Free Taking Care of Moses by Barbara O'Connor Page A

his way around the heart of Foley blindfolded. But he wasn’t too sure about some of the narrow country roads that forked off the main streets and headed on out to the red-dirt fields outside of town.
    Randall squinted down at the map, running his finger along the roads. Suddenly he jabbed a finger at the map. There it was. Forest Avenue. Where Lavonia Shirley had moved with all those young-uns.
    Randall used his finger to trace the route from Forest Avenue, down, over, down some more, until he ended up at the spot on Woodmont Street where his own house was. How far was that, he wondered. It didn’t look too far on the map, but Randall had a feeling it was farther than he had ever been by himself before. Could he ride his bike there? Maybe. But wouldn’t he have to tell his mother? And wouldn’t she want to know why in the world he wanted to go clear out to Forest Avenue? Of course she would.
    What if he didn’t tell his mother? What if he just went? Randall had never done anything like that before. Just the thought of it made him squirm.
    Nope. He’d never get away with it. First off, his
mother would want to know where he’d been and why he was gone so long. All those things that mothers want to know. And if, by some miracle, that didn’t happen, surely nosy ole Althea would find out somehow, like she found out every little thing that happened in Foley.
    Randall folded the map up and stuffed it into his shirt pocket. He was going to have to think about this one for a while.
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    Preacher Ron nodded toward Inez Dawson. “Inez, you want to give us the Sunday school report?”
    Inez stood up and faced the congregation. She looked down at her clipboard and cleared her throat.
    â€œThere were forty-two children in Sunday school last week,” she said, pausing while a few people clapped. “However,” she continued, “there were only thirty-one Bibles brought to Sunday school last week.” She lowered her head and peered over her glasses at some of the children scattered around the room.
    Then she reminded everyone about junior choir practice and sat down.
    Randall used a blue colored pencil to fill in the eyes of the little boys and girls on the cover of the church bulletin. The curly-headed children laughed and danced in a field of daisies. A fluffy baby lamb trailed along behind them.
    Mickey Ross gave the church treasurer’s report.
$22.40 collected in Sunday school. $632.48 collected in tithes and offerings.
    Randall colored the center of each daisy bright yellow. Church seemed to get longer every week. And without Jaybird, it wasn’t even fun going to the Fellowship Hall afterward. Usually he just grabbed a cupcake and went out back to watch the other kids play tag.
    â€œAnd now please join me in singing hymn number 38, ‘Standing on the Solid Rock,’” Preacher Ron said.
    Randall stood up and rested the hymnal on the back of the pew in front of him. He moved his mouth, pretending to sing. His head was too littered up with other stuff to be thinking about singing.
    If he didn’t do something soon, Queenie was going to tell somebody about Lavonia Shirley and the box. Maybe nobody would believe her, since she talked so crazy. But maybe somebody would. And maybe that somebody would tell somebody, and on and on the news would go, spreading through Foley like wildfire. And everyone would know Queenie had been wandering at night, and would make Mr. Avery send her away.
    And even if that didn’t happen, the foster care folks from up in Spartanburg were liable to come to Foley and take Moses away because of all the fussing and fighting going on. Leastways, that’s what everybody was gossiping about.
    There was no doubt about it. He couldn’t wait any
longer. He had to talk to Lavonia Shirley and tell her to come get her baby. That’s all there was to it. But how?
    Then, as if his thoughts had made their way through all that