Free Apron Strings by Mary Morony Page A

pot.”
    “No, I gotta go.” I danced from one foot to the other.
    “Well, you can take it when you get back from the baffroom. Don’t forget to wash yo’ hands.”
    “Will you do it?” I didn’t wait for an answer. I rushed from the kitchen. I had to find Gordy and tell him the news.
    As I passed the dining room, I heard my mother say, “Oh, it’s much too hot for me to go.” I stopped dead in my tracks. “But why don’t you, if you want? I’ll stay home with Helen. She’s still too young for that hike. Ethel can make the three of you a picnic before she takes the rest of the day off.”
    “She’s already working on it,” he said. “I asked her first thing.”
    I gave a delighted little hop. Taking two steps at a time all the way to the third floor, I was gasping in deep gulps by the time I reached Gordy’s room.
Not here
,
darn. Where could he be?
I wondered out loud. I slid down the bannister, ran around the second floor landing, and slid down the main bannister to the front hall. Gordy came running out of the dining room and met me as I slid to a stop. “Guess what?” he shouted. “We’re going on a picnic to Crabtree Falls!”
    “I know,” I said, bouncing up and down like the red ball on that television show,
Sing A-long with Mitch
.
    “Settle down, you two,” Daddy said as he walked out to the hall. “You need to get ready. Put on old clothes and tennis shoes.” As I turned to go back upstairs, I heard my mother talking softly to Helen. She was sitting in her lap with her thumb stuck squarely in her mouth. Big tears ran down her face.
    “Don’t you worry,” my mother cooed. “We’ll do something special, too. I promise.”
    Minutes later Gordy flopped himself on my bed dressed in a pair of tight shorts and a T-shirt that barely covered his belly button. “Too bad for Helen, huh?” he said. “Bet she’ll have to take a nap most of the day.”
    Helen and my mother waved goodbye from the front door. I felt guilty about Helen’s misfortune for about as long as it took me to reach the car. Gordy raced ahead and then ran back to help Daddy with the picnic hamper. “It’s all right, son, I’ve got this. You get in the car.”
    Mr. Dabney banged out onto his porch. He waved to me then sat down in a chair and stared at us like he was watching
Leave It to Beaver
on TV. I waved back. Daddy nodded first toward Mr. Dabney then for me to get into the car.
    “I’ll go get Lance,” Gordy volunteered. He yelled frenetically, “Here Lance, here boy, here,” over and over as he ran to the kitchen porch to get the leash.
    “Gordy, come back,” Daddy called. “We can’t take the dog.” Gordy and Lance trotted around from the other side of the house.
    “Aw shucks, why?” Gordy whined. Lance cavorted up to the car, barking and wagging his tail.
    “Remember the last time? He ended up in Greene County.”
    “But…” Gordy’s glee was instantly dashed. He rubbed Lance’s broad head. “Sorry, buddy. You can’t come,” he said then crawled onto the front seat next to me. He swung the car door closed. “Stay, Lance. You hear?” The big dog sat down with his back legs splayed out then he flopped to the ground with a grunt and began to pant.
    Daddy climbed in behind the wheel and reached across me to rub Gordy on the head. “It’s better this way, son. You know how he is when he catches a scent.” Daddy started the engine and patted Gordy again, this time on the knee. “When he puts that head down and starts baying, he’s gone for who knows how long. He’s a bloodhound, son. It’s what they do.”
    “Sure, but…” Gordy started.
    “Remember how upset you got when we couldn’t find him? And we had to leave cuz it was getting dark? Remember you cried?” I added.
    “Did not!” he retorted.
    “Did too,” I said.
    “Enough!” Daddy bellowed. Then, just as loudly, he started singing “There’s a Hole in the Bucket.”
    An hour later Daddy pulled off onto the side of the