Silver Rain by Lois Peterson Page A

block.”
    â€œNow?”
    â€œYes. Now.”
    â€œI just thought…”
    â€œNo more of your thoughts. It’s action I want,” said her grandmother. “That dog has hardly stirred all day. Off with you both while I have a word with our friend.”
    When Elsie slapped her leg and clicked her tongue, Dog Bob didn’t budge. “Come on, Dog Bob. Let’s go out.” He blinked at her once, then closed his eyes.
    She hauled him from under the table and dragged him toward the door. Outside, she knelt down beside him and pulled his head into her arms. “It’s okay. I’ll take care of you. Just like I did the other day.”
    At last he followed her down the path. But slowly, instead of running ahead as usual.
    Elsie was headed along the street to Bryant Park with Dog Bob at her heels when she had another idea. Lying was bad. Stealing was bad. Being a poor sport was bad. Eavesdropping was bad too, Elsie knew. But what was it she’d once heard the Reverend say? Desperate times sometimes call for desperate measures ?
    Elsie couldn’t imagine feeling much more desperate than this.
    She crept back to the garage and sidled along to the grimy window that looked into the room where she’d left Nan and the Reverend. She stood with her back to the wall and listened to the hum of voices inside. Nan and the Reverend talked for a while. She heard a chair scraping across the floor. Then silence.
    Elsie stood on tiptoes to peer through the murky glass. The Reverend was alone at the table now, his hands resting on his Bible. He looked up as Nan came back into the room.
    Elsie darted back so she would not be seen. The grass here was so long, and damp from the afternoon rain, that it tickled the skin between her boots and the hems of her pants.
    When she peeked inside again, Nan was sitting across the table from the Reverend again. And between them, in the middle of the table, sat the envelope. They both looked at it as Nan spoke. Then Reverend Hampton picked it up. He studied the writing on the outside, turning it over and over before he put it down.
    Elsie held her breath. She waited for someone to open it. To take out the letter and read it. But they just sat, looking at the envelope and talking in voices so low that Elsie couldn’t hear a word.
    She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. Her legs were cold. What was in that letter? At this rate, she’d never find out.
    She moved out of her hiding spot and went to fetch Dog Bob, who was snuffling under the rhododendron bushes near the Tipsons’ house. While he sniffed around the mailbox and piddled against the post, Elsie studied the house. Lights were on in two rooms. In her house. What would happen if she marched up those steps, knocked on the door and asked if Jimmy knew anything about the letter? She wouldn’t put it past him to have stuck his nose into anything he found in the mailbox, which both families shared.
    She had been waiting forever to find out where her father was and what he had been doing since he left them. To learn if her mother was safe and sound in New Westminster. She didn’t give a hoot about Mother’s friend. Daisy Newman could be dead, for all she cared. But if she had died, Mother would be home by now.
    Wouldn’t she?
    Elsie flipped up the mailbox lid. It slapped back down. She flipped it up again. And down it came. Up slap . Up slap . Up slap up slap up slap .
    She thought she saw a curtain twitch, so she ducked back under the dripping bushes.
    Dog Bob whimpered at her feet; he wanted to get back to his safe hiding spot under the table where Nan and the Reverend were talking about the secret letter. “Hush. Just a minute,” Elsie told him. “I’m thinking.” She yanked her hat down so she could hardly see past the brim.
    Jimmy was such a sneak, he wouldn’t tell her anything. What she had to do was go home and demand that Nan tell her who