The 25¢ Miracle Page 2

  But today she didn’t stop to look at the magazines. She went straight to the stamp machine, pushed a quarter into it, and pulled the lever on the side. The machine spat out a stamp. She stuck it on her envelope, waved good-bye to Mr. Han, and went on her way.

  There was a mailbox a little closer into town. Elvira walked over there now and dropped her envelope inside. The metal door clanged shut. “It’d be a miracle,” it seemed to echo hollowly. “No guarantees worth piddly squat…”

  Well, it had only cost her twenty-five cents. That wasn’t all that much.…

  We’ll just see, Elvira thought stubbornly. It don’t hurt none to see.

  2

  By the time Elvira got her letter mailed, the sun was already sizzling the puddles and turning the July morning into a giant steambath. Elvira walked along aimlessly for a while, kicking an empty Orange Crush can in front of her. She really didn’t have anywhere to go. She knew that Hank wouldn’t want her hanging around the trailer, if he was still there; he didn’t approve of her watching television all day, although he didn’t seem to mind doing it himself. Of course, he might be gone by now—out to look for work, maybe.

  Hank never stayed too long at any one job, but he knew enough about one thing and another to get hired on temporarily as a mechanic or handyman or carpenter or something—whatever was available—until the old restlessness possessed him again and pushed him on to the next job, the next town. But he hadn’t found much work since their arrival in Calder. His hip had been troubling him again, and except for an odd job here and there, nothing much had come his way. Money was even more scarce than usual—which meant that the rosebush had been foolishness, indeed—and Elvira knew it was a wonder that Hank hadn’t made her take it back.

  Now, if I can just get it to stay alive, she told herself, maybe he’ll even get to likin’ it. It just takes him a while to get used to things, that’s all.… When the cereal company sends me that money, maybe I could use it to buy that rose food I saw over at Kroger.… Roses got to eat, same as people, I guess. I wonder, would it do any good to smash up all them Wheat Crackles and bury ’em in the dirt around the roots?… Naw, that’d kill it for sure.…

  The can clattered on. Before long, Elvira found herself on the edge of downtown Calder. There were people on the sidewalk—businessmen in suits that looked way too hot for the weather, a couple of ladies with silver-blue hair and shopping bags, a black kid on a bicycle, a worn-out-looking mother with her mouth set in a grim, straight line, dragging a little girl out of Sears, while the girl screamed bloody murder.…

  Nobody paid any attention to Elvira. Nobody knew it was her birthday. She was glad, in a way. It was as if she had a treasure inside her—a mystery—and nobody knew it but her.

  The Calder Public Library loomed up ahead of her on the corner like a great gray ghost. It was one of the few buildings in town that had survived from the last century. Most of the other really old ones had either fallen down by themselves, been torn down by modernizers, or been blown down by hurricanes. But the Calder Public Library wasn’t the sort of building that could be gotten rid of that easily. It had been a Baptist church to start with, built in the old Victorian Gothic style, and it looked more like a fortress than anything else—or a castle, thought Elvira—the Witch’s castle in The Wizard of Oz, maybe—just sitting there daring anybody to attack it.

  Or even to enter it, for that matter. If you were planning to go there, you’d better mean business.

  Elvira wasn’t planning to go.

  But then she happened to think about how they might have books in there that would tell about taking care of roses.… Somewhere in her mind, she could hear the voice of Mrs. Willadene Graves, the fifth-grade teacher back in Nacogdoches, saying, “If you ever want to find out about anything—anything at all—your local library is the place to look first.”

  But that library…

  Suddenly Elvira realized she was afraid, and that made her mad. She was eleven years old now, after all—way too old to be such a scaredy-cat! And this was a public library, wasn’t it? And she was the public, wasn’t she? Sure she was. So she squared her shoulders, stuck out her bony little chin, marched up to the huge double doors, and pulled hard on one of the handles. Too hard. The door opened so easily and quickly that it banged against the wall outside. Elvira felt her cheeks catch fire. A thin-lipped woman at the desk in the middle of the huge room looked up and stared at her. Elvira thought about turning around and walking away, but she decided that would look even dumber, so she swallowed hard and went on inside.

