It's funny how time goes by, Sammy often thought. Somehow the next twenty years just went by. The country was changing, and Barrington changed, too, at its own pace, which was slowly, and not all at once. Buses kept rolling through, Norman kept working at the gas station, staying on a couple years past his retirement, and Lucille kept serving meals. They kept right on arguing in a friendly way and going to their respective homes at night. Sammy sometimes wondered why they didn't get married—but he never said anything. He still lived rent-free in the back of the bus station, taking care of the place on occasion when Norm went away on what Lucille called his secret fishing expeditions. Living in a bus station? How awful, some people would say—but Sammy would look at the way some of them were living their lives, and he wouldn't change places.
Sammy grew up all of a sudden it seemed sometimes. He became a tall young man with a quiet, thoughtful face, and his smile, which he reserved for those close to him, was sunny and almost involuntary. His eyes were deep and wise. Norm and Lucille knew they had a young man of intelligence and wisdom, but many people assumed he was an idiot.
The one person who had changed was Tallasy Tynan, that pretty girl who'd punched out her brother Tolliver. She'd given Sammy his first and only Valentine, which he still kept, pasted to the mirror over his sink. Tallasy had tagged after him some, years ago, and he'd fixed her first camera when Tolliver broke it. She used to tell him things that she wouldn't tell anyone else, and he'd listen quietly, watching her with his thoughtful brown eyes, filing everything away under the top-secret file in his mind called Tallasy's Secrets. A few years ago, though, she'd gone off to college and hardly ever came back.
Sammy listened to everything and everyone. People told him things, and from them he gained a deep understanding of human nature. God told him things, too, turning his knowledge into wisdom. He was so used to listening that when God had started speaking, it was only natural to listen to Him, too. That relationship was the deepest of all. The only thing that really bothered Sammy was being three parts fraud. Everyone still thought he was deaf, and by now it was habit, a comfortable old habit as well as a shield, to listen but keep from showing it, to smile pleasantly and blankly, to write on his little pad of paper when he wanted to make himself understood. He'd learned to position himself around metal surfaces so he could see behind himself, and taught himself not to jump when a noise startled him. He'd learned to notice everything, to use his peripheral vision. Nothing escaped his notice. But if he was three parts fraud, he was one part handyman, and the best there was in Barrington—or so Norm liked to say.
The day in the spring of 1965 that Norm came back from a trip looking different—a little pleased with himself, Sammy thought, and filed it away—Sammy was in Lucille's Kitchen, fixing her toaster, when the door banged open, and a pale-blue suited figure came in. Tolliver Tynan was the one person in Barrington Sammy couldn't bear. His daddy had died rich, but he didn't die dumb. He left all his money to his widow to be held in trust for the children until her death, and the allowance that she gave Tolliver was piddling. He resented that, so he acted more important than he was to make up for it. He pushed around those he thought were weaker than himself and whom he didn't have to impress with his good looks, expensive clothes, and charm—and that included Sammy. Sammy knew he was stronger than Tolliver, for he could take it calmly and dismiss it, but he still didn't like the arrogant young man.
Tolliver greeted everyone in the café with the air of a country squire who owned the place and could thus afford to be nice. He slapped Sammy on the back.
"Hey, dum-dum!" He pulled the toaster out of Sammy's hands. "Just wait on that old thing. I've got more important things for you to do." He pulled a paper from his pocket and spoke in an exaggerated manner. "One. In the hallway…outside the minister's office…the baseboard needs replacing and p-ain-ting. Number Two. Two. 'Mother dear' would like you to clean the patio furniture…and trim the driveway hedge. And Number Three, as a special act of welfare, you can wash my car. You owe me for letting you do it! Dum dum!" He tapped Sammy on the forehead and strode out. Sammy smiled inwardly to himself, laughing at Tolliver.
"Oh, I wish Sammy would beat the pulp out of him one day," Lucille muttered.
"Sammy'll have his day—don't you worry," Norman smiled.
Sammy went on fixing the toaster. When he was done he got on his bike and headed for the Tynan place, but halfway there one of his tires blew out. He had the bike upside down and was looking for the puncture when an old truck pulled up.
"Hey, want a ride, Sammy?" Archibald Thacker called, making driving motions. "Where you headed?"
As Sammy wrote "Tynan Place" on his pad, the truck gave a lurch forward, just missing Tolliver Tynan as he was crossing the street.
"Hey! You could've hit me, Thacker!"
"I decided against it, Mr. Tynan," Thacker grinned.
Tolliver scowled. He thought it his duty to put the blacks in their place, even this big, friendly giant of a man. "Don't you get smart with me! I don't know why you can't haul this junk on the back streets. You're a blight on downtown Barrington."
"Oh, yeah," Thacker said sarcastically. "Beautiful downtown Barrington."
His two sons in the back grinned at each other, and Sammy looked down at his shoes to hide his own grin.
"I don't know why I put up with you," Tolliver ground out and stalked away.
"I've tried for years to find something to like about that boy," Thacker said to Sammy. "No luck so far. Well, hop in the back," motioning with his thumb.
