Gabes Guardian Angel

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

Gabe hurled his backpack onto his bed and paced the room, too tense to relax, going mostly in circles since his bedroom was a small back porch when they moved into the house two months ago. Grandpa said they each needed their own room, so he had turned the porch into Gabe’s bedroom. It gave him a special sanctuary where he could be alone with his thoughts and his dreams of being able to read like everyone else. Oh yes, once he had believed it could happen. Before he learned better.

He paused and stared out the window of the back door, where a slight breeze whistled through a thick crack in the glass. He smiled at the sight of a cardinal perched in the tall pecan tree in the middle of the yard. According to Grandpa, a cardinal’s visit meant someone you loved had passed on and would always be with you, in good times and bad.

He sighed. “To think I once believed the story.” He glanced at the bird again. “What if it is true, though? Is it my mother visiting me, or is it simply a bird searching for food? Who are you, bird?”

With a flutter of wings, the bird flew away.

“Yeah, I thought so. A bird trying to survive, like the rest of us.” He squeezed his lips together in pain. “Ow! Talking makes my mouth hurt. It feels weird, too.” He ran his tongue over his upper teeth and then the lower. “No wonder my mouth feels strange. Got a chipped tooth. Great. What next? On second thought, I don’t want to know.”

He laughed to keep from crying. “Big boys never cry, right? Right. They don’t worry their grandpa, either. Oh, and another thing, Miss Blaire, in case you’re interested. I’d doctor my wounds like you said. I really would. One problem. No medicine or bandages. Guess I’ll wash the scratches and let it go.” He blew out a puff of air. “I’d also better stop talking to myself and clean up before Grandpa gets home and sees me in this mess.”

After a quick shower where he cleaned his cuts and scrapes with some old medicine of some sort he found in the bathroom, along with a check of the chipped tooth which he could do nothing about, he changed into a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt with a tear across the stomach. He slipped his feet into his work shoes, an old pair of sneakers with holes in the toes, and had his hand on the doorknob to his bedroom to go outside when Lindy rapped on the door.

“Hey, big bro, can we talk?”

He groaned. He’d bet a hundred bucks he knew what she wanted to discuss, but he asked anyway. “What is it?”

So softly he barely heard her, she said, “Tell me about her.”

Bingo. Exactly what he thought. But not now. He rubbed his forehead where a headache threatened. “Later. I’m going to mow a couple of yards.”

“Oh, okay.” Her footsteps moved away from the door, one slow shuffle at a time. Silence filled the house.

He scrunched his eyes together. Why do I feel like a monster? I told her the truth. He sighed. Dang, I am a monster, but I must make her understand.

He flung his bedroom door open and limped—his skinned knee still protesting fast movement—to her room. He knocked on her door. “Hey, take a rain check. Please. We’ll talk after supper. All right?”

A voice, muffled by the closed door, said, “It doesn’t matter.”

He squeezed his hands into fists. “I’m sorry, Lindy.”

Only quiet answered him. He almost stayed home, but they needed the extra money he earned mowing neighbors’ lawns. The sun set earlier every week. The grass no longer grew higher. Soon, no more job.

“Don’t be angry with me,” he said, leaning against her door. “When I get back, we’ll talk all night, if you want. About her.”

He went outside, filled the ancient lawn mower with gasoline, and set off to do his work.

***

After supper—Lindy’s specialty of spaghetti and salad—Gabe and his sister sat on the living room sofa, Grandpa between them, the way they did every evening before he went to his nighttime job cleaning offices at a building downtown. He always wanted to hear about their day, except today for some odd reason. “Sorry, but I can’t talk with you this evening.”

“No?” Lindy’s lips turned down in a frown. “Why not?”

“I’ve added another office to clean every night to the ones I already have, so I need to get going. When I’m better organized, we’ll get back to our evening talks.”

“Okay,” she said with a shrug. “Sounds good.”

“Don’t work too hard, Grandpa,” Gabe said. “Oh, let me give you this before you go.” He dug into his jeans pocket and pulled out the wrinkled bills he’d earned from mowing. “Here you go. Made this today. I have a couple more jobs lined up.”

“Thanks, Son. Time to pay the rent. This will help.” He patted Gabe on the back. “Someday, after you graduate, you can stop mowing and get a great job earning big bucks.”

He shrugged. “Maybe.” He rose and stretched his arms and back. “Now, I’ve got homework, and I’m so slow it’ll take me half the night. See you in the morning, Grandpa, Lindy.”

“Night, Son.

“I have some reading to do, too,” Lindy said. “Sweet dreams, Gabe.”

Most likely I’ll have nightmares of Mick and Bud cutting off my fingers and toes and ears. He shuddered and decided he might stay awake all night.

As he headed toward his bedroom, he heard Grandpa call to him. “Son, I’d like a word with you before I leave.”

In a small house like this one, you could hear what went on in every room. He frowned. What had he done now? “Oh, no, I bet Grandpa noticed my cuts and bruises.” He chewed on his bottom lip. “How do I explain?” Forcing a smile to his lips, he moseyed into the living room where Grandpa patted a spot on the sofa beside him.

“Take a seat, Son. Since your sister is busy, I have a couple of questions for you.”

Gabe nodded and sat down. He suspected what Grandpa would say but hoped he was wrong.

Grandpa got right down to the basics. “Where did the scratches and bruises come from?”

He had noticed, of course. Gabe hated to lie, but to tell the truth… No, he didn’t want him to think Gabe a coward who couldn’t take care of himself. Better if Grandpa didn’t know the whole story. So, he said, “I fell at school. No big deal.”

Grandpa shook his head and sighed. “Poor kid. Guess you get your grace from your old grandpa. My folks always teased me about having two left feet.”

Gabe’s eyes almost bugged out of his head. Grandpa believed his story, sort of. Trying to hide his surprise, he said, “Your folks did? You did? You never told us.” And thanks for changing the subject.

“I never told anyone, until now.” When he patted Gabe on the shoulder, the gleam in his eyes revealed he didn’t buy his grandson’s story but accepted it. He added, “Remember, you can talk to me anytime you want. I’ve been there. Life is tough. So is our family.”

He rose to his feet. “Have you ever noticed one leg is shorter than the other?”

Gabe nodded. “Yes, I have. What happened?”

“Careless driver. Me.”

“Accident?”

“I guess you’d call it an accident. I saw the green light. Didn’t look both ways. Started across the intersection. Another car ran the red light. Slammed into me. I spent two months in the hospital.” He sighed. “We live with our mistakes, so make yours few. Understand?”

“I understand.”

They knocked knuckles. “Time to go to work. I’ll be home at midnight. Make sure the doors are locked.”

“Yes, sir.” Gabe followed him to the door and locked it, his mind still whirling at his grandfather’s revelation.

After he finished his tour of the house, making sure he’d secured every window and door, he discovered Lindy waiting at his bedroom door. “Tell me about her. Please,” she said.

The scratches on his face burned, and a dull stiffness made it hard to bend his leg. He’d rather go to sleep and forget this day, if possible. But Lindy had said please. What could he say? He slipped his hand in hers. Besides, he loved to talk about their mother, too.