  The woman at the desk went back to rearranging some cards in a long drawer. The name plaque on the front of her desk said: MRS. MARY RUTH SLADER. Elvira noticed that she had unusually long, red fingernails that clicked on the cards.

  “May I help you?” she asked, without looking up. She didn’t really sound much like she wanted to help.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Elvira began, but then her courage failed her, and her mouth froze up. She knew she was going to stutter, so she just didn’t say anything at all; sometimes that worked pretty well, and the feeling would pass.…

  “All right, then, how may I help you?” asked Mrs. Slader, looking up now and peering at Elvira with a piercing squint.

  Good Lord, thought Elvira, she looks just like the Wicked Witch of the West. Maybe this ain’t such a hot idea, after all.

  She started to back away. “N-never m-mind.…”

  Mrs. Slader looked surprised. “Well now, don’t run off! I suppose what you want is the children’s library. Miss Ivy will know how to help you. You’ll find her right up those stairs there. Go on, now—right up those stairs.”

  She was so insistent that Elvira was too embarrassed to disobey, even though she didn’t think she really wanted the children’s library. She turned and practically ran up the spiral staircase that led to what used to be the balcony of the church, fussing at herself all the way up: You’re a chicken, you know that? Nothin’ but a chicken.

  She figured that she’d just walk around the children’s department for a minute and act like she was looking at the kids’ books, and then slip back down the stairs and out the door when the Witch wasn’t looking. But when she got to the top of the stairs, she stopped dead in her tracks. She forgot all about what she had planned to do. She forgot why she had come into the library in the first place. She couldn’t help it.

  There was an angel sitting at the desk in the middle of the children’s department.

  Not a genuine, card-carrying angel. Angels don’t have freckles. It was a lady: IVY ALEXANDER, it said on her name plate. “Miss Ivy”—that was what the Wicked Witch had called her. But she was the closest thing to an angel that Elvira had ever seen. She had reddish-gold hair, the color of an angel’s halo, eyes as blue as heaven, and a face sweet and pretty enough to turn a real angel green with envy. She looked up at Elvira and smiled, and her smile was warm and bright and—familiar, somehow. The kind of smile people save for old friends. Elvira could hardly believe that such a smile was meant for her; she looked over her shoulder to see if there was someone standing behind her.

  There wasn’t.

  “Hello,” said Miss Ivy, and her voice was an angel’s voice, too—soft and low as liquid music. “May I help you?” They were the very same words that the Wicked Witch had said, but they sounded altogether different coming out of Miss Ivy’s mouth.

  Elvira didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. She felt shyer than she had ever felt in her whole life. She just—stood there.

  “You know, you’re my first customer today,” said the angel-lady.

  Elvira just—stood there.

  Miss Ivy tried again. “Isn’t there anything I can do for you?”

  Elvira managed to shake her head.

  “Well, then, why don’t you just take your time and look around? We’ve got some wonderful new books on display—see there by the window seat? Right over there on that shelf.”

  Feeling like a fool, Elvira nodded
and walked to the shelf that Miss Ivy had indicated. She picked up a book and tried to look as if that was what she had intended to do all along, but she didn’t even see what it was. She was too busy listening to her own disgusted voice inside her head: What’s the matter with you, anyhow? You think she’s gonna bite you or somethin’? You got to be the biggest chicken they ever was. First you’re a-scared of that other lady ’cause she ain’t too pretty, and now you’re a-scared of this one ’cause she is. Kinda hard to please, ain’t you? Now, go on over there and ask her if they got any books about roses. Go on—you come this far—it cain’t hurt none to ask.…

  After about five minutes of this, she took a deep breath and approached the desk again. Miss Ivy was pasting a pocket in the back of a book. She looked up and smiled her golden smile.

