Free When Zachary Beaver Came to Town by Kimberly Willis Holt

such a mess—patches of tall grass, weeds left in the flower beds.” She clicks her tongue. “We couldn’t have that.”
    I feel bad for Cal. Maybe he knew the reason Miss Myrtie Mae didn’t ask him to mow her yard this summer.
    Miss Myrtie Mae hands me the list. Twenty-three tasks are marked on it, and I wonder how I’m ever going to see Scarlett before the sun sets.
    â€œCome on,” Miss Myrtie Mae says with a quick wave of her hand. Her pointed navy blue shoes tap against the wood floor.

    I follow her into the backyard. As I scope out the grass carpet spread to eternity, I realize that the Pruitts not only have the largest house in Antler but they also have the biggest lawn. Morning glories spill over the back fence. A stone path winds its way to a white gazebo big enough for a high school band. Two apple trees’ branches droop, heavy with apples, and the fruit litters the ground beneath them. I glance at the list.
    # 1: Pick up apples off the ground.
    Miss Myrtie Mae points out the beds that need weeding. “Now, if you’re ever in doubt if it’s a weed or not, give me a holler. Better safe than sorry. I’ll be in my darkroom.” She leaves me alone in the yard.
    Every green apple I pick up has a hole in it. I can’t get away from worms. The vinegar smell of rotting apples on the ground makes me want to puke, and roly-polies invade the fruit like an army climbing over green mountains.
    # 2: Mow lawn in an east-west pattern.
    The yard seems to go on forever. East to west. West to east. The mower roars and spits grass blades to the side. The smell of freshly cut grass fills the air. Halfway through the job, I decide mowing isn’t boring if you make your own designs. I make a circle, a
square, then a triangle. Nothing to it, so I move on to more complicated forms. I zigzag along the fence. I make curlicues. I begin to spell Scarlett. I—see Miss Myrtie Mae peeking out her window, frowning at me. I stop in the middle of my letter S. East to west. West to east.
    About the time I finish mowing, Miss Myrtie Mae comes outside, carrying a silver tray with a glass pitcher of iced tea, some lemon drop cookies, and jiggly lime Jell-O stuff. She must think we’re going to have a tea party. Sheriff Levi follows her, his head and shoulders drooping, like a kid ordered to go to church. Seeing him makes me think about Zachary, and I wonder what the sheriff will do if Paulie Rankin doesn’t return.
    â€œI reckon you deserve a break by now,” Miss Myrtie Mae says. Her bun is loose, and wiry gray strands stick out around her face. “Sheriff Levi happened by at the right time.”
    Sheriff Levi wears a pair of plaid shorts, a yellow knit shirt, and his lucky fishing hat decorated with tackle. “Well, actually, Miss Myrtie Mae, I just came by to ask Toby something.” I’m willing to bet he wants worms.
    Miss Myrtie Mae acts like she can’t hear him and
proceeds down the stone path. “Let’s sit in the gazebo, where there is plenty of shade.”
    She sits in the white rocker and motions the sheriff and me to the chairs around the wicker table. I collapse in one of them, but Sheriff Levi keeps standing. He glances at his watch, and his eye twitches. “Miss Myrtie Mae, this must be such an inconvenience, me barging in on you and all. I really just want to get some—”
    â€œNonsense!” Miss Myrtie Mae says. “Now sit!”
    â€œWorms,” he says as his rear end meets the chair.
    â€œIt’s too hot to eat anything warm, so I made my lime gelatin turkey salad.” She slices a piece of the wiggly stuff onto a china plate and hands it to me. My stomach feels queasy at the sight of turkey chunks floating inside lime Jell-O. I glance at Sheriff Levi, and the way his eye twitches studying the Jell-O, I figure he feels the same way.
    I’m sweaty and not sure Miss Myrtie Mae would approve of me using her