chapter 30

HENRY

“Hello?” called Jake.

“Coming!” yelled someone from the back room at the Salvation Army.

Henry inhaled the cold air. It was different from the air outside, easier to take into his lungs.

A woman appeared, carrying a cake. “Hello,” she said. “Sorry. I was in the kitchen, just finishing up this new idea I had. This.” She held up the cake. “It might taste awful. It might taste just horrible. But I need someone to try it. Want to try it?”

“You make it sound so appealing how can we resist?” said Jake.

The woman closed her eyes and put her hand on her forehead. “I did it again,” she said.

“Did what?” asked Henry.

“Dragged out the toilet paper—”

“Huh?” The woman was funny. Henry liked her. He liked the magnet man he had met too. He inhaled again and got a whiff of—cinnamon?

“Stuck my foot in it,” she said. “Or shoved my foot in my mouth. Either way. A foot issue. The usual.” She grinned. “I’m Cora. How can I help you?”

“I’m Jake, and this is my friend, Henry. Is this five sixty-four Camp Street?”

“Indeed it is,” said Cora.

“Then we have a delivery from Vermont.”

“Vermont! You all are wonderful. This is the second delivery we’ve had from your lovely state this week.”

Henry’s ears perked up. Maybe the marble was here. Wouldn’t that be lucky? Wouldn’t that make him believe in its luck again? Maybe?

“Should I start bringing in the bags?” said Jake.

“Oh, yes,” said Cora. “Thank you. I can help—”

Henry wanted to know where the bags were from the first delivery. “Do you need help unpacking the new stuff in here?” he asked, trying to sound like he didn’t care.

“I could use your help outside,” said Jake.

“The smell—” said Henry quickly.

“It’s overwhelming,” agreed Cora. “The whole city stuck its foot in it, didn’t it?”

Jeezum Crow! This woman was so cool!

“It smells like cinnamon in here,” he said.

Cora beamed. “You can tell? It’s in the cake! Oh, I’m so glad you can tell! That’s a good sign, right? Maybe the cake tastes good? I know! How about we try a little of it after we work?”

Henry nodded.

“I have a job for you right in here,” she said. “I won’t ever turn down help. That would be foolish, wouldn’t it? I try not to do foolish things if I can help it. Except for the toilet paper thing.” She laughed as she walked toward the door. “Some of the bags are there, behind the counter,” said Cora pointing. “And some are on the floor in front of those shelves. Can you take out the clothes and organize them by size?”

As soon as Cora and Jake were outside, Henry ran behind the counter. Three garbage bags were pushed under it, just beneath the cash register. He untied one and pulled out a pair of shorts. Pink. Flowered. Sparkles. Shoot. Definitely not from his house.

Now that he was out of Vermont, where life as he knew it had come crashing to an end, now that he was in New Orleans, where he had never been before but where he couldn’t totally explain why but he felt like he fit, now that up was down and left was right, he could imagine that anything was possible.

Henry tore open the second bag. T-shirts. He pulled one out. THE RICHMOND MOUNTAINEERS. Richmond was two towns over. His team played them in football. Got beaten by them most of the time. This bag was not from his house either.

He wasn’t sure what he’d do if he found the marble. There was no one to trade it with. Could he wish on it? Wish that Wayne would appear next to him? That time would wind back up like a pitcher getting ready to throw a curveball? That the hole in his skin, the crack in his bone, the tear in his heart, that all his pain would get taped and wrapped and sewn so that it would heal and go away?

He dumped the third bag onto the floor.

Baby clothes!

He kicked into the center of the pile and a pair of tiny overalls flew through the air and landed on the cash register.

Shoot, shoot, shoot!

Henry ran out from behind the counter and over to the shelves Cora had pointed out. Hope filled his fingertips as he pulled a pair of blue jeans out of a bag from between two pairs of corduroys. They were small, but still, he hoped. He reached into the front pocket, wishing, wishing wishing—

There was something there!

He pulled it out with his hand—

Wishing, wishing, wishing—

A car.

A tiny wooden car.

“Finding places to put the clothes?” Cora’s voice was muffled behind two huge bags balanced in her arms.

“Huh—?” said Henry. “Uh—oh…well…no—” He pushed the car into his pocket.

Cora dropped her bags behind the counter. She surveyed the strewn clothes. “Did you find whatever you were looking for?” She lifted the overalls off the cash register. “Clearly these are not your heart’s desire—”

“No,” said Henry quietly.

Jake came in, arms loaded with boxes.

“A heart’s desire is a slippery thing,” said Cora. “One minute it’s right next door to you, and the next minute it’s gone.”

“True words,” said Jake.

Henry swallowed hard. One minute in your pocket and the next minute on a truck bound south. One minute running down the mountain and the next minute flat on the ground. One minute alive and the next minute dead.

Cora opened the cash register and pulled out a knife.

Jeezum Crow! One minute alive and the next minute dead, all right!

“Would you both be willing to try a piece of my cake?” said Cora. “Please?” She cut into it and that cinnamon smell wafted into Henry’s nose. She handed him a slice. “Be honest. I need it to be perfect. Because”—she leaned in toward Henry—“here’s my secret. This cake is for my heart’s desire.”

And as Henry took a bite of the cake, which tasted fresh and delicious and different, and as he spun the tiny wheels on the small wooden car hidden in his pocket, he wondered if he would even recognize his own heart’s desire if he ran into it on one of those crazy streets.