The SideRoad Kids - Book 2 E-Book

Sharon M. Kennedy

• Herausgeber: Modern History Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

The SideRoad Kids Book 2: A Summer of Discovery takes place throughout the summer of 1958 in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. Readers familiar with The SideRoad Kids: Tales from Chippewa County will be reacquainted with their favorite twelve-year-old characters and their discoveries. Blew learns who his father was. Flint discovers why Uncle Leo is mean. Shirley shares her fears with Katie. Elizabeth has a change of heart towards her step-brother, Ronnie. Squeaky falls in love. Fenders joins the Army. Candy makes Flint a promise she may not keep. Johnny's devotion to Katie increases, much to her delight or dismay. The SideRoad Kids have fun, but they also tackle serious issues and learn that adults do not always tell the truth.
"Kennedy's prose deftly straddles that age where kids are discovering things about the world. The SideRoad crew learns about all the things that are part of what 'being a grownup' is about, and Kennedy shares these stories in a way that kids and the adults they've now become can connect with." --Brad Gischia, U.P. Book Review
"The SideRoad Kids Book 2 is an engaging read that includes details that harken back to a life that included campfires, riding bikes or horses, working hard, girls baking cakes and people listening to Roy Rogers's songs. I highly recommend this as a teen, parent and grandparent read-together to spark family memory discussions." --Carolyn Wilhelm, Midwest Book Review
"Once again, Kennedy whisks us into the rural past of Michigan's Upper Peninsula. Each evocative story, complete in itself, is also linked to the whole through beautiful prose and memorable characters. The stories run from heartrending to hilarious. I felt as if I were visiting my own childhood - the secrets, joys, mysteries and problems." --Sue Harrison, national bestselling author of The Midwife's Touch
From Modern History Press

Leseprobe

The SideRoad Kids—Book 2: A Summer of Discovery

Copyright © 2023 by Sharon M. Kennedy. All Rights Reserved.

ISBN 978-1-61599-771-8 paperback

ISBN 978-1-61599-772-5 hardcover

ISBN 978-1-61599-773-2 eBook

Published by

Modern History Press

www.ModernHistoryPress.com

Ann Arbor, MI 48105

[email protected]

Distributed by Ingram (USA/Canada), Bertram’s Books (UK/EU)

To Jill Lowe Brumwell,a good friend and fellow writer who always lifts my spirits

Contents

Chapter 1 - Flint Says Goodbye

Chapter 2 - Rain’s Haunted House

Chapter 3 - Finding Broken Horn

Chapter 4 - Shirley’s Nightmare

Chapter 5 - Mrs. Quails Tells Her Story

Chapter 6 - Squeaky Meets Rachel

Chapter 7 - The Girls Confront the Boys

Chapter 8 - Pap’s New Car

Chapter 9 - Summer Storms and Stories

Chapter 10 - Danny Visits Paradise

Chapter 11 - Bears and Bravery

Chapter 12 - Elizabeth’s Unwanted Houseguest

Chapter 13 - Flint Finds a Key

Chapter 14 - Flint Inherits the Farm

Chapter 15 - Blew Learns the Truth

Chapter 16 - Coming to Terms

Chapter 17 - Rowing Down the River

Chapter 18 - Sam Barters for a Pig

Chapter 19 - Elizabeth Stays Home

Chapter 20 - Ronnie Changes His Mind

Chapter 21 - Bruno the Wonder Dog

Chapter 22 - Sara in the Playhouse

Chapter 23 - Shirley Shares a Secret

Chapter 24 - Blew Overhears a Conversation

Chapter 25 - Fenders Writes Home

Chapter 26 - Rain Returns to the SideRoad

Chapter 27 - Katie Plans a Wedding

Chapter 28 - Down by the Riverside

About the Author

Chapter 1 - Flint Says Goodbye

Rats! Dirty stinking rats! Another summer of work for me. That means no swimming in the river or fishing with Blew and the other guys. No stealing a kiss from Candy or going to the drive-in movies. Summer means only one thing—work in the fields from dawn ’til dark. I don’t know why Ma farms me out to the Rudyard relatives. There’s plenty of chores around here now that Pops is gone. I could do lots of things to make our place look better. I could put in a vegetable garden for Ma and cut the grass with the scythe. If she’d let me, I’d find some paint and slap it on our kitchen walls. When I finished my work, I’d help Blew with haying and Johnny with his pigs, but no dice. Ma farms me out to her brother, my Uncle Leo. He works me like a dog. Nothing exciting ever happens in Rudyard. It’s just another small town like Brimley. And the worst part about leaving for three months is my buddy, Squeaky, has a chance of winning Candy’s heart. If she forgets about me and falls for him, I’ll jump in the river and drown, and it’ll be all her fault.

