Ethel let out a little surprised whoop. “Oh, wait ’til I tell Ray Buck.” And then she really broke out laughing hard, maybe because she was tired or maybe to make me feel better because she knew how much I loved to hear that laugh that sounded like a million bucks, deeply rich and no end to it. “I always tol’ you that imagination of yours was goin’ to get you into trouble someday and today is that day, Sally.”
Even though she was laughing I could tell she was a little upset with me because she had forgotten to call me Miss Sally. I leaned into her when she put her warm arm around me and said, “I promise you this. Mr. Rasmussen, he’s the best man around here. A true gentleman. He wouldn’t never hurt nobody and somehow you just gotta make yourself stop thinkin’ like that.”
The smell of Rasmussen’s roses was getting mixed in with that smell of chocolate chip cookies and they made a wave of sweetness that I wanted to do a swan dive into. It woulda been so nice to believe Ethel. To think that somehow I had gotten the idea about Rasmussen being a murderer and molester into my head the same way I’d thought Mr. Kenfield was a spy and that Butchy was the devil in a dog disguise. Seeing Rasmussen look at Junie over at the park when they were flying that kite and thinkin’ he was up to something, and how he was always so nice but looked sad sometimes when you’d walk past his house, and how he never got married and all those other things I’d been thinking… it was all my imagination?
“Maybe it’s because your mother is sick. The worry of that can make a body’s brain think somethin’ that might not be right,” Ethel said. “And your daddy dyin’ not that long ago. I seen this happen before. Folks can go off their head for a bit because they’s so upset ’bout somethin’.”
Rocking with her in the moonlight that made everything seem like it was really just a dream, with edges wispy and soft, I couldn’t tell where things started and where they ended. Maybe I had gone off of my head just like she said. But then I realized that if Ethel was right and Rasmussen wasn’t trying to murder and molest me… somebody else was. Somebody had chased me down that alley. Somebody had pushed me down in the Fazios’ backyard during red light, green light. You could even ask Nana Fazio.
“You feelin’ an ant’s worth better, Miss Sally?” Ethel said from far away.
I wanted to say, “Yes, Ethel, I feel fine. Everything’s going to be okay. I see now that what you said about Rasmussen is the honest to God’s truth. That he’s not the murderer and molester.” But I just couldn’t do that. I loved Ethel to bits and I never lied to her.
“You just go ahead and sleep, sugar. Best thing for you. Ethel’s gonna go ahead and say ’nother little prayer for you.” Soft and clear in her sweet voice that hung over that garden of goodness, she said, “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. And if I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.”
Last thing I thought before I drifted off was that I’d need to have a little chat with Ethel tomorrow about her prayer selection.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I woke up in Ethel’s bed the next morning, thinking about last night and what she’d told me about Rasmussen and how he was a good man, a true gentleman. A nice loving uncle to Junie. Definitely not a murderer and molester. That was so hard for me to believe. Impossible, really. I would have to have a case of amnesia to believe something like that.
Ethel peeked her head through the bedroom door and said, “Time to get your tail a-shakin’.” She had some toast on a see-through plate and a cup of milk with Ovaltine in it that she’d bought just for our Wednesday visits because we just adored Ovaltine. Ethel had grown to just adore it, too. Who wouldn’t? She set my breakfast down on the small bedside table right next to her Bible and a Sears and Roe-buck catalog that had some folded-over pages.
Ethel went over to the bedroom window and pulled up the yellowed shade that looked right into Rasmussen’s garden. I already knew he was out there and that Troo was with him because I heard their voices coming through the screen window. I saw that Troo had on a big starched shirt that was probably Mr. Gary’s because it looked like a dress on her. I could tell she’d had a bath from the way her hair looked all fresh with the gold jumping around in it like Mother’s.
“How you feelin’ this morning?” Ethel sat down on the edge of the bed and I rolled her way.
“I’m feelin’ fine this morning, Ethel. Thank you for asking. Did you tell him?” I nodded toward the window.
“No, I most certainly did not. I ’spect that might hurt Mr. Rasmussen’s feelings, tellin’ him you think he’s a murderer and molester, don’t you?” She was out of her nightie and into her Sunday clothes even though it was Tuesday. “I happen to know that Mr. Rasmussen thinks very highly of you, Miss Sally, so you gotta train your mind, get it to stop thinkin’ the way it’s been thinkin’ about him.”
I would have to work very, very hard to train my mind not to think the way it’d been thinking about him. But if Ethel was right, that’s what I had to do. Because if it wasn’t Rasmussen, I hadda start keepin’ an eye out for whoever else it was that was trying to do away with me.
“What time is it?” I asked her. I took a bite out of the toast and it was so good with those strawberry preserves spread on top of it. “Troo and I have that funeral to go to today. I promised Henry Fitzpatrick.”
“It’s just after seven.” Ethel got up off the bed. “I already gave Troo a bath and you’re next. I’m gonna go run the water. You finish up your toast, includin’ the crusts.”
I rolled onto my other side and watched Troo throw the ball for the little collie dog, who looked like it was having so much fun running around Troo’s legs with its tongue hangin’ out. Rasmussen was bent over at his waist, laughing at the two of them.
I could hear Ethel start up the bathwater on the other side of the wall. Before Mother got sick, I didn’t care much for baths and would complain the whole time, but now the idea of getting clean in that tub sounded just heavenly to me. Ethel would put bubble bath in it because that was what she always did for Mrs. Galecki. Bubble bath that came in a little yellow Avon bottle and made the whole house smell like vanilla ice cream. So I stuck the rest of the toast in my mouth, includin’ crusts, and got up to see if Mrs. Galecki was around. I thought I could read her a quick story or something for lettin’ me and Troo stay overnight at her house.
“Well, good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Mr. Gary was sitting at the kitchen table with his mother. He was dressed in a nice white shirt and shorts. Mr. Gary almost always wore white clothes. He took such pride in his appearance.
Mrs. Galecki said, “Good morning, Sally.”
“Morning,” I said to her smiling face. She absolutely adored her son and talked about him all the time when he wasn’t here, told me little stories about him. Like how Mr. Gary was something called a late bloomer. And how he used to get picked on at school by bad boys who called him a ninety-eight-pound weakling. But how her Gary was doing so well after such a rocky start and she was so proud of him. So, of course, Mrs. Galecki musta been just Christmas-morning excited that Mr. Gary was sitting next to her at the round wooden breakfast table with cups of tea and toast and even some grapes.
“Come join us,” Mrs. Galecki said, and waved at me with her little gnarled-up hand.
“Just for a minute would be okay cuz I really gotta take a bath.” I could barely stand to be around myself, that’s how bad I had begun to smell, and sitting in Rasmussen’s green bean tepee in the dirt last night had not helped one bit.
I sat down next to Mrs. Galecki, who had a lot of lines on her face, especially around her mouth. But she had pretty eyes of a brown color that I had never seen before. Like the water down at the lagoon. Light muddy colored.