Tallahassee Higgins (11 page)

"No, no, I insist on paying you, Tallahassee. That is, if it's all right with your aunt and uncle."

"They won't care."

She shook her head. "I'll call tonight and make sure it's agreeable to them." She sipped her tea. "I enjoy walking Bo, but I can't run him the way you can. He needs the exercise."

"Where did you get Bo?" I asked. "In a pet store or what?"

Mrs. Russell smiled at Bo. "One day last spring, I was out walking with a friend of mine. We'd taken a path that runs along the railroad tracks, and suddenly we saw a puppy sitting on the ties. If a train had come along, he would have been hit. We called to the puppy and he came right away." She paused and scratched Bo behind the ears.

"We couldn't leave him there," she went on. "Since my friend Emma lives in an apartment, she had no room for him, so I brought him home. I ran ads in the paper for a month, but nobody claimed him."

Bo made a funny little sound and put his paw in my lap, his head tilted, grinning at me. "Do you mean somebody just left him there? They abandoned him?"

"Maybe they couldn't keep him and they didn't know what to do." Mrs. Russell shook her head.

"They could have taken him to the pound," I said. "He would've been safe there." Bo scratched at my leg and whuffed gently. His eyes rolled sadly from my cookie to me and back again. "Can he have a cookie?"

"Just one. They're really not good for his teeth, but he loves sweet things." Mrs. Russell chuckled. "He's very spoiled, I'm afraid."

"How come you gave him such a funny name?" I watched Bo snap up the cookie. I think he swallowed it whole, it disappeared so fast.

"Since he was sitting on the Baltimore and Ohio railroad tracks, I called him Bo. You know, short for B and O."

"That reminds me of how I got my name. I was born in Tallahassee, Florida, so Liz did pretty much the same thing you did." I made a face. "It's not so bad naming a pet for the place you found him. Me, I would have preferred a real name."

"I wouldn't expect Liz to give her child an ordinary, everyday name," Mrs. Russell said.

I looked up, wondering if she was criticizing Liz. If she was, her face didn't give anything away. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, Liz never did things the way most people do."

I put my teacup down very carefully. It was so fragile you could almost see through it, and I thought a loud noise might shatter it. "Did you know my mother very well?" I asked cautiously, sensing how close we were coming to the question I really wanted to ask her.

"As I told you, I taught her." Mrs. Russell sipped her tea. "Then, of course, since she lived so close, I saw her around the neighborhood. Liz and Linda DeFlores and my son, Johnny, were all the same age, and they spent a lot of time together, especially when they were teenagers."

Mrs. Russell gazed past me toward the back door. "On days like this, they'd gather on the back porch. Liz would usually have her guitar and they'd sing. Poor Johnny—I could always pick out his voice. He was the flat one. But Liz—her voice was truly beautiful."

"I can't carry a tune," I told Mrs. Russell. "Liz says my father couldn't either. She says I look just like him, too." I leaned toward her, my heart pounding.

"What else did Liz tell you about your father?" Mrs. Russell was staring at me as if she'd never seen me before.

"Nothing. Except I have his hair and his teeth."

For a few moments neither of us spoke. Through the open window, I could hear a bird singing. Close by, someone started a power mower, and a car sped up the street.

Then the phone rang so loudly that I jumped. Mrs. Russell left the room to answer it, leaving me alone with Bo.

"Yes," I heard her say, "yes, she's here. I'll send her home right now. No, not at all, Thelma."

"Mrs. Russell came back into the kitchen. "That was your aunt, Tallahassee," she told me. "She wants you to come home for lunch."

"How did she know I was here?"

"Mrs. DeFlores saw your bike chained to my fence."

"Is Aunt Thelma mad?"

"I don't think so." Mrs. Russell watched me as I carried my fragile little cup to the sink and set it down carefully on the drainboard.

"That's a wonder. She's usually mad about everything."

Mrs. Russell rinsed the little cups and wiped them carefully. "Now, Tallahassee," she said gently, "you had better run along."

"It was Aunt Thelma's fault Liz ran away," I said as I edged toward the door, knowing I should leave but wanting to stay.

"That's really not fair," Mrs. Russell said. "People do what they want to do. Nobody makes them." She opened an old-fashioned kitchen cabinet and put the cups safely on a shelf.

"Sometimes I'd like to run away to California and find Liz," I said.

