Jailbird Kid by Shirlee Smith-Matheson

Author:Shirlee Smith-Matheson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dundurn
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

14

Grandma’s

“Al was here, wasn’t he?” Mom demanded as soon as she came through the door.

This was Dad’s problem, not mine. Let him handle it.

I went out to the backyard and stayed there until Mom called me in for supper. By then they’d reached some decisions on how our family would behave. We would go to church together regularly. Dad would immediately start looking for a job. And he would dump the outlaws from his past — Mike, Jerry, and most of all, Uncle Al.

“I guess I’ll have to make a new set of friends,” Dad said forlornly. I knew what he meant.

Mom rolled her eyes. “Grow up.”

I chose that moment to ask if I could spend the weekend at Grandma’s. Mom said “Yes!” immediately. I got the feeling they needed a weekend alone as much as I did.

On Friday evening Grandpa Hank came to pick me up. He was the only one in the family with a vehicle besides Uncle Al. Hank noticed everything on the way there: who had just painted their house, who had put up a new fence, what kinds of flowers and vegetables were doing well in this dry season, how high the crops were.

“You’re just like Dad,” I said. “He sees all sorts of things that nobody else bothers about. Then he draws them. Do you draw, too?”

Hank laughed. “Nope. Never had time. I went to work when I was sixteen in a sawmill. Never had a day off since.”

I rolled down the car window. Summer-type smells flowed in. I saw a girl my age riding a horse along the fence line, her black-and-white collie dog trotting along behind. I smiled, and she waved.

“Grandma’s looking forward to your help with the garden,” Hank said. “Those beans are getting ahead of her. Gotta tie them up. And there’s a bit of weeding to be done. Do you mind?”

“No, I sure don’t,” I said, and I meant it. Grandma and Hank lived such different lives from Mom and Dad. Or Gemma, or Uncle Al. It was as if we were all from different families.

“Al’s coming for supper tomorrow night,” Hank said suddenly.

“Oh, how come?”

“He likely plans to ask your Grandma for money again.”

“Why? Isn’t Uncle Al rich?”

“Rich? That man hasn’t a pot to pee in, or a window to throw it out of.”

I burst out laughing. “Well, he looks rich.”

“That’s why he ain’t,” Hank said. “It’s all show and nothing underneath. I hope your daddy has the sense that God gave a goose and stays away from him. That Al will get him into trouble again, sure as shootin’.”

“I’ll help. If he comes to our house again, I’ll tell Mom. She’ll chase him away.”

“Again?” Hank stared at me quizzically.

“I mean, since Dad got home this time.”

“Yeah, I bet she’d chase him away — right into the next county! She’s got strength of character. I always did like your mom. She’s a lot like your grandma. She’s more like her than either of her own kids.”

When we pulled into the driveway, Grandma came out to meet us, as she always did.

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