1

Introduction

This little story grew out of my attempt to write a children’s

book. When I finished ‘Mundane Beetle’ it was too long (2,934

words). After editing to an acceptable length (845 words), it was

no longer a good story. Not wanting to throw it away, I searched

for a way to recycle it. My style lends itself to reading aloud –

heavy on dialogue (plays).

When re-reading ‘Mundane’, I was struck by how much

progress the Clements had made as a family, as individuals. This

didn’t flow from ‘Mundane’, but from recounting of what lead

me to write it. As you may recall, Billy was completely alone

when we first met him. Gran, his only friend, had died. Grand

wanted nothing to do with Billy, and Ken didn’t know he

existed. He was “the alonest kid in the world”.

He’s not alone anymore. Hope you enjoy this, I did putting it

together. Merry Christmas.

2

A Story for Billy

It was Christmas time 1988 (somewhere between Book III and

Book IV). I was in my trailer reviewing old stories when came

the customary knock on my door. “Come in,” I called.

“It’s time for dinner,” said Suzy.

“Good, I’m hungry. Give me a second and I’ll walk back with

you.”

Billy peered around Suzy’s shoulder. “What are you doing?” he

asked.

“Looking at old stories I wrote.”

“Can I see? Any about me?” he asked.

I laughed. “There might be.” I nodded to the computer screen.

“This is one I wrote for you.”

He stepped forward. “For me?”

“Yes, I wrote when we first met.”

“Is it finished, can I read it?” he asked.

“May we read it,” corrected Suzy.

“May we?” he asked.

I tapped the screen. “I wrote for a different time, a different

Billy.”

“A different me?” asked Billy.

I nodded. “A much different you. Can you remember what it

was like before Suzy, before Spot, before…”

3

“Before I was your Billy boy?”

I nodded. “You were always my Billy boy, it took a while for us

to know it. But yes, before you were my Billy boy.” I tapped the

screen. “This may have been my attempt to make you my Billy

boy.”

“How?” he asked.

“To make you less lonely. I wrote about another boy like you

who needed friends.” I nodded to Suzy. “Somebody like Suzy.”

He nodded. “Yes, Suze is my best friend. What was this boy’s

name?”

I shook my head. “He didn’t have a name, just Boy.”

“Just Boy?” asked Billy.

I nodded. “Right, I called him Boy. Didn’t seem right to call him

Billy, and any other name wouldn’t work. His friends were a tree

and a car.”

“A tree and a car?” asked Billy, shaking his head. “A tree and car

can’t be your friends.”

I smiled. “They can’t?”

Billy looked at Suzy. “Can they?”

She shook her head.

Billy shook his head. “No, a tree and a car can’t be your friends.”

“You sure?” I asked.

He looked back at Suzy, then shook his head. “No, only people

can be your friends.”

“Spot, Scout?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Are they my friends?”

4

“What do you think?”

He looked back at Suzy, she nodded. “Okay, maybe they can be

my friends, but not a car or a tree.”

I smiled. “But a doll can?”

His mouth dropped. “Ezra! You tricked me.”

I smiled. “Not tricked, only opened you to other options. Does

Suzy know about Ezra?”

He nodded.

I turned to Suzy. “Do you think a tree and a car can be your

friend?”

She shrugged. “Not in the way Billy and I are friends, but maybe

in the way Scout and I are friends. Or Spot, or Ezra.” She closed

one eye. “Could a friend be someone or something you can talk

to?”

I nodded. “It could.”

“Even though they don’t talk back?” she asked.

“Can’t they talk in other ways?” I asked.

She turned to look at Billy. “Like Scout and Spot, they don’t talk,

but we know what they’re thinking, what they want, or don’t

want. That kind of talking?”

“It could be, what do you think?” I asked.

“But… but… but they’re alive,” said Billy. “A tree isn’t alive; a car

isn’t alive.”

“Trees are alive,” corrected Suzy.