"Running away doesn't solve anything," Mrs. Russell said. "In fact, it usually gives you a whole set of new problems worse than the old ones. And it hurts the people you leave behind."

"It wouldn't hurt Aunt Thelma. She'd be glad."

Mrs. Russell shook her head. "What about your Uncle Dan? He's never gotten over Liz leaving. You wouldn't want to hurt him, would you?"

I turned my attention to patting Bo and tried not to think about what Mrs. Russell was saying. Of course I didn't want to hurt my uncle. I loved him. But Liz had loved him, too, and it hadn't stopped her.

"You really miss your mother, don't you?" Mrs. Russell was standing beside me, so close I could have reached out and hugged her.

"Yes," I whispered, feeling a sharp-edged lump fill my throat. "And I'm so scared I'll never see her again. Sometimes I think she doesn't want me anymore." I cried then, letting my tears soak into Bo's fur.

Mrs. Russell touched my hair very gently. I felt her hand linger there, then slowly withdraw. "Don't cry, Tallahassee, don't. She'll come back. Give her a little time."

I wiped my eyes on my sleeve, embarrassed that I'd cried in front of Mrs. Russell. As I stood up, I looked into her eyes, wanting so badly for her to say the magic words, to tell me she knew who my father was, but she said nothing.

"Do you still want me to walk Bo on Saturdays?" I asked.

"Of course I do. I'll call your aunt tonight and tell her." She glanced at her watch and frowned. "Oh, dear, it's after one o'clock. Please apologize to Thelma for me. I'm afraid I've made you late for lunch."

After thanking Mrs. Russell for the cookies and tea, I waved good-bye and ran across the lawn to my bicycle. As I pedaled back to Oglethorpe Street, I thought about everything Mrs. Russell had said, especially about Johnny. I remembered the soft touch of her hand on my hair and the way she had smiled at me. Even if she never told me that I was her granddaughter, I was sure that I was. And I was also sure that she liked me. Otherwise, she never would have allowed me to walk Bo.

A
FEW DAYS LATER
Jane and I came home from school and flopped down on Uncle Dan's front porch. It was a very warm day, too hot to go bike riding, too hot to walk to the park, too hot to do anything. Just to irritate us, Fritzi was standing on his hind legs peering through the window at us and barking. I had lived here now for nearly three months, and he still seemed to think I was public enemy number one.

"Poor thing, he wants to come outside," Jane said. "Would Fritzi baby stop barking if we play with you?" She pressed her face against the window and made little kisses against the glass.

"Are you nuts?" I stared at Jane, revolted at the baby talk she was cooing at my enemy. "Don't waste your breath on that monster."

"Oh, I love little dogs. They're so cute." Jane smiled at Fritzi, who continued yapping and jumping up and down at the window.

"Yuck." In my opinion Fritzi wasn't even a dog. He was more like a stuffed sausage on four stubby legs.

"Do you have a doll?" Jane asked suddenly.

"I got one as a going-away present when I left Florida, but she's really ugly." I felt bad saying such a mean thing about poor Melanie, but I didn't want Jane to know that, next to her and Bo, my best friend was a doll.

"I don't
play
with her or anything," I added so Jane wouldn't get any funny ideas about Melanie and me. "Why? Do you want to have a dolly tea party or something?"

Jane shook her head and laughed. "I was just thinking of something we could do. I've got an old baby carriage at home. Suppose I get it and you get your doll's dress and we dress Fritzi up and push him around in the carriage."

"No way." I stared at Jane. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard of. Besides, Fritzi would bite your hand off if you tried to put a dress on him."

"Oh, come on, Talley. He'd look so adorable. I've got a little ruffly bonnet he could wear." Jane was poised on the bottom step, ready to run home and get the carriage.

Fritzi barked again, a long series of yaps. I looked at his pointed snout and mean little eyes and burst out laughing at the thought of him wearing a frilly bonnet. He would hate it, and it would serve him right for always being so nasty to me.

After telling Jane to get the carriage and the bonnet, I ran upstairs and picked up Melanie. "This is a terrible thing to do to you," I whispered, "and I apologize, but I have to borrow your dress."

Leaving her on the bed, I ran downstairs and let Jane in. Together we cornered Fritzi in the kitchen. By bribing him with puppy bones, we managed to get the dress and the bonnet on him. Although he snapped and growled, he didn't actually try to bite us, even when Jane sprayed him with some of Aunt Thelma's perfume and jammed him into the carriage.

