The True History of Lyndie B. Hawkins by Gail Shepherd

Author:Gail Shepherd
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2019-03-25T16:00:00+00:00

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At seven p.m. by my Cinderella watch, it’s full dark. I’m starting to bed down Hoopdee and Velvet in the barn when Lady’s Cadillac turns past the American flag at the gate, with the Blue Bullet following behind. I blink in the glare of headlights. When the Cadillac pulls past, I see Grandpa Tad driving. Ma is at the wheel of the Blue Bullet.

I go crashing out the barn door, Hoopdee at my heels, already spitting questions and complaints.

But Grandpa Tad’s face is grim when he climbs out.

“Get on inside the house, Lyndie,” he says.

His tone of voice makes me back up, but I don’t go in. I stand gaping while Ma comes around the side of the Blue Bullet and Lady and Tad pull a person out of the backseat of the Cadillac, each holding an arm.

He is pale and slack-jawed and red-eyed. His clothes are a filthy mess, torn at the elbow and knee and a brown stain down the front of his blue shirt. Knuckles like he scraped them along a gravel path. I can smell him from here. Like he’s been sleeping underground.

Light should be pouring into me. There are tickertape parades for returning soldiers, kisses and dances when wars are finally over. But looking at his scraggly beard, the scratches etched on his cheek, I want to cry.

“Daddy?” I croak out. “What happened?”

“Go inside. Into the parlor and shut the door, Lyndie,” Lady says. “Now.”

Hoopdee is all a-quiver, ears perked, tail thumping on anything it can thump, circling around their legs. He’s the only one who looks partway happy.

I stare at this man, trying to overlay his beaten empty face with a face I remember from before last Tuesday. How has he come to change so much? My father keeps his trousers sharp-creased and smells like Aqua Velva. Now he looks like—like Hoopdee did, the day Daddy brought him home, all mangy and limping from his long wandering. Sick and exhausted and hopeless and homeless. A stray.

Daddy lifts his gaze as if to see me, but his eyes slide over the top of my head. “I can walk fine.” Daddy shrugs Lady and Ma off. But he can’t. He’s got a limp in his right foot, his energy is drained out. I follow them inside, trying to get close.

Grandpa Tad pulls his hat off and throws it on the hall chair on top of my schoolbag.

Lady waves a hand at Ma. “Rainbow, will you put a kettle on? Lyndie, get to the parlor.”

Ma gives me a quick squeeze before she hurries off to the kitchen. “It’s okay,” she whispers, but it’s her lying voice. Grandpa Tad has Daddy by the arm. They start upstairs.

“Wait.” I head after them, tug on Daddy’s sleeve. “Is your leg hurt? What happened to his leg, Grandpa Tad? Daddy? Where were you?” What I wonder most is, How could you leave like that? For so long, with not even a phone call?

Now Lady comes after me, grabbing my arm hard, tearing me away from Daddy.

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