Billy shook his head. “Not like Spot or Scout.”

5

She nodded. “No, not like Scout or Spot, but they are alive.

Aren’t they, Uncle Ken?”

“Yes, trees can be alive, or they can be dead. My tree is alive

and can talk to Boy. So can the car.”

Billy shook his head. “A tree can’t talk.”

I laughed. “Ahhh… now you see the power of a writer. I can

make a tree talk, and if I’m any good, I can make you believe it.”

Suzy turned to Billy, then back to me. “May we read your

story?”

“I’d rather read it to you, do you have the time?” I asked.

They looked at each other, then nodded in unison. “Please,

please read it to us.”

“Now, or later by the fire with Molly, Grand, and your parents?”

They looked around. There was no place for them to sit except

the bed in the back bedroom. “How long is it?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Don’t really know, 15-20 minutes.”

They looked at each other again, then nodded again. “Maybe,

tonight will be best. We have to get washed up for dinner. May I

ask my parents to let me stay? May I invite them?”

“Of course, if you didn’t I would have.”

She took Billy by the hand, and they ran from the trailer. They

didn’t wait for me. I printed the story.

****

Molly’s folks were staying with us. Flora and John came over

after dinner bearing a peach cobbler, I think Dad invited them.

6

Sid and Nancy with homemade Susz - a kind of compote made

of cherries and cloves. We were in our customary spots with

Molly and me on the floor with the kids.

“Tell me about this story?” asked Anne.

“You know how things were in the beginning, right?” I asked.

She shook her head.

“Let me explain,” said Dad, holding up his hand. “In the

beginning, I was not a good grandfather, I was not Grand.” He

looked at Billy.

Billy hung his head and nodded.

“It was not a good time for Billy. Hell, it was not a good time for

any of us,” said Dad.

“I think I understand,” said Anne. “Molly told me how it was.”

“Is this a sad story?” asked Billy. “I don’t want a sad story.”

“Parts of it are, just like our story,” I said.

“Our story?”

“Yours, Grand’s, and mine. We have a story. Now our story has

Molly, Suzy, Aunt Flora, and Uncle John, Anne and Mike – your

grandparents, and Uncle Sid and Aunt Nancy. Oh, and Gran,

she’s part of our story, too. Our story started sad, remember?”

He nodded, then shook his head. “But it’s not sad any more, is

it?”

I smiled. “No, it is not sad anymore. Well, that’s how my story

goes. It starts sad, then ends happy. Do you still want to hear

it?”

He looked at Suzy. “Yes, please.”

7

“What’s it called?” asked Mike.

I laughed. “The Mundane Beetle,".

Billy and Suzy looked at each other, then at me.

“Mundane means boring, uninteresting, blah.”

“Like oatmeal?” asked Billy.

I nodded. “Like Dad’s oatmeal.”

Got a nice laugh for that. John almost fell out of his chair. Even

Dad thought it was funny.

“And Beetle is the kind of car Molly drives, they call it a Beetle

because of its shape. So, Mundane Beetle is a boring car. A car

nobody wants.”

“Like me?” asked Billy.

“Billy goat, that was my fault,” said Dad. “Grand liked you, loved

you. Ken liked you right off. I was the only one.”

Billy shook his head. “Not the only one.”

“No, Billy boy, not the only ones,” I said, nodding.

“Is this story about me?” asked Billy.

“It’s about your situation.”

“Sit-you-a-shun?”

“Right. It’s about how lonely you were. I wrote it to make you

less lonely.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this story before?” asked Billy.

“Because Suzy came into our lives, she and Scout.”

8

He looked as Suzy. “Yes, Suze is my friend. She is my best

friend.” He nodded. “I want to hear about Mommy’s car.”

I laughed. “It’s not Molly’s car, it is like her car.”

“So, are we going to hear the story, or not?” asked John. He got

a hit from Flora for that.

I nodded.

