenna’s father, worked for them. Hugh, the Morgan’s only child, was the same age as me and because our mothers were friends, we had been forced to endure each other’s company since we were in diapers. Hugh was always pulling my hair or taking advantage of my competitive nature by challenging me to feats both dangerous and stupid. Most of my scars were the result of dares I couldn’t resist. But I never looked on Hugh as malicious. He was only a boy who liked to tease me, and while it was aggravating, I could live with it.

Piggy Treece, known to everyone but Jenna and me as Peggy, was a different story.

The overweight blonde daughter of Mayor Tim and Gretchen was spoiled rotten. If ever a child was born hateful, it was Peggy. She hung around Hugh constantly, making snide remarks about the other kids in general and me in particular. We hated each other with the fervor of born enemies. At the moment, she was standing near Hugh, hands on her chunky hips as she smirked in my direction. I turned my back on them.

“Mama, where did you put the books?”

“They’re in the basket on our table.”

I tugged on Nick’s hand. “Come on. Wait until you see what I brought.” If I’d known the pain those books would cause him before the week was out, I doubt I would have given them to him. But then, if I’d been able to see the future I might have done a lot of things differently where Nick was concerned.

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Katherine Allred

Handing them over one at a time, I explained they were about Hobbits, little people from a place called Middle Earth. Nick took each book as though it were made of a rare and precious glass that could break if he touched it wrong.

“You’ve read these?” He looked from the thick books to me and back again.

“Sure. They’re my favorites, but I like all kinds of science fiction and fantasy. I’ve got tons. When you finish these, you can bring them back and pick out some more you like.”

“Why are you doing this?” One of his hands caressed the books.

“Because books are made to be read,” I told him. “And you like to read.”

“A church picnic is one thing, but your folks aren’t going to want me hanging around your house.”

“I told you, Mama said you’re welcome anytime you want to come.”

“She was being polite.”

“Mama is always polite, but she wouldn’t have said it if she didn’t mean it.” He didn’t start believing me until later that day, while we were eating. It was the Judge who convinced him.

Our picnics have a strict hierarchy when it comes to serving food. One of the men says grace, then the chaos begins. Children’s plates were fixed first, and when they were settled and busy eating, the men lined up, women fussing around them, making sure they found everything. The women went last, being careful to sample every dish on the tables so no one would have hurt feelings.

When the children were called, Nick followed me reluctantly. We were an island of two in a sea of kids as we made our way down the table, everyone giving us a wide berth. When it became clear to me that he wasn’t going to dig in, I did it for him, piling his plate high with everything I thought he might like. Heaps of potato salad, baked beans, corn on the cob, and deviled eggs were topped by slices of ham, fried chicken, and yeast rolls. Our paper plates threatened to fold and collapse as we carried them to our table.

I left Nick staring between the food and the books, an inscrutable expression on his face, and darted back into the fray to snag two sodas from a cooler of ice. By the time I made it back, the Judge had taken a seat across from Nick and was quizzing him about engines. One of the best things about the Judge was that he never talked to you like you were a kid.

“You like working on engines?” I heard as I plunked a soda in front of Nick.

“Yes, sir. Engines make sense, like a big jigsaw puzzle. Each part has one place where it fits and the motor won’t work unless that part is where it’s supposed to be.” The Judge nodded. “Problem is trying to figure out which parts are the bad ones.

I’m hoping the fuel pump I bought yesterday helps. I’ve been working on that Chevy for three years now and still haven’t managed to start it.”

“What does it do when you try?”

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The Sweet Gum Tree

And just like that, Nick was lost. He and the Judge talked engines the rest of the afternoon. I don’t think he even realized that he’d cleaned his plate, one hand staying possessively on the books while they mulled over possible mechanical failures and how to rectify the trouble. Not even the presence of my mother and aunts slowed the discussion. I stayed with them, forgoing a chance to whip some butt in the softball game after dinner, happy to simply watch Nick. I’d never seen him so animated before, so enthusiastic, and it fascinated me. He was beautiful in a way I’d never considered.

His black hair shot blue-white highlights when he moved. His gray eyes sparkled with interest. And when he laughed, dimples appeared in his cheeks, giving him a mischievous look. Once I caught my mother and both aunts staring at him with a bemused expression before they gave each other meaningful glances.

In hindsight, I suspect that was the day my crush on Nick started. I was only eight and I didn’t understand love and desire, would have thought it was disgusting if anyone had told me about it, but watching him made me feel warm and content inside.

Somehow, my mission had gone from saving him to keeping him close enough that I could see him every day. My brain whirled with schemes and plans, but the Judge solved my dilemma before I could put any of them into action. By the time the picnic ended and everyone was packing to go home, Nick had agreed to help the Judge work on the Chevy whenever he had some free time.