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    The Old Lion
    The Old Lion
    The Old Lion
    Ebook136 pages1 hour

    The Old Lion

    By Marlene Newman

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    About this ebook

    The Old Lion is a magical story of family and friendship during a very real World War. Told through the eyes of two unforgettable young children, The Old Lion roars with a spirit of resiliency, as Andy and Evie adjust to their rapidly changing world—a world in which waking up in a lion’s cage isn’t half bad. Author Marlene Newman tells this important tale with uncommon tenderness, wit, and joy.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBookBaby
    Release dateJun 13, 2013
    ISBN9781483501383
    The Old Lion

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      Book preview

      The Old Lion - Marlene Newman

      inhabit.

      Part 1

      1176 SYCAMORE

      Clutter covered most of the dry and dead grass in the front yard of the house at 1176 Sycamore. All kinds of furniture—wooden and cushioned, broken kitchen chairs with rusted legs and ripped up oil-cloth seats, had seen better days. Tires, bundles of old newspapers and a rusted lawn mower were piled against the sides of the house. There was a faded blue sofa that smelled of mildew and cat pee on the sagging porch. Even if it were not soaked from the recent rains, Andy Wilson could not imagine anybody wanting to sit on it.

      His hand shook as he rang the doorbell. He thought about turning back and running. It was as if he could hear his father saying, We have no choice ... It'll be all right ... Not one minute longer. And where would he run to anyway? He was born near here, but it might as well have been Mars.

      After what seemed like forever, he heard footsteps, and then the turn of a lock. The door opened.

      Grandma?

      She was no taller than Andy. Her thin frame was kind of bent over as if she was carrying more weight than her body could bear. She looked Andy over and sighed.

      You might as well come on in.

      That was all she said to him.

      He followed her into the vestibule and up a flight of stairs. The doors to the first two rooms were closed.

      When they reached the third room, she said, You can put your things in here. If you need the bathroom, it's across the hall. When you're unpacked, I suppose you'll want something to eat. I'll be in the kitchen. With that, she walked out into the hall and shuffled back down the stairs.

      ***

      Dust covered everything in the room. Andy's nose filled with musty smells. His eyes burned. A sneeze began at the back of his throat, moved up into his head and exploded. He tried to open the window to let in some fresh air, but it was stuck. He wondered when the last time was that anybody had tried. Was this his mother's room? He poked through the dresser drawers hoping to find something, anything that she might have left behind. He found nothing. The closet was empty, too. As small as it was, his clothes did not take up much room. He put his underwear and his socks, and two pair of pajamas in the dresser. That was it, except for the cigar box.

      THE CIGAR BOX

      Andy sat down on the edge of the bed and opened the box. He remembered every word of the story of the night his parents ran away. He remembered it as his father had told it so many, many bedtimes.

      ***

      "I waited about an hour after my folks went to bed and the last light went out over at the Schultz house. I crept down the stairs and slipped out the back door. Once I was in the Schultz yard, I could make out your mom's silhouette in the frame of her opened kitchen window. The icy wind was at my back ..."

      His mother, Annie, had filled an old sheet with her clothes and the few small possessions she couldn't bear to leave behind. She tied the corners of the sheet together, then wrapped a blanket around it and tied it up with a piece of clothesline. She threw the bundle out of the window towards his father, Mike. He missed it as it hit the ground with a thud. A light clicked on upstairs in her parents' bedroom.

      "I froze until the bathroom light went on, and I realized it wasn't the noise that woke someone up. Annie climbed onto the counter. She worked her way to the open window above the kitchen sink, swung her legs over the sill and waited. I stood on the ground below and reached for her. She took in a deep breath, let it out, and jumped. I caught her, but we fell to the ground. Annie rolled onto her back, giggled, and made an angel in the snow.

      "I put my hand over her mouth and told her that we had to get out of there before we really did wake someone up. I handed her my valise, gathered up her bundle, and took her free hand. The snow in the backyard crunched beneath our feet. Once we made it to the sidewalk, we broke into a run.

      I'd hidden my bike down the street behind a high mound of snow. I unknotted the rope from around the blanket and retied it on the back of the bike over my valise and Annie's things.

      Annie had ridden on Mike's bike since the day he got it for his fifteenth birthday, back in tenth grade. She held tight to Mike as he gripped the handlebars with one hand and reached around her waist with the other.

      "Once we were far enough away from the house, we found an all-night diner. We took a window booth so we could watch the bike, and ordered two bowls of beef barley soup.

      "Annie said she didn't think she'd ever get warm again.

      "I said maybe we ought to be heading south.

      "She said it'd be awful hard to get far enough south in this cold on that bike.

      I reached into my pocket and took out the legal size envelope with a small roll of bills and a collection of loose change and asked her how much money she had.

      Annie held out her handkerchief. She struggled to loosen the knotted corners and spilled months of baby-sitting earnings onto the table.

      Mike was too busy to eat as he sorted and counted their meager fortune. He smoothed out the bills, turned them face up, all in the same direction, and made piles in order of their value—the ones, a few fives, and the one ten dollar bill. Then he made a stack of pennies, another of nickels, one of dimes, and the last were quarters.

      "Annie said, 'Eat your soup while it's hot.' She scooped a spoonful and brought it to her mouth.

      "I told her to slow down, but she said it wasn't that hot and she wasn't gonna burn herself. I reminded her that we had to take our time eating. We had to stay until the hockshop opened ... I didn't think that guy behind the counter'd let us sit there without eating. He'd been watching us since we came in.

      "She said she hadn't thought of that, and slowed down. She put her hands on the sides of the bowl. The warmth seemed to travel through her fingers.

      I told her we had enough for the wedding ring we saw in the hock shop, and she reminded me that we needed two dollars for the marriage license.

      Mike carefully counted and collected the money and put it back into the long envelope.

      "I told her the pawnbroker would buy my bike.

      " 'Then what?' she said.

      "I said I'd find work, and not to worry so much—that we were together. That was what counted, wasn't it? She smiled that sweet smile, the smile that sometimes made me want to cry. She still had her hands around that bowl of soup. I said that I'd always be there for her."

      THE PAWN TICKET

      Andy sifted through the postcards and match-books and snapshots until he found the pawn ticket. It was for the bike his father and mother rode over icy streets on the night they ran away.

      ***

      "We moved from town to town, from one rooming house to another. Sometimes we got to stay for free in exchange for your mom's help in the kitchen or with the laundry. Sometimes she made the beds and cleaned the rooms.

      I took whatever work I could get.

      Mike was a good worker, a reliable worker. Still, men with college degrees lined up to dig ditches to earn a day's pay.

      Annie was strong, but it got harder and harder for her to keep up.

      Every morning Annie rushed down the hall to the bathroom. Mike

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