Chapter 1

Mysteries

My day began like every other day in 1944—ordinary—then the mysteries unfolded, not one, but two.

Daddy trudged through the kitchen, walking in short, slow steps so he wouldn’t bump into something. Like two big ropes, his arms wrapped around the box he was carrying. Purple and green paper wrapped the box, and a big green bow decorated the top.

“What’s in the fancy package, Daddy?” I asked between bites of biscuit and gravy. I swiped the back of my hand across my face. Smudges of gravy and biscuit that never made it to my mouth rubbed off.

“A surprise birthday present for Grandma,” Daddy answered with a broad smile. “Grace, you and Johnny get ready. We’re leaving for Grandma’s in a few minutes. It’s a long drive from Hazard to Ashland.”

Daddy carried the mystery box right out the door without giving me the slightest idea of what was inside. “I could use a hint about now,” I called after him.

A snapping March wind whipped through the open kitchen door and shivered goose bumps over my arms. “I could also do without the frosty air,” I thought.

Two Cracker Jack boxes sat by the sink, so careful as could be, I opened one box from the bottom. Popcorn and peanuts poured into my hand. I crammed in a mouthful. I wasn’t hungry, but I couldn’t resist caramel popcorn and peanuts.

I shook the box, and the prize landed square in my hand. I tried holding the little package up to the light to see what it was, but I couldn’t see through the paper it was wrapped in, so I rubbed the prize between my thumb and fingers. It felt like the puzzle I had found in my Cracker Jacks last week. I shoved the prize back into the box and sealed the bottom the best I could.

I opened the other box. When I saw the prize, I could tell with only a quick glance that I had a keeper. I ripped open the paper and looked at a clown. Once I added this missing piece, my Smiley Face rocker would move. I pried the thin cardboard pieces apart, positioned them together just right and placed the clown on the rocker.

Kiss a frog and call me a princess! My Smiley Face rocked. I grabbed the whistle my best friend, Lily, gave me yesterday after school. I stuck it in my mouth and blew a blast that would rival the L&N train when it nears a railroad crossing.

Mom charged through the house. “Grace, is that you making enough noise to wake the neighborhood?”

“Look at my new rocking clown,” I told Mom, hoping to get her mind off my whistle blast.

She came over to inspect. “Good work,” she said as she ran her fingers through my straight, light brown hair, untangling some knots that had taken hold in my sleep last night. Mom pried apart the last knot and hurried off through the house.

My little brother, Johnny, moseyed into the kitchen rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Where did you get the clown?” he wanted to know, first thing. “Cracker Jack box,” I answered and let go with another Louisville & Nashville train–style blast.

“Mom!” Johnny yelped as he covered his ears with his hands.

“Grace Ann Brewer!” Mom called out using her you-had-better-listen voice. “Do you want me to take that whistle and keep it?”

“Sorry, Mom,” I apologized quickly. Johnny grabbed the other Cracker Jack box and opened it from the top. He polished off the popcorn and peanuts, what was left, and opened the prize—a puzzle identical to the one in my box last week. Lucky me, he didn’t notice the box had been opened on the other end. He finished the Cracker Jacks and started in on two biscuits and gravy.

Daddy walked back through the door, even more slowly this time, reading a letter. He read each word as if he had to take a test on it. Somebody sure had a lot to say. Daddy called for Mom, and they walked into the front room. I tiptoed behind them. Daddy handed Mom the letter as he eyed me. He hugged me tight and reminded me to pack my things for our trip to Grandma’s house.

“What’s in the letter?” I asked. I knew it must be important if they spent that much time reading it.

“It’s a letter from the government,” Mom answered. “Go feed Spot, then pack your things and help your brother pack.” Dad and Mom looked sadly at each other and then at me.

I picked up Spot’s food and carried it out to see my sweet mutt. He wagged his tail like a windshield wiper when he saw me coming around the shed toward his doghouse. I hugged him and poured food in his bowl.

