said.
“Good night, Joshua,” my dad said, hugging me a little tighter and tousling my hair. “Painters need their rest, eh, son?”
“Yeah. Good night.”
I wasn’t that much more talkative the next morning and I caught my parents giving each other those “let’s pretend we’re not aware of anything” looks. I felt a little relieved about all of this, since I really didn’t know what I was keeping secret from them. The morning passed slowly and my dad whistled while he worked, not pressing me for small talk and letting me know by his easy manner that wherever I was that morning was okay with him.
Johnny was sweaty and out of breath when he finally coasted up to our back verandah with a white plastic bag in his carrier basket and a lumpy canvas packsack on his back.
“Hey,” he said, with a small wave.
“Hey.”
“Long ride.”
“Yeah. Is that
it?”
I asked, pointing to the plastic bag.
He glanced back at the house and then glared at me. “Josh! Keep it down, will you? Yes. Well, that and what I’ve got in my pack.”
“The answer to baseball comes in parts?”
“All answers come in parts. That’s what makes solving things so much fun. Only the smart ones can assemble the pieces. Like us!” He set the rusted Schwinn against the verandah railing. “Paint?”
“Yeah. In the shed.”
“Good. But first, where can we be alone?”
“You’re in the middle of three hundred and twenty acres. Take three steps and you’re alone!”
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Kinda forgot about that. It’s nice out here. Where can we go?”
“Let’s go sit in the willow tree. I got a board nailed across big branches halfway up.”
“Cool.”
My mother appeared with a jug of lemonade and a plate of sandwiches. She beamed at John and set the plate and jug on the bench. “John. It’s nice to have you here. How’s your parents?”
“Good, ma’am. Thanks,” he said quickly, lowering his gaze once he’d shaken her hand.
“You be sure and say hello for us and tell them we’ll have to get together sometime soon and compare notes on the two of you characters,” she said and disappeared into the house. “Joshua, don’t forget to ask John about supper,” she called back through the screen door.
“Okay, Mom. I will. Let’s go!” I grabbed the plate and jug and led the way around the house.
Johnny swept his wide-eyed gaze all around. “Boy, I wish we had a farm. Sometimes I hate town. Hated Toronto, anyway.”
“Big, huh?” I said, beginning to climb the ladder rungs I’d nailed to the trunk of the willow.
“Big and ugly and fast and dirty and too many people,” he said, clambering up after me. “No trees like this. This is great!”
The willow sat in the middle of our yard. It was huge, with thick branches low to the ground that I’d discovered were great for climbing when I was about six. When the summer swung into high gear the leaves thickened on the branches and concealed you when you climbed it. It had become my tree fort a couple of summers before and I spent many a lazy afternoon in its shaded coolness, reading, or doing puzzles from a book. It was one of my favorite places, and it felt right taking my new friend up into it. My dad had been the only other human being allowed into its sanctum.
“So what is it?” I asked once we’d pulled the snacks up in a pail on a rope.
“Easy,” he said. “Soon enough. Let’s have a sandwich.”
I slid the plate and jug his way, far too excited to eat. “Come on. Let’s see!”
“Okay, okay. But you gotta be sworn to secrecy. At least for now.”
“I can keep a secret. I never told my folks about what we’re doing.”
“That’s only ’cause you didn’t
know
what we were doing. Once you know it’s harder. You gotta pledge.”
“Pledge?”
“Yeah. Make a solemn oath,” he said, gravely.
“Okay. I pledge.”
“Not solemn enough,” he said, chewing and digging into his pack. “It’s gotta be official. Since this
“Good night, Joshua,” my dad said, hugging me a little tighter and tousling my hair. “Painters need their rest, eh, son?”
“Yeah. Good night.”
I wasn’t that much more talkative the next morning and I caught my parents giving each other those “let’s pretend we’re not aware of anything” looks. I felt a little relieved about all of this, since I really didn’t know what I was keeping secret from them. The morning passed slowly and my dad whistled while he worked, not pressing me for small talk and letting me know by his easy manner that wherever I was that morning was okay with him.
Johnny was sweaty and out of breath when he finally coasted up to our back verandah with a white plastic bag in his carrier basket and a lumpy canvas packsack on his back.
“Hey,” he said, with a small wave.
“Hey.”
“Long ride.”
“Yeah. Is that
it?”
I asked, pointing to the plastic bag.
He glanced back at the house and then glared at me. “Josh! Keep it down, will you? Yes. Well, that and what I’ve got in my pack.”
“The answer to baseball comes in parts?”
“All answers come in parts. That’s what makes solving things so much fun. Only the smart ones can assemble the pieces. Like us!” He set the rusted Schwinn against the verandah railing. “Paint?”
“Yeah. In the shed.”
“Good. But first, where can we be alone?”
“You’re in the middle of three hundred and twenty acres. Take three steps and you’re alone!”
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Kinda forgot about that. It’s nice out here. Where can we go?”
“Let’s go sit in the willow tree. I got a board nailed across big branches halfway up.”
“Cool.”
My mother appeared with a jug of lemonade and a plate of sandwiches. She beamed at John and set the plate and jug on the bench. “John. It’s nice to have you here. How’s your parents?”
“Good, ma’am. Thanks,” he said quickly, lowering his gaze once he’d shaken her hand.
“You be sure and say hello for us and tell them we’ll have to get together sometime soon and compare notes on the two of you characters,” she said and disappeared into the house. “Joshua, don’t forget to ask John about supper,” she called back through the screen door.
“Okay, Mom. I will. Let’s go!” I grabbed the plate and jug and led the way around the house.
Johnny swept his wide-eyed gaze all around. “Boy, I wish we had a farm. Sometimes I hate town. Hated Toronto, anyway.”
“Big, huh?” I said, beginning to climb the ladder rungs I’d nailed to the trunk of the willow.
“Big and ugly and fast and dirty and too many people,” he said, clambering up after me. “No trees like this. This is great!”
The willow sat in the middle of our yard. It was huge, with thick branches low to the ground that I’d discovered were great for climbing when I was about six. When the summer swung into high gear the leaves thickened on the branches and concealed you when you climbed it. It had become my tree fort a couple of summers before and I spent many a lazy afternoon in its shaded coolness, reading, or doing puzzles from a book. It was one of my favorite places, and it felt right taking my new friend up into it. My dad had been the only other human being allowed into its sanctum.
“So what is it?” I asked once we’d pulled the snacks up in a pail on a rope.
“Easy,” he said. “Soon enough. Let’s have a sandwich.”
I slid the plate and jug his way, far too excited to eat. “Come on. Let’s see!”
“Okay, okay. But you gotta be sworn to secrecy. At least for now.”
“I can keep a secret. I never told my folks about what we’re doing.”
“That’s only ’cause you didn’t
know
what we were doing. Once you know it’s harder. You gotta pledge.”
“Pledge?”
“Yeah. Make a solemn oath,” he said, gravely.
“Okay. I pledge.”
“Not solemn enough,” he said, chewing and digging into his pack. “It’s gotta be official. Since this
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