The Sweet Gum Tree Read online

  “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, and then the chaos begins. Children’s plates are fixed first, and when they were settled and busy eating, the men lined up, with 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?”

  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.

  ◊

  School was due to start the Friday after the picnic, which gave me only a few more days to savor my freedom. On Wednesday, Jenna received permission from Droogin the Dragon, a neighbor her father paid to take care of her while he worked, to visit me for the day. We were starting fourth grade this year and we did an in-depth analysis of everything from the teacher, and the clothes we’d bought, to the other kids in our class. Somehow, I managed to restrain myself from talking about Nick. He was mine, and I didn’t want to share him even with my best friend.

  Jenna reminded me a lot of Little Orphan Annie. She didn’t have the funny eyes, but she sure had the hair. It was bright red, a tangled mass of fiery corkscrews that defied any attempt to tame it. Her personality went right along with her hair. She was a live wire, never still, always talking. Small doses of Jenna usually went a long way, but for me she was perfect. While I didn’t have a shy bone in my body, I enjoyed listening more than talking, which suited Jenna to a tee. There was nothing I liked better than curling up with a book for hours on end. Jenna thought books were a form of torture inflicted on us by sadistic teachers who wanted to make our lives miserable. I’d done my best to change her attitude, but truthfully, I think she couldn’t sit still long enough to read.

  We were in the barn that day, playing with the newest batch of kittens to arrive. They were three weeks old, tottering on weak legs as they explored us and their surroundings. The mother, still half wild, sat on the other side of the barn keeping a watchful eye on her babies.

  “Hugh likes you,” Jenna stated.

  “Yuck! He does not.” I ran a hand over the soft fur of a black kitten attached to my shirt like Velcro.

  “That’s why he’s always teasing you.”

  “He teases everyone. That’s just Hugh.”

  “Well, I think he’s cute.”

  “You think all boys are cute.” Jenna was light years ahead of me when it came to the opposite sex. She had passed the point where all males were nuisances in the third grade.

  I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye and glanced toward the open barn doors. Nick’s gaze met mine and he smiled a little before vanishing in the direction of the shed. During the last few days, he seemed to have developed an uncanny knack for knowing when the Judge was going to be working on the Chevy. As soon as the Judge raised the hood, Nick would appear. They would huddle over the engine like doctors trying to save the life of a patient on the operating table, mumbling to each other as they poked this and prodded that. Usually I stood nearby, the nurse waiting to slap the appropriate tool into an outstretched hand.

  “Wrench.” Whack.

  “Screw driver.” Whack.

  But today, I had company. They would have to get along without me.

  “What’s he doing here?” Jenna’s blue eyes narrowed as she watched me.

  “Helping the Judge work on his car.”

  She tugged a straw over the ground, letting one of the kittens make tentative swipes at it. “Piggy is telling everyone you’re in love with him because you brought him to the picnic Sunday. She calls him Nasty Nicky.”

  Instantly, I bristled. “He is not nasty. He’s a lot cleaner than Piggy. She sweats all the time.” Jenna and her father hadn’t been at the picnic. When they went at all, they attended the Methodist church near their house.

  “I know.” Her turned-up nose wrinkled. “I had to sit next to her in art last year. So why did you take him to the picnic?”

  I shrugged. “Because he’s nice once you get him to talk to you. I like him. And he’s not like his father. He reads books.”

  She lifted her blue eyes heavenward. “Well, that explains it. Anyone who reads is a saint to you. He’s probably your soul mate.”

  “What’s a soul mate?”

  “The person you’re supposed to marry when you grow up.”

  “I’m not getting married,” I insisted. “I’m going to be a writer.”

  “Don’t you want to have kids?”

  I thought about the question for a second or two. There were several babies in our church and I always enjoyed playing with them. “Maybe.”

  “Well, you have to be married if you want kids.”

  “Liz Swanner isn’t married and she has six.”

  We stared at each other as we pondered this mystery.

  “Maybe if she were married she wouldn’t have had that many,” Jenna ventured. “Let’s go ask yo
ur mother.”

  “Okay.”

  My mother solved the dilemma very simply. She told us we thought too much and then shoved a handful of warm cookies at us.

  Jenna had to leave shortly after that so the topic was dropped, but I couldn’t stop wondering. Nick would surely know. After all, he lived next door to the Swanner’s. The problem was getting him away from the Judge long enough to ask. Instinctively, I knew the Judge wouldn’t approve of my discussing the situation with Nick.

