Garden of Stones - By Sophie Littlefield Page 0,80

to get the Sunday fish.”

“It’s a long drive,” Sharon muttered, her arms plunged into the suds in the sink. “She won’t be back for a while, so I won’t be able to ask her, if we ought to fix you something. She should have left instructions.”

The door clattered and Hal came into the kitchen, rubbing at his face with the back of his hand, his palms coated with dirt and grime.

“Mercy!” Sharon exclaimed. “Get back outside, looking like that!”

Hal grinned and walked past her to the sink, where he ran the taps full blast. “Smells good in here.”

“There’s a perfectly good sink in the powder room,” Ruby said.

“And walk on the carpet? Mom would kill me,” Hal said.

“We’ve got a few legs left,” Ruby said. “You want ’em?”

“Yes, please. Me and Leo been clearing barbed wire at the back of the lot. He’ll be along in a minute—he got snagged.” He patted his backside, and he and Ruby laughed. Even Sharon flashed a smile.

Sharon handed her son a glass of milk, then went to the back door where the tin pails were lined up and fetched a large bowl. She lifted the cloth draped across the top, revealing a pile of golden chicken that made Lucy salivate.

“Just fix me a plate to take with me,” Hal said. He drained the milk and went to the refrigerator to get the jug. “I want to take a look at that mower Leo’s been having trouble with. You want some?”

It took Lucy a second to realize he was talking to her, raising the milk jug in her direction.

“Um...yes? Please,” she added hastily.

“I’ll fix you something too,” Sharon relented. “But take it outside. We have work to do.”

Hal kissed his mother on the cheek and took his lunch out the back door, loping across the yard to the shed. Lucy carried her own plate and glass of milk onto the porch and sat on the top step. The chicken was delicious, better than anything she had eaten in years. She ate the skin first, then the tender meat, and then she sucked the bones. She licked the grease from her fingers and looked around for something to wipe her hands on. There was nothing. She wiped them on her bare legs, leaving shiny streaks.

“You were hungry.” Ruby had come out onto the porch without Lucy hearing the door, and was watching her from the shadows. “Can I sit down with you?”

“Yes.” Lucy scooted to the edge of the step, embarrassed, wondering how much Ruby had seen. All that was left on her plate was a neat pile of bones. “Thank you. It was really good.”

“Mom’s chicken’s practically famous,” Ruby said. “Don’t mind her. She only acts mean. She don’t do it around Pop or Hal, only me. Guess ’cause she wants to teach me everything. I’m engaged,” she added, blushing. “I mean, we haven’t told anyone yet, but I’m going to marry this boy Paul.”

Lucy relaxed, listening to Ruby’s chatter. When Garvey’s door opened and he wheeled down the ramp, Lucy stiffened and Ruby fell silent. They watched him wheel around the corner of the building, never looking their way.

“Have you seen pictures of Garvey from before?” Ruby asked. “He was something!”

“No.”

“Wait here a minute, will you?” Ruby jumped to her feet. Then she bent down and took Lucy’s plate. “I can get that. Just...don’t go, okay?”

Ruby disappeared into the house. When she came back moments later, she plopped down on the step next to Lucy, a scrapbook in her hands.

“Mrs. Sloat’s parents built this place for her after her accident,” she said, opening the cover. The first page held a large photograph of the motel when it was new. A painted wooden sign sunk into a much more well-kept lawn read The Mountainview—Gateway to Whitney and Yosemite. The metal chairs in front of the door were the same, and the maples and magnolia trees lining the walk were freshly planted, not even the height of a man. A crowd of people posed on the porch of the big house, smiling. A caption read Grand Opening, 1935.

“What accident?”

“Oh...you don’t know about that?” Ruby was obviously happy to have a secret to share. “Mrs. Sloat went to college down at Mount St. Mary’s in Los Angeles, but she came home her senior year. They say she used to be real headstrong. Never even graduated, after they spent all that money—can you imagine? Anyway, this boy she knew at school came up for a visit, and