The Search for Belle Prater Read Free

much about flying anymore. It was almost like once she had us on her side, she got bored with it.”
    Woodrow was hanging on to every word about his mother. “She still talked about it once in a while,” he said, “but not a lot. She dreamed about flying out of Crooked Ridge over the mountains.”
    Everyone was quiet for a moment. With sad, affectionate smiles, we were each lost in private thoughts of Belle.
    “Anyway,” Granny finally said, “the New Year’s Revelation does help to clear the air. You have a whole year to think about what you’re going to reveal so’s you don’t say something frivolous.”
    “Yeah,” I said, “tooth sucking is pretty important stuff.”
    “When you hear what bugs somebody else, it makes you more considerate,” Granny said.
    “I got one!” Woodrow blurted out.
    “Don’t you want to think about it first?” Grandpa said. “You only get one revelation a year.”
    “No,” he said emphatically. “The thing I want to get off my chest is about my daddy. I know he’s not here to listen to my revelation, but that’s the very thing I’m sick and tired of! He never comes to see me or call me anymore. He didn’t even come at Christmas.”
    Woodrow paused and looked around at the sympathetic faces.
    “I sent him a card on his birthday and at Christmas, and a Christmas present that Granny made with her own two hands, and do you think he even told me boo? No! Sometimes I feel like he’s disappeared, too.”
    I couldn’t have said all of that without crying, but Woodrow wasn’t feeling sorry for himself. He was just mad.
    “Yeah!” I said, trying to support Woodrow. “It’s enough to make you wanna throw your hands up and say to heck with him!”
    “Right!” Woodrow agreed. “That’s what I want to do. He was never really good to me and Mama anyhow.”
    At those words my mama, Granny, and Grandpa stiffened and stared at Woodrow with stricken faces.
    “He didn’t act like he loved her,” Woodrow continued. “When he drank liquor, he neglected her—and me too.”
    “How did he neglect y’all?” Grandpa said softly as he eased down on a chair.
    “He didn’t do things for us that a daddy should do. He just thought about his own self.”
    “Did you have enough to eat?” Mama said in a whisper.
    “Most of the time, but—”
    Woodrow stopped short, seeming suddenly selfconscious with all eyes on him. During his months with us he had talked sparingly about what kind of life he and Aunt Belle had lived. And I don’t think he meant to say all of that.
    “Anyway, that’s my revelation,” he said with a shrug, and abruptly turned to me. “What’s yours, Gypsy?”
    Before I could answer, Irene squealed, “The ball is about to drop!” Then she made three quick steps across the floor and turned the volume up on the TV
    “Five … four … three … two … one !”
    “Happy New Year!”
    A great cheer went up from the people in Times Square, and also from us. Dottie and DeeDee began blowing their noisemakers, and Dawg jumped around and barked. At the same time I heard a ringing sound. I didn’t realize right then that it was the telephone. For the next few moments I was busy hugging everybody and yelling, “Happy New Year!”
    Then I became aware of Porter trying to shush us because he couldn’t hear what was being said on the phone. We all got quiet and Mama turned the TV down again.
    “Hello! Hello! Who’s there?”
    Porter waited for a moment, then said, “Hello, this is the Ball residence.”
    Porter clutched the receiver tight against his ear.
    “Who’s calling, please?”
    Then he listened some more.
    Woodrow had gone over to stand beside Porter. As he rested the phone back in its cradle, Porter looked down at Woodrow.
    “It was her, wadn’t it?” Woodrow whispered.
    Her who?
    “I don’t know, son,” Porter said. “I heard only breathing, then whoever it was hung up.”
    “I know it was her,” Woodrow said calmly. “The phone rang right