Mary calmly spoke to him in Tagalog while the other nurses helped hold him down. His strength, even now, was impressive.
Grub looked as if he wanted to say something, his brown eyes darting back and forth. I noticed the piano music had stopped, and glanced at Rose, who watched the commotion. She looked worried.
Missy Stouffer briskly entered the room, taking full inventory of the situation within seconds.
“Get your hands off me! Who took them?” Blackjack fought at the nurses.
“Who took what?” Missy asked Mary.
“He’s confused. I’ll take him back to his room, Ms. Stouffer. He just needs to rest.”
Missy flashed me and Grub a suspicious glare.
“Who took my medals?” Blackjack repeated, still struggling.
Missy looked from Blackjack to Mary. “It may very well be confusion; nonetheless, it’s my job to take any accusation of stolen property seriously, regardless of the mental state of the person reporting it.”
“I’ve been with him since he woke this morning,” Mary replied. “He hasn’t left my sight. I’m certain the medals are back in his room. They couldn’t possibly be missing.”
“Let’s be sure then. It’ll only take a few minutes to double- check his room.” Missy raised her eyebrows at Mary, then nodded toward the hall.
“Of course, Ms. Stouffer,” said Mary, who left Blackjack with the other nurses and headed to his room.
Grub still stood by my side, clinging to my shorts. The entire room had focused their attention on us by now. My palms sweated in my pockets. Blackjack had stopped shouting and struggling, but breathed heavily in his wheelchair. The remaining two nurses crouched beside him, muttering soft assurances that he was going to be okay.
Lucille Larsen appeared beside me. “What’s the ruckus?”
I leaned in close to her ear. “Blackjack thinks his medals are missing.”
“Missing medals? So what’s the fuss? I haven’t been able to find my wedding ring for weeks and no one seems to care.”
Hearing this, Missy turned and scanned her up and down, as if downloading information. “Your wedding ring is missing, Mrs. Larsen?”
Lucille held out her left hand to show Missy Stouffer: no ring.
“I see,” said Missy.
A voice called out from behind us, something about rare coins missing.
Another man shouted, “I’ve been looking for my gold watch for days!”
Grub tugged at my arm again. “I want to go home,” he said.
“Now’s not a great time. We’ll leave in a little bit,” I told him.
Mary returned, her shoulders hunched up and palms facing upward. “He’s right, I can’t find them. I have no idea—”
Before she could finish, Missy pointed to me and the two nurses. “You, you, and you. Check the memory care unit for Mr. Porter’s medals.” Then she pointed at Candy. “You talk to the other residents, see if there are more reports of missing property.” She pointed at Mary. “You get him calmed down,” she said, nodding to Blackjack, who had, for the most part, calmed down. Grub noticed this as well and left my side to join his friend.
Missy and I, along with the two nurses, walked down the long hall of the memory care unit. She ordered them to perform a full sweep of the rooms and took me to the staff lounge. “I can’t imagine any of our employees would steal from the residents, but I’d be remiss not to cover all possibilities. Check the cabinets, the lockers, everywhere.”
In all the time I’d volunteered at Hilltop, I’d never seen Missy appear anything other than calm and cool. But now she looked rattled and as uncomfortable as I felt to be rooting through other people’s belongings.
“Of course,” I said, then gulped. My tongue felt like sandpaper on my throat. I wasn’t sure why I had been picked to help with the search, but I obliged.
Missy started at one end of the room and I at the other. I opened the cabinets. Nothing out of the ordinary. The closet had everything one might expect. I even checked the refrigerator. Nothing. Finally, I moved on to the employee lockers. Part of me felt invasive; the other part knew I was only following orders.
First locker—empty.
Second locker—a pair of shoes and an umbrella.
Third locker—winner winner, chicken dinner. On the bottom of the locker, underneath a balled-up sweater, lay a pile of old war medals attached to striped ribbons.
“Found ’em,” I said to Missy.
She marched across the room and took the medals from the locker. Then she looked the locker up and down. “I see,” she said. She turned and walked out the door with haste.