Geez, I wish Pops would come home. I know Ma misses him. Maybe that’s why she drinks so much. I hide her wine everywhere, even in the outhouse, but she always finds it. She’s not like other mothers. She doesn’t care about me or my sisters, about where we go or what we do. Jill and Jazz left early this morning. I watched them walk down the lane. I know they’re heading for the river where they’ll stay all day doing nothing.

Packing my stuff didn’t take long. I put a few things in a Piggly Wiggly grocery bag. The last thing I packed was my work gloves. Uncle Leo’s too cheap to give me a good pair so I have to bring my own. You can’t do farm work without the right gloves. I learned that last summer when we baled hay. The binder twine we used to wrap the bales was hard on my palms. Even using a hay hook didn’t help much, and the flimsy gloves my uncle gave me wore through long before the work was done.

I take one last look around my room. I guess I’ve packed everything I’m going to take especially the books my sixth grade English teacher, Miss Penny, gave me before school got out. Stories of the GreatLakes and Shipwrecks of the Great Lakes by someone named Boyer will make life on the farm easier. I’ll read a chapter every night before I go to sleep. Maybe I’ll dream of sailing on a freighter in Lake Superior and going down the St. Lawrence Seaway leading to the open waters of the Atlantic where I’ll see whales and dolphins. The more I think about it, the less I’ll think about all the chores Uncle Leo has for me. Farm work doesn’t bother me as much as it used to, and if I had my own, I’d rather farm than get a job at a car factory in Detroit. Pops sent Ma a letter when he worked at the River Rouge Ford plant. He said he worked one week and that was enough for him. The noise, the monotony of working on the line, the foreman yelling at him, and the stench surrounding Zug Island drove Pops on to cleaner pastures. We don’t know where those pastures are because he only wrote one letter and didn’t say where he was going, but my bet is he headed south.

I give my room one last salute and say goodbye. I’m off to see Candy and the other kids before Uncle Leo gets here. I’ll have to walk down the road. My bicycle has two flat tires, and we don’t have a pump so it’s shank’s mare for me. My friends are lucky. After they finish their morning chores, they’ll have the rest of the day to themselves until the second milking. Blew, Johnny, and Squeaky will help with the haying but that’s only a few weeks’ work. Haying doesn’t last all summer.

My workday will begin at 5:00 for the first milking, then mucking the stalls and washing the milk utensils. At 6:30 Aunt Ida will call me in for breakfast, usually eggs, sausage, toast, and lots of hot, strong coffee. Then I’ll work all day at whatever they have for me. My aunt will want the plot for her vegetable garden tilled, as well as the planting and weeding of it. Once a week, I’ll mow the grass. I’ll paint whatever walls need a fresh coat in the house. Uncle Leo will want help in the fields, greasing machinery he’s going to use for the day, cutting the hay when it’s ready and then baling it. I’ll have to turn the bales so they dry on the underside. When they’re dry enough, he’ll load the hay elevator. As the bales land in the mow, it’s my job to stack them. Towards the end of August, I’ll drive the old Case tractor and plow one field while Uncle Leo drives his new Allis Chalmers and plows another. What I hate more than anything is loading his neighbor’s bull on the cart and bringing him to our pasture where the cows will be waiting for him. The bull is mean and would gore me if he got the chance. When the day’s work is done and supper’s over, I’ll be so tired I’ll fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow. I probably won’t even read the first page in one of my books, let alone a whole chapter.

My bed’s in the haymow. I’m not allowed in the house for anything other than meals. I wash up at the outside pump. I’m used to cold water. I’m also used to the outhouse because we have one. There’s a real bathroom in Uncle Leo’s house, but I’m not allowed to use it. Pops was always promising to make our kitchen pantry into a bathroom, but he never got around to it. He was too busy looking for work, but I’m old enough now to know the truth. He was too lazy and too drunk to do much of anything. I’m not going to be like him. I’m going to make something of myself. Working for my relatives and getting a dollar a week is a start.

I hear laughter and see Candy and her friends riding their bikes towards me. “Hi,” I yell. “What’s up? Who’s the new gal?” The girls brake in the middle of the road.

“This is Rachel,” Candy says. “She just moved into Rain’s house. I thought you’d be gone by now.”