Spot slurped up his breakfast faster than I had slurped down the Cracker Jack peanuts and popcorn. He grabbed a stick, ran a few feet, stopped and looked back at me. I ran to him, and he dropped the stick. I picked it up and flung it high in the air. Spot leaped and retrieved the stick before it hit the ground. When he made his way back to me, I smacked a kiss on top of his head and explained that the neighbor would feed him supper because I was going to visit Grandma.

He didn’t look too happy about the news.

“Spot, life is a series of mysteries,” I explained.

Spot looked at me as if he understood.

I went on, telling him all about the mystery box that Daddy had been carrying and the letter that he returned with. Hoping he understood, I told him how frustrating it was to never be clued in.

Spot’s big brown eyes stared straight into mine. Maybe it was the way I said it, maybe it was the sound of my voice or maybe Spot actually understood what I said because he whimpered. In dog talk, a whimper that seemed to say, “I understand how you feel, Gracie Girl. Nobody tells me anything either.”

I hugged Spot one more time and marched back into the house. In Johnny’s room, I snatched shirts, pants and socks and threw them in a bag. In my room, I grabbed my teddy bear and my blue plaid pajamas and stuffed them in another bag along with my two favorite pants, three blouses and some socks. I pitched in our toothbrushes and a tube of paste.

“We’re as ready as we’ll ever be,” I announced as I skipped back into the front room. Daddy and Mom were still where I left them, gazing at the letter. The expression on Daddy’s face was as somber as the one Spot wore when I kissed him goodbye. Mom’s expression mirrored Daddy’s. The government sure was serious business. “What’s in the letter?” I asked for the second time.

“Time to go to Grandma’s,” Daddy answered, ignoring me. He clapped his hands together and smiled. Daddy’s face packed a smile, but his voice didn’t. Daddy’s voice always had a happy ring to it when he talked to Johnny or me. Not this time.

Something about that letter, something important, made Daddy and Mom act differently. Like the time when Grandpa got hurt on the barge and had to go to the hospital. Daddy and Mom whispered a lot, serious whispers, but they told me not to worry. Every time I asked about Grandpa, they told me to think positive. I thought about the times Grandpa rode me on a wagon, the times he told me funny stories and the times he sliced open watermelons, right out of the patch, because I wanted one. I thought positive, but Grandpa died anyway.

Daddy and Mom started talking in serious whispers again. I crossed my finger and shut my eyes to think positive thoughts. I tried to wish away the something important that was in the letter, but the strange tickle in the pit of my stomach told me the wish fairy had taken the day off.

We pulled out of Hazard in our black 1938 Hudson automobile. Before long, we passed over a bridge with the sign “Troublesome Creek.” What a funny name. I poked Johnny with my elbow and pointed out the window toward the creek.

“What?” Johnny asked.

“Congratulations, you have a creek named in your honor,” I answered.

“Is it Johnny Creek?” His eyes bugged out big as quarters.

“Nope, Troublesome Creek,” I answered.

Johnny narrowed his eyes, bucked out his chin and grunted, “Humph.”

We stopped for a picnic on a wide spot beside the highway. Daddy grabbed a quilt from the trunk of the Hudson and spread it on the grass. Mom passed around biscuit-and-ham sandwiches, apples and cookies. I washed it all down with a glass of grape Kool-Aid I poured from a gallon jar.

We cleaned up our mess and crammed the trash in a brown paper sack. Daddy placed the trash and picnic supplies in the trunk and said, “Let’s begin to commence to go.” I laughed at Daddy’s joke; our family always took forever to get anywhere.

When I opened the Hudson’s back door, Mom said, “Gracie Girl, you ride up front with Daddy. I’ll keep Johnny company.”

Riding shotgun suited me fine. I loved to perch in the front seat by the driver. Besides, I was on the lookout for something.

As we rounded a curve on Route 23 past Louisa, a row of Burma Shave signs popped into view. I read the signs to Johnny:

Don’t stick

Your elbow

Out so far

It might go home

In another car

Burma Shave

He laughed and seemed to be over my crack about “Troublesome Creek.”

After six hours on the road, we pulled up to Grandma’s house. I shot out of the Hudson as quick as a jack-in-the-box. I couldn’t wait to see Grandma and discover the surprise.