Sun & Spoon Read Online Free Page B

himself to ask Pa. He considered helping himself to one of the smallest, most homely suns, but he knew that Pa would notice: there would be a nail hole, an empty spot on the wall.
    Thinking, thinking.
    Pa poked his head through the doorframe. “We’re going back to the garage,” he said. “Joanie saw some things this morning that she wants.”
    â€œSome bones,” Joanie piped in. “Big ones.”
    â€œLeave the dishes,” Pa told Spoon. “I’ll clean up later.”
    Spoon lingered. The sun that had captured his attention was amber colored. It turned gently in the window. Spoon swayed his head from side to side in rhythm with the sun.
    Thinking, thinking.
    Another ray of light shone through the window, bouncing off the stained-glass suns. They sparkled like gems—topaz, rubies, emeralds, diamonds. Spoon blinked; something flashed in his mind. And in that instant he knew what he would do. He was surprised that the idea hadn’t come to him sooner.

6
    K NEELING , S POON OPENED the bottom middle drawer of the breakfront. The three decks of cards were there, as always, packed snugly into the chock-full drawer like three birds in a nest. Spoon was sure that no one had played with the cards—much less set eyes on them—since Gram’s death, and so he hesitated before picking up Gram’s deck. It felt eerie to hold something Gram had used so many times, something that she, most likely, had touched last.
    Spoon’s deck and Pa’s remained in the drawer. The backs of Pa’s cards were printed in red with the symbol for the University of Wisconsin, where Pa had been a professor in the history department. Spoon’s cards had Green Bay Packer helmets on them. The backs of Gram’s cards were decorated with suns. Suns with faces.
    Spoon closed the drawer, then sat on the floor. He unwound the rubber band from Gram’s cards and shuffled them. Fifty-two suns snap-snap-snapped between his fingers.
    For as long as Spoon could remember, Gram had used only these cards. The wear and tear was obvious. Several cards were bent, divided by white creases. Some had dog-eared corners. There was a general suppleness to the cards. And the jokers had been doctored with a felt-tip marking pen and substituted for two lost cards—the three of spades and the seven of hearts.
    Again Spoon shuffled the cards. A feeling of complete certainty came over him. He knew, just knew, that the deck of cards was precisely what he had been searching for. He also knew that Pa wouldn’t miss the cards, given his reaction when Spoon had asked him to play double solitaire.
    Spoon flipped the cards down onto the carpet in rows, the suns facing up. One hundred and four eyes stared at him, and he stared back, intently.
    Suddenly a noise from outside jostled Spoon’s thoughts, and he realized that he had lost track of time. He wondered how long he had been alone in the house. Quickly he collected the cards, bound them with the rubber band, shoved them into his front pants pocket, and joined Pa and Joanie in the garage.
    â€œLook what Pa gave me,” Joanie said. She held up a piece of driftwood that was approximately a foot long. Another piece lay at her feet. “They’re my biggest bones, and they don’t even fit in my suitcase with all my other bones, so Pa gave me this, too.” Joanie stepped aside to reveal an old brocade knitting bag with wooden handles.
    â€œThat belonged to Great-Grandma Tuttle,” Pa said. “She used to knit mittens. That bag’s been out here for as long as we’ve lived here.”
    â€œWhere’s the driftwood from?” Spoon asked.
    â€œI found it at Lake Michigan, ages ago when we were on vacation. I liked how gnarled, yet smooth it was. And the shapes fascinated me. They looked like fantastic creatures from an imaginary land.”
    â€œI also got a book of nursery rhymes,” Joanie said proudly. She pulled a