“My uncle’s picking me up at noon. I was on my way to say goodbye. Hi, Katie. Hi, Elizabeth. Hi Rachel. Candy, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure,” she says and turns to the girls. “Go ahead. I’ll catch up with you.”

“Have fun this summer, Flint,” Katie yells. “Don’t work too hard.” The girls pedal away. Candy pushes her bike to the side of the road.

“I thought you might leave without saying goodbye,” she says.

“I’d never do that. I like you, Candy. You know that, don’t you?”

“I guess so. I like you, too, Flint, but Mama says I’m too young to have a boyfriend.”

“But we’re friends, right? You won’t forget about me while I’m gone, will you? Uncle Leo won’t let me come home, not even for a weekend, so it’ll be three months before I see you again. Promise you won’t forget me? Will you write to me?” I hand her a piece of paper with Uncle Leo’s address on it.

“I won’t forget you, and I’ll write if you promise not to smoke.”

“I promise. I brought you a gift.” I take a pebble from my pocket. “Pops used to talk about something called a ‘worry stone.’ This isn’t a real one. It’s only a pebble, but it’s flat like the real thing. Maybe you could keep it in your pocket and rub it if you start to worry that I’m sneaking a smoke behind the barn.” I hand it to her.

“Thanks, Flint. It’s pretty. Where’d you get it?”

“Remember when we went to Monocle Lake for our class picnic? I found it when we walked along the shore. I thought you might like it. It’s not sharp like the other stones. The water wore it smooth. Well, I guess I better go now.”

“Goodbye, Flint. I hope you’re back in time for the Kinross fair. We could go on some rides and eat cotton candy.”

“I hope so. Goodbye, Candy. I’ll miss you.”

“Miss you, too,” she says, and then she’s gone, leaving a trail of dust behind her. I turn around and walk home. A heavy feeling settles on me the way dust settles on the weeds growing in the ditches alongside the road. When I reach the house, Uncle Leo’s on the porch talking to Ma. He looks mad. This isn’t a good start. The heavy feeling gets stronger.

“Get over here, boy,” he commands. “Get your gear and let’s get going. There’s plenty of work to be done and no time to waste. The day’s half gone as it is.”

I grab my bag. I feel like a thief going to the gallows. If Uncle Leo works me to death, this might be the last time I see home. I sure wish Pops hadn’t left. If he was like other dads, he’d have a job at the Soo Locks and now I’d be heading to the river to catch fish and swim and lie in the sun all day like the other kids.

“Kiss your ma goodbye,” Uncle Leo says. He turns to her. “I’ll make sure he sends his weekly pay home to you. It won’t be much, but he won’t have a chance to waste it on things he doesn’t need.”

“Thanks, brother,” Ma says. “Goodbye, Flint. You don’t have to kiss me.” She holds out her hand. I shake it and walk down the steps. That heavy feeling keeps getting heavier. I get in the truck and roll down the window.

“Roll that up,” Uncle Leo yells. “An open window lets in too much dust.” These are the last words I hear as my thoughts turn to Candy. I hope she likes her present. I hope she’s rubbing it right now and thinking of me. If I think she’s going to remember me, maybe I can get through the summer without too much trouble. I look out the window and watch as the fields and trees fly by. It’s awful hot in the truck, but I’m tough. It will take a whole lot more than a mean uncle and a throat full of dust to get me down. The only thing that could beat me is if Candy hooked up with Squeaky or some other feller while I’m gone. That would beat me good.

Chapter 2 - Rain’s Haunted House

“Katie, do you believe someone was dumb enough to buy Rain’s house?” Candy asks me after Elizabeth and Rachel are out of earshot. “I bet the salesman didn’t tell Rachel’s parents the place is haunted.”

“You’re right, Candy,” I say. “Nobody with any sense would buy that house. It gives me the willies whenever I ride by it. Rachel invited us to visit her tomorrow. Are you going?”

“I think so, Katie. The house won’t seem so scary with Rachel and her family in it. I wish Flint was coming with us. I’m going to miss him.”

“You like him, don’t you?”

“Yes, but Mama says he’s a wild one. She doesn’t want him hanging around me. I’ve tried to tell her he’s a nice boy, but she won’t listen.”

“Maybe he’ll be different when we see him in the fall. Maybe his uncle will beat some sense into him.”

“Katie, that’s an awful thing to say. Don’t even think about his uncle beating him. Flint doesn’t have an easy life. He doesn’t have a father to help him become a man. Well, I’m home. See you tomorrow.”

