Charlie Christmas by Suzanne K. Biggs

Author:Suzanne K. Biggs [Suzanne K. Biggs]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781475941562
Publisher: iUniverse
Published: 2012-08-14T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

Farmers’ Market

The summer progressed from hot to hotter. Some days, the temperature reached into the hundreds, but it didn’t really feel that hot to Charlie. The humidity was so much lower than back East, and the nights were 20 to 30 degrees cooler.

The baseball games turned out better each time, as Charlie became more comfortable. Timmy was able to relieve Charlie once in a while, since Charlie had been working with him on Tuesday and Thursday nights. The only problem Charlie had was with Jason Peabody, the Noisemaker team captain.

“Hey, Charlie,” Jason would yell across the field. “Wait until school starts. Coach Slater will switch you over to the good team.”

Charlie would turn to him each time and sign, “No way. As you say, I’m a dummy.”

Then he would walk off the field, with the whole Stomper team clapping and stomping.

The Christmas-tree seedlings were growing slowly. Tanner said that they would grow only about one foot a year. No wonder Christmas trees were so expensive! Along with keeping the grass and weeds away from the seedlings, the boys trimmed and shaped the older trees and fertilized all the trees regularly.

Charlie’s days were spent working with the trees, weeding the garden, or making truck kits. The kits were selling very well. Some of the local stores had agreed to stock the kits as well as the finished trucks.

Uncle Jake’s new website was up and orders for trucks and kits were coming in from all over the country. Putting the kits together on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings didn’t seem like work to Charlie—it was more fun than weeding the garden.

Saturday mornings were spent helping Uncle Jake with the farmers’ market in town. They loaded the truck with chairs, toys, kits, and vegetables to sell. Sometimes Aunt Molly would load some of her paintings into the van and come along.

One Saturday morning was an eye-opener for Charlie. He was helping Aunt Molly unload the van when a customer approached.

“Excuse me, young man,” the balding gentleman said, speaking with a soft Southern drawl. “Do y’all have any paintings on saw blades?”

Charlie shook his head. He pointed to the paintings and then to Aunt Molly. The customer seemed irritated that Charlie didn’t speak up. Charlie gave a short whistle to get his aunt’s attention.

“Well, I never! Is that how you treat your elders, like a dog you whistle for?” the customer inquired.

Charlie hung his head and reached for his pad and pencil as Aunt Molly joined them.

“Thanks for getting my attention, Charlie,” she said. “Was there something you wanted, sir?”

“A little respect shown from this young’un,” he replied.

“Sir,” Aunt Molly said calmly, putting her arm around Charlie’s shoulders, “when someone has lost the ability to speak, he does what he has to do to make up for it. Do you need help choosing a painting?”

You do what you have to. Charlie thought about that statement. That’s what he had been doing all summer. Trying to adjust to not speaking wasn’t all that easy.

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