Of course, it would be a lie to say he’d trekked to Laurel Township solely for the good of others. Raised in a home shadowed by a ghost, he learned early on that to be seen is to matter. But wasn’t that what everyone wanted deep down? To know their lives actually made a difference? To leave their mark. To be remembered.
Now, though, with the sale sign nowhere to be seen, Ellis’s concerns returned entirely to those boys. Only a few weeks had passed since his afternoon spent here. It had been safe to presume the brothers remained. Their farm road wasn’t the type to draw traffic.
Ellis assured himself of this as he climbed the porch steps. A pair of one-dollar bills rustled in his trouser pocket. At his apartment, before fetching his car, he’d grabbed the cash out of his rent fund. He planned to offer the donation before taking the new photos. A simple trade for a few pics, he’d explain if the father was the prideful type. It could buy milk for the kids, some butter and bread. Even meat and potatoes for stew.
Holding on to that hope, Ellis swung open the screen door and knocked. Waited.
He knocked again, louder.
Still no answer.
That was when he spotted the wooden slat. It lay on a far corner of the porch, piled atop old firewood. He released the screen door, which rattled when it shut, and picked up the board. He flipped it over, cautious of the rough edges.
Around him, there were no marbles, no other toys or small shoes. No clues to say that the boys hadn’t been pawned off to the highest bidder. Or, more likely, anyone who’d offered.
“They’re gone.”
Ellis turned, startled at first by the voice, then the message. At the base of the porch stood a girl, seven years old maybe, holding dandelions at her side. The overalls she wore, shirtless, covered the chest of her petite frame, but were well short of her bare feet and ankles.
He steeled himself. “You’re talking about the two boys who live here?”
The girl nodded, bobbing her blond ponytail. “Rest of the family too. Ma says their pa got lucky, getting a mill job over in Bedford County, and right in the nick of time. Mr. Klausen’s been threatenin’ to… You know Mr. Klausen?”
Ellis shook his head.
The girl huffed to herself. “You ain’t missed nothing there, that’s for sure. Mr. Klausen owns a bunch of the houses ’round here and looks like a potato. You know, the bumpy kind with sprouts every which way. And when the rent’s late, he turns mean real fast.” Her emphatic expression said she’d seen the effect firsthand. From what Ellis gathered, so had the family of the boys who were no longer here.
“That’s good news, then. About the job.” He was relieved for the family. He truly was.
Granted, now knowing they were okay, he just wished he’d snapped a couple more shots when he had the chance.
“You want any?” she asked.
Ellis missed the reference.
“Only a penny a bundle. I made ’em myself. See?” She held out dandelions that looked to be twined in several groups of a dozen. Some drooped from the heat more than others. “A little water, and they perk right back up. I give you my word on that.” She gave a solid nod to underscore her integrity on the matter.
Ellis honestly needed to hoard every cent he could, now more than ever. But he surveyed her thin cheeks and pink, rounded nose. Her eyes brimmed with such hope. As much as he tried, he couldn’t refuse.
He shed a sigh. “Let me see what I got,” he said and descended the stairs.
She grinned in anticipation as he fished through his trouser pocket and found three pennies. His first instinct was to surrender only one. But lessons ingrained from years of attending Sunday services with his mother—and his father too, though only in the physical sense—compelled him to be charitable. Just minutes ago, he was ready to give two full dollars to a family he didn’t even know.
“Guess I’ll take whatever this’ll get me.” When he placed the coins in the girl’s hand, she gaped as if receiving a collection of rare jewels. Then she abruptly masked her exuberance with a steady, businesslike manner.
“That gets ya three bouquets.” She handed him all but one of her slumped bundles.
Perfect, actually—for the funeral of his career.
“Thanks, mister.” She kept her smile to a minimum, though the glint in her eyes betrayed her. Not