Chapter 22

Surprises

By the middle of November, we still hadn’t received a letter from Daddy. Five whole months had gone by. More and more injured soldiers returned home. Mom talked with many of them. Grandma did too. After each conversation, Grandma said, “No news is good news.” Mom agreed.

Each day when I got home from school, I asked if we had gotten a letter.

Mom’s answer was always the same: “Not today; maybe tomorrow.”

Sadness sneaked in and staked a claim with me. I walked out back to talk with Spot. “We should have heard from Daddy by now,” I said.

Spot whined. That’s dog talk for telling me he agreed.

One Saturday morning, I crawled out of bed and found Johnny’s stuff—clothes, toys and scraps of food—scattered all over the floor, all over the beds, all over our room. I gathered up all his stuff and piled it on top of his bed. I found a ball of Grandma’s red yarn and strung a line across the middle of the floor.

“Johnny, come here!” I called out plenty loud enough for him to hear.

He never came. I guess he thought I wanted him to clean up his mess. I did, but even more, I wanted to show him his half of the room.

“Rubble Trouble!” I squalled, loud enough that time for Spot to start barking.

Johnny stuck his head around the corner wanting to know what I was yelling about.

I pointed to the red line running down the middle of the floor. “Your rubble has to stay on your half of the room, or there will be trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?” that little scalawag had the nerve to ask.

“Big trouble,” I said. “I’ll dump your rubble outside so Spot can chew it to smithereens. Spot likes rubble, especially your rubble. And if I find it on my side of the room, you’ll find out how much Spot likes it.”

“Ah!” Johnny said, but I noticed he picked up his toys and put them in a box for safekeeping.

On Monday afternoon, when I had finished folding my clothes and putting them in a drawer, Grandma did something I hadn’t heard her do in days. She laughed long and loud.

“Land’s sake!” she said as she looked out the window.

Johnny and I dashed over to the window where Grandma stood. Mom pedaled down the path on a bright red bicycle. We dashed out the door to meet her.

“Mr. Wilson hired me to work at his store,” Mom said as she wheeled up to the steps. “He is letting me work for the money to pay off our bill. This bicycle is yours, Grace. You worked for it. You earned it.”

My heart pounded as I touched the handlebars. I couldn’t believe that bicycle was really mine. All mine. I ran my hands over the black seat, climbed on and pedaled hard. The wind whipped through my hair as I cut right to miss a rock. The bounces and bumps of the rough ride made my heart race. I felt like Christmas morning had come early this year.

I rode down the path and waved at Mom, Grandma and Johnny as I pumped harder and harder. The bike glided down the trail, carrying me faster and faster. I spun around and turned toward home. Mom and Grandma clapped when I pulled up. Johnny stared. “Your turn,” I said.

He grinned and jumped on. He made figure eights in the yard before he pedaled off around the house.

Johnny had been keeping his rubble on his side of the room the last two days. All it took was the red line and a reminder of Spot’s chewing habits. I figured if he kept our bedroom halfway picked up, he could ride the bike. When it came to neatness, halfway is good for Rubble Trouble.

We rode the bike until darkness wrapped around us. I put the bicycle in Grandma’s garden shed; then Johnny and I hurried into the house to get ready for bed. I asked Mom if we had a letter from Daddy today.

“Not today, maybe tomorrow,” Mom answered. “But think positive.”