Stumptown Kid Read Online Free Page B

back now. Vern left.”
    “What about Luther?” I looked back over my shoulder and saw that he was nearly a half block away.
    “Honey, Luther’s a grown man,” Mom said. She glanced over at Mrs. Banks’s back door and lowered her voice way down. “He can take care of himself. Maybe Mr. Landen will give him that job at the egg-buying station. Come on, Charlie. Let’s go in the house now.” She glanced over again at Mrs. Banks’s house.
    “Mom, he’s hungry.”
    “Lower your voice,” Mom murmured, giving me a hard look, “and go inside.”
    She nudged me and nodded toward our back door.
    I walked inside with her. I kept my voice low. “Mom, I don’t think he’s had any food since he caught a fish in the river last night. We gotta help him.” I saw her eyes go soft, so I kept on. “When Vern was talking about him, Luther heard him, and you shoulda seen his face.”
    “Ohhh.” Mom looked miserable again. She put a hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
    “We can take him some spaghetti,” I said. “I’m pretty sure I can find him.”
    “Oh, Charlie …”
    “Please, Mom? He don’t know anybody in Holden, and he don’t have a job yet.”
    It was a second before she took a deep breath and said, “Okay. Put some spaghetti in a bowl and cover it with tin foil. The rest can go in the Frigidaire. I’ll get the keys and back out the car.”
    “Thanks, Mom.”
    “And get a fork and a napkin from the drawer.”
    “Okay.”
    In a few minutes we were in the old Chevy heading out of Stumptown. I had the bowl of spaghetti on my lap and a fork and napkin in my hand.
    “He said he was staying down by the river,” I said. “He set up camp down there.”
    “Set up camp?” A frown worked onto her face. She slowed the car, then stopped.
    “What?” I said.
    “Oh, honey,” she said. “I don’t think this is a good idea.” She turned to face me. “You mean he’s a drifter?”
    “No, he came here looking for work,” I said, talking fast. “I told you! He’s just camping out till he gets a job. But he’s hungry, and he heard what Vern said, so he left before he had a chance to eat. Please, Mom.”
    I could see she was softening again. She nodded. “Okay, we’ll take him the spaghetti. And that’s that.”
    She started driving again.
    I wasn’t sure exactly what Mom meant by “that’s that,” but at least we were going to get Luther some food tonight.
    “He said he caught a catfish last night,” I told her. “Said it was pretty good. But I bet he’ll be glad to get the spaghetti.”
    We drove along the edge of downtown and headed toward the river. We passed a big warehouse, a tavern, and the corner market.
    “Charlie,” Mom said, “I don’t want you to think bad things about Vern. He’s—”
    “I don’t want to talk about him,” I said. “I hate him.”
    “You shouldn’t say that,” Mom said. “It’s not right to hate a person.”
    “Well, tell Vern not to hate colored people then.”
    “Charlie, we need to talk.” She was saying the words slow and careful, and she slowed the car down to a crawl. “Vern and I might be getting married, you know.”
    “What?”
I said. “How can you even
like
him?”
    “Honey, he helped me feel better after your dad died,” Mom said. “I still miss your dad something terrible—you know that—but sometimes when I’m with Vern, I can forget for a few minutes. Just a few minutes.” She turned a corner. “It’s hard being alone.”
    I didn’t see what was so hard about it. And she wasn’t alone. Mom and I were doing fine. She had the job at Woolworth’s, and I helped out a lot and did some of the jobs around the house that Dad would’ve done if he was here. I mowed the lawn and shoveled the snow, dried the dishes every night, and I helped Mom lift heavy things when she needed it.
    “Has he asked you to marry him?” I said.
    “Well, no, not yet.” Mom was still driving real slow. “I just have a feeling.” She frowned.