Read Online Taking Care of Moses by Barbara O'Connor - Free Book Online Page B

anything, Queenie shuffled off down the sidewalk, clutching her purse with both hands.
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    On the way home from Thomas and Sons Insurance Agency, Randall tried to keep talking. About the stifling hot weather. About the kittens that had been born under T.J.’s porch. About the colored pencils he was saving his money for. About anything he could think of to keep Jaybird and Althea from asking about Lavonia.
    But it didn’t work.

    â€œWho’s that Lavonia lady Queenie was talking about?” Jaybird said.
    Randall shrugged. “Aw, just some lady that used to live near here.”
    â€œWhere’d she go?”
    â€œI think she moved in with some of her kin out there off Highway 14,” Randall said.
    â€œI wonder why Queenie was talking about her.”
    â€œAw, you know Queenie,” Randall said. “She talks crazy.”
    â€œYeah,” Jaybird said.
    Randall was glad when Jaybird stopped talking about Lavonia. He need to concentrate on the thought that kept popping into his head. He had been trying to push it away, but now he let it settle down and sit there for a spell. The thought was this: I’ve got to do something about Moses.
    After a while it seemed like just thinking about doing something about Moses let in a little tiny spark of feeling better. But the problem was, what could he do about Moses? And if he thought of something to do, then when should he do it? And if he thought of when to do it, then how should he do it?
    It seemed like every time one question popped up, along came another one. By the time Randall got home, all those questions were buzzing around inside
his head like flies in a barnyard. And no matter how many times he tried to shoo them away, they just kept coming back.
    But the very next day something happened that made Randall stop thinking and start doing.

13
    â€œ I ’m starting to worry, Randall,” Mr. Avery said.
    But the look in his eyes said more than “worry.” The look said “scared.” The look made Randall feel scared, too.
    â€œI don’t know where she could be,” Mr. Avery said. “She’s never gone very far. I’ve always been able to find her.” He clutched his gnarled fingers together. “But this time I’m worried she may have gone off too far.”
    â€œI bet she went to see those kittens again,” Randall said.
    Mr. Avery shook his head. “I looked there.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œShe didn’t even take her purse.” Mr. Avery clutched Queenie’s big red purse in his lap. Queenie’s favorite soap opera blared from the TV.
    â€œWhat about the church?” Randall said. “I bet she went there.”

    â€œBeen there.” Mr. Avery shook his head again. “I’m just going to have to call the police. There’s no telling where she is. She was talking all crazy this morning.”
    Inside, Randall was thinking about how Queenie talked crazy most all the time, but he didn’t say it.
    â€œWhat was she talking about?” he said.
    Mr. Avery stroked Queenie’s purse. “Aw, you know, going on and on about Lavonia Shirley.”
    Randall felt his heart beat a little faster. “Lavonia Shirley?”
    â€œYeah, you remember that woman that used to live over there on Pritchard Street?”
    â€œWonder why she’d be talking about her.”
    â€œWho knows,” Mr. Avery lifted his sad eyes up to look at Randall. “I guess I’ll never figure out what’s going on in that head of hers.”
    Randall’s mind was whirling.
    â€œThen maybe she went over to Pritchard Street,” he said.
    Mr. Avery’s head shot up. “That’s it!” He tossed Queenie’s purse onto the couch and stood up. “Why didn’t I think of that?” he said. “I bet you anything you’re right.”
    Mr. Avery took his beat-up baseball cap off the coffee table and placed it over his scraggly