“We're not getting off to a good start,” Mama said. “The kitchen is this way.”
Mama showed Jimmy the litter box. He leaned over and wrinkled up his nose.
“It doesn't smell good.”
“That's the way it's supposed to smell. Pick it up. The garbage can is outside this door.”
Mama opened the back door, and Jimmy dumped the dirty cat litter into the can. Returning to the kitchen, he swept up little pieces of litter on the floor, then poured in fresh material. After he read each task, Mama told him the best way to perform it. She left the work up to him. He moved down the list. All three cats walked in circles around his feet.
“Look out, Otto,” he warned when he almost stepped on the cat's tail.
The cat ignored him.
“Doesn't he know his name?” Jimmy asked.
“Probably, but cats don't respond like dogs. They're smart but don't let you know it.”
Jimmy shook his head.
“Don't feel bad,” Mama said. “People have been trying to figure out cats for thousands of years.”
Jimmy opened the cabinet that contained row after row of canned cat food. Each cat began loudly mewing.
“What are they saying?” he asked.
Mama listened for a second. “Feed me the liver dinner.”
“Are you sure?”
“No, but if you feed them the liver dinner, they will get quiet.”
Jimmy read the labels on several cans before finding the right one. Each cat had an eating bowl with its name on it. Jimmy scooped food into the three dishes. All noise stopped as the cats ate. When they finished, he let them into the fenced-in backyard. While they were outside, he refilled the water and dry-food containers. They scratched at the door, and he let them inside.
“How do you like taking care of cats?” Mama asked.
“I can see why Mrs. Smythe works for Daddy. Staying in the house with cats all day would make her tired and upset.”
J
IMMY WAS GLAD TO BE IN THE QUIET OF THE CAR FOR THE
ride home. The boy on the bicycle was not in sight, but the girl was still riding on the sidewalk.
“Let Buster sniff your legs when you get home,” Mama said. “He will be very curious about the smell left by the cats.”
“How will he know where I've been without seeing the cats?”
“A dog's nose can tell a story.”
Jimmy thought about Mama's comment as they pulled into the driveway. The idea that a story was hiding inside Buster's black nose made him smile. They walked into the house together. Daddy wasn't in the living room.
“I'll get Buster a treat,” Jimmy said.
They entered the kitchen. Daddy was on the telephone.
“I'm not going to commit to anything on the spur of the moment,” Daddy said with obvious tension in his voice. “You can't call me up out of the blue on Christmas Day and expect me to give an answer.
I wrote your lawyer last summer. There are legal obligations you haven't keptâ”
Daddy stopped talking. Jimmy walked over to the jar where they kept Buster's treats. They came in different colors. He didn't know the dog's favorite, but Jimmy liked the red ones. He stirred through the treats until a red one came into view. Mama came into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door.
“No, you can save your breath,” Daddy said. “I'm not going to let you barge in and disrupt our lives.”
Jimmy picked up the treat. The corner was broken off, but Buster wouldn't care. The dog crunched down on the biscuit as soon as it touched his teeth.
“That's up to you,” Daddy said. “He can send me a proposal in writing, but I won't commit to anything.”
Daddy hung up the phone with a serious look on his face.
“What was that about?” Mama asked. “Did somebody you sued call you on Christmas Day?”
“No. It was Vera. She's threatening to take us to court.”
M
ama stepped back and fell into one of the kitchen chairs. The dog treat still in his hand, Jimmy stopped and watched.
“She wants to see Jimmy with regular visitation at her home in Atlanta. Her husband recently got a big promotion, and she says paying child support isn't a problem.”
“Child support?” Mama said, raising her voice. “We don't need her money! We don't want her money!”
“Of course we don't. She blurted out a bunch of information. I'm simply letting you know what she said.”
“How can you act so calm? Imagine the trauma this is going to be for Jimmy! Trying to drown him in the bathtub was bad enoughâ”
“Ellen, please,” Daddy interrupted. “Not in front of Jimmy.”
Mama looked at Jimmy as if noticing his presence in the room for the first time.
“Take Buster his dog treat,” Daddy said. “Mama and I need to talk.”
