Read Online Finders Keepers by Catherine Palmer - Free Book Online
Authors: Catherine Palmer
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know. The bottom line is that you want that old house standing so it doesn’t mess up business in your musty little junk shop.”
“Ohhh!” Clenching her fists, she stormed into the house and slammed the screen door behind her. In a moment she was back outside with a broom. “Get off my porch. Get off, or I’ll call Mick and Ben!”
“OK, OK!” He held up his hands in surrender as she prodded him down the steps. “I’m leaving.”
He heard the screen door slam again as he headed for the sidewalk. So much for Elizabeth Hayes. So much for romance in Ambleside. So much for— “Hey, Zachary!” A husky voice called down from an open upstairs window. “Did you kiss my mom yet?”
“Not yet,” he called back.
“Not ever!” Elizabeth shouted into the night, and she shut the child’s bedroom window with a bang that echoed clear across the Missouri River to the bluffs on the other side.
“Does that help?” Elizabeth adjusted the pillow behind Boompah’s head and smoothed the dank-smelling sheet up to his grizzled chin. “You need air-conditioning in here. I’m going to talk to Bud Hoff. He might have a trade-in at the hardware store.”
“You fuss over me too much, Elizabeth,” the old man said. “I never had air-conditioning before, and I don’t need it now that I am sick.”
“Boompah, are you going to die?” Nick asked, taking his gnarled hand. “Are you going to get put into a box and buried in the dirt like Grace?”
“Nick!” Elizabeth whirled on her son. “That is not polite, and you—”
“Yes, Nikolai, I am,” Boompah said. “I’m going to die one day, just like everybody else. But maybe not right away. I hope Cleo Mueller’s medicine will help me live a little longer.”
“I don’t want you to die, Boompah. I would miss you.”
“I would miss you, too, Nikolai. But I’ll tell you a little secret. Come here.”
He motioned for the boy to move closer, and then he whispered in his ear. Elizabeth watched the two, her heart aching. Nick had insisted on putting Boompah on his family tree in the grandfather’s spot. He’d added Grace for the grandmother. Nothing his mother had said to explain the reality of his family situation would deter him from creating a lineage of his own desire.
The father’s spot, of course, had been filled by Zachary Chalmers. Elizabeth had told Nick that Zachary was not his father, and he never would be. The man himself was away on his vacation, thank heaven, and neither she nor Nick had seen him since the evening on the porch swing five days ago. She would give just about anything if Zachary Chalmers hadn’t stepped into her peaceful life, and she wished her son would get the man out of his fantasies.
But the boy had sketched a round face, a smile with fifty teeth, a pair of green eyes, and a thatch of black hair to match his own right in the “father” spot on the family tree. Then he had labeled it, Zakry Chamers, my dad.
The assignment had distressed Elizabeth so much that she’d made an appointment with Nick’s teacher, a wonderfully caring woman. Unfortunately, the discussion turned quickly to the usual concerns that Nick was failing to work at grade level, he talked too much in class, and he jumped out of his chair every two or three minutes. The principal had scheduled a meeting for Nick’s special-education team, and the matter of the family tree went by the wayside.
“Really?” the boy exclaimed. “Each gate of heaven will be made out of one pearl? They must be really small gates.”
“Or really big pearls. I can hardly wait to see them.”
Nick pulled up his shirt and scratched his stomach as he pondered. “But will there be volcanoes in heaven? Will they interrupt?”
“Erupt,” Elizabeth corrected. “Boompah doesn’t know about volcanoes in heaven, and I want you to let him rest. His back is hurting.”
“Not so much now, thanks to the pills of Cleo Mueller.” He shut his eyes. “Elizabeth, I am thinking of
“Ohhh!” Clenching her fists, she stormed into the house and slammed the screen door behind her. In a moment she was back outside with a broom. “Get off my porch. Get off, or I’ll call Mick and Ben!”
“OK, OK!” He held up his hands in surrender as she prodded him down the steps. “I’m leaving.”
He heard the screen door slam again as he headed for the sidewalk. So much for Elizabeth Hayes. So much for romance in Ambleside. So much for— “Hey, Zachary!” A husky voice called down from an open upstairs window. “Did you kiss my mom yet?”
“Not yet,” he called back.
“Not ever!” Elizabeth shouted into the night, and she shut the child’s bedroom window with a bang that echoed clear across the Missouri River to the bluffs on the other side.
“Does that help?” Elizabeth adjusted the pillow behind Boompah’s head and smoothed the dank-smelling sheet up to his grizzled chin. “You need air-conditioning in here. I’m going to talk to Bud Hoff. He might have a trade-in at the hardware store.”
“You fuss over me too much, Elizabeth,” the old man said. “I never had air-conditioning before, and I don’t need it now that I am sick.”
“Boompah, are you going to die?” Nick asked, taking his gnarled hand. “Are you going to get put into a box and buried in the dirt like Grace?”
“Nick!” Elizabeth whirled on her son. “That is not polite, and you—”
“Yes, Nikolai, I am,” Boompah said. “I’m going to die one day, just like everybody else. But maybe not right away. I hope Cleo Mueller’s medicine will help me live a little longer.”
“I don’t want you to die, Boompah. I would miss you.”
“I would miss you, too, Nikolai. But I’ll tell you a little secret. Come here.”
He motioned for the boy to move closer, and then he whispered in his ear. Elizabeth watched the two, her heart aching. Nick had insisted on putting Boompah on his family tree in the grandfather’s spot. He’d added Grace for the grandmother. Nothing his mother had said to explain the reality of his family situation would deter him from creating a lineage of his own desire.
The father’s spot, of course, had been filled by Zachary Chalmers. Elizabeth had told Nick that Zachary was not his father, and he never would be. The man himself was away on his vacation, thank heaven, and neither she nor Nick had seen him since the evening on the porch swing five days ago. She would give just about anything if Zachary Chalmers hadn’t stepped into her peaceful life, and she wished her son would get the man out of his fantasies.
But the boy had sketched a round face, a smile with fifty teeth, a pair of green eyes, and a thatch of black hair to match his own right in the “father” spot on the family tree. Then he had labeled it, Zakry Chamers, my dad.
The assignment had distressed Elizabeth so much that she’d made an appointment with Nick’s teacher, a wonderfully caring woman. Unfortunately, the discussion turned quickly to the usual concerns that Nick was failing to work at grade level, he talked too much in class, and he jumped out of his chair every two or three minutes. The principal had scheduled a meeting for Nick’s special-education team, and the matter of the family tree went by the wayside.
“Really?” the boy exclaimed. “Each gate of heaven will be made out of one pearl? They must be really small gates.”
“Or really big pearls. I can hardly wait to see them.”
Nick pulled up his shirt and scratched his stomach as he pondered. “But will there be volcanoes in heaven? Will they interrupt?”
“Erupt,” Elizabeth corrected. “Boompah doesn’t know about volcanoes in heaven, and I want you to let him rest. His back is hurting.”
“Not so much now, thanks to the pills of Cleo Mueller.” He shut his eyes. “Elizabeth, I am thinking of
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