As I shut the locker door, my stomach sank as I recognized Rose’s purse.
I ran back to the common room on Missy’s heels.
“Mr. Gunderson just found these in your locker,” said Missy, holding the medals out to Mary.
I looked at Rose, who furrowed her brow at me in confusion. I opened my eyes wide and shrugged my shoulders.
Mary looked shocked. She actually smiled and shook her head. “That’s crazy. How’d they get there?”
“That’s a good question, and one I’d like the answer to,” said Missy.
Mary searched for words. “Ms. Stouffer, you don’t actually think . . . You can’t believe I took them?”
Missy knelt in front of Blackjack and held up the medals. “Mr. Porter, do you recognize these? Is this your missing property?”
Blackjack slowly lifted his head and spotted the medals in Missy’s hands. His face turned maroon and his chest started heaving again. “Who took them?” he rasped. “Ibalik nila yan!”
Missy looked back to Mary.
“Ms. Stouffer, I—I don’t know what to say.” Mary let out an exasperated breath and dropped her hands to her side. “This is crazy. I don’t know how this could have happened.”
“Either Mr. Porter is out roaming the halls unattended or someone took them from his room and put them in your locker. In any case, this is a serious breach of responsibility.”
“My mom loves Blackjack!” Rose stepped in. “What would she want with his medals? She’d never take them!”
Missy turned to address Rose, but just then, Candy walked up. “Excuse me, Ms. Stouffer, but I’ve just begun speaking to the residents and have already gotten five more complaints of missing property.”
“All from the memory care unit?” asked Missy.
Candy shook her head. “Everywhere.”
Missy rubbed the stress from her temples while everyone awaited a response. Blackjack breathed heavily, which sounded more like a rattling wheeze. Mary and Rose exchanged glances. They looked scared. A bead of sweat ran down my back.
Missy spoke, still working at her temples. “This facility is on lockdown until I figure out what’s going on. Every square inch will be searched. I’ll be speaking with all staff members. If that yields nothing, then I’ll call the police and report the thefts.” Missy lifted her head, half glaring, half pleading with us to understand. “I will not tolerate this lack of supervision and security under my watch.”
Mary blinked and looked at the floor.
I felt about two feet tall.
Blackjack trembled with agitation once again. “Give those back to me! Who took them? Who—” He cut himself off with a heaving cough that turned everyone’s head. He gasped for air, then coughed again. Mary, the nurses, and Missy all rushed to his side. He trembled with each breath. Blackjack hacked, then retched on himself.
Missy turned to Mary. “Attend to Mr. Porter. Get him back to his room, cleaned up, and see to any other attention he requires. I’d like to speak to you later. Alone.”
“Of course, Ms. Stouffer,” said Mary. Rose stood next to her mom, watching. The color had left her face, and she looked as if she might cry.
Amid the chaos, I’d forgotten about Grub. I scanned the room, but he was nowhere to be seen.
“Has anyone seen my brother?” I asked loudly, but everyone was still distracted by Blackjac
k’s meltdown.
I rushed to Rose. “Rose, my brother? Have you seen him?”
She looked at me, wide-eyed, as if she’d just noticed I was there.
“I think I saw him running toward the front door,” said one of the Bettys.
Shit.
“Thanks,” I said. Then to Rose, “I’ll be back later, okay?”
She nodded.
I blew through the front doors, rushed to the sidewalk, and scanned right, then left.
There!
Two blocks down the street, a small, green army helmet bobbed behind a hedgerow, running west.
I hopped on my bike and raced after him, leaving the nursing home in my wake. I caught up to him just as he ran into Dylan’s yard.
“Grub, stop! Everything is okay! Blackjack’s going to be fine!” I shouted, unsure if those things were true or not.
Grub disappeared behind the house. I let the bike fall to the ground, then followed him into the backyard. I rounded the corner of Dylan’s garage to see my brother diving at the foot of a forsythia bush.
“Grub,” I said, not shouting this time. He paid no attention. He dug at the ground under the bush from his knees, then stuffed something in his pocket.
