Tommy Nightmare(4)

Tommy couldn’t sleep, so he crept out of the house long before dawn and got started on his chores. That way, he wouldn’t have to face anybody at breakfast.

He started by stacking up the firewood Luke and Mr. Tanner had chopped the day before. Mr. Tanner wanted it in a very precise hash pattern.

Later, he let the horses out and mucked the stables. He couldn’t get too close to the horses themselves, because he spooked them. The horses hated him, but he had to shovel their manure anyway.

He managed to avoid people for most of the day, but he was starving by late afternoon. Mrs. Tanner wouldn’t want him in the kitchen unless he’d washed up.

Tommy scraped his muddy shoes outside the back door, then took them off and carried them into the house. Mr. Tanner and the other boys were still out doing chores. Tommy heard banging sounds and Mrs. Tanner’s voice, swearing up a storm.

Upstairs, he found Mrs. Tanner in Pap-pap’s room, which smelled like stale sheets and Ben-Gay. It sort of looked like Mrs. Tanner was packing up his things, because she was taking clothes out of drawers, shaking them, and then flinging them into cardboard boxes. At the same time, it sort of looked like she was searching the room, because she was leaving the drawers hanging open, and she had pushed the mattress off the bed.

She sensed him watching her and turned to him, a deep frown on her face.

“What are you looking at?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Tommy said. “Can I help?”

She looked at him for a second, catching her breath. Then she nodded.

“Okay, Tommy,” she said. “Help me find Pap-pap’s money.”

“Money?”

“He’s got a bunch of cash in here somewhere,” Mrs. Tanner said. “Now we need it.”

“Where do I look?”

“Anywhere. Start anywhere. Don’t worry about making a mess.”

“Okay.” Tommy looked around the old man’s room. Where might he hide money?

Tommy looked under the bed first. There was a tackle box and a tool box, and the implements inside each were old and rusty. He found a photo album and flipped through it, thinking that it might be a good idea to hide money behind the pictures. He didn’t find any, just a bunch of faded photographs of Pap-pap when he was younger, with people Tommy didn’t recognize.

Mrs. Tanner moved on to the closet, checking the pockets of Pap-pap’s coats and shirts.

The rattling sound of Mr. Tanner’s truck approached the house, and Mrs. Tanner straightened up. She raced back to the dresser and slammed each of the drawers.

“Get out of here!” she growled at Tommy. “Go on and get washed up.”

Tommy ran down the hall to the bathroom. He didn’t know what was coming, but for sure Mr. Tanner had a punishment in mind by now. He scrubbed his face, hands and arms. He looked at the splintery handmade cross over the sink, and he prayed for protection against Mr. Tanner.

“Where is that boy?” Mr. Tanner shouted from the front door. “I’m ready for him now. The Lord has spoken to me.”

“He’s up here,” Mrs. Tanner called.

Tommy crept out of the bathroom. Mrs. Tanner was hastily folding the clothes she’d flung into the cardboard boxes. As Mr. Tanner clomped up the stairs, Mrs. Tanner heaved the mattress back onto Pap-pap’s bed and slid it into place.

Mr. Tanner paused at the front of the upstairs hall, his boots and jeans spattered in mud, his cowboy hat tipped back to reveal his angry face. His boots thudded on the boards as he approached. He glared at Tommy, who cringed by the door to Pap-pap’s room, and then at Mrs. Tanner kneeling on the bedroom floor, folding clothes.

“What are you doing alone with him, Courtney?” Mr. Tanner asked. “What were you two getting up to?”

“Nothing, Mr. Tanner,” Mrs. Tanner said.

“Why are you in Pap-pap’s room?”

“I was just neatening up. Getting things squared away.”

“And who told you to do that?”

“You always want me to do things without you telling me,” Mrs. Tanner.

“This ain’t one of them,” Mr. Tanner said. “Put it back just like it was.”

“But— ” Mrs. Tanner said.

“Like it was!” Mr. Tanner grabbed Tommy by the sleeve and pulled him down the hall towards the stairs. Tommy stumbled along and fought to keep his balance. “And you got to come to church with me. You got to pray.”

Tommy didn’t want to go to church, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t want a whupping.

Mr. Tanner took him downstairs and out the back door of the house, past the stables, and out past the goat pen.

“They say it was just a heart attack,” Mr. Tanner said. “Well, the Devil covers his cloven tracks, don’t he? I said don’t he, boy?”