The Wish Giver (8 page)

At Stew Meat’s Store

H
ello. It’s me again—Stew Meat.

As you’ve seen, within a few short days after they’d accepted those cards from Thaddeus Blinn, all three of those young folks—Polly Kemp and Rowena Jervis and Adam Fiske—had gotten themselves into deep trouble. Oh, maybe they’d learned a few things from what had happened when they’d wished unwisely, but I’d rather tell my story and leave the teaching to others. Let’s just say they all paid a high price indeed for having their wishes come true.

Polly couldn’t say a harsh word to anyone, no matter how necessary it was to speak out, without
jug-a-rum
ing like a bullfrog for the next half hour or so. Rowena had a stubby sycamore tree in the grove out back of her place, and in the
knots and scars on its trunk she could still see the terror-filled face of Henry Piper. And Adam Fiske and his family were without a home now that the house and barn were flooded and the whole farm had water pelting down on it.

But as hopeless as their plights seemed, I guess for every problem there’s a solution of some kind. And that’s what brings me back into the story again.

It was Thursday evening following the Saturday of the Church Social. I’ve found it’s good business to keep my store open late toward the end of the week so the farmers roundabout can buy in the evenings what they haven’t time to shop for during the day. And even at nine o’clock I have to shoo the hangers-on out into the street so I can lock up and balance my ledgers.

I’d just closed the big front door after Dan’l and Jenny Pitt and was about to slide the bolt home when I heard a sound behind me. I turned around to see who it was.

There was Polly Kemp, peering out from behind a hardware display in the far corner.

I opened my mouth to tell her to skedaddle, but before I could get a word out, the front door
banged open again, and in rushed Rowena Jervis.

Right behind her was somebody else, too. Adam Fiske, of course, panting and gasping for breath like he’d run all the way from Boston.

“What in tarnation are you three doing here after hours?” I asked. I was annoyed, no two ways about it. It had been a long day, and I was tired.

Still, in the past half week or so I’d heard and seen some mighty strange happenings that involved those three. So my annoyance was tempered by curiosity.

“I…I have to see you, Stew Meat,” said Rowena nervously. “It’s awful important.”

“Me too,” said Adam. “It just can’t wait.”

“But I was here first,” snapped Polly. “Who do you two think you are, coming in here and…?” Then she gave a little shake of her head and closed her mouth right quick.

“The three of you, all wanting me?” I asked. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow morning?”

“No!” All three of ’em cried out like they were singing in chorus, and I knew it had to be something serious. So I had ’em sit down on crates
while I took the old swivel chair by the stove.

“Now then,” I said. “What is it?”

With that, they all began talking at once, waving their hands in the air and each one trying to outshout the others.

“Hold it!” I bellowed. “Let’s get organized. Polly, you first. Then Rowena. And then Adam.”

So they told me their stories—just the way they’re set down here.

When they’d all finished, there wasn’t a more astonished man in the world than I was. I’d been dead wrong in laughing at the things Thaddeus Blinn had claimed. The Wish Giver could make dreams come true. But only on his own terms, of course.

“That Thaddeus Blinn,” I growled. “I should have known right off the kind of a creature he was. I thought there was something strange about his eyes. He was as evil as any witch or imp that ever came through these parts.

“But what do you want from me?” I asked finally. “I’m no wish giver.”

All three of ’em looked at one another for a moment. At length Rowena Jervis spoke up.

“Do you still have the card?” she asked me. “The one with the red spot?”

I nodded.

“You haven’t made a wish on it yet, have you?” Polly added.

Then it was clear to me. I was the only way they had of getting free of the trouble they’d made for themselves. I went to the cash register and pressed the No Sale lever. With a
bong
the drawer slid open. I reached way into the back. Amid a pile of bills and credit slips I found the card from Thaddeus Blinn.

“Now, Stew Meat,” Rowena said, “if you’d just press your thumb against the spot and say something like ‘I wish Henry Piper was a man again,’ I’d be ever so grateful.”

“Wait a minute!” cried Adam. “That big pond on our farm has got to—”

“Rowena Jervis, you are a selfish, inconsiderate lout!” yelled Polly at the same time. “And I think you ought to—

“
JUG-A-RUM!
”

At the sound of the frog’s croak, Adam and Rowena quieted down and just stared at Polly, who was clutching her throat. That allowed me to get a word in.