  “Did you find anything you like?”

  “N-no, ma’am.…”

  “Well, let’s look together, all right? I’m sure we can find something good.” Miss Ivy stood up and started to come around the desk.

  “Uh, no, ma’am,” Elvira said hastily. “It’s just—well, I was wonderin’—if y’all—do—do y’all have any books about roses?”

  “Roses?” Miss Ivy lifted her pretty eyebrows. “Do you mean picture books?”

  “N-no, ma’am, I mean, well, I guess it’d be all right if there was some pictures in ’em, but, well, I already got me a rosebush, so I know what they look like.…” Aw, shoot, why cain’t I just say what I mean? she asked herself.

  But Miss Ivy seemed to understand. “Oh, what you want is a book on gardening—something that will tell you how to grow roses?”

  “Yes, ma’am, that’s it, that’s just what I want,” said Elvira, tumbling her words out gratefully.

  “Well, then, you’re a girl after my own heart.” Miss Ivy smiled. “I love gardening, too!”

  Elvira felt as if she had gotten the right answer in school or said the secret word and won a prize—entirely by accident.

  “But, you know, I’m not sure that we have the sort of books you need here in the children’s department,” Miss Ivy continued. “I’ll tell you what we’ll do—let’s check up here first, and if we don’t find anything good, we’ll go downstairs.”

  For the next quarter of an hour, Miss Ivy consulted card catalogues and made notes and checked shelves, moving like a silky summer breeze through the musty old building. She even made it smell nicer—fresher and sweeter, like clover and honeybees.

  It turned out that they did have to go downstairs, but the Wicked Witch couldn’t scare Elvira now. She had Glinda, the Good Witch, protecting her.

  “Here we are—I believe these are just what you need,” said Miss Ivy, leading Elvira to a shelf full of books with titles like You and Your Garden, Roses for Everyone, A Beginning Gardener’s Guide, and Year-Round Roses. Miss Ivy glanced through them, rejecting the ones that looked too hard or too technical.

  “What sort of rosebush do you have?” she asked, as she flipped through the pages of Gardening in the Glorious Southwest.

  “It’s a yeller one,” said Elvira. “A—a David—no, a…” What was it that man had called it? “A Davidica rosebush!”

  Miss Ivy’s eyes sparkled with interest. “Davidica? Hmm… Well, that’s new to me. I’m not sure that any of these books mentions that type specifically, but you ought to be able to find something close to it. Anyway, you really treat most roses pretty much the same way—lots of sunshine and well-drained soil and so forth. Oh, just look at these pictures! They almost make me want to run home and start pulling weeds.”

  Elvira had collected a good-sized stack of books by the time they arrived back at the desk in the children’s department.

  “Now, I believe you’re set,” said Miss Ivy, going through the pile approvingly. “All we need is your library card.”

  Elvira’s face fell. “I-I forgot. I don’t have one.”

  “Why, that’s all right; don’t look so worried,” Miss Ivy reassured her. “It’s easy to get a library card. See here—I’ve got this whole stack of applications just begging to be filled out. Now, all you have to do is write down your name and age and address and telephone number and the name of your school, and then get your mother to sign her name on the back.”

  “Don’t have no mother,” Elvira muttered, squinching her toes uncomfortably and wondering all over again why she had ever come in this library.

  “I’m sorry; that was thoughtless of me,” said Miss Ivy, ever so gently. “It doesn’t have to be your mother, sweetheart. Your father or your legal guardian—any responsible adult’s signature will be fine.”

  Elvira breathed a sigh of relief. “My daddy’s a responsible adult. His name is Mr. Hank Trumbull. Can I just sign for him?”

  Miss Ivy smiled apologetically. “I’m afraid he’ll have to do it himself. But I’ll keep these books on reserve for you right here until you get him to sign it. Maybe you can come back later this afternoon?”

