Sammy slept on as the bus rolled through town after town. Finally, at about ten o'clock the next morning, they came to Barrington, Georgia.
"End of the line!" the bus driver called out. Everyone trooped off, and he began going down the aisle, picking up trash. Then he saw the boy still sleeping, the one who had come on with the pretty woman in red. He nudged the boy. "Hey kid! Wake up. It's the end of the line."
Sammy awoke with a start. Where was he? Where was Mom?
"Your mom ain't here, kid. She musta got off somewhere. Dirty thing to do—abandon a kid like that. But it happens."
Nonsense. Mom was just waiting outside. Her words echoed in his ears: "Not another word out of you." And she'd always told him not to talk to strangers. So he didn't answer the bus driver; just turned and walked down the aisle.
The driver noticed the suitcases in the rack. "Hey, kid! Come get these!" When Sammy continued down the aisle, the driver muttered disgustedly, "Great, he's deaf and dumb."
Mom wasn't outside the bus, so Sammy sat down on the bench to wait for her. That's what she'd always told him: if he was lost, don't go wandering around. She'd come find him.
Norman Jenkins, the man who ran Barrington's bus station, noticed the kid and asked the driver about him.
"He's a leftover," the driver said. "His mom up and left him. I don't remember what stop. I know her type. Kid gets to be a drag on her, so she leaves him on a bus."
"Nonsense," Norm said, his gentle face worried. "He's just gotten separated from her." He knelt in front of the boy. "Where are you from, son?"
Not another word out of you. Sammy just stared at the man.
"He's deaf as a post and just as dumb," the driver said. "Watch this. Hey, kid! You got your pants on backward!"
Sammy ignored him. He knew he didn't have his pants on backward.
"See? Deaf and dumb. I told you, his ma left him. Well, he's not my responsibility. I gotta go."
"Wait a minute! What if his mom is waiting at another station?"
"I tell you, she ain't waiting!"
Sammy listened while they argued, and it came to him like a revelation that if people thought he was deaf, they'd blurt out their true feelings without holding back. It would be fun to hear what adults talked about while he waited for Mom. It gave him a kind of power over things, at least until he saw how the land lay.
Finally the bus driver left. Sammy was glad; he didn't like him. Norman, whom Sammy did like, came over to him. "Well, son," he said, "maybe somebody'll come for you. Meanwhile, you want some food? Food?" He made eating motions, and Sammy smiled, realizing how hungry he was. "Good, then you just come in here." He led Sammy into Lucille's Kitchen, the café attached to the bust station. It was a homey little place, and it smelled good. "I wouldn't advise eating Lucille's food on a regular basis, but it'll do in a case of extreme starvation." The teasing note in his voice made Sammy realize he'd said it for the benefit of the woman behind the counter. She wasn't pretty, like his mom, and she was older, about Norman's age, but she had a kind, comfortable look.
"Extreme starvation! You've put on two belt sizes sitting on that there stool," she said indignantly. "Don't you believe him, boy. My cooking's the best you'll get."
"He can't hear you," Norman said. "He's deaf and mute—but I'll bet he isn't dumb at all. He looks like he's got a lot in that head. His mom left him—accidentally, I'm guessing. I figured we could…look after him a bit."
"I feed strays and send them on their way, not adopt them," Lucille said, but her face softened. "Now, I'm your Aunt Lucille," she told the boy. "What do you want to eat? Look up here." His eyes followed her finger to the signs she was pointing at. They were painted pictures of four different kinds of meals. "Do you want Number One," holding up a finger, "or my specialty, Number Two, or—"
Sammy held up one finger.
"I thought you had a bacon and eggs look," Lucille smiled. Within ten minutes she had a plate of food ready for him. Norman sat him at a table with his back to them and leaned on the counter. Sammy caught their reflections in the metal napkin holder on the table and adjusted it so he could watch them.
"What are you going to do with him?" Lucille asked.
"I figure somebody'll come for him."
"You should call Harvey."
"The police? No, I don't want to drag them into it. Harvey'll call the Highway Patrol and the state police…"
"Norman, you can't treat him like a stray animal! Somebody's got to take care of him. He'll have school, clothes, chickenpox…"
"We'll be better off without the police involved," Norman maintained.
"Norman, think about if he was your kid. Who would you call if you had a child missing?"
Norman thought about it. Lucille was right—she usually was. "Alright, I'll call Harvey."
Half an hour later, Sammy was seated on the hood of a police car being grilled by a tall, lanky policeman with greasy grey hair. A crowd stood around listening.
"Now you speak up and tell me your name," the policeman said.
Sammy just stared at him blankly. He'd seen a deaf kid once. The kid had acted like he was in his own world, like none of the stuff going on around him really mattered. Sammy could act like that.
"Harvey, I've already told you he's deaf," Norman said.
"What if he isn't? I think he's just being contrary. He looks like he can talk."
"How can he talk if he's deaf?"
"This is a kid who looks like he's not deaf," the policeman said stubbornly.
No one but Sammy noticed that a long black car was pulling up. Two childish voices were clamoring to get out and see what the commotion was. Before their black-clad mother could stop them, a little boy and little girl had jumped out of the car and were pushing their way through the crowd. The boy was about Sammy's age and had blond hair and the kind of round, angelic face that hid a very un-angelic heart. The little girl was about seven or eight and had big brown eyes. She smiled sweetly at Sammy, and he smiled back, his childish heart immediately won. Both the children ignored their mother's calls of "Tolliver! Tallasy!"