What the hell . . . ?
I watched my brother dart across the yard to a flowerpot, which he threw to the ground. It shattered. He grabbed something from the spilled soil.
“Stop it, what are you doing?” I said, but he continued to ignore me, running to a short wall of landscaping stones. He flipped one over and grabbed something.
“Grub, stop!”
He didn’t listen. I ran after him, wondering how I’d explain this to Dylan or his sister if they glanced out the window. Grub yanked a bird feeder from its hook, then tipped it upside down, spilling the seeds on the grass.
Now I was mad.
“Grub! Stop, dammit!” I spun him by his shoulder, and he let out a cry. I squeezed his wrist. “Give it to me.”
I pried open his fingers. My breath caught in my throat.
In the palm of his hand lay a gold ring with tiny red jewels surrounded by the words Class of ’42.
THIRTY-TWO
I EXAMINED THE RING WITH ONE HAND WHILE STILL HOLDING MY brother’s wrist with the other. I felt confused. I felt angry. I also feared for my brother—how would I explain this to anyone?
“What are you doing with this?” I asked.
He hesitated. “It’s one of the treasures.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head. “Treasures? Grub, this is Letty’s ring. Did you take it from her room?”
He looked down at the grass. “I was following Blackjack’s orders.”
“Blackjack’s orders?” I clenched my jaw to keep my head from exploding. “Grub, you can’t take people’s things! This is real life!” It took all my willpower to keep from completely letting loose on him, but he looked scared enough as it was. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Grub sniffled. “It was supposed to be a top-secret mission. Blackjack told me about it that one day, when Rose was upset. You went to go see her and I stayed at Hilltop, remember? Blackjack told me not to tell anyone, that it was really important. But he’s been sick ever since and I had to do it all by myself. Last night was the final mission.”
My stomach sank to my ankles.
Mom was going to kill me. She told me I’d been self-involved this summer, and here was the proof. I should’ve been looking after my brother, but I’d been too distracted by my new girlfriend, my new band, my new life.
How long had Grub been stealing from residents? Three weeks? Longer? How many times had he talked about his “secret mission,” or wandered Hilltop while I hung out in the common room?
I scanned Dylan’s backyard—the bush, the flowerpot, the landscaping stones, the bird feeder—and suddenly remembered Grub’s map with the circled Xs and Agatha standing guard.
Grub had been hiding stolen property in Dylan’s backyard for weeks, right under my nose.
I stuffed Letty’s ring in my pocket. “What else do you have? Give me all of it.” Grub emptied his pockets, revealing earrings, necklaces, rare coins, and other assorted trinkets. I wanted to grab him and shake some sense into him, but I didn’t. I shoved everything into my own pockets before anyone could see. I placed my hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye. I tried not to sound angry, even though I was. “What were you thinking?”
Grub’s voice trembled. “I don’t know why Blackjack got so mad. I took his medals last night, just like he told me. I had to hide them until I could bring them here.”
Blackjack ordered Grub to take his medals, and doesn’t remember doing it.
And then I found them in Mary’s locker.
I felt like I’d just stuffed live grenades in my shorts. “Let’s go. We’re returning everything right now.”
“No!” Grub grabbed my shirt. “You have to give them to Rose.”
I shut my eyes and squeezed the bridge of my nose, trying to make sense of what he’d said. “Grub, what are you talking about?”
“So she can pay for piano school.” His chin trembled. “That’s the top-secret mission.”
My bones turned to jelly, and I collapsed to my knees in front of him. I looked into his brown eyes, glassy with tears. Grub had been trying to help Rose by stealing while I was supposed to be watching him.
And Blackjack . . .
His memory, his decline. He must not have known what he was saying.
How would I ever explain this to Mom?
Or Missy Stouffer.
Shit.
What was I going to do, march him back to Hilltop and turn him in? As if Missy Stouffer would say, “All right, that’s settled, everyone have a great day!”