“You three are forgetting something,” I told them. “According to Thaddeus Blinn, I can use
this card to wish for anything—anything at all. And I plan on making my wish right now.”

“But the water…” exclaimed Adam.

“Henry Piper…” Rowena put in.

“
JUG-A-RUM!
” added Polly.

I took the card in my right hand and pressed my thumb against the red spot. The store got all quiet then, with the three of ’em staring at the card as if it were a live thing that might bite.

“I wish…” I said. “Now I have to get this just right…I wish that all three of these young ’uns will have their wishes canceled out this very minute. And Mr. Blinn, I don’t want any of the misery that usually comes with such wishing, either.”

I felt the spot on the card grow warm—almost hot—beneath my thumb. At the same time those three all began jawing at one another again. And of course Polly Kemp was the loudest.

“
JUG-A-RUM! JUG-A-RUM! JUG-A-RR
rrreally think it’ll work, do you? I’m gonna be stuck for all time croaking like…”

I never saw a more excited girl in my life. “I—I can talk again!” she cried joyfully. “It’s only
been a couple of minutes since I said…And now I can talk!”

Then she turned to me. “’Scuse me, Stew Meat,” she said. “But I’ve got to see if the spell’s really broken. Now, I think you are the low-downest, cheatingest, short-weightingest old skinflint who ever lived in Coven Tree. And you are shiftless and no-account and…and…and oh, Stew Meat, I didn’t mean any of them things I said to you, but I had to see if I was over that croaking business. Thank you, Stew Meat. Oh, thank you!”

And with that she gave me a big kiss right on the cheek.

We found out later that at just the same time Polly Kemp was calling me all those names, Rowena Jervis’s father and mother were sitting out on their back porch. Suddenly they heard a shout from the grove of trees at the far end of the yard, and then the sound of running footsteps. Mr. Jervis took up a lantern and went out to see who it was, but when he entered the trees he found nobody—just a scrap of paper on the ground. It was an order blank.

N
EVERFAIL
F
ARM
I
MPLEMENT
C
OMPANY

—HENRY PIPER, SALESMAN—

And by the big pond that was his farm, Edward Fiske stood up and peered into the darkness. “Sarah!” he called to his wife. “Listen to that.”

“I don’t hear anything,” she replied in a sleepy voice.

“That’s just it—there’s nothing to hear. The spouts of water have stopped.”

Well, maybe some good did come of the wish cards after all. Polly Kemp spends a lot more of her time saying what she likes about people rather than what’s wrong with them—though she can still be pretty blunt with anyone who gets her dander up. She’s got a lot more friends in school now, too, and the Wickstaff twins haven’t dropped a snake down her back or thrown her in the crick for nearly three months.

Sam Waxman took Rowena Jervis to the husking bee this fall, and she’s stitching him a quilt with a Cupid’s bow design. And sometimes at meals, when they think nobody’s looking, the two of ’em hold hands under the table. Mr. Jervis says the way those two carry on, it’s enough to make a body sick to his stomach. But he smiles when he says it.

Adam Fiske? Well, the farm was a dead loss,
more’s the pity. Once all that water soaked into the ground again, the place went back to being as dry as it ever was. Not a place to grow crops, that’s for sure.

But the Fiskes don’t care. Adam’s got himself a new calling that pays a lot better’n that ol’ farm ever did. He really does have the gift for being a dowser man, and now he and Uncle Poot are in business together, going throughout the county and locating water with forked sticks. Dowsing pays pretty well around these parts, and next year when Ed and Sarah Fiske start in to farming again, Adam’ll be able to buy ’em a place they can be proud of.

And that’s about all there is to my story. So I’ll end now, leaving you with just this one thought:

As far as I know, Thaddeus Blinn is still out there, roaming the highways and byways of this land of ours. So if you’re ever at a carnival or a fair or a community social and you meet a little fat man in a white suit, with a thick watch chain across his red vest…have a care!

Look closely at his eyes.

Especially if he tells you he can give you anything you ask for.

Before you take him up on his offer, think it over. Think very carefully.

Maybe there’s something else you’d rather spend fifty cents on.

THE END