9

Mundane Beetle

I was the last of the series before they changed over to the

new model. They wanted to try a new color. A color no one

wanted.

I’m a good beetle. My motor is strong, my suspension is tight,

and my steering’s precise. I smell good, but no one wants me.

Been here so long the new cars won’t talk to me. I’m not only

last year’s model I’m… I’m… I’m nothing. That’s it—nothing.

I showed Billy and Suzy the picture of a car in a big parking lot.

They put me far back in the corner of the lot. In the afternoon,

I get a little shade from a tree who’s almost as miserable as I

am. He tries to grow, but no one waters him. What little rain

we get, is only enough to spot the dust that covers me. It’s not

enough to help him. He tries to grow, to be a good tree, but

he needs water. I don’t need water. I need… I need… I need to

be wanted. That’s what I need. I need love. I need someone to

see the real me.

“Am I car?” asked Billy.

10

“In a way,” I said. “Loneliness comes in different forms, but it has

many things the same. Car and you were abandoned, left all by

yourselves. Gran is a little bit like Tree, she tried to protect you, to love

you.”

He turned to Suzy. “Yes, Gran loved me.”

Suzy nodded. “Please go on, Uncle Ken,” said Suzy. “Okay, Billy?”

He nodded.

We’re alone together. I try to help him, but there’s nothing I

can do. He tries to help me there’s nothing he can do for me.

There’s nothing we can do for each other. We want to help

each other, but we can’t.

We need help. But how? Who? My battery is running down. It

hasn’t been charged in weeks. I can’t last much longer. Tree is

near the end too. I like Tree. It breaks my heart to see him

wither. He’s a good tree. A pretty tree, or he would be if he

had leaves. He would have leaves if he had water. Tree has

everything he needs–good soil and plenty of light–except

water. He needs rain.

Tree belongs in an orchard. His seed was dropped by a bird or

from a discarded core. He’s been here all alone, until they put

me here. He’s happy he met me, he’s glad I’m his friend. I’m

glad I’m his friend.

“Is Tree Gran?” asked Dad.

I shook my head. “Not really. Please don’t read too much into this. I

made this up to help a lonely little boy. I had none of you in mind. I

wanted Billy to know being lonely is something that can happen to any

of us. I wanted him to know being loved can make you less lonely.”

“I know that,” said Billy.

“Good, then I didn’t need to write this story.”

“Yes, you did,” said Billy. “What if Suze wasn’t Suze?”

“Wasn’t Suze, Suzy? I asked.

11

He nodded. “Sure, what if she didn’t like me? What if I didn’t like her?

What if we did weren’t friends? Then I would need your story,

wouldn’t I?”

“Maybe. Should I go on?”

He nodded.

Now and then, a little boy will walk along the chain-link fence

that separates Tree and me. The boy has no friends. He’s

always alone. Tree and I talk about the little boy. We know

how he feels. We want to help Boy, but we can’t.

Tree asked me if I had enough battery left to honk my horn. I

tried it. I did. Tree asked me to honk my horn the next time

Boy came by.

“Then what?” I asked.

“I don’t know yet. If he stops, maybe we can talk to him.”

“We can’t talk to him, he’s a boy.”

“Maybe we can. Maybe we can.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. We can try. We can try.”

“Okay, next time he comes by, I’ll honk my horn. Then what?”

“I don’t know. You’re the one with the brains.”

Boy didn’t come by that day.

I stopped.

“Is that it?” asked Billy.

“No, there’s more.”

“Please,” said Suzy.

12

****

Boy didn’t come by the next day, or the next. My battery was

getting weaker. I needed to be recharged. Tree was getting

weaker. Boy had to come by soon. What if he did? What if I

honked my horn? Then what?

I heard the clap, clap, clap of a stick against the chain links in

the fence. Could it be Boy? Whoever it was, was behind me. I

couldn’t see them. Tree felt the vibrations.

“He’s coming,” Tree said. “He’s coming. Wake up.”

