Chapter 39

I chose the Belgian waffle with hot maple syrup. Half of it filled me up, so I packed the rest in a Styrofoam box. While Mom paid, I found Mr. Crumpus sweeping the front porch. His face was round and almost as red as the ketchup splotches on his white apron. He had combed over a wisp of hair from the left side to the right to cover a bald spot. I sat in a rocker and said hello.

“Have a good lunch?” he said.

I patted my full stomach. “As usual. Sounds like it’s been pretty exciting around here.”

He propped his broom against the railing and sat beside me. His face turned grim, as if he’d just eaten a rotten egg. “It’s a sorry business.”

“Does that guy live around here?” I said.

He pointed to a mountain peak. “Up there. The police have been looking for him.”

“You don’t think he’s guilty?”

Mr. Crumpus stared at me. “Never say never. That’s what I always say. That young man has had his share of trouble. The accident was the start.”

“Accident?”

Mr. Crumpus waved a hand. “Long time ago. I never thought he could attack anyone.”

“Running off makes him look guilty.”

Mr. Crumpus shrugged. “Maybe he knew they wouldn’t believe him. All I know is, that boy would never hurt anyone. Would I let someone stay around and feed him from my own grill if he’d hurt children?” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I get worked up about it, but I’m afraid for him. He was so close to turning around.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’d talked about him working for me. Maybe going to church with Helen and me. Moving back home.”

Mom came out, tucking her credit card in her purse. “What’s up?”

Mr. Crumpus stood. “I was just telling her about Danny—the one . . .” He looked like he was in another world.

“I’ve been praying for him,” Mom said.