"You hold him still, and I'll push," Jane said as she opened the back door.

We were halfway down the driveway when Fritzi jumped out of the carriage and ran like a mad dog across the lawn toward the street. He was slowed down considerably by Melanie's dress and the bonnet, which now covered his entire head, but Jane and I couldn't catch him.

I was laughing so hard I could hardly run, and Jane was pushing the doll carriage and shrieking, "My baby, my baby, save my baby!"

Too late, I saw the car coming down the street and Fritzi, blinded by the hat, running out in front of it. "No, Fritzi, no!" I screamed.

Shutting my eyes didn't keep me from hearing squealing brakes and then an awful thump. For a few seconds I stood still, trying to convince myself nothing had happened.

"Oh, no," Jane sobbed. "Oh, no, no, no." Her voice trailed away and I felt her hand close around my arm. "Is he dead?" she whispered.

Opening my eyes, I saw a woman bending over a small bundle of rags in the street. "Is this your dog?" she asked. Her voice was shaking and she looked very upset. "He ran right out in front of me, I couldn't stop."

Slowly, I walked toward her, not wanting to look at Fritzi, fearing what I might see. "Is he—?" I whispered, unable to finish the question.

She shook her head. "He's badly hurt, though. Is your mother home?"

"No." I knelt down beside Fritzi. With trembling hands, I pulled the hat gently back. Fritzi's eyes were open, and he was staring at me. As I put my hand on his head, he whimpered.

"Here comes your aunt!" Jane gasped, and I froze beside Fritzi, watching the old Ford approach and brake to a stop.

The car door opened, and Aunt Thelma emerged. She stared at us for a moment, her face pale, her hands pressed to her mouth. "What happened?" she cried.

"Your dog—he ran in front of me," the woman began to explain, but Aunt Thelma dropped to her knees, pushing me aside.

"Fritzi!" she cried, "Fritzi!"

"It wasn't my fault," the woman said. "These girls had him dressed up in doll clothes. The hat was over his eyes, and he couldn't see a thing."

Ignoring the woman, Aunt Thelma turned to me. "
Tallahassee, what have you done?
" she screamed.

I backed away, terrified of the anger on her face. "I'm sorry," I said. "We were just playing with him. We didn't mean for him to get hurt."

"Would you like me to drive you to the vet?" the woman asked as Aunt Thelma lifted Fritzi and cradled him against her breast like a baby.

I watched Aunt Thelma get into the woman's car and then I ran after her. Pressing my face against the closed window, I cried, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Aunt Thelma glared at me through the glass. "You get in the house, Tallahassee Higgins! We'll talk about this when I come back!"

I stepped away from the car, and the woman drove off, leaving Jane and me in the street.

"I think I better go home, Tallahassee," Jane said uneasily.

"I told you it was a dumb idea, didn't I?"

"You don't have to yell at me!" Jane backed away, dragging the doll carriage with her.

"Well, you didn't have to bring that stupid carriage over here and spray perfume all over him!"

"I'm sorry!" Jane shouted. "I didn't know what would happen!" She turned and ran down the street, pushing the carriage ahead of her, and I went into the house, slamming the door behind me.

In my room the first thing I saw was poor Melanie, lying on the bed where I had dumped her, wearing her undies and her little shoes and socks and nothing else. Scooping her up, I fell down on the bed and cried till I fell asleep.

When I woke up, the room was dark and cold, and Uncle Dan was shaking me gently. "Tallahassee," he said, "how about changing into your nightie and getting into bed? It's almost ten o'clock, honey. You slept right through dinner."

"Where's Aunt Thelma?" I sat up, still clutching Melanie.

"She's asleep."

"And Fritzi?"

"He's going to be all right. Got his leg in a cast and a couple of cracked ribs." He patted my shoulder. "Don't you worry. That dog will be his old cantankerous self in no time."

"I didn't mean for him to get hurt, Uncle Dan."

"Oh, I know you didn't, Tallahassee." He gave me a hug. "Your aunt will calm down. Just give her a little time. That dog's like a child to her."

I smoothed Melanie's hair. "She'll never forgive me," I whispered. "I know she won't."

"What?" He bent his head closer to mine and I could smell cigarette smoke clinging to him.

Without thinking about it, I threw my arms around him and pressed my face against the scratchy wool of his shirt. "Oh, Uncle Dan, do you think Liz is ever going to send me that ticket?"