“I’m awake. I can hear him. Is it Boy?”

“Feels like him. He’s getting closer.”

Pause.

“Yes, it’s him. It’s him. Ready?”

“I’m ready.”

“He touches me when he passes. If he does, honk your horn.”

“How will I know if he touches you?”

“I’ll tell you. Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be. Hope there’s enough left.”

“There has to be. There has to be.”

13

We waited as the clap, clap got nearer. Boy was talking to

himself, but not loud enough for me to hear. Tree couldn’t

make it out either. It wasn’t happy talk. Soon he passed by

Tree. He didn’t touch Tree. What to do? What to do? I tried to

honk. I tried again. Nothing.

“Honk.”

“I can’t.”

“Try again.”

I did. It worked. Well, it almost worked. It wasn’t a honk. It

was a bleep. Not a bleep, but blup.

“A blup?” asked Billy.

“You know,” said Suzy, making the sound sticking out her tongue.

“Oh,” said Billy, “a blup.”

“Please go on,” said Suzy. “I like your story.”

I nodded. “Thank you. Billy?”

He nodded.

“That the best you can do?” asked Tree.

“That’s it.”

Boy stopped. He walked next to Tree and stood next to him.

He looked at me, tilting his head. Then squatted with his head

in his hands, still looking at me. I tried again.

“Blup.”

Boy fell back. “What? Did you honk at me?”

“He did,” said Tree.

“Who said that?” Boy twisted around.

“I did. I’m Tree.”

14

Boy looked at Tree, his eyes wide.

“That’s Car,” continued Tree. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Boy shook his head. “For me?”

“Yes, for you. We want to be your friends.”

“How can you be my friends?”

“How can anyone be anyone’s friend?” I asked.

Boy turned to look at me. “You’re a car and you’re a tree. You

can’t talk.”

“Not to most people, but we can talk to you.”

“How?”

“We don’t know, but we can,” said Tree. “We want to be your

friend. Do you want to be our friend?”

Boy closed his eyes, shaking his head.

“Well, do you?”

“What do I have to do?” asked Boy.

“Nothing. Friends don’t have to do anything except be

friends.”

Boy shook his head. “I don’t have any friends. I don’t know

how to be a friend,” said Boy, hanging his head. “Nobody

wants to be my friend.”

“We do,” I said.

“Why?”

“Why not?”

Boy brightened. “Yes, why not? What do I have to do?”

“Nothing, just talk to us,” said Tree, “just be you.”

“Just be me?”

15

“Just be you. And we’ll just be us. I’ll be a tree and Car will be

a car. And you be a boy.”

Boy shook his head. “I don’t know how to be a boy.”

“Sure you do. You’re being a boy right now.”

“I don’t like being a boy.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“It’s no fun being a boy.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have any friends.”

“You do now. You have two new friends.”

“I do?”

“You do.”

Boy smiled. It got dark. Boy looked up. “Rain. I better get

home. Can I see you tomorrow?”

“We want that,” said Tree. “Hurry home. We don’t want your

parents to worry about you.”

“I will. I’ll be back first thing.” Boy stood. He took a few steps

then turned. “Thank you for being my friends.”

“Thank you for being our friend,” said Tree. Boy waved, then

ran away.

“Do you think he’ll come back?” I asked.

Billy had his eyes closed, looking at the floor.

“Are you okay?” asked Molly.

He looked up. His eyes were moist. He nodded. “I remember what it

was like,” said Billy. “I was not happy. I was Boy.” He nodded. “I was

Boy.”

16

“Yes,” I said, “you were Boy. Now you are Billy, now you are Billy boy.”

He grinned, turning to Suzy. “I’m Billy boy.” He turned to me, nodding.

“Finish the story, get to the happy part.”

****

It was a nice rain. Not too hard and it lasted through the

night. With the morning came the sun. “Oh what a glorious

day,” said Tree. “Have you ever seen a better day?”

“Feeling better?”