  I didn’t get the opportunity to ask him that day. By the time I got to the shed, he had already left. I didn’t see him again until the next night, and my first glimpse of him then scared all the questions right out of my head.

  ◊

  “Alix? Take the scraps from supper out to the barn for the cats,” my mother called from the kitchen.

  “Yes, Ma’am.” I had been lying on my stomach on the living room floor, reading and listening to the cicadas singing through the open windows as dusk fell. The Judge, pipe stem gripped between his teeth, was sitting in the recliner reading the newspaper.

  Even though it had been years since the barn housed any horses or cows, it was still the home of many smaller animals. Not only did it serve as a refuge and nursery for a large cat population, we got an occasional stray dog, a few barn owls, some pigeons, squirrels, a possum or two, and of course the mice. Once I had even surprised a small gray fox. All of which is probably why I wasn’t alarmed when I heard a rustling from the back of the building.

  There were several tin plates set out and I dumped half the contents of the bowl into each one, using a spoon to scrape the last drops off. Some of the friendlier cats had come running as soon as I stepped into the barn. The others waited until I straightened and stepped away from the food.

  The rustling came again, followed by a low moan. The hair on my neck and arms popped erect as I stared into the darkness. No animal was making that noise. “Who’s there?”

  When no one answered, I edged toward the door and reached for the light switch. The Judge had installed electricity in the barn at the same time he’d converted the tack and feed rooms into living quarters for Mr. Bob, our handyman. No one had used the room since Mr. Bob died, although it was still kept furnished, and cleaned on a regular basis.

  Taking a deep breath, I hit the switch, a gasp escaping my lips as I saw where the noise came from. Nick was lying on his side, curled protectively around something clenched to his stomach. The bowl I was holding slid from my fingers and I darted across the building, falling to my knees beside him.

  “Nick? What’s wrong?” He was so still I was terrified, afraid he was dead. “Nick?” When I touched his shoulder to shake him, he groaned again and opened his eyes, their gray depths glazed with pain.

  “Your books,” he whispered. “I tried to hide them, but he found them, was going to burn them. Couldn’t let him do it. I had to bring them back.” Slowly, he uncurled one arm to expose the books he held so tightly.

  It wasn’t until I reached for them that I realized my hand was wet. I stared in horror at the red coating my fingers. “You’re bleeding!”

  “I’m okay. Have to go.”

  He struggled to rise, but I held him down. How he’d walked the three miles from the salvage yard to our farm I’ll never know. But one look at his shredded back convinced me all the bee balm in the world wasn’t going to fix this. His shirt was in tatters, blood oozing from dozen of wounds. I had to get help, fast.

  “Don’t move. I’m going to get Mama.”

  “No.” His hand closed around my arm. “You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone. If they find out, they’ll put me in a home.”

  Tears filled my eyes as he tried again to stand. I couldn’t let him leave. He’d never make it home. “Wait. Please. Let me get the Judge. I’ll make him promise not to do anything before I tell him. He’ll know what to do.”

  A shiver wracked his slim frame and he settled back to the floor like a deflated balloon. Nick’s world contained no shades of gray. Everything was black and white. Either you were a good guy who could be trusted, or you weren’t. He had already decided the Judge and I were part of the good guys.

  “Make him promise,” he whispered, his eyes closing.

  I shot out of the barn faster than I’d ever moved, only slowing when I reached the kitchen, half afraid he’d change his mind and try to leave again before I got help. My mother and my aunts were still cleaning up after supper, and I held my hand behind my back so they wouldn’t see the blood.

  “Alix? Where’s the bowl?”

  “I’m sorry. I forgot and left it in the barn. I’ll get it in just a second.”

  The Judge looked up as I leaned over the arm of his chair. “Come outside with me, please? It’s an emergency,” I whispered.

  One of his eyebrows went up, but he folded the paper, stood and followed me into the night. “What’s wrong, Alix?”

  A lone lightening bug drifted between us as I stared up at him. “Before I tell you, he said you have to promise not to tell anyone else.”

  “Who said I have to promise?”

  “Nick. Please, Judge. He’s afraid if you know you’ll send him to a home.”

  I think he must have heard the desperation in my voice because he nodded. “Okay, I promise no one is going to send him to a home.”

