So Sweet a Changeling: A Novel of the Terribly Acronymed Detective Club (Book 6)

Chapter Three: Johnny, Spring, 1971

As the car drove away, nearly clipping Johnny and Dad where they stood on the side of the street, as close to the lip of the ditch as they could be, Rachel screamed frantically for her mother, and Henry, her dad, stared after the car in desolation.

Rachel's screaming was horrible, and it brought Mom out on to the balcony overlooking the scene, as well as Nonno and Nonna, who lived with them, and Johnny's little brother Joe, who peered through the bars of the railing, confused. Dad chose that moment to walk with Johnny the rest of the way to the building, where Henry still held his daughter, now sobbing on his shoulder, which was only a little better than the screaming.

"Che cosa e successo?" Mom called to them. Her English was even worse than Dad's. She was just asking what was going on.

Dad didn't answer her directly. He approached Henry and asked, "You okay, buddy?"

Henry blinked and looked at Dad as if he'd never seen him before even though they'd shared a beer once or twice. He shook himself out of his reverie. "Uh... no, not really," he said. "My wife just... left..."

Dad patted Henry's arm and said, "Hey, you no worry, okay? We look after you."

Henry stared at Dad in incomprehension. "Sorry?"

"Henry, what's going on?"

Everyone turned to see Mrs. Anderson approaching them. In fact, other neighbours on the street had come out, probably drawn by the screaming. The Indian family across the street from them emerged, the mother in a colourful wrap-around dress with a round belly (she gave birth to a baby that Fall,) the father in a red turban and carrying a young boy who looked to be Joe's age. The father worked in a sawmill same as Dad, Johnny knew, because Dad had told him he was important in Dad's union, whatever that was. "Mr. McWilliam," the father said tentatively, "Are you all right?"

Mrs. Anderson, immaculately put-together as always even though Dad had been in her room earlier, felt no hesitation, striding right up to Henry McWilliam and stroking Rachel's hair. "Was that your wife in that car?" she asked.

Henry nodded dumbly. "She... went with her parents... back to their house. She... couldn't stay with me, she said. She hasn't been... doing so well lately, and had to leave to get better."

Johnny looked up and saw Mom's horrified expression. "Mamma no leave baby!" she cried in indignation, placing a protective hand on Joe's shoulder.

"If Jennifer wasn't doing well," Mrs. Anderson said, "then perhaps it's for the best if she goes somewhere to recover, just in case her mental state causes her to harm her child."

This concept seemed to horrify Mom even further, for now she drew Joe against her but seemed incapable of even speaking.

Henry looked at Mrs. Anderson with a crestfallen expression. "What will I do?" he asked. "How am I going to do this on my own?"

"You won't," Mrs. Anderson said, still stroking Rachel's hair. "You have friends on this street. James and I will help you with whatever you need. I can look after her while you're at work. I can even teach her piano while she's with me."

"And we'll help you with whatever else you might need," the father of the Indian family said.

Henry looked at all of them, still stunned at this turn of events, too moved to even answer.

Rachel raised her tear streaked face from her father's shoulder and looked at Mrs. Anderson, who smiled and offered her arms for an embrace. The girl, to everyone's surprise, it seemed, fell into it, and Mrs. Anderson squeezed her tight, looking blissfully happy, saying, "Oh, sweet girl," over and over again.

In all the commotion, Johnny had forgotten to mention to his mother that he'd witnessed Dad emerging from Mrs. Anderson's room, and very soon after that he forgot about it altogether, as everyone's attention fell upon the newly single father and his poor daughter, and the kindly older woman on the street who'd quickly become known as "Saint Martha" for taking the girl under her wing.

The image of his father leaving Saint Martha's room would only emerge from his subconscious, like a long-buried ship returning to the surface of the ocean, when he read a letter not meant for his eyes more than forty years later, and only then would he understand its whole horrible meaning.

Thanks for reading this far! For readers who know the sad events of Rachel's early days, I thought it would be fun to show it through Johnny's point of view as a young boy confused by something he saw in Mrs. Anderson's house. If you liked what you read so far, hit "Vote" to send this title up the ranks. Leave a comment and let me know what you think!

Now, let's get back to Rachel at the restaurant, and three surprises waiting for her, by clicking on "Continue reading."