Guardian Angel Academy (12 page)

Chapter 20

The day of the funeral Budd dressed in his white button-up shirt, a bow tie and fancy suspenders attached to a dressy pair of shorts.  Louise wore her best dress with long stockings and black shoes with shiny buckles.  They entered the chapel and sat on the front pew designated for the family.  The organ music played as men carried the coffin to the front of the chapel.  Budd frowned as he eyed the large box that held my body, the box that would be taken and buried under a big pile of dirt.

The ranch belonged to my family and now that I was dead, Nick felt it was time to leave.  They were going to move in with Nick's parents.  Their lives on the ranch would be over, except for summer visitations. Each night Budd lay in bed and dreamed about me.  Each night he dreamed that I came alive again and wrapped my arms around him. He was filled with peace and love and joy, until every morning-- he woke up.

Budd, Louise, and their father packed up their belongings and traveled to Utah to live with Budd's father's parents.  Budd looked out upon the large expanse from the back seat of the car.  The bare brown hills seemed to stretch out forever.  Maybe if he looked hard enough, he would see his mother out there, sitting on her horse, smiling at him. 

When they finally arrived, Grandma Ida Mae and Grandpa Ben swung open the door and greeted them.  Grandma Ida Mae's small round eyeglasses bounced on her nose as she bent down to hug Budd.  Budd let out a giggle.  Grandma Ida Mae was Mrs. Santa Claus, he thought.  Her curly white hair encircled her face like a wreath and her ample body was covered from top to bottom in a red velvet skirt and lacy white blouse.

Grandpa was a tall spritely gentleman, the antithesis of Grandma.  The couple led them into the house and showed them to their rooms.  Two of Grandma and Grandpa's eleven children were living at home, Joe and Marjorie.  Budd would share a room with Joe and Louise would share a room with Marjorie.  Dad would have his own room.

“Help Budd hang up his clothes and put away his things, please,” Grandma Ida Mae said to Joe, who was lying on his bed staring at a comic book.

He peeked his head slightly above the comics to answer, “Do I have to?”

“Where's your manners? Budd's not only your nephew; he's now your roommate, too.  You should get to be good friends.”

“Sure, Mom.”  Then he mumbled under his breath, “He's only five years old.”

As he unpacked his things, Budd could hear jolly boisterous laughter coming from downstairs.

He turned to Joe, “What's that?”

“Oh, Mama always laughs like that.  You'll get used to it.”

“Oh.” 

“She used to sing, too,” he added.  “She sang real beautifully.  One day a man heard her singing in church and he offered to fly her to New York for singin' lessons.”

“Wow.” Budd was impressed.

“Yeah--but Dad said no.  Mom had more important things to do here, taking care of the family.”

“That's too bad.” Budd peeked up at Joe while putting his toys in the empty drawers.

“Yeah, and she hasn't sung since.”

“That's too bad,” Budd repeated.  Secretly he thought, maybe I can change that.  Maybe I can get her to sing again.   

The dinner bell rang.  “Time to wash up for supper,” Joe said as he put his comic book down and led the way to the washroom.  Budd followed.

Downstairs the dining table was set.  Porcelain dishes, shiny silverware and hand crocheted doilies were set upon a tablecloth with decorative needlepoint.  Grandma had made a juicy pot roast, potatoes, carrots and onions.  It was the depression, but that didn't stop Grandma Ida Mae from setting a beautiful table.  When everyone was seated, Budd counted seven, more than he was used to.  But there was plenty of food for all of them.  They wouldn't need to fight over it.

I watched as Budd grew from age five to age eight, all the while living with his grandparents.  Every Saturday night Grandma and Grandpa took the family to the movies.  I watched as Budd ran to his room to get ready to go.  It was his own room now; Joe was grown and out on his own.

Budd unlaced his sneakers and stuck his feet inside.  Sour milk fumes wafted through the air from his only pair of shoes.  The daily chore of milking the cows meant daily drippings. Dad kept saying he'd get Budd some work boots when he could afford it. He never did.

“We're leaving,” Dad yelled up the stairs.

Quickly Budd tied his shoes, ran down the stairs, skipping a few steps, and out to the car.  Flash Gordon was playing tonight.

Dad, Grandpa, Grandma, Louise and Budd found seats in the amusement hall.  Budd figeted in his seat as he waited for the movie to start.  He looked forward to every Saturday night.

