Angels Read Online Free Page B

Miss Ida and Aunt Polly can tell her what to do and how to mind her manners and how to talk right. (I get fussed at all the time about speakin’ lazy, and losin’ my g ’s, and I know how tiresome hearing it over and over can be.) Anyway, she’ll have to listen to plenty from everybody else about how to talk and act. I’m just goin’ to love her, and enjoy her.
    The children swarmed over Coleman like bees on a mimosa tree, pettin’ her, and strokin’ her hair, and tellin’ her about the river and the fish that swim in it and the critters that live in the woods and in the swamp across the river. Freddy Byrd—he’s ten and in the fifth grade and wants to work in a zoo when he grows up—sat with her on a big rock in the middle of the river, and they talked and talked. I sat nearby, but I knew most of what he was tellin’ her, and after a while I only half-listened. A breeze rippled the water and stirred the trees, and the sun warmed my back. The leaves rustled and bees hummed and buzzed. A red dragonfly rested on my knee, and I was so happy I thought I would bust. I thanked the Lord for this wonderful day.
    I half-heard Freddy warning Coleman about snakes, and describing the possums and ‘coons and squirrels and deer and rabbits folks around here depend on for food. He said there were bobcats and foxes and coyotes and maybe wolves nearby, and lots of birds all around us. He stole her heart making bird calls, so that a cardinal and a chickadee and a catbird all flew down to visit with him.
    “Are there any great big birds here? I saw big birds in the sky in New Orleans,” Coleman said.
    “Prob’ly buzzards—they’re everywhere. You’ll see ‘em here, too. But there’s others—there’s pelicans and ospreys—they’re big. And a huge woodpecker—they call it the Lord God bird.”
    I broke in. “Freddy, you know that’s a tall tale about that Lord God bird. That bird’s like the dinosaurs—long gone.”
    He glared at me and shook his head. “Nobody knows that for sure. They used to think all the red wolves were extinct, and now there’s a bunch of ‘em right here in North Carolina. I think that big ol’ woodpecker lives in the swamp. Nobody can prove it ain’t there.”
    “Why do they call it the Lord God bird?” Coleman asked.
    “Because it’s so big and so beautiful, they want to thank Him for makin’ that bird,” Freddy said. “I believe it’s really ‘the Lord God’s bird.’”
    I didn’t think that was right—I thought people said “Lord God” ‘cause they were so surprised when they saw it. Kind of like people say “good God” or “good Lord,” which Aunt Polly says is takin’ the Lord’s name in vain. I like Freddy’s explanation better, though.
    “I tell you what: I got a new bird book last Christmas. I’ll bring you my old one, and I’ll show you the pictures, and you can draw the birds, and keep a list of those you see, and put everything in a scrapbook. Pretty soon you’ll know all the birds,” Freddy told Coleman.
    Coleman jumped off the rock and bounced up and down in the water, makin’ big splashes. “Oh yes, let’s us do that!” she shouted.
    It was the first time I heard her makin’ noise, and I was glad to hear it. She was a sight to see: a real live child with water sparkling on her skin, and that buttercup hair shining. I hate for her to act growny. Aunt Polly told Miss Ida Coleman has an “old soul.” I don’t know what that means, but I want her to laugh and have fun. It makes me feel bad to see her actin’ like a little ol’ lady.
    Freddy came over the next day and brought the bird book and a scrapbook he’d bought for her with his pocket money. Those two started right in on their nature studying, and he took her out for a bird walk, showing her where and how the birds live and what they eat—berries, seeds, bugs, whatever. From that day on, Coleman was a friend to every feathery and furry critter in North Carolina, and Freddy adopted