“See you, Candy.” I pedal down the road and catch up with Rachel and Elizabeth. We’re almost at Rachel’s house. Everyone knows it’s haunted because it was built on the bones of a lady who died when her husband got mad and shot her. He buried her in a hole he dug underneath the root cellar. That was a long time ago. By now she’s probably just a pile of bones. At least that’s what everybody says. Our mothers are always gossiping about such things, but I think it’s true. Men might get mad and shoot their wives if supper isn’t ready when they finish their barn chores.

Two years ago the house was empty when Rain moved away with her family. After she left, I rode my bike by her place every day. For the first few months, I saw her waving and smiling at me from her bedroom window. I knew that was impossible. I didn’t really see her except in my mind’s eye where I saw her spirit. I think we have lots of different spirits and the one that didn’t want to move was waiting for her to return. She was happy here and didn’t want to leave. This was her home. It’s where she was born and where she learned to climb the maple tree in her front yard. It’s where she gathered eggs from the chicken coop and licked the cow’s salt block in the field by the woods. It’s where her goats climbed the manure pile and stood like kings surveying their kingdom.

Sometimes I’d get off my bike and walk around the yard. One day I noticed someone had stolen the doghouse. When we were four, Rain and I married our dolls in that little house. She had a boy doll she called Max. We crawled in and held the ceremony. It was beautiful. Nobody came except us, but it was beautiful all the same. Then Rain got mad because of something stupid—I don’t remember what—and threw Max out and crawled after him. That’s when I got mad, too. I picked up my beautiful Connie and went home.

The first time I looked through the windows in Rain’s room I screamed because I thought I saw her, but it was just an old curtain. An old yellow ripped curtain that wasn’t worth taking. When I looked at that tattered curtain I got angry because that’s when I saw it. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Rain hadn’t even taped a note to the window so I could read it. If she loved me as much as I loved her, she would have written something. That’s when I cried. I was sad because Rain wasn’t the friend I thought she was. Nothing left. Suddenly I hated the house I had always loved. And I hated Rain.

I see Johnny and Butterball coming down the road. Johnny waves at us and reins in his horse. I tell Elizabeth and Rachel I’ll see them tomorrow. They ride off without me.

“Hi, Katie,” Johnny says.

“Hi, Johnny.”

“Was that the new girl who moved into Rain’s house?” he asks.

“Yes. Her name is Rachel. She has one sister called Sara and an older half-brother called Sam. She seems nice, but who wants to live in a haunted house?”

“Probably nobody told them about the house. Squeaky said they’re from Neebish Island, at least the dad is, but the mother’s from Poland. I guess she survived World War II and isn’t quite right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Squeaky said the dad married her because he felt sorry for her. She has nightmares and thinks the Nazis are coming for her.”

“How does Squeaky know all this?”

“He heard it from Blew who heard it from Daisy who heard it from her mother who knows everybody’s business in Chippewa County.” Johnny smiles. If I overlook his freckles and the way his front teeth overlap, he’s almost cute. I know he likes me, but I don’t like him, not much anyway. His dad raises pigs. A few months ago, Johnny’s mother ran away with the preacher from Kinross because she hated the hogs and Mr. Eel wouldn’t sell them. If Johnny asks me to marry him when we’re older, I might say yes because I love bacon and could eat all I wanted. I wouldn’t have to pay for it. All I’d have to do is ask Johnny to slaughter a pig and cook bacon for breakfast every morning. “Rachel invited us to visit her tomorrow. Do you want to come with us?” I ask.

“Sure,” he says. “Do you want to ride Butterball or do you want to ride bikes?” I look at him and all I see is bacon.

“Let’s ride Butterball,” I say in my sweetest voice. Johnny grins like he’s in heaven. My arms will have to circle his waist so I don’t fall off. He’ll think I’m hugging him, but I’m not.

“Ten o’clock?” he asks.

“Sure,” I say. He turns Butterball around and trots down the road. It’s starting to rain so I’m going home instead of to Rachel’s house. I don’t want to get soaked. As I put my bike in the shed and run for the house, thunder booms. I jump on the porch and throw open the screen door. The kitchen smells like rhubarb pie.

“Mama, guess what. I met Rachel, the new girl who’s going to live in Rain’s house. Johnny told me the dad’s from Neebish Island and the mother’s from Poland. Maybe the house will be happy and won’t be haunted anymore.”