Sammy listened to the two young men crack jokes as they rode along and hid his amusement by smiling at the sky as if it was especially pretty today. Archibald Thacker, a widower with four sons, had become wealthy over the years by hauling junk and cleaning up after other people. He had two businesses set up in the name of a white Atlanta lawyer. People thought he was just getting by, but what they didn't see was him cleaning out Atlanta banks for the last twenty years. Sammy had learned a lot of good business and money-making sense by listening to him. The fact was, Archibald and his sons had a third and even more profitable business that paid a whole lot better than, say, washing Mrs. Tynan's patio furniture.
Sammy went to work on the patio of the big, old plantation house. The Tynans had owned slaves generations ago, and to hear them talk, both Mrs. Tynan and Tolliver thought it should still be that way. Tallasy was different; she took after her daddy.
Mrs. Tynan, a beautiful but arrogant woman, came out and scolded Sammy for being late. He just stared at her as if he didn't know what she was talking about, and when she'd gone inside, he made faces after her. Then he was startled by a familiar voice.
"Mother, for heaven's sake, why do you insist on berating poor Sammy when you know he can't hear you or talk back? You certainly don't need the practice! You need to watch your blood pressure! Did you take your medicine today?"
This was the first time Tallasy had been back in some while. Piano music began to come from the house, a familiar, haunting tune. Sammy went around the side of the house, drawn to the tune, and stood outside the window by the piano. Tallasy thought she saw someone and looked out, but Sammy started back.
"Must you play that sentimental tune?" Mrs. Tynan groused.
"Sorry, it just came back to me. You know this is the first piece Daddy asked me to learn. His face would light up…I can still see him standing there." Tallasy was as pretty as ever. She'd cut her thick brown hair so that it framed her round face, but her smile was just as sweet and her speech just as frank as it had ever been.
Sammy went to clip the hedge, but he could still hear their conversation.
"I want you to do something for me, if it's not asking too much," Mrs. Tynan said. "We're getting a new minister. He's the top graduate from Barrington Seminary, of course."
Tallasy laughed. "Top grad from Barrington is like being first in the slow lane."
Her mother frowned at her. "He's going to be staying here until the renovations to the parsonage are completed. I want you to at least be civil to him. Make him feel at home."
Sammy and Tallasy could both see through Mrs. Tynan. She was always introducing her daughter to eligible young men, wanting her to marry and settle down. Tallasy only laughed. She didn't have the same ideals her mother did. Her mother would die of shock if she knew that Sammy Ayers had been her childhood hero. Tallasy had always known there was far more in that head of his than most people thought—had known ever since they shared that secret smile on that first day. He read voraciously, practically inhaled all the books she used to loan him. And though even with his little pad he never said much, he used to tell her things with it—like how he knew his mom hadn't abandoned him, and how he wanted to see the world. His grammar was always perfect, his handwriting neat and precise. He went to church every Sunday with Norman and Lucille, though most people thought it useless for a deaf man to go to church. Tallasy used to take notes on the sermon just so she could give them to him and see his face light up with a smile, and the old minister would give him a slip of paper with that week's Bible text on it before the service. Well, now the old minister was gone, and who knew what the next one would be like?
Her mother was going on. "His name is Perry Ray Pruitt. Be civil to him. It's our privilege and our duty to have him. Barrington Church always gets the top graduate. Your brother will see to that."
Tallasy raised an eyebrow. "I'll certainly try," she said lightly. She glanced out the window and saw Sammy clipping the hedge. She thought she'd seen him out there, listening to the music—wait a minute! Not listening, naturally. What had he been doing?
"I want you to pick him up after the meeting.
"Who?" She'd forgotten what they were talking about.
"The new minister!" her mother said impatiently. "And take Sammy with you. Tolliver has work for him at the church. And make sure Sammy sits in the back! I don't want people to see him sitting up front with you."
Tallasy laughed at her mother's short-sighted prejudice. "Maybe I can tie a rope to him and make him run along behind."
Sammy was glad his back was to the house so they couldn't see his broad grin. Tallasy had a way of flying to people's defense by making exaggerated statements that showed people how stupid she thought they were being. Then she always did what she wanted. She even opened the car door so Sammy could sit up front next to her. As she drove, she rambled as she used to.
"I keep thinking about when you first came to town, and Tolliver threw that firecracker at you to prove you weren't deaf. I think he was jealous of the attention you were getting. I guess if you'd been on crutches he would've kicked them to see if you'd fall over. And they make him treasurer of the church! I guess they think if your daddy struck it rich you know how to handle money—like father, like son. Not hardly! Sometimes it's a relief to know I'm adopted." She glanced at Sammy. He was looking at her with the same expression he always used to have when she was telling him her secrets—thoughtful and as if, even though he couldn't hear her, somehow he understood. "I guess my secret's safe with you. My daddy was a doll, Sammy. I remember he was a quiet man. We'd take long walks, and he'd let me jabber on just like I'm doing now." She smiled, and Sammy smiled back. "You remind me of him a little. Hey!" She lifted her camera and snapped a picture of him. "So, we're going to have a preacher in the house. Reverend Perry Ray Pruitt, handpicked by the one and only Tolliver Tynan." She shook her head, wondering what the new minister would be like.