Waiting with Elmer. Deanna K. Klingel

good Lord made de dirt, boy,” someone hollered from another bunk.

      Willy’s memory caught a snatch of his grandma as she pulled white church gloves over her hands to hide the berry stains and gardening dirt that was ground permanently into her gnarled fingers. He stared down at his dirty fingernails. With a slight shudder, he erased the memory.

      In the dining hall, all the men were drinking coffee and eating doughnuts out of brown paper sacks. They began to hum while moving their chairs, and gradually the men arranged themselves into a circle.

      Rake stood up and began to speak. He read from a Bible and the men sang songs. Then Rake said, “If you haven’t had the pleasure of meeting our new brother, his name is Willy. Willy blesses us with his presence; a fi—i—ine gift from God,” he drawled.

      The men nodded and said, “Amen, amen, brother.” Some raised a hand; others mumbled, “Welcome.” Rake prayed a long prayer, then everyone went on their way.

      “So, that was church?” Willy asked. A quick vision of his grandmother in her Sunday hat and purse caught him off guard. He felt his hand locked with hers. He shook the images from his mind.

      “Uh-huh. That was church. The coming together of the least of the humble brethren to sing and praise the Lord,” Rake said raising his hands high.

      The old man Willy had seen yesterday was sitting in the swing on the porch again. He tipped his cap to Willy when he stepped out the door.

      “God bless you, son,” he said. Willy looked away, not knowing how to respond to that. Why’s he care? He jus’ sits there all day blessin’ everbody.

      Rake put his arm around Willy’s shoulders and they bobbed down the orange ramp, heading for town to meet Elmer in the park. Rake carried the chess set under his other arm. Willy bobbled unsteadily, walking through dizziness that still came and went.

      “You have a blessed day, Charles,” Rake called back.

      Willy’s dark eyes searched the road for a rusty yellow truck. He sucked his lower lip and pretended his head didn’t ache.

      “You’re lucky to have Elmer on your side, Willy. Elmer’ll take care of you. Elmer takes care of everyone. Always has.”

      Willy thought about that. After a while he said, “How can he take care of anybody? Elmer can’t even walk. He’s got no legs.”

      “You noticed that, did you? I noticed that, too.” Rake grinned at Willy. “Legs aren’t everything. There’s a whole lot more to Elmer than what he hasn’t got. It’s the same for all of us, isn’t it? We’re all a lot more than what we haven’t got. And more than what we have got, too, for that matter. Yes, sir. A lot more. We got souls.” Rake began to hum.

      Willy digested Rake’s words and tried to sort out his meaning. Then he heard the wheels rumbling down the hollow sidewalk in the park.

      “Morning,” called Elmer. “Ready for some chess?”

      They each played chess, and as the sun moved directly overhead, Elmer and Rake were discussing a book they’d read.

      Willy listened intently, forgetting his pain and letting go of the vertigo. He had learned to read when he was just a little shaver, when his mother read to him and showed him how to sound out some words.

      I think I can, I think I can, the little engine said.

      Then, when he lived with Grandma, she walked him to school, where his teacher said he was the best reader in the class. But now he didn’t have any grandma or any books to read or a school to go to.

      I’d like to read a book and talk about it, too.

      “Willy, tomorrow we’ll go over to the library and get you a library card. We’ve got to get some books for you. You can read, can’t you?” Willy nodded.

      Seems like Elmer can read my mind.

      “We’ll talk about the book after you’ve read it. Even the best books are better when they’re shared.”

      Willy fell asleep at the mission that night dreaming about having a library card with his name on it. It’d been a while since he’d written his name on anything. Willy Sykes.

      ***

      Elmer paddled his platform up the ramp at the library. The sidewalk and the ramp in front of the library had colored books painted on them.

      “We’ll get you a library card, so you can get books whenever you want.”

      “I’m not staying,” Willy said. “I’m just waiting.”

      “That’s right. That’s right. I remember that. But it’s something to do while you’re waiting. A good book can make waiting better. Winter days can get long.”

      Willy thought that made sense. He looked above the library door and saw the words “Let There Be Light” spelled out in colored glass. They went through the big doors and into an amazing room full of musty-smelling books on shelves lining the tall walls. Willy looked upward at the ceiling into a dome painted with clouds and angels. The sunlight from outside shone right through that ceiling. All around the dome was a cat walk with a golden railing all the way to the ceiling. Willy’s head began to spin looking up at it.

      I never knew there were this many books in all the world.

      He tipped his head back to look all the way up, and just before he lost his balance, someone spoke to him.

      “Isn’t it beautiful? Compliments of Mr. Andrew Carnegie, who thought we needed a library for our little town. May I help you find something?”

      Willy chanced a look and saw the kindest brown eyes on the most beautiful face he’d ever seen. She took the stuffing right out of him.

      “I’m the librarian. I can help you find something good to read.”

      Willy heard Elmer rolling their way, but he couldn’t stop staring at the librarian.

      “Hello, June Bug,” Elmer said. “This is my guest and friend, Willy.”

      “Hello, Willy. It’s nice to make your acquaintance. Any friend of Elmer’s will be a special friend of mine.” She held out her smooth hand with painted nails and a sparkling bracelet around her wrist. Her hand was soft and warm, the color of caramels. She touched his arm. Willy gulped.

      “Willy, this is Miss Junie Whitmire, our town librarian.”

      Willy smiled awkwardly. “There are more books here than I’ve ever seen in my whole life,” he whispered.

      He had no idea how long he wandered around in there, pulling books off the shelves, putting them back, sitting down, reading some, stacking them up. Going through those pages was like taking a trip to new places, forgetting temporarily where he really was – forgetting that he was waiting. Willy couldn’t get enough. The librarian put his books into two paper bags with twine handles.

      “Well, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other then, won’t we? Anything I can do for you, you just let me know.” Her smile warmed his innards.

      “Yes, Ma’am.”

      In a few days, Willy started talking about what he was reading. The two men questioned him, gave him some things to think about, and they talked some more. Willy began to have ideas about subjects he’d never thought of before. He was amazed to discover that Elmer and Rake had read every book he had in his bags: Kidnapped, Treasure Island, Jungle Book, Aesop’s Fables. Gulliver’s Travels, The Souls of Black Folk and the poetry of Langston Hughes, which Miss Whitmire told him every negro boy should read and every white one too, for that matter, she’d said.

      “Good literature, after all, is for everyone,” she declared.

      ***

      No one touched anyone else’s things in the