“Don’t tell Blackjack I told you,” begged Grub, his cheeks wet with tears. “I don’t want him to get mad at me again. He said no one would get mad if we kept it a secret.”
“No one’s mad, Grub, but—”
Just then, Agatha bounded around the corner of the garage, followed by Dylan.
“What’s up, dudes—whoa! What happened here?” Dylan said as he noticed the aftermath of Grub’s backyard foraging.
“I’m sorry, man, I’ll explain later,” I said, though I wasn’t sure how.
“Maggie’s flowerpot! Oh man, she’s gonna be pissed!”
Grub turned pale. He took three strained breaths, then curled over. He heaved, but nothing came out. His breaths became ragged, and he fell to the ground, shaking.
“Hey, whoa, it isn’t that big a deal,” said Dylan.
I knelt at Grub’s side and put a hand on his shoulder. Agatha lay beside Grub and licked his face. “Hey, bud, we have to go take care of this, okay?” I said.
“I want to go home,” he said between shallow breaths.
I sighed. “Okay, okay,” I said. “I’ll get you home.”
And then I’ll take care of this myself.
I turned to Dylan. “Any chance I can borrow your car?”
“Sure, man. Of course.” He looked mildly alarmed.
“Thanks, I owe you one.”
Grub lay silent in the back seat as I drove us across town. I’d figure things out once I got him home.
As soon as we walked in the door, Grub collapsed on our couch and curled into a tiny ball. I wrapped him in a blanket and sat beside him. His color had returned, though he was still visibly shaken. I decided I’d sit with him until Mom got back, then I’d return the stolen items. Problem solved.
Grub was almost asleep when his eyes flew open. “Don’t tell Mom,” he said, his voice panicky.
“Grub, we have to tell Mom. Don’t worry, she won’t be mad at you.”
She’ll be mad at me, I thought.
“But she’ll be sad,” Grub said. “Promise you won’t tell her.”
“Grub—” I began, then stopped and rubbed my eyes. He was right. Mom would be sad. Her business was failing, and now both her kids had screwed up big-time. Mom would be heartb
roken. I didn’t want to face that any more than Grub did.
“Promise me,” Grub begged. “Don’t tell anyone.”
I tried to find part of him beneath the blanket to put my hand on, but he was so small. I found a foot. “Don’t worry, I’ll fix everything.”
Grub soon fell asleep. I stared at the ceiling and considered the best way to return the stolen property. After an hour of deliberation, I felt like I had three options: (1) tell Missy Stouffer the truth and hope for the best; (2) sneak back to Hilltop in the middle of the night and leave everything in a box by the front door; or (3) have the stolen items shipped there anonymously, postmarked from Zanzibar.
Who was I kidding? The only real solution was to walk in there as soon as Mom got home and tell Missy the truth. She’d have to understand—Grub was only eight years old. If that meant both of us being banned from Hilltop, so be it.
It was the right thing to do.
I heard the locks turn, then Mom walked through the door. I put a finger to my lips and motioned to Grub, who slept soundly. Mom winked and headed for the kitchen. I’d tell her I needed to run somewhere quick and that I’d be right back.
Mom appeared a moment later holding my ringing phone. “It’s Dylan,” she said.
I took it and walked outside to the front steps for privacy. “Hello?”
“Hey, man, is everything all right? How’s the little guy?”
“Better, thanks. Weird shit at the nursing home. Long story. Sorry about the flowerpot.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it. I told Maggie it was the squirrels. So what’s going on at Hilltop? Cops were there a little while ago.”
I yanked the phone away from my ear and stared at it. I could hear Dylan’s distant voice saying, “You there? Hello?” I felt my vision blacking out from the sides and had to sit down.
Missy already called the police.
“I’ll call you back,” I said, then hung up.
I sat there debating what to do next. Why didn’t I return everything when I had the chance? Now the police were involved. I looked at my bulging pockets and suddenly felt like a criminal. I scanned left and right down our street, paranoid, fully expecting to see blue-and-red flashing lights heading straight for me. I took a few deep breaths to slow my heart rate.