“Silly girl,” Grandpa says. “That house has been haunted since the day it was built upon the bones of all the little children who died in the county during the great TB epidemic of 1933. The trees know the story. That’s why they lost their bark and look like corpses rising from their coffins.”

“Grandpa, don’t say such things. You’ll scare Katie. You know as well as I do there was no tuberculosis outbreak. Even if there was, anyone who died during that time was buried in the cemetery in Brimley or Sault Ste. Marie. Katie, there is no such thing as a haunted house, and yes, Mrs. Powell told me a family moved in a few days ago. Now, wash your hands and sit at the table. We have no ice cream, but I’ll cut you and Grandpa a piece of pie. And for goodness sake, put Lard on the porch. That dog’s paws are filthy.”

“Pie my eye,” Grandpa says. “Katie, you keep well away from that house. It’s full of ghosts, especially the ghost of old Mrs. Mitchell.”

“I know that story. Her husband shot her and buried her underneath the root cellar, right? At least that’s the story you told me last time.” I drag Lard out to the porch.

“Grandpa!” Mama shouts, but he ignores her.

“Ghosts,” he says again. “Hundreds of ’em. Remember your Granny always said one of the trees looked like her dead brother until lightning struck it and the tree came down?”

“Yes, Grandpa, I remember. The trunk still stands and sticks out like a jagged hand reaching for the sky.”

“That’s because it is. If you get too close, it might grab you. And stay away from the abandoned shack near it. Ghosts live there.”

“Grandpa,” Mama warns.

“The shack is home to weasels and porcupines. And ghosts. Plenty of ghosts.” Grandpa laughs.

“The boys go in there and shoot the porcupines, but Shirley and Candy and Elizabeth and I won’t go near it.”

“Smart girls, Katie. All of you stay clear of that shack. Granny used to say before the sun sets restless spirits come out and give the dead trees and that tumble-down shack a shot of life.”

“Grandpa,” Mama says again. “Will you please eat your pie and stop talking nonsense?” Grandpa laughs and winks at me.

Later that evening, it took me a long time to fall asleep. Lard kept howling, thunder kept growling, and I kept thinking about the time I saw Rain’s face through the window. Her mouth was open and her front teeth were sharp. She looked like she wanted to bite me. I know her spirit never left that house. I thought it was going to be a long, sleepless night but just before I closed my eyes I saw Johnny riding Butterball. He was smiling and handing me a plate full of bacon. That’s when I knew I’d have sweet dreams. It’s not that I like him because I don’t. Well, not much anyway.

Chapter 3 - Finding Broken Horn

“Maybe Broken Horn’s hiding in that stand of trees by the stream,” Mom said. “Maybe she had her baby and the two of them are in no hurry to come out. What do you think, Shirley?”

“Maybe,” I agreed.

“We’ll follow the fence from the pasture that leads into the deepest part of the woods. Then we’ll turn north at the property line and walk until we’ve made a circle. Pap and Squeaky will search the valley that leads to Fred’s Knoll. That means they’ll be walking alongside us, but on the other side of the stream.” She took a whistle from her pocket and handed it to me. “You might need this,” she said. “If we find her, blow it. The echo will tell your Pap and brother where we are.”

The red whistle was tied to a piece of string. I put it around my neck and we walked through the grass. Mom was quiet so I didn’t talk either except inside my head where no one hears. I walked behind her and wondered what she was thinking. She didn’t look like a farmer’s wife trying to find a lost cow. Her lavender blouse hung over her new overalls, and her long blonde hair was tucked underneath her floppy straw hat. Although I couldn’t see her belly, I knew it was where the baby was growing inside her. I wondered if he knew we were walking through the pasture, looking for Broken Horn. I thought maybe he could smell the wildflowers and feel the warm sun.

Mom walked slower as the fence petered out. Then she stopped and we rested next to a big rock by the stream. She gazed into the distance. My eyes followed hers, but I couldn’t see anything. Sometimes when she’s in the house, she stops whatever she’s doing and looks far away at nothing in particular. I don’t know whether she’s daydreaming or just pretending to be somewhere else. I watched her watching the distance. Watched as she brushed something from her face—a tear I guess.

“Are you crying?” I asked.

She shook her head. “No, Shirley. I’m just tired.”

“We’ll find Broken Horn. She’ll be okay.”

“I hope so,” Mom said.

“Why don’t we pray?” I asked. Mom reached for my hand. We didn’t say a real prayer like the “Our Father.” Mom just asked God to help us find the animals. She used to pray all the time, especially when my sister, MayBeth died, but she doesn’t pray much anymore. I don’t know why.