Aunt Lutie thinks the whole bloggin' world is interested in everything that goes on in Harts Corner. Well, I certainly don't see any comments being left on this blog so maybe not one person in this entire world gives a hoot. Of course, Miz Barbara will just tell me to keep talkin' here as you never know what life you will touch.
She wants me to tell you about Charlie Wade. And now that he's in a real home and most--I say most because there's always some smart mouth who bullies people no matter what--most kids have decided to Charlie Wade is pretty cool.
Aunt Lutie says I followed him, trying to find out more about him. I guess I did do that but my heart was in the right place as I was real concerned about his well bein'. I can't tell you though how many times I snuck around, hidin' behind dumpsters, steppin' into doorways, and still I couldn't keep up. Where did he go? Where did he live? Who were his parents? If he knew all about bein' homeless, did that mean he was one of them?
It took a long time but one day I watched him cross the bridge over a stream south of town, then move down the rocky berm, and disappear. By the time I reached the spot, there was no sight of him. So I just scooted right down the side of the road, and followed a faint path that led beneath the bridge. That's when I found out where Charlie lived.
He had set up a camp tucked way up beneath the bridge, sheltered from the weather. A sleeping bag was neatly rolled up beyond a ring of rocks with a stack of small branches nearby. There were some tin cans in a box along with one small skillet and an even smaller saucepan. No lantern. No pillow. No ice. His living quarters were pretty bare.
"Get out of here!" Charlie rose up from behind a large boulder near the stream, still wearing the backpack he carried everywhere. "You shouldn't have followed me."
"Where's your family, Charlie?" I sat down on a rock and waited. When he didn't answer, I continued, "I'm worried about you bein' here alone."
"It's none of your business how I live." He seemed ready to run. "I've been on my own for a long time."
"Why? How? You're not more than nine or ten."
"What's it to you?"
"I think you need a friend. And you need a house to live in."
"Been there, done that." He didn't meet my look. "Besides, some people don't deserve a house."
That sure surprised me. "Everyone needs a family, Charlie. I found that out. Miguel will find you a place, Charlie."
His mouth curled up in a sneer. "You keep him out of this. He's a cop and all they want to do is send kids like me to an orphanage or to a work camp for bad kids."
"Not in Harts Corner, Son."
I don't know where Miguel came from but neither one of us heard him. And we both jumped at the sound of his voice.
Charlie froze, a look of fear on his face.
"Let Miguel help you, Charlie."
"I promise I will do everything in my power to help you stay in Harts Corner. Folks in this town will want to help you out." Miguel began to pile the cooking items in with the food. "Bethy Rose, scatter that fire ring. Charlie, grab your sleep bag."
"I won't stay wherever you take me." His voice began as a squeak but rose as he gathered courage. "I've never stolen from nobody, never been in trouble. There's no reason for you to waste your time. You can't find a place that can hold me forever."
I protested. "You sure have a smart mouth, Charlie. No one should talk to anyone, least ways a sheriff, that way. When Miguel says he will help you, he doesn't mean to dump you on somebody who doesn't care."
He turned on me with fists balled up. "You're a snitch. You told him where to find me."
"I never..."
I've known you were here from the day you arrived."
Charlie looked shocked.
"It's my town, Son. I know what goes on here and who moves in--even beneath a bridge. Let's go."
"W...where are you takin' me?"
"To the one place where you'll be safe and warm. And cared for."
"There's no such place." He glared at both of us.
"They'll be two people who will offer you a stable home, a bedroom of your own, and the opportunity to grow into someone who can look at themselves in the mirror with thanks each day."
"Miguel, that sounds like our family."
He smiled. "The next best, honey."
"Who would do this for Charlie? No one really knows him. We don't know if he's really homeless, or where he came from, or if someone is lookin' for him."
We had reached the cruiser parked at the end of the bridge. Miguel opened the trunk and put Charlie's things inside. He looked over his shoulder.
"I know Charlie Wade Black ran from the scene where his parents were killed mysteriously."
Charlie began to shake. He allowed me to pull him into the backseat with me. He even squeezed my hand as we headed to a new home several miles out in the country. A place where Jewel and Harold waited to give Charlie a new life.
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