Moonlight in the Morning Read online

  “That doesn’t sound like fun,” Kim said.

  For the first time, he gave a bit of a smile. “I can attest that it is no fun whatever.”

  Kim didn’t know what “attest” meant but she could guess. “I’m good at having fun,” she said in her most adult voice. “Would you like me to show you how?”

  “I’d like that very much,” he said. “Where do we begin?”

  She thought for a moment. “There’s a big pile of dirt in the back. I’ll show you how to ride my bike up it then race down. You can stick your hands and feet straight out. Come on!” she yelled and started running.

  But a moment later she looked back and he wasn’t there. She backtracked and he was standing just where she’d left him. “Are you afraid?” she asked tauntingly.

  “I don’t think so, but I’ve never ridden a bicycle before, and I think you’re too young to teach me.”

  She didn’t like being told she was “too young” to do anything. Now he was sounding like a boy. “Nobody teaches you how to ride a bike,” she said, knowing she was lying. Her dad had spent days holding her bike while she learned to balance.

  “All right,” he said solemnly. “I’ll try it.”

  The bike was too short for him and the first time he got on it, he fell off and landed on his face. He got up, spitting dirt out of his mouth, and Kim watched him. Was he one of those boys who’d go crying to his mother?

  Instead, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, then gave a grin that nearly split his face in half. “Huzzah!” he said and got back on the bike.

  By lunchtime he was riding down the hill faster than Kim had ever dared, and he jerked the front wheel upward as though he were going over a jump.

  “How’d I do?” he asked Kim after his fastest slide down the dirt hill. He didn’t look like the same boy she’d first seen. His shirt was torn at the shoulder and he was filthy from head to toe. There was a bruise forming on his cheek where he’d nearly crashed into a tree, but he’d pulled to the left and only grazed it. Even his teeth were dirty.

  Before Kim c">B crashed ould answer, he looked over her head and stiffened into the boy she’d first seen. “Mother,” he said.

  Kim turned to see a small woman standing there. She was pretty in a motherly sort of way, but whereas Travis had pink in his cheeks, she had none. She was a washed out, older, female version of him.

  Without saying a word, she walked to stand between the two children and looked her son up and down.

  Kim held her breath. If the woman told Kim’s mom that she’d made Travis dirty, Kim would be punished.

  “You taught him to ride a bike?” Mrs. Merritt asked her.

  Travis stepped in front of Kim, as though to protect her. “Mother, she’s just a little girl. I taught myself to ride. I’ll go and wash.” He took a step toward the house.

  “No!” Mrs. Merritt said and he looked back at her. She went to him and put her arms around him. “I’ve never seen you look better.” She kissed his cheek then smiled as she wiped dirt off her lips. She turned to Kim. “You, young lady . . .” she began, but stopped. Bending, she hugged Kim. “You are a truly marvelous child. Thank you!”

  Kim looked up at the woman in wonder.

  “You kids go back to playing. How about if I bring a picnic lunch out here for you two? Do you like chocolate cake?”

  “Yes,” Kim said.

  Mrs. Merritt took two steps toward the house before Kim called out. “He needs his own bike.”

  Mrs. Merritt looked back and Kim swallowed. She’d never before given an adult an order. “He . . .” Kim said more quietly. “My bike is too small for him. His feet drag.”

  “What else does he need?” Mrs. Merritt asked.

  “A baseball and bat,” Travis said.

  “And a pogo stick,” Kim added. “And a—” She broke off because Mrs. Merritt held up her hand.

  “I have limited resources but I’ll see what I can do.” She went back to the house and a few minutes later she brought out sandwiches and lemonade. In the afternoon she returned with two big slices of freshly baked chocolate cake. By that time Travis had learned to do wheelies and she watched him with a mixture of awe and terror. “Who would have thought that you’re a natural athlete, Travis?” she said in wonder, then went back in the house.

  In the early evening, Kim’s uncle Benjamin, her cousin Ramsey’s father, pulled up in his SUV and called out, “Ho, ho, ho. Who ordered Christmas in July?”

  “We did!” Kim yelled, and Travis followed her as she ran to her uncle’s big SUV.

  Uncle Ben wheeled a shiny, blue bicycle out of the back. “I was told to give this to the dirtiest boy in Edilean.” He looked at Travis. “I think that means you.”

  Travis grinned. He still had dirt on his teeth and his hair was caked with it. “Is that for me?”

  “ItR>cause M17;s from your mother,” Uncle Ben said and nodded toward the front door.

  Mrs. Merritt was standing on the step and Kim wasn’t sure but she looked like she was crying. But that made no sense. A bicycle made a person laugh, not cry.

  Travis ran to his mother and threw his arms around her waist.

  Kim stared at him in astonishment. No twelve-year-old boy she knew would ever do something like that. It wasn’t cool to hug your mother in front of other people.

  “Nice kid,” Uncle Ben said and Kim turned back to him. “Don’t tell your mom but I went over to your house and did a little cleaning. Any of this look familiar?” He pulled a box from the back of the car and tipped it down so Kim could see inside. Five of her favorite books were in it, her second best doll, an unopened kit for making jewelry, and at the bottom was her jump rope.

  “Sorry, no pogo stick, but I got one of Rams’s old bats and some balls.”

  “Oh, thank you, Uncle Ben!” she said, and followed Travis’s example and hugged him.

  “If I’d known I was going to get this, I would have bought you a pony.”

  Kim’s eyes widened into saucers.

  “Don’t tell your mom I said that or she’ll skin me.”

  Travis had left his mother and was looking at his new bike in silence.

  “Think you can ride it?” Uncle Ben asked. “Or can you only handle a little girl’s bike?”

  “Benjamin!” Kim’s mother said as she came out to see what was going on. Mr. Bertrand stayed inside. He rarely left the house. “Too lazy to turn a door knob,” Kim’s father once said.

  Travis gave Kim’s uncle a very serious look, then took the bike from him and set off at breakneck speed around the house. When they heard the unmistakable sound of a crash, Uncle Ben put his hand on Mrs. Merritt’s arm to keep her from running to the boy.

  They heard what sounded like another crash on the other side of the house, and at last Travis came back to them. He was dirtier, his shirt was torn more, and there was a streak of blood across his upper lip.

  “Any problems?” Uncle Ben asked.

  “None whatever,” Travis said, looking the man straight in the eyes.

  “That’s my boy!” he said as he slapped Travis hard on the shoulder. He closed the hatch of the SUV. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

  “What work do you do?” Travis asked in an adult-sounding voice.

  “I’m a lawyer.”

  “Is it a good trade?”

  Uncle Ben’s eyes danced with merriment but he didn’t laugh. “It pays the bills, and it has some good points and bad. You thinking of trying the legal profession?”

  “I rather admire Thomas Jefferson.”

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  “You’ve come to the right place for him,” Uncle Ben said, grinning as he opened the car door. “Tell you what, Travis ol’ man, you get out of law school, come see me.”

  “I will, sir, and thank you,” Travis said. He sounded very adult, but the dirt on him, the twigs, and the bruises, made what he was saying funny.

  But Uncle Ben didn’t laugh. He looked at Mrs. Merritt. “Good kid. Congratulations.”