The boy heard the talk of the deaf boy and examined Sammy with insolent eyes. His look told Sammy that he knew, as small boys frequently know things about other small boys, that Sammy wasn't deaf. Sammy looked away from him. His eye caught the boy's reflection in the back of the police car's mirror, and he watched as Tolliver took a cherry bomb and a lighter from his pocket. He bit his lip, knowing that if he jumped when the cracker went off, the game would be up. He'd show this Tolliver kid!
The cracker exploded, startling the crowd, eliciting cries from everyone but Sammy, who sat calmly, staring around as if wondering why everyone was jumping. That convinced both Harvey and Tolliver, who was promptly punched in the stomach by his indignant little sister. The two children climbed back in the car, quarrelling, and Sammy's heart followed the little girl who'd flown to his defense.
"Well," Harvey said finally, "I dunno why you called me. I've not nowhere to put him. Harboring strays ain't in my jurisdiction. You should call social services." He drove away, and the crowd dispersed, leaving Sammy, Norman, and Lucille.
Norman walked Sammy back to his bench. "Well," he said, "somebody's sure to come for you. Or maybe you were sent so I could take care of you."
"I don't think so!" Lucille called. "This is the world's poorest excuse for an orphanage!"
"Don't you listen to her. You heard her call herself your Aunt Lucille. Well, obviously you didn't hear her, but that's what she said. She talks, but really she's all just mush. So you just stay right here and see if anybody comes back for you. If nobody comes today, I've got a cot in the back room you can sleep on."
Sammy knew he wouldn't need it. He knew his mom would come. He sat firmly on the bench waiting for her. He ran to meet every bus and examined the passengers as they disembarked. Hours passed, and Mom didn't come. Where was she? He could hardly eat the sandwich and milk Lucille brought out for him. When the sun had gone down and Norman began straightening things up and sweeping out the station, Sammy began to cry very softly. He knew Mom hadn't abandoned him. He knew she loved him too much to do that. But he also knew she wasn't coming. They were very close, and that connection between them was gone.
When Norman came and put a hand gently on his shoulder the tears were gone. This game, this pretense at being deaf and dumb was some kind of armor or a shield against the world, against the pain, against whatever he didn't want to think about. Norman led him into the back room.
"You can sleep on this cot. Why don't you take one of my shirts to sleep in and I'll have your clothes washed before they stick to you. You can use this sink, though it drips a little, see? And here, you can have this tin of Fig Delights in case you get hungry in the night. I'll see you in the morning, OK?" He awkwardly squeezed the boy's shoulder and went out.
Sammy clutched the tin of cookies close, wishing it were his music box that played the tune Mom always sang, and went to sleep as even lost, lonely children will.
Norman went quietly into the Lost and Found room and retrieved the two suitcases. Maybe there was some paperwork in them to give him a clue as to the boy's identity. One of them had clothes, the boy's and a woman's clothes. It was that that convinced him the boy's mother hadn't left him on purpose. She would have taken her clothes. The other suitcase held what he could only assume were personal treasures. Toys, cheap jewelry, a few photos, a music box that played an oddly familiar tune. And an envelope with a picture of the boy and a birth certificate. He read the official document. So the boy's name was Sammy Ayers. Not Samuel or Sam, but Sammy. He was ten years old. What was his mother's name? Norman read further. Ellen Ayers. And the father's name was here too. He read the name, and his eyes popped wide open. His mind boggled. He read it over again. So she was bringing the boy here. He scratched his head. Well, what do you know? No one would ever have guessed. He quietly replaced the birth certificate, shut up the suitcase, and stowed it away behind some boxes. It would come in handy some day. Better now for Sammy to forget about the past and begin a new life.
Sammy woke up early. He could see the sun rising through a window. The window was dirty, and he could hear that faucet still dripping. He wanted to repay Norman for being so kind to him—and maybe doing something would keep him from thinking. He was good at fixing things. He found a box of old tools and went to work on the faucet, eating Fig Delights as he went. They were sweet and full of crunchy seeds, and before he knew it, he'd eaten the whole box. He remembered watching a neighbor fix a leaky faucet, and before long this one had stopped its annoying drip. Then he wet a rag and washed the window, and, having found a broom in a corner, swept the floor. When Norman came in, he was sitting cross-legged on the cot, reading the back of the Fig Delight tin.
"Good morning," Norman said cheerfully. He put a hand on Sammy's shoulder, and Sammy pretended to start at the touch. "Sorry," Norman said. "Say, something's different in here. The sink's stopped dripping! Did you fix it?" He went over to the sink and made vague cranking motions, pointing to Sammy. "Did you do that?"
Sammy nodded.
"Well, I'll be. You're a smart kid. Are you hungry? Looks like you ate all your Fig Delights. They're my favorite, too. Hey, were you reading that, or looking at the picture? Can you read? Here." He took a small pad of paper and a pencil from his pocket and wrote, "Norman Jenkins," pointing to himself.
Sammy smiled, took the pad, and wrote, "Sammy Ayers."
"Well, Sammy, nice to meet you. Let's go get some food."