The Candle in the Forest by Joe Wheeler

Author:Joe Wheeler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Howard Books

“Is that all?” I said. “There must be more. Maybe you dropped the other part somewhere. Look around, will you?”

He let out another big groan. “As a matter of fact,” he said, “now that you mention it, I guess I did forget one thing. Some marbles turned up here this morning addressed to somebody named ‘Joe.’ I guess they’re for you too.”

He reached in his pocket and pulled out this sack of marbles. Boy, they were real good marbles and everything, and I was sure glad to get them. But I was still worried about the letter. “I guess I better hurry up and write another letter,” I said. “You can mail it for me like you did before. I guess I didn’t say how important it was. Anyway, I want to thank him for the marbles.”

“That won’t be necessary,” he said. “I give you my personal guarantee that there is no point in writing another letter.”

“This time you write it,” I said. “You can make it sound better. Thank him for the marbles and tell him how important it is that my father comes home, and not to forget the rest of the things I’m supposed to get, like the baseball glove and the football and the electric train. Mail it right away, will you?”

“Joe,” he said, “you’re a determined man. So am I. Right now I am eating my lunch.” He took out this big ham sandwich.

“Is that a ham sandwich?” I said.

“Yes,” he said.

“Is it good?” I said.

“Yes,” he said. He looked at me kind of mad and he kept on chewing real hard, and then he took another ham sandwich out of the bag. “Could I possibly persuade you to join me?” he said.

“Sure,” I said. It was good too. I was hungry.

“What’s your name?” I said.

“Al,” he said.

Pretty soon we finished the sandwiches. Then he took out this big red apple and started to eat it.

“My father used to cut up apples with his penknife,” I said.

“I’ll bet he did,” Al said. “I’ll bet he had to, in self-defense.”

I watched Al cut up the apple, and we ate it for awhile.

“How come you don’t want to write this letter for me?” I said. “Don’t you know how to write a letter?”

All of a sudden Al threw the apple core clear out the door to the alley.

“I know how to write a letter, all right,” he said. “I just don’t know how to get the right answers.” Maybe there was a worm in the apple or something. He sure looked funny.

“How come?” I said. “You mean, you don’t think you’re going to get what you want for Christmas either?”

“You might put it that way,” Al said. “Only in the Army we called it a ‘Dear John’ letter.”

Boy, did he look crabby all of a sudden, like this big lion, the time my father took me to the zoo, that had a toothache and tried to bite everybody.

“What’s a ‘Dear John’ letter?” I said. “Is it good or bad?” I guess it was this letter that made him look so mad all the time, all right.

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