When the movie started, Budd sat fixated, eyes straight ahead, mesmerized.  Flash Gordon was strong and handsome.  He was brave and heroic and nothing could defeat him.

Just as the villain was about to kill Flash, the movie ended with, “Be sure to tune in next week for the exciting conclusion.”

“Aw, shucks!” Budd exclaimed.  “Why do we have to wait until next week?  I want to see it now.”

Monday morning, Budd was back at school.  At noon recess the boys lined up on the field to choose teams for baseball.  The team captains called out their choices.

“I’ll take Luke,” one of the captains called out.

“Mark,” the other captain replied.

“Alvin.”

“Walter.”

“Christopher.”

“George.”

“Gabe.”

“Don.”

”Steve.”
There was a slight pause.  Then the captain spoke hesitantly.

“Budd.”

Groans filled the air. Budd was always chosen last.  No one wanted him.  How so like his life it felt.  He had never been taught to play baseball.  Certainly that wasn’t his fault. 

“Why do I always have to have Sticky Fingers?”  The captain of Budd’s team complained.

The other captain cracked his knuckles.  “I had him last time.” The boys took their positions on the field.  Budd jogged as far out to right field as possible, away from the scowls and jeers.

The next day at school, Budd sat down and pulled out his bologna sandwich.  While munching on it, he could hear the boys talking about going out to play baseball.

“Who's going to be the captains this time?” one said.

“I don't care,” said another.

Budd didn't want to listen to them talk about baseball.  It was all too humiliating.  He grabbed his sack lunch and moved over to another table of boys. 

“So, Budd, you decided to join us?” A boy from the other table spoke with his mouth full.

“Sure, why not?” said Budd, sitting down and spreading out his sack lunch.

“Well, usually people don't try to join us,” the boy said. 

“I want to play baseball with you guys instead.”

“Sure, we can use another player,” another guy at the table said.

These were the Italian boys who played baseball on the other field.  They were ostricized so Budd felt like he fit in since he was also ostracized.  No one would complain when he was chosen to be on their team.

Budd’s favorite thing to do during the other recesses was to play marbles. Because, unlike baseball, he was good at marbles.  Some of the other boys stayed after school to play marbles, so Budd did, too.  He especially liked to win more marbles for his collection.  He could start out with a small handful and go home with all of his pockets bulging. 

One day as he walked through the door, late as usual, his grandmother looked down at him through those Mrs. Claus glasses with condemnable stern eyes and asked, “How come you are always late?  You’ve got chores to do.”

Budd wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and thought of an excuse.“The teacher kept me late to clean the blackboards.”

The next day during school, Budd’s father showed up at the door of the classroom.

Budd's teacher, Miss Hatch, a pretty and pleasant young woman, excused herself.  “Please work on problems 2-20 even numbers while I am gone.”

She slipped out into the hall to speak to Budd’s father.  Quietly, so as not to disturb the students, she closed the door behind her and greeted the man standing before her.  “Good afternoon, Mr. Corbett.”

Budd's father wasted no time with polite greetings. “Why in the heck are you keeping my son after school every day to clean your blackboards when he has chores he’s to be doing at home?” The anger that had been building inside of him for days came bursting out like the air being released from a balloon.

Miss Hatch stared back at Budd's father in confusion.  “I’m not keeping him after school,” she insisted.  “He isn’t cleaning my blackboards.”

“Well he better be coming home on time from here on out or I'll be speaking to the principle.”  Budd's father stormed off down the hall, leaving Miss Hatch standing alone, befuddled.

Budd watched Miss Hatch enter the classroom, tears in her eyes. She grabbed a tissue and solumnly sat at her desk.  Her eyes were on her papers but not really seeing them, trying to slow down her rapid breathing and her quivering hands.  Budd continued with his work, wondering what could've upset Miss Hatch so.

The answer was clear when Budd got home from school that day, late as usual.  His father, normally at work, was home and waiting for him. “All right, where have you been? I had to take time off work to go speak to your teacher who didn't know a word I was talking about and your grandma is so fed up with you being late for your chores; she's had to do them for you.  Now, I don't want anymore lies.  Where have you been?”  Father's stern eyes burned right through Budd as if he could see into his mind; the only acceptable answer would be the truth.

“Umm, I've been staying after...”

“Yes?  Out with it!” His father's eyes pierced right through him.

“To play marbles with my friends.”  Budd spit the words out as quickly as he could.