  “He’s in the barn and he’s hurt really bad.” I held out my hand to show him the blood. “I don’t know what to do.”

  He headed toward the barn, his jaw clenched. “Stay here.”

  “I can’t. He’ll leave if I’m not with you.”

  When he didn’t answer, I took it as permission to go with him. As far as I was concerned, Nick was my responsibility and if I had to risk punishment to stay with him, I would.

  I’d heard more than one person in town say the Judge was like an avenging angel when he’d sat on the bench, that justice and honor meant more to him than his own life, but I didn’t understand what they meant until that night. I’d never even seen the Judge mad before, but I saw it now.

  Nick had managed to sit up. His head hung limply and he was breathing heavily when the Judge reached him. My grandfather’s entire body went stiff and I swear his eyes blazed fire. A string of words I’d never heard before issued from his lips, but when he spoke to Nick his voice was soft.

  “I’m gonna help you stand up, son. Alix, open the door to Mr. Bob’s room. We’ll put him in there.”

  I hurried to obey, turning the light on and rushing to pull the blankets down on the twin-sized bed that sat in one corner. Mr. Bob’s needs had been simple. A bed, an easy chair with a table beside it, an electric heater for cold winter nights, and a bathroom. Since he’d taken all his meals with the family, there wasn’t even a kitchen.

  Nick’s face was white as the Judge lowered him to the bed, but he didn’t make a sound.

  “You’re already running a fever,” the Judge said, gently removing the remnants of Nick’s shirt. “Lie down on your stomach. Alix, get the first aid kit out of the bathroom, and find something clean to put warm water in.”

  The first aid kit was easy. We kept it in the medicine cabinet over the bathroom sink. There was also a bottle of aspirin and I grabbed that, too. Something to put water in was a little harder unless I wanted to go explain what was happening to my mother. There weren’t any dishes or even buckets in the barn. Wait. The bowl I’d carried scraps in.

  I darted into the barn and grabbed it, taking it back to the sink. There, I scrubbed it out with hand soap and rinsed it clean. When it was full of warm water, I dropped in a washcloth from the closet and carried it to the Judge.

  “I’ll try to take it easy, son, but this is going to hurt some.” The Judge lifted the washcloth out and began bathing the blood from Nick’s back. In an agony of sympathy, I sat on the floor by the bed and held his hand.

  “Did your daddy do this?” Under the circumstances, it was amazing how calm the Judge sounded.

  Nick didn’t answer.
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  “You should be seeing a doctor.”

  “No. You promised. He just got drunk is all.”

  The Judge’s teeth ground together so loudly I could hear them. “From now on, when he starts drinking, you come over here. This is your room now, hear me?”

  “I can’t. He’d come looking for me and cause you problems.”

  “You let me worry about that. I made you a promise, now I want one from you. When he starts drinking, you come over here.”

  Nick hesitated, and then nodded weakly. “I promise.”

  Once his back was cleaned and medicine applied, the Judge found one of Mr. Bob’s T-shirts for Nick to wear, then tucked him under the blankets and turned to me. “Alix, you stay here and keep an eye on him until I get back. I’ve got some business to take care of.”

  “What should I do?”

  “Just keep him in bed and give him water if he’s thirsty.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  It wasn’t until years later that I discovered where he went that night. After a quick swing by the sheriff’s house, they confronted Frank Anderson. Not only did they threaten to take Nick away from him, the Judge promised him a healthy jail term if he ever touched Nick again. The sheriff got into the act by informing him that Nick had permission to stay at our house any time he wanted to, and if Frank knew what was good for him he’d accept the situation.

  And while no one ever actually admitted it, I was pretty sure the female contingent of my family also knew what had happened. The barn cats suddenly became the recipients of three square meals a day, all nicely arranged on our good dishes with a fork and a glass of milk included. For once, even Aunt Darla kept her mouth shut.

  I sat with Nick that night, never letting go of his hand, and we talked when he could.

  “You won’t be able to go to school tomorrow.”

  “I have to.” He shifted restlessly, wincing as the movement hurt his back.

  “No, you don’t. We never do anything the first day. I’ll find out who your teacher is and get the list of school supplies for you.”

  “I don’t care about that.” He watched me from under drooping eyelids. “But I have to be there for Lindsey. She’ll be scared if I don’t go.”