Doug Bostwick stood in the middle of his driveway waving at the departing twenty-four foot truck. He had to shout over the diesel engine, “Thanks for all the hard work, guys!”
The driver from ‘Brothers & Sons Moving’ turned left out of the driveway onto Zongas Street. He waved his arm out the window until the truck reached the end of the block.
Doug turned toward his new home, lowering his arm as he did. He saw four children standing under a large maple tree in the front yard of the second house down. “It looks like we’ve attracted an audience.”
“Where?” Lacy Bostwick said, looking around. “I don’t see anybody.”
Doug tilted his head to the right. “Two houses over. Some kids are doing a poor job of using that big old maple for cover.”
“You should go introduce yourself, Roddy. You might make some new friends.”
“I don’t need new friends. Besides, I want to get my room all set up,” the Bostwicks’ nine year old son said.
Lacy grabbed Roddy’s hand and pulled him along with her. “I’ll go with you. It’ll give me the chance to meet their parents.”
Roddy kept walking, but yanked his hand free before they got to the sidewalk. “I don’t need the whole neighborhood seeing the new kid holding his mommy’s hand.”
Both of them surveyed the front yard as they crossed in front of their house. Lacy mapped out where she’d plant her favorite flowers. Roddy dreaded the thought his parents would expect him to mow the lawn when he was old enough.
Mother and son had only made it as far as the stepping stones leading to their next door neighbors’, the Bests, mailbox when the looky-loos scattered in every direction. Lacy and Roddy pressed on, past the middle neighbors’ yard toward the house of the disappearing children.
“Maybe they went in to get their mother,” Lacy said.
“All four of them?”
“Good point.”
They walked past the waist-high fence separating the Bests’ lush flowerbeds from the patchy, dog-damaged grass of the next yard. “I don’t see any signs of a welcoming committee,” Lacy said. “Since we’re already out and about, let’s take a look at the neighborhood.”
“But Dad is doing all the work by himself.”
“Says the boy who wanted to ditch us to arrange his bedroom. He’ll be fine. We’ll only go around the block. Then you can help him unload the car while I unpack the kitchen.”
The old sidewalk had buckled under the pressure of the far older maple tree’s sprawling roots. Roddy envisioned himself speeding down the sidewalk on his bike and using the displaced concrete as a take-off ramp. He figured the ramp was far enough down the block for his mom not to notice his reckless behavior.
“We need to be careful on this sidewalk. Somebody could get hurt if they don’t pay attention,” Lacy said.
Roddy let his mom get several feet ahead. Then he took three quick steps and launched himself from the highest point of the future ramp. “It’s easy. You have to come at it from the right angle, that’s all.”
“Well, whichever angle you use, be careful.”
Roddy chose to interpret that as favorable to his bike jumping plans, if not outright permission. “I will.”
They passed another two houses then turned left at the end of the block. Then another left at the paved alley lined with trash-, recycling-, and yard waste bins. An eight foot fence blocked all views of the nosy neighbors’ back yard. Only the moss-covered roof and the upper thirds of the second story windows were visible.
Lacy recognized the fence material as she and Roddy passed the double gate—pallet wood. She stopped when they reached their own back yard and rested her hand on the recycling bin. “I’ve never seen the house from this far back.”
“Me neither. That’s because I was too busy inside eating turkey.”
“Remind me to have Dad bring the bin closer to the house. I’m sure none of us want to come this far to take out the kitchen trash.”
“Do we have to keep walking?”
“No, we don’t. I know you’re itching to get your room set up. We can cut through the back yard and surprise Dad.”
The gate in the back fence opened inward and against the garage Roddy’s grandfather turned into his workshop. Lacy noticed several loose boards at the corner of the otherwise ship-shape shop. The boards were neither rotten nor loose with age, but looked as if somebody pulled them off to make an opening large enough to pass through. The culprit then replaced them with much haste but not much concern for concealing their entry.
A power line stretched from the house to a service conduit protruding through the roof at the rear of the garage. The power served more than the flood light mounted high on the wall below the roof’s peak. Lacy knew there were machines in there, but hadn’t a clue as to their uses. She closed the gate and watched Roddy creep across the yard. She followed him then stopped next to him.
Roddy leaned in and whispered, “We need to be extra sneaky now.”
Lacy nodded.
“Follow me. Against the house and below the windows,” Roddy said.
He led his mom along the side of the house, crouched and hugging the weathered siding. Lacy felt a familiar tap on the shoulder. She turned to see Doug with his right index finger across his sealed lips. He motioned for her to continue following their son. She did, and he stuck close behind her.
Roddy reached the front corner of the house and stopped. He raised his right fist to his side at head height, like he’d seen soldiers do in the movies. His parents switched positions, making as little noise as possible.
Roddy stuck his head around the corner and searched for signs of his dad. He reached his left arm back toward his mom and signaled her to stay there. He looked and listened for a few more seconds, then sneaked around the corner.
Doug followed him and Lacy advanced to the corner. She struggled to keep from laughing. Roddy moved ten feet along the front of the house then stopped. Doug tapped him on the shoulder.
Roddy whispered, “Keep your eyes peeled, Mom, he could be anywhere.”
“You’re right, he could be,” Doug said.
Roddy stood to his full height of four feet five inches and turned around. He put his hands on his hips when he didn’t see his mom standing there. “Dad. What are you doing here? And what have you done with Mom?”
“I captured her.”
“How did you know we were coming?” Roddy said.
“I saw you through the kitchen window when I took some boxes in. You started being sneaky way too late.”
Lacy came around the corner laughing, and joined her family in the front yard. “You should have seen your face, Roddy.”