  “I-I don’t know for sure if he’s home right now, but I’ll go check,” said Elvira, feeling better. “Can—can you keep them books for me till tomorrow, ’case I cain’t find him today?”

  Something flickered in the blue eyes, but all Miss Ivy said was, “I surely will. I won’t let another soul touch them, I promise.”

  Elvira took an application and started off. She stopped at the top of the stairs and turned around. “Thanks a whole lot,” she said shyly.

  “You’re welcome,” said Miss Ivy, looking as if she really meant it.

  All of a sudden, Elvira wanted Miss Ivy to know her secret. She wanted one other person in the world to know—just one—

  “It’s my birthday,” she blurted out.

  “It is? Well, isn’t that nice.… Happy birthday!” Miss Ivy’s smile poured over Elvira like sunshine; it warmed her all the way down to her toes. She was glad she had told.

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Let’s see—July twenty-fifth—that means you’re a Leo, doesn’t it? I’ve always liked Leos—such strong personalities.”

  Elvira didn’t know what a Leo was, but she was glad she was one, if Miss Ivy liked them. She flushed with pleasure.

  “Well, ’bye.”

  “’Bye, birthday girl. You come back soon.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Elvira turned and ran down the spiral stairs, holding on tightly to the little white card.

  3

  Elvira ran most of the way home. Her heart was as light as cotton candy. She hardly noticed the heat. The sun was high and hot in the sky now, sending down spiteful rays that baked the sidewalk and scorched her toes, but Elvira didn’t care. It was her birthday, and she was a Leo, and everything was fine.

  She didn’t hear the sound of the television set when she got to the trailer, so she assumed that Hank wasn’t home. This was disappointing, even though she had figured he might be gone; she hadn’t been able to keep from hoping that she could get that library card and those books today. It didn’t really matter all that much; tomorrow would be all right. Still, today would have been nice.…

  She opened the door and went inside. To her surprise, Hank was there after all, sitting on his big chair in the cramped living room area. He was just sitting there, staring into space.

  “Hi,” she called out cheerfully.

  He muttered something in reply; Elvira couldn’t quite make it out.

  She thought of the library card. “Could you please sign this right here?” She handed him the application and pointed to the proper place.

  “Don’t have no pen,” Hank mumbled.

  “Oh, that’s all right. I’ll get one.” Elvira found her old ball-point and held it out to him. He signed absently and was about to hand the slip of paper back to Elvira when he seemed to come to and stare at it blankly.

  “What’s this here I just signed?”

  “It’s—it’s just an application for a liberry card,” Elvira said nervously. She wondered why she should feel nervous. Surely Hank wouldn’t mind her hav
ing a library card, would he? But there was something wrong. She could tell.

  “Oh. Well, all right,” Hank said, handing over the application. “But I don’t know that you really need it.”

  “Yessir, I do,” Elvira said anxiously. “I sure do need it. I cain’t check out no books without it.”

  “Yeah, I know. Well…” Hank’s voice trailed off, and there was a moment’s silence.

  “So, it’s—it’s all right, then?” asked Elvira.

  “What?” asked Hank. He looked as if he had already forgotten what they were talking about.

  “The liberry card,” Elvira said patiently. “It’s all right for me to have it?”

  “I guess so. For the time bein’.… Look, Elvira, we got to talk.”

  Something about the way he said this made Elvira’s stomach roll over. But then, she was a little hungry. “Yessir?” she said.

  Hank cleared his throat. “I’ve just been talkin’ on the telephone—to your Aunt Darla.”

  Aunt Darla. Well, that would explain a lot. Talking to Aunt Darla always put Hank in a terrible mood.

  “You remember your Aunt Darla, don’t you?”

  “Yessir.” It was impossible not to remember Aunt Darla, though Elvira would just as soon have forgotten all about her. She was Hank’s older sister, a huge, nosy-nosed mountain of a woman who was inclined to call Elvira her “poor little motherless Ellie” and cry big slobbery tears all over her. Elvira didn’t like her one little bit.