“I’ve done it before,” Poppy reminded him. She smiled at him. “Maybe I’m a little wiser now. And if Lilly can do it, surely so can I.”
“I know, but . . .”
“No, I understand,” said Poppy, taking up Rye’s paw. “I’d feel the same if you were going off. And of course Lilly will be with me.”
“Not on the way back.”
“That’s true.” Poppy became thoughtful, and stared into the woods in the direction Junior had taken.
“Rye . . . ,” she said, uncertainty in her voice. “Rye, what would you think if I took . . . Junior?”
“Good gracious! Why would you even want to?”
“Rye, I think I’ve lost contact with him—as a parent, that is. But just maybe, if he and I traveled—just the two of us—it might bring us together. You know, something of an adventure. The worst that could happen is that it would go badly. Things could hardly be poorer than they are now. If we could get along, it might be something special. Junior was right: Ragweed left home when he was four months old. This may be the last chance I’ll have to be with Junior. Of course,” she added, “I’ll have to ask him if he wants to come.”
“He might say no,” Rye warned.
“I’m going to chance it,” said Poppy.
“I do admire you, Poppy,” said Rye with a grin. “But then,” he added, “I always have.”
“Thank you. And if Junior and I become friends again, the trip will be worth it.”
When Aunt Lilly returned with the children, Poppy took her aside and informed her she would make the trip to Gray House. They could leave the next day.
“Oh, Poppy,” said Lilly, “Papa will be gratified. So will Mama. You’ll see, you will get on so much better with them than you used to. Papa’s mellowed.”
Poppy, however, said nothing about Junior coming. She wanted to speak to him first. And she dreaded it.
CHAPTER 5
Poppy Talks to Junior
JUNIOR DID NOT GET BACK until dark. As usual, he came in and headed right down to root level without saying a word about where he had been or what he’d done. Poppy followed.
Junior’s corner was the way it always was, a mess. Poppy had given up trying to get him to clean. Junior wouldn’t. Twigs and leaves lay scattered. His bedding, a pile of wood chips, was in total disarray. Junior himself was on his back, paws behind his head, staring glumly up.
Seeing him there, Poppy felt suddenly shy. It was a strange sensation: she had done much in her life, had real adventures—even dangerous ones. How could she be so unsure of herself with her own child? But though Junior was her son, she felt as if she were approaching a complete stranger, someone—how painful to think it—who could hurt her feelings. Badly.
“Hi,” she said, approaching him cautiously.
Junior did not bother to look at her. “What’s up?” he said.
“Did you have a pleasant time with Mephitis?”
“Yeah. Sick.”
“I’m glad,” said Poppy.
“You don’t like him.”
“Junior, I’ve never said that. I just don’t know him very well.”
“Well, he’s my freaking best friend.”
“What are his parents like?”
“If you’re so interested in them, go visit.”
“Perhaps I should. But Junior, I didn’t come down here to talk about your friend.”
“Good.”
“Did you have supper?”
“Yes.” To prove it, he belched.
“I wish you wouldn’t do that. It’s very unpleasant.”
Junior belched again.
Poppy winced. Then she said, “As you heard me say before, I need to go back with my sister to my old home.”
“I hate her.”
“Why?”
“She doesn’t like me.”
“How do you know?”
“Just do.”
“I haven’t said to the other children what I’m about to tell you, Junior. My father seems to be in a really bad way.”
“Rucks to be him,” Junior muttered.
Poppy’s tail twitched as she waited for Junior to say something more. When he did not, she took a deep breath and then said, “I suppose that between a child and a parent, there is something . . . special. At least,” she added, “I feel that way. So, since he is my father, it’s important that I go back.”
“Okay, Mama,” said Junior. “Get to your point.”
“Can’t you show a little respect for my feelings?”
“Sorry. What is it?”
“Well,” said Poppy, working hard to keep her anger down, “as I said, I’ll be going back. Leaving tomorrow morning. But your papa and I don’t think I should take the whole family.” Poppy hesitated but then said, “Junior, I thought I’d ask you to come along with me. Just you. I’d enjoy your company. And it would be good to have someone with me when I came back. Traveling alone through Dimwood can be risky. What do you think?”
“You mean you need me to take care of you.”
“I can take care of myself, thank you,” said Poppy, struggling to hold back hot tears.
Junior was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “Can Mephitis come?”
“Mephitis?” cried Poppy, taken aback.
“Yeah, Mephitis. What’s wrong with that?”
“Why should he come?”
“I told you: he’s my best friend.”
“But I thought it would be only the two of us. . . .”
“Hey, Mama, I’m not going unless he can come.”
Poppy stared at him. “Not even for . . . me?”
“Nope.”
“Fine,” said Poppy, swallowing her disappointment. “It’s a deal. I look forward to getting to know your friend.”
Wiping away a tear as she went, Poppy joined the others. Aunt Lilly was telling the rapt children stories about what Poppy was like when she was much younger—how sweet and easy she was.
Rye drew Poppy aside. “What did Junior say?”
“I guess he said yes.”
“Only guess?”
“He’ll come, but only if Mephitis can come with us.”
“Mephitis?”
“I said yes.”
“But . . . why?”
“It just . . . feels like the right thing to do.”
Rye sighed. “Why did we name him Ragweed Junior? Maybe we shouldn’t have.”
“Rye, you remember: as soon as he was born, he acted different from the others, doing things his way. Just like Ragweed.”
“Maybe a little too different for his own good,” said Rye.
Later that night Poppy told Lilly that Junior would travel with them. She didn’t have the heart to mention Mephitis.
“Forgive me,” said Lilly. “Which one is Junior?”
“The one . . . the one who’s