“There are only a handful of boxes left. Could you please take a couple in with you?” Doug said. “Then go ahead and get started on your room. I’ll be up in a few minutes to give you a hand.”
“Okay. But not if they’re too heavy.”
Doug loaded two boxes into Roddy’s waiting arms. “It’s pantry stuff. They aren’t heavy. Please put them on the kitchen counter.”
“If you can find room,” Lacy said. “If not, put them on the floor.”
Roddy held the boxes down with his chin as he marched toward the house. He made it halfway across the porch before the odors of fresh paint and carpet shampoo assaulted his nostrils through the front doorway.
The Bostwicks had the entire interior repainted and the carpets steam cleaned. The fresh paint and the carpet cleaning either masked or removed ninety percent of the cigar smell. The last ten percent would require refinishing the hardwood floors, an expense the Bostwicks couldn’t justify.
The lingering background smell would remain a constant, welcome reminder of Roy Bostwick and the family holidays and celebrations to which the house played host. It would also be a reminder of Roy’s love of cigars. A love that was the ultimate cause of his rather untimely death the previous year.
Roddy walked through the entryway and down the hall to the kitchen. He dropped the boxes in the middle of the kitchen floor without even looking for space on the counter. He was already back in the hallway before the boxes had time to settle.
He hooked his hand on the newel post and swung around to the bottom of the stairs. His clammy palm squeaked on the polished finish of the turned mahogany post, no doubt releasing minute particles of cigar smoke into the entryway.
Roddy’s eagerness to get to his room overcame his usual exceptional agility, and he tripped. The carpet running down the middle of the stairs did all it could to protect his shins when he landed on his hands and knees.
Doug and Lacy collected the last of the boxes and carried them into the house. Doug juggled his three as he struggled to close the door without slamming it.
“How was your walk?” Doug said after locking the door.
“The kids scattered like feral cats before we got close. We didn’t see where they went, but I felt like they were watching us as we walked by.”
“Creepy.”
“I know, right? I figured we’d keep walking and go around the block. I wasn’t paying attention and turned down the alley by mistake. I got to see some of our neighbors’ back yards, though. The creepy neighbors have a tall fence, so I couldn’t see a thing, not that I was being nosy. Wait, that’s not true. I could see the tops of their upstairs windows and their mossy roof.”
Lacy set her boxes on the last open spot on the counter. “Their roof is a thousand times greener than their front yard.”
Doug blurted out a laugh. “I’ll have to go out back and sneak a peek.”
“That reminds me. You can take a good look when you bring the trash bin in from the alley, please. While you’re there, you should also take a look at the side of the workshop. There’s a bunch of loose boards on the alley side of the gate.”
“I’d better do that now before I forget. Then I’ll go upstairs and open Roddy’s boxes. I’ll be down in a few minutes to give you a hand in here.”
“Nahh, take your time. I still need to figure out where we’re going to put everything.”
“And I’ll only end up being in the way.”
Lacy kissed Doug on the cheek. “That too.”
Doug left through the laundry room and out the back door. He walked down the concrete path and through the back gate, eager with anticipation. After pausing to look at the side of the workshop and figuring out which was the correct bin, he pushed the gate open and rolled the trash bin into the yard. He closed the gate behind him then took a glimpse at the verdant rooftop two houses down.
He chuckled at his wife’s earlier comment as he pulled the bin up the path. Roddy caught his attention from the bedroom window. Doug mimed he would ‘be right up’, as he mouthed the words. The light on the workshop came on. He nestled the bin beside the porch and made a mental note to check if the light was on a timer or if it came on at dusk.
“I see you,” he told the workshop, “I’ll get you all patched up tomorrow.”
Doug went back inside and locked the door. He stopped in the kitchen on his way upstairs. “I put the trash bin right next to the porch.”
“Thanks,” Lacy said, elbows-deep in a box.
“It looks like somebody removed the boards to get in there. I’ll nail them back on tomorrow.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too.”
“Unless you need me for anything, I’m going upstairs now.”
“Have fun.”
Doug got to the doorway then turned around. “You’re right, that roof is ridiculous.”
“Isn’t it?”
Doug headed upstairs. He used the newel post, as Roddy had, to slingshot around the handrail and up the first few stairs. Unlike Roddy’s, Doug’s trip up was uneventful.
Doug knocked on Roddy’s open door and waited for a response. Roddy slid in front of the doorway. A pair of socks and the hardwood floor made the slide look effortless. As did the three minutes of practice he put in when he first got up there.
“Are you ready for me to cut open some boxes?”
“Yes. I’ve got my G.I. Joe shelf right where I want it,” Roddy said, pointing at the low bookcase below the window.
Doug took the utility knife out of his back pocket and began opening boxes. Roddy removed their contents and had them in their places almost as fast as Doug opened them. The G.I. Joe action figures went on the top shelf, with their vehicles on the shelf below. The bottom shelf was home to the various buildings and other items that came with the large playsets.
Lacy appeared in the doorway holding a restaurant take-out menu. “I put away the rest of the food and realized I don’t feel like cooking.” She held the menu out for the guys to see. “I saw this on the refrigerator and thought, ‘what better time than now to give them a shot?’”
“Benedetti’s was Dad’s favorite.”
“By the looks of the side of the refrigerator, Benedetti’s wasn’t his only favorite.”
“Will I like it?” Roddy said.
“They have some of the stuff I make for us,” Lacy said.
“So, no,” Roddy said.
“When did you become such a smarty-pants?” Doug said. “That sounds like a great idea, hun, let’s go take a look at that menu.”
*** End of Part 1 ***
Copyright ~ Terrence Campbell ~ 2023