“Oh, much, much better.” He stretched. “You look better,

too.”

“I do?”

Tree waggled his limbs. “Oh yes, you’re brighter.”

“Brighter?”

He waggled again. “Yes, brighter. You look good.”

The sun’s warmth was good. I my battery was getting

stronger. Warmth is good for a battery. “I feel good, too.

Today will be a good day.”

It was mid-morning before Boy returned. He ran to Tree and

hugged him. He walked over to the fence and looked at me.

17

“Hi Car. I want to hug you too, but I can’t. Don’t know how to

climb the fence.”

“It’s enough you came back. So, you want to be our friend?” I

asked.

“Oh yes, please.” He turned to Tree. “Now I have someone to

talk to.”

“You have no one to talk to?” asked Tree.

Boy shook his head, then lowered his eyes. “No. My father has

to work all the time. When he gets home, he is too tired to

talk to me. He tries to read to me at night, but he goes to

sleep before he gets very far into the story.”

“Could you read to him?” I asked.

Boy cocked his head. “I suppose I could.”

“Do you like to read?” asked Tree.

Boy nodded rapidly, “Yes, books make me less lonely. I like to

read.”

“I like to read,” said Billy, to Molly.

“I know,” said Molly. “Should we listen to the rest of the story?”

Billy hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” I said, “this is your story, I want you to ask

questions.”

Billy shook his head, looking at the floor. “It wasn’t a question.”

“Maybe not,” I said, “but it showed you were paying attention. Do you

like the story?”

Billy did the bobble-head nodding. “Yes, I like your story.”

“Your story,” I corrected. “I wrote this for you.”

He turned to Suzy. “My story.”

18

“Yes, Boy,” said Suzy, “would you please quit interrupting?”

Billy hung his head. “Sorry.”

“Suzy?” chided Nancy.

“I’m sorry,” said Suzy. “It’s your story, you can do whatever you want.”

He turned to me. “Please go on, Dad. I like my story.”

“Would you like to read to us?” asked Tree.

Boy looked back at me. “Would you like me to?”

“Very much,” I said. “We’re lonely, too.”

“Lonely? You have each other. How can you be lonely?”

“You have your father and you’re lonely. Sometimes you can

have people in your life and still be lonely. Car and I are lonely

because we can’t share. Car is supposed to take people where

they want to go. He needs to be useful.”

“What about you?” asked Boy.

“I’m an apple tree. I should grow big, red apples, but…”

“But he can’t because he doesn’t get enough water,” I said.

“Last night’s rain was the most water he has had in a long,

long time. See how much better he looks.”

Boy looked at Tree and cocked his head. “I guess.”

Pause.

“If I brought you water every day would that make you less

lonely?”

“It is enough for you talk to us,” said Tree. “What can we do

to make you less lonely?”

Boy shrugged. “I dunno. Let me bring you water and let me

read to you. Would that make you less lonely?”

19

“That would be very nice. What can we do for you?” asked

Tree.

Boy thought for a while. “When will you have apples?”

Tree sagged his branches. “I don’t know, I never grew any

before. Car, when should I have apples?”

I sagged my front wheels. “Don’t know. Never met an apple

tree before. Guess we’ll find out.”

“Boy, can I ask a favor?” asked Tree.

“Sure, what do you want?” asked Boy.

“Car needs your help.”

Boy turned to look at me. “He does?”

Tree nodded. “He does. Car needs his battery recharged.”

“Recharged?”

“It’s like eating breakfast. He needs someone to give him a

charge.”

“Oh, so what do I do? I don’t know how to charge.”

“No, but the nice man who runs this lot does. He’s forgotten

about Car. Could you remind him?”

“Man?”

“He sits in that little shack over there,” said Tree, pointing

with a branch.

Boy looked where Tree pointed. “Oh.”

“Would you?” asked Tree.

Boy shook his head. “I can’t. My father doesn’t want me to

talk to strange men.”