“Well, that beats everything.  You're to go to your room with no dinner.  I'll be in to give you your paddling and you'll be grounded for a month.  No movies, no marbles, no nothing.  And I want you to spill your pockets.  I'm taking all your marbles away.”

Budd emptied his pockets and gave the contents to his father.  He then ran to his room and shut the door.  He threw himself onto his bad and sobbed into his pillow.  How could playing marbles after school be a sin?  How could the one thing he loved be taken away from him....again?

The next day at school, however, Budd felt truly remorseful for what he had done.  When he was greeted by his teacher, it made him think of the those tears in her eyes.  It melted his insides and he promised not to do anything to make her cry again.

Chapter 21

I continued to watch over Budd and one day when he was nine years old his father came home after a date with his new girlfriend.  His father beamed, unusually happy and excited.  He gathered Budd and Louise near him.

“Kids, I have some news for you,” he told them when they were nestled near to him on the sofa.

“What is it?” Louise asked.

I’m going to be getting married.  We will be moving out of Grandma and Grandpa’s house.”

Louise's eyes stared ahead as she processed the information.  Then she smiled.  “We get our own house?”

“Yes, we'll be moving into our own place.” Nick grinned as he rubbed his bristly chin.

Budd looked up at his father.  “Just like before Mom died?”

“Yes, I hope it will be like that again.”

In the weeks following, preparations were made for the wedding.  Everyone was busy and excited, but as the time grew near, Budd’s father called the children into his room to give them more news.

Louise walked into her father's room and Budd followed.

“Please shut the door,” Nick said.

Budd closed the door, realizing this must be something important.  The two stood there, staring at their father, waiting for the revelation, which appeared to be bad news according to the serious and sullen look on Nick's face.

“I don't know how to tell you this.”  He nervously scratched his chin, his eyes dodging around the room. “I’m afraid you will not be coming to live with me after I marry.  You will be staying with Grandma and Grandpa.”

Budd’s eyes filled with tears.  His new stepmother didn’t want him.  He ran up to his father and put his arms around him and sobbed.

The next morning Budd slapped the blaring alarm clock.  He buried his head deep under his pillow.  Shivering, he pulled the blankets up over his head. 

“Chore time,” Grandpa called.  Budd could hear Grandpa's footsteps on the stairs leading up to his room.    “Be sure you fill the water pails after school,” he said, “Last night they looked kinda low.  You milk the cows this morning and I may be home in time to do it tonight.”  He gave Budd a pat on the back.  “Don't stay in bed too long or you'll be late 'fir school.  Well, I'm off to work.”

Budd slowly rose from his bed reluctant to leave his covers behind.  He stumbled toward his closet and pulled out the closest pair of pants and yanked a shirt off the hanger.  He took the clothes back to his bed and sat there, yawning, trying to get his eyes to open.  He collapsed back into bed, but just then Grandma's voice came sounding from downstairs.

“Budd, 'ya better hurry and come down for breakfast.  You can eat first and then do your chores.”

The mention of food put a little more speed in his step.  The smells of bacon and maple syrup making their way up the stairs, livened him up a little more. 

“Okay, I'm comin',” he said.

Budd sauntered down the stairs.  Louise and Grandma were seated at the table.  He pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. 

“Budd will you give the blessing on the food, please?” Grandma said.

“Sure, but where's Grandpa?”

“He's gone to work.  He already ate.  He has to start early, ya' know.”

“What does Grandpa do there anyway?”

“Well, they're putting in the new railroad track for the bamberger train.  It's very hard work, but it will be a blessing to the community when its finished.  People will be able to ride on it from here to the towns up north.”

“Why do I always have to milk the cows in the morning?”

“Your grandpa gets up early enough as it is to provide for us.  The least we can do is help with the chores.”

“I know, but why can't Louise milk the cows, too?”

“Louise is a girl.  She helps with the inside chores.  Would you rather strain the milk and wash dishes and set the table?”

“Yes, I would.  At least ya' don't freeze your tail off and get kicked by a cranky old cow who tries to knock over the stupid milk bucket.”

“I think you'd find the indoor chores are not so pleasant either.”  Grandma eyed Budd through her little round spectacles.

“Are you going to say the prayer so we can eat?” Louise burst in, “The food's getting cold.”

“Okay, okay,” Budd mumbled.

“Wait,” said Grandma.  “Not in that frame of mind.  I'll say it.”