Table of Contents
Daddy called me into the family room.
He leaned back in his recliner, his hands locked behind his neck and the newspaper spread over his chest. His long legs caused his feet to hang over the footrest. Got a job for you, boy.
Daddy always called me boy, I guess because I was the closest thing he had to a son.
Rubbing his chin, Daddy kept his gaze fixed on the TV. I want you to keep an eye on Grandpap this summer. Make sure you know everything he does and everywhere he goes.
I ran up to Daddy, my heart beating fast, the words racing out of my mouth. You want me to be a spy? I can be a real good spy. I can walk soft like an Indian. Hell never know Im spying on him. Ive got shifty eyes. I can
Daddy scowled. Jaynell, just do what I say and keep an eye on him. He lifted his newspaper and started reading.
I reckon Daddy wanted me to tell him if Grandpap did anything crazy. I knew he wouldnt, but I sure loved the idea of being a spy.
A sensitive and effective portrayal of a granddaughters evolving understanding of a beloved grandfather.BCCB
OTHER PUFFIN BOOKS YOU MAY ENJOY
As Long as There Are Mountains Natalie Kinsey-Warnock
The First Horse I See Sally Keehn
Gypsy Rizka Lloyd Alexander
Philip Hall Likes Me. I Reckon Maybe. Bette Greene
The Summer of the Swans Betsy Byars
The Well Mildred D. Taylor
Acknowledgments
Each book has taken me on a new journey. I want to thank the following people for helping me down this path.
A huge thank you to Kathy Patrick for opening doors in East Texas and for being such a cheerleader of my work. And a special thanks to her husband, Jay, for his insight into East Texas ways.
I am always relieved that Jennifer Archer and Charlotte Goebel are kind enough to read my early drafts. Their advice is golden, but most of all their friendship means the world to me.
If only every writer could be as blessed as I am to have such a terrific agent. Jennifer Flannery, you are a gem.
Thank you also to my editor, Kathy Dawson, who let Jaynell dance into her life and waited patiently for the rewrites.
Thanks to Jean Dayton, who introduced readers to my work early on and now makes my traveling life easier. And to Lauren Goebel for taking on the challenging task of keeping me organized.
I also owe a lot to the following people: Penny Potter for telling me her auction stories. My uncle, Larry Willis, for explaining how roads were blacktopped in the 60s. Lady Margaret and True Redd for the boat ride on Cypress Lake and making introductions. To their daughter, Louise, for suggesting the name Moon. To Paul Fortune for peeling back the layers of Karnack. And to the librarians of the Marshall Public Library for assisting me in my research.
And a bit of thanks goes to a special place called Roosters for always providing a good cup of coffee and a place for my muse to play.
For
my sister, Alicia Cheney
I watched you all the way home from the hospital, amazed.
You still amaze me.
And
Sue Walker
a treasure of a friend.
Driving My Troubles Away
GRANDPAP CAME TO LIVE WITH US THE DAY after the highway men arrived to blacktop our road. It was Julyhot as cinders. Uncle Floyd called July Wet Dog Days because all month long the air smelled like a stinky mutt caught in the rain. But that day not even the heat could keep me cooped up inside like a setting hen. I wasnt about to miss the excitement. We lived on one of the last dirt roads in Moon, Texas. The only blacktop roads in Moon stretched in front of the rich folks homes, leaving us to live with the dust and potholes.
All my life Id heard Daddy say, Those Dyers always thought they were better than us cause they lived on a blacktop road. The Dyers got everything first in Moona color TV, a private phone line, a brand-new Cadillac. I thought the gravel truck making its way down Cypress Road would transform our lives into something grand.
Before Momma ordered me to do the breakfast dishes with my sister, Racine, I escaped next door and hopped inside one of Mr. Baileys cars to wait for the gravel truck. Clifton Baileys Automobile Salvage and Parts was the most amazing place in Moon. Junk cars were parked in his yard, and piles of rusty parts and patched tires were scattered about like lost treasure.
Two years ago I took to sneaking over to Clifton Baileys and slipping into one of his junkers. The whole while, I tried to keep a lookout for Mr. Bailey, but one day he caught me red-handed. He narrowed his crossed eyes and frowned while I sat there with my hands stuck to the steering wheel.
Finally he laughed. Jaynell, anytime you take a notion, you just pick out a car and drive your heart away.
And I did. I drove everywhere, covering miles and miles, even though none of the cars actually ran. Usually I drove when I felt so full I couldnt hold my feelings inside me without popping a vein. Like when Racine made me mad enough to commit bloody murder, or when Grandma died and I was determined not to shed one tear, or when the newsman talked about how one day soon a man would walk on the moon. Just the thought of that made me feel like I could bust.
Leaning back against the seat, eyes closed, chin up, hands wrapped around the steering wheel, I moved beyond the dirt roads, away from Moon, into Marshall to rescue Grandpap from Aunt Lovedas. Wed head down to Highway 80, which stretched across Texas, and wed be riding in a big fancy car, the kind that made people sit up and take notice, like the Dyers Cadillac. After our trip, wed return to Grandpaps homeplace.
I hadnt been to the homeplace since Grandma died, and I missed it something fierce. The homeplace was just a little house on two tiny acres, but I loved everything inside and out. The tree house in the tall oak tree that I used to pretend was a rocket, the corner bookshelf in the living room with Grandpaps Louis LAmour and Zane Grey westerns, the smell of coffee brewing on the stove and Hungry Jack biscuits baking in the oven.
Grandma always joked, Aint no use making them from scratch when theyre twice as good coming from a can. Shed serve them with real butter and a spoon of Blackburns strawberry preserves. Sometimes when she was in a homemade baking mood, shed make M&M brownies.
Last month after Grandma died, Grandpap sat around his house in his underwear and wouldnt eat. He didnt speak to anybody, not even me. Thats when Aunt Loveda and Uncle Floyd took Grandpap from his homeplace on the outskirts of Moon to live with them in their brand-new four-bedroom ranch house in Marshall. Aunt Loveda said her brick home had a lot of room to move around in, which was a good thing because every one of those Thigpens was round, round, round. Especially cousins Sweet Adeline and Little Floyd, who was only named that on account of his daddy, Big Floyd.
