Mr. Dell pulls his checkered cap
off his head. “Are your parents home?”
“Y-yes. Come in,” I say.
Papa and Mama come out to greet them.
Mama’s wiping her hands on her apron.
“Happy New Year,” Papa says,
and shows them into the living room.
“My uncle has something to say,” Timothy says
after they sit down.
Mr. Dell lays his cap beside him
and runs his hand through his hair.
“Did you have breakfast?” Mama asks,
and Auntie comes in with a tray of coffee.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Mr. Dell says,
and then, “Please stay here, Mimi.”
I sit on the edge of the hassock,
so I can make a quick exit if I need to.
Mr. Dell takes a sip of coffee,
and then says, “When you pardoned those turkeys—
or when you found Pattress—
I knew I needed to say this. It has nagged me
and it won’t let go.”
Auntie comes in with orange juice for Timothy.
“I owe you an apology,” he says.
“For what?” Papa asks,
and Mr. Dell raises his hand.
“Good neighbors are hard to come by.
I’ve been a terrible neighbor. I’ve been a terrible . . . person.”
He squeezes one fist and then the other.
“I flew missions in the war—
over Tokyo, ma’am,” he says to Mama.
“I dropped bombs. It wasn’t hard
if I didn’t think about where they were going.
And, I’m sorry, but all these years I haven’t thought about
where they went. But then you folks moved in.”
“And we reminded you,” Papa says.
Mr. Dell looks away.
“So, even though I don’t deserve it,
I’m asking for your pardon.
Just like for those turkeys.”
Mama slips her hand up to her mouth
to cover a smile. I know what she’s thinking—
that Mr. Dell isn’t a turkey—
because it’s what I’m thinking, too.
Instead, she says, “Don’t worry, Mr. Dell.
We will all be good neighbors now.”
Mr. Dell takes his cap and stands to leave.
“I just wanted you to understand,
and I hope one day you will forgive me.”
Mama says, “You are pardoned.”
After Mr. Dell shakes Papa’s hand,
he looks at me with a little nod.
I’m not afraid of him anymore—
in fact, I like him,
because now I know what’s underneath his crust.
I might never have this chance again,
so I say, “Thank you for the present.”
Mr. Dell frowns like he’s trying to remember
and says, “I don’t know what you mean.”
Then he and Timothy leave,
and Mama and Papa and I go down the walk with them,
saying “Watch your step” and “It’s cold out here,”
and wait until our neighbors go back home.
Then I say, “That was weird,”
but Mama says, “That is love.”