“Your father is right,” said Tree. “But Man isn’t strange, he is

our friend.”

20

“He is?”

“He is. Man’s just forgotten about Car.”

“Can a friend forget about you?” asked Boy.

“They shouldn’t,” said Tree. “Maybe something happened to

our friend.”

“Boy is right,” I said. “He shouldn’t talk to strange men.”

“But you’re dying,” said Tree.

“Dying?” asked Boy.

“He is exaggerating,”

“Zaggerating?”

“Making something more than it is. I need a new battery or a

charge, then I’ll be all right.”

“Honk your horn,” asked Tree.

“You know I can’t.”

“See, you are dying.”

“Dying is not good,” said Boy, shaking his head. “My mother

died. She went away. Don’t die.”

“Is this Gran?” asked Billy

I nodded.

“I thought so,” said Billy. “I remember. Don’t die.”

“I won’t.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

I went back to the story after fending off one of Molly’s ‘looks’.

“I won’t.”

21

“What do we do? We need Man to give you a charge, but we

can’t ask Boy to ask him.”

“He’ll come by soon. It slipped his mind. He’ll come by.”

“I’ll ask him,” said Boy.

“No, your father is right,” said Tree.

“We’ll think of something,” I said.

“I must go,” said Boy. “Can I come again tomorrow? I’ll bring

a book, I’ll read to you.”

“We would like that very much,” said Tree. “Thank you for

being our friend.”

Boy waved to me, hugged Tree, then skipped away.

****

A new man came this morning and changed my battery. He

shook his head and muttered, “A talking tree and a talking

car. The kid’s crazy.” Then he walked away.

“I’m young again,” I said to Tree. “Boy did it.”

“Of course, he’s our friend. Bet he brings me water.”

I blinked my lights. “What can we do for him?”

“We’ll ask him. He must have talked to the man. What should

we say?”

“We thank him and tell him never to do it again.”

Boy came an hour later. He brought a bucket and three books.

He left us to find water for Tree. Boy watered Tree, but

couldn’t sit next to him because the ground was wet. He

pulled weeds and picked up paper around Tree. Tree has buds,

but no leaves yet. Boy read to us. I played my radio. Boy liked

that. He likes music. He left for lunch.

22

Man came after Boy left and washed me. He polished my

chrome and shined my windows. He started me and took me

to the gas pump. Man filled my tank and added air to my

tires. It felt good to be a car again. I like being a car. I like the

new man.

“You look happy,” said Tree.

“I am happy. Are you happy?”

Tree nodded his branches. “We need to make Boy happy.

What can we do?”

“What can they do?” asked Billy.

“Billy,” said Suzy, “let him finish.”

“It’s my story.”

“What do we know about sharing?” asked Molly.

“It’s more fun when you share,” said Billy.

“Sorry, Suze.” He nodded to me to continue.

****

Boy came the next day. Tree told him to water away from his

trunk. That way he could lean against him while he read to us.

Tree liked to feel Boy next to him. I would like Boy to drive me.

Maybe someday. Boy did this every day for a week. I saw Man

watching.

Boy would often fall asleep against Tree. One day three boys

came by. One of them had a pen knife. He was going to carve

his name in Tree. Boy wouldn’t let him. Though the boy with

the knife was bigger than Boy, Boy stood in front of Tree. Just

then Man came running and shouted at the boys. They ran

off. “Are you okay?” Man asked Boy.

Boy nodded. “Yes.”

23

“That was a brave thing to do. Why?” asked Man.

“He was going to hurt my friend.”

“Your friend?”

Boy touched Tree. “Tree. Tree is my friend. I couldn’t let him

hurt my friend.”

Man nodded. “No, you couldn’t.” Man looked at me. “Is he

your friend, too?”

Boy nodded.

“Hmmm… We need to protect your friend.”

“How?” asked Boy.

Man shook his head. “Don’t know. There has to be a way.