“What does, uh, Vera want to do in Atlanta?” Jimmy asked.
“We'll explain it later,” Daddy said more firmly. “Now, go. I'll let you know when you can come inside.”
A
S HE WALKED DOWN THE HALLWAY,
J
IMMY COULD HEAR
M
AMA'S
voice but couldn't make out her words. He quietly closed the door. Buster ran up and began sniffing his legs. Jimmy put the treat in the dog's mouth and sat on the back steps. He put his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. Buster lay at his feet and crunched the treat.
Jimmy understood that Vera wanted to see him. After that, Mama's emotions made it difficult for him to follow the conversation. He reached down and scratched the top of Buster's neck.
“Be nice to Mama,” he said. “She's upset today. If she comes outside to feed the birds, make sure you wag your tail.”
The dog stretched out his head in satisfaction.
“And there's a woman who used to live here who wants to see me. She's my other mama. Her name is Vera, but I'm not sure what to call her.”
Jimmy sat on the steps, scratched Buster's neck, and watched the squirrels in the trees until the door opened.
“You can come inside now,” Daddy said in a soft voice. “Your mama is upstairs. She doesn't feel well and went to bed.”
“Can I give her a hug and a kiss?”
“Later, she wants to be alone for a while.”
B
OTH
D
ADDY AND
M
AMA WERE ON THE PHONE A LOT DURING
the rest of Christmas vacation. When Jimmy brought up the subject of Vera's call, Mama and Daddy told him not to worry about it.
“I'm not worried,” he replied.
“Good,” Daddy answered.
“But I didn't understand why Mama got upset,” Jimmy said.
“Don't worry,” Mama repeated.
Jimmy couldn't escape from the circle of words.
O
N A SUNNY
S
ATURDAY BEFORE
J
IMMY WAS TO RETURN TO
school on Monday, he and Daddy went to Grandpa's house for a pole-climbing lesson. The air was brisk, and Jimmy wore an old jacket over his shirt. He strapped on his climbing hooks, stopped for Grandpa's inspection, and walked across the yard to the pole. Buster ran alongside until a noise in the bushes at the rear of the property sent him flying off to investigate. Grandpa hooked on the safety rope, and Jimmy moved slowly but steadily up the pole. He stopped to rest a few feet below his previous best height. He looked down at the ground. Daddy was still holding the safety rope, but his attention was on Grandpa. Daddy's words drifted up to Jimmy.
“Nothing has been filed, and she may not follow through. She claims to be a new Christian, but I didn't recognize the kind of church she attends. Ellen suspects it's a cult and that she wants to get Jimmy, take him away, and never bring him back.”
Grandpa answered in a softer voice that Jimmy couldn't hear.
“No,” Daddy replied. “It doesn't make any sense to me either, but there is no reasoning with Ellen. I've never seen her like this. I don't think she's slept through the night since we got the phone call. I wake up, and she's not in the room. When I ask her about it in the morning, she tells me she was making sure that Jimmy was still in his bed.”
Jimmy dug his hooks into the pole and continued higher. Not far past his previous best climb he would be able to see over the top of Grandpa's house to the world beyond. He glanced down and saw Daddy scratch his head. He still held the safety rope loosely in his left hand.
“I'm more worried about Ellen than concerned about Vera,” Daddy continued. “There's no use talking to Brother Fitzgerald. Our meeting with him about Jimmy was a bust. He prayed a fancy prayer but, in the end, stiff-armed us back to the professionals. That avenue is closed. I'd like to suggest she go to a psychologist or psychiatrist herself, but I'm not sure how she'll react. It's one thing for Jimmy to get help; it's another for her to admit a problem.”
Jimmy stretched up straight. He could see Buster weaving his way back and forth around the trees along one side of the yard. Jimmy touched the pole. He didn't feel like trying for a new record today.
“Yes,” Daddy said. “I thought about that too. Matt McMillan could prescribe something to help her sleep and while he had her in the office, probe into the cause for her insomnia. However, if she thinks I manipulated the situation, I'll be in hot water. The uncertainty of the whole situation could last for months.”
“Is this high enough?” Jimmy called out. “I'd like to come down.”
