Page 11 of Ultimate Freedom

“Yeah? I say you stole something, and it’s in your jacket.”

The boy looked up and Whit saw him pale and then start to shake. But he swallowed and still tried to play the innocent. “You’re wrong mister.” Before Whit knew the little bastard would, he began to run, and if the doorway hadn’t been blocked by Clive arriving for his regular coffee break, he’d have gotten away. “Clive, grab the kid.”

Without questioning him, Clive grabbed Charlie’s hood and held him in place. “What’s going on?”

“Can you help yourself to coffee. This little beggar and me… we got some talking to do.”

Clive looked into Whit’s face and relaxed as soon as he saw the sneaky wink. “Right. Here. You take him. I’ll get a drink.”

Whit took Charlie by the arm and led the unwilling, wriggling, skin & bones body into the storeroom.

“Stop fighting. Settle down. I’m not going to hurt you.” He let go of the jacket and stood in front of the door to destroy any ideas of running. “Give me what you took.” He held out his hand.

“I didn’t take nuthin’. I told you already.” This time, Charlie’s voice wobbled, and he couldn’t look Whit in the eye.

“Hey brat, I wouldn’t recommend you add lying to stealing. You don’t do either well. Just give it over.”

Suddenly, Charlie tried to rush Whit, thinking to fight for his freedom, and while he attacked, the can of stew fell to the floor. The noise stopped him in his tracks.

Whit pushed the boy back and leaned down to pick up the evidence. “So… what’s this?”

“Hell if I know.”

“Christ on a stick, kid you’re pushing my patience. Why’d you take this?”

Charlie wouldn’t look at him. Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked at a box lying close by. “For my mom. She’s sick. She’ll pay for it when she comes in herself.”

“Why didn’t you say so when I asked you before?”

“Because you called me a thief. And you attacked me.”

Whit began to laugh. “You’re a real little actor, ain’t ya? I never hurt you, and you know it. I just want to get to the bottom of why you’re stealing instead of working for what you need.”

Charlie made a derisive sound, too mature for a youngster to have in his arsenal. “Me working? Get with it, mister. Nobody’d hire me. I’m a kid.”

“And a bag of bones at that. But you’re wrong about me not hiring you. You want to eat? You pay for your food by earning a wage. I need somebody to help out here at the store. There’s a sidewalk that needs shoveling and this storeroom needs cleaning and arranging all the time. Plus, shelves could stand to be washed and organized. It doesn’t take a genius or a man to do that kind of work. You want a can of stew, it’s yours. After you shovel the front walk. Your hours are every day, four to six.”

And so started a weird kind of friendship. Every day, Charlie appeared at exactly four o’clock and Whit gave him a list of three or four chores. It didn’t take long for Whit to realize the kid had trouble reading.

From the beginning of their relationship, Whit had laid down the law. “A man who can’t read, won’t ever earn a decent living. Hell, dude, even stocking shelves means a man has to know how to read.” Whit went to the revolving stand and slid out a paperback. He pulled the same one out from under the counterand passed the new one to Charlie. “Here’s a new teen book called Shadow Jumper that I’m reading myself. It’s good and full of action.”

Green eyes filled with disbelief stared into his face. “You serious? You want I should read?”

“You got better things to do? When you can’t read the list I print out every day, then you have to read me a page from this book before you start work. Deal?”

Confused yet interested, Charlie replied, “Deal. And I get to keep this copy?”

“Yep. You have to practice, right? And not during working hours.”

Being a kid with few words, Charlie took the book, and Whit watched as he put it carefully aside as if it were the crown jewels. Then he did the chores for the day and before he left, he gathered up the book, asked if he could take a plastic bag to protect it from the snow falling, and disappeared.

The next day, he haltingly read the first page. And so it continued like that each day they worked together. Whit brought Norrie up to date on what had transpired, and when she questioned him about the boy’s wages, he admitted they’d settled on minimum wage… but he’d be taking care of that himself.

“No way, Whit. You know I can use some help around the place. I’ve just been too lazy to deal with hiring someone. The money’s no problem.”

“Hey, he’s my responsibility. I hired him, and I’ll look after the money. You pay him, and I’ll pay you. Capuche?”

“Fine. You always have to win. I won’t bother arguing. Just know how much I love you for helping me out.”

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