Friends should help friends.”

Boy nodded.

“Do you have any other friends?” asked Man.

Boy shook his head.

****

The next day Man put up a small fence of sticks and twine. “I

have a friend who can put up a real fence,” said Man to Boy.

“This will do for now.”

“Would you like to meet my friends?” asked Boy.

“I would be honored,” said Man.

Boy introduced us. We can’t talk to Man. We can hear him,

but he can’t hear us. Boy has to talk for us.

Man understands. “Can I meet your father?”

“I dunno,” said Boy. “Would you like to?”

24

Man nodded. “Yes.”

Boy smiled. “Good. I will ask him.” Boy turned to face Tree

and me, then back to Man. “Thank you for being our friend.”

“Thank you for being my friend. It gets so lonely here all by

myself. I like the company.” He looked at Tree. “Tree is getting

leaves and car is getting color. Funny what love does.”

“Love?” asked Boy.

“When you care about someone or something.”

“Oh. So, I love Tree and Car?”

“Don’t you?” asked Man.

Boy looked at me and Tree. He nodded. “Yes, I love them. Do

they love me?”

“Ask them.”

Boy touched Tree. “Do you?”

Tree wiggled his branches. “Yes.”

Boy went to the chain-link fence and asked me, “Do you love

me?” I blinked my lights twice and sounded my horn once.

Boy turned to Man on my side of the fence and beamed.

“They love me. They love me.”

“It is good to be loved and to love. That is what friendship is

all about,” said Man.

“Do I love Suze, she’s my friend?” asked Billy.

“What do you think?” I asked.

He turned to look at Suzy, narrowing his eyes, then nodded. “Yes, I

love Suze. Do you love me?” he asked her.

“Of course, silly.” She stuck out her neck shaking her head, rolling her

eyes.

He grinned and nodded for me to continue.

25

****

Man’s friend built a new fence around Tree. He opened the

fence between Tree and me, so Boy could touch both of us.

Boy has a nice touch. Boy’s father would come with him when

he could. We can’t talk to him either. Boy is the only person

who can hear Tree and me. Man got a special license for me.

He let Boy’s father drive me to his work, and we sometimes

take Boy for trips to the park or the lake. Boy’s father has

more time to spend with Boy. I save him more than an hour a

day because he doesn’t have to ride the bus.

****

Tree has become a beautiful tree. He grows delicious apples.

He liked Boy, Man and Boy’s father to eat his apples. They are

good apples.

26

Boy is happy. He started school a few weeks ago. He has

many new friends, but he still visits us every day. I am a happy

yellow now. Boy’s father bought me, but brings me back to

the lot at night. I can’t leave Tree.

I turned over the last sheet.

“Is that it?” asked Billy.

I nodded. “That’s all for that story. There will be others.”

“Good,” said Billy, with a single nod.

Molly leaned over putting her head on my shoulder. “Nice going,

Clements”

“You like it?” I asked.

She nodded. “It’s a good story.”

“Yes, son,” said Dad, rubbing his eyes. “It’s a good story.” He stood

and put his hand on my shoulder as he walked to the kitchen. “Can I

get anything for anyone?”

“Yes, you old coot,” said John, holding up his glass.

“What, your legs broke,” said Dad, taking his glass.

John stood and followed Dad to the kitchen. He put his hand on Dad’s

shoulder. “I think we did good,” said John.

Dad nodded. “Took long enough, but it’s turning out alright.

27

“Ken, Molly,” said Mike, holding Anne’s hand. “Thank you for letting us

be part of this, part of your family.”

“Our family,” corrected Molly. “You married into this. Well, I married

into this.” She stood and walked to them.

Mike rose to meet her. They hugged. Molly leaned down to hug and

kiss Anne.

“Mattie would’ve loved this, loved your story,” said Flora. She looked

up at the dark-haired angel on the tree. “She would’ve been so

proud.”

“She is proud,” corrected Dad. “She is proud.”