Grandpa shielded his eyes and looked up. “That's a good climb. Smooth and steady. Remember not to come down too quickly. Keep tension on your safety belt.”
Jimmy leaned back against the safety belt as he descended. He didn't remember Mama coming into his room in the middle of the night to check him. Dr. McMillan was a nice man. He talked in a soft voice. If Mama was sick, she should go see him, even if he gave her a shot.
D
ELORES
S
MYTHE CAME BY THE HOUSE AFTER STOPPING BY
to check on her cats. Mama answered the door and called for Jimmy to come downstairs. To his surprise, Delores gave him a quick hug.
“I won't stay long because I have to get back to my babies, but I wanted to tell you how much I appreciated you taking care
of Maureen, Otto, and Celine. They looked great, and the house was neater than when I left on my trip. Did you vacuum the living room?”
“Yes, ma'am. Mama taught me how to run the vacuum cleaner. I also cleaned the kitchen counters and put the cans of cat food together so I could find the chicken dinner, liver dinner, beef dinner, fish dinnerâ”
“I saw that, too, and I'll try to keep it organized. If you want any other cat-sitting jobs, I'll recommend you to all my friends.”
Jimmy heard Mama sniffle and saw her get out a tissue.
“Uh, that's okay,” Jimmy said. “I have a big responsibility with Buster. He needs me every day.”
Delores opened her purse. “Well, here's forty dollars. Is that enough for all you did?”
Jimmy took the two crisp twenties and handed one to Mama. “Mama helped, so I want to share the money with her.”
Mama blew her nose on the tissue.
“Ellen, what's wrong?” Delores asked.
“I can't talk about it,” Mama said. “Lee will fill you in at the office on Monday. I'm pretty fragile right now, and your kind words about Jimmy touched me.” She handed the twenty back to Jimmy. “Keep this, son. You deserve it.”
I
T RAINED THE FOLLOWING WEEK; HOWEVER,
S
ATURDAY MORN
ing dawned clear, cold, and sunny. His University of Georgia cap on his head, Jimmy released Buster from the backyard and they started walking toward Grandpa's house. Jimmy had forgotten to bring any gloves and thrust his hands into the pockets of his jeans to keep them warm. His fingers felt paper.
It was the money Delores Smythe had given him. The formerly crisp twenties had survived a trip through the washing machine. He carefully folded the bills, planning to show them to Grandpa.
Reaching the corner of Ridgeview Drive, he came to a house with a line of cars and pickups parked along the curb. A large, handmade sign on a piece of brown cardboard announced “Three-Family Yard Sale.” People in coats and sweaters were looking at the items for sale.
“Stay close,” Jimmy said to Buster.
They walked up the driveway, passing by a CB radio with antenna, a table with four rickety chairs, a wooden gun rack with deer antlers glued to the top, and four large boxes of children's clothes. Small pieces of brown cardboard set the price for each item or group.
Jimmy stopped at the one-dollar table, amazed at what a dollar could buy. There was a slightly rusty toaster, a hammer, an alarm clock, a green telephone, and other household goods. Near the garage were lawn and garden items. There was a wheelbarrow for five dollars and a lawn mower for ten dollars. Leaning up against the lawn mower was a candy-apple red bicycle.
Jimmy caught his breath. Looking around, he slowly stepped closer. It was a mountain bike with knobby tires. On the handle bars he saw the gear mechanism. Max had explained how the gears worked. Jimmy had listened carefully and nodded whenever Max asked a question, but he still couldn't see how moving a tiny lever a fraction of an inch could make a difference in how easy or hard it was to push the pedals. He leaned over and touched the front tire. It didn't look worn at all. He eyed the frame. There was only one bad scratch across the top connecting bar. He pushed down on the seat. It was firm but broad. He squeezed one of the brakes and watched the calipers close snuggly on the front rim.
“Go, dawgs,” a male voice said.
Jimmy looked up into the face of a young man who was wearing a University of Georgia cap exactly like Jimmy's. He had dark hair and a neatly trimmed goatee.
“Go, dawgs,” Jimmy answered.
“How do you like the bike?” the man asked, squatting down beside Jimmy.