Otherwise Known as Possum Read online

  “Oh, Daddy.” I could say no more.

  Here was hours and hours of Daddy’s love made solid for me. Here was my family. This was what he had been working on so long in his shop, keeping me away. Just this. Just this gift of his heart.

  I grabbed him around the neck to kiss his cheek—wasn’t as far a stretch as it used to be. Then I sat on my bench to try it on for size. Perfect. I jumped up and hugged him again. “Oh, Daddy, I’m so sorry for—”

  “Hush now.” He lifted me and spun me around, and when he did, my heart felt as light as my feet.

  When he let me go, his watery eyes looked into mine, themselves full of happy tears. He put a hand on either side of my face and stared. “I see Noralee in you, honey bunch, the best of her and, I hope, of me.”

  I hoped I’d be that lucky. I suspected I was.

  Then he stepped back and wiped his face on his shirt, shook his head, and nodded toward the pecan tree. “Want help with that?”

  I looked at my beautiful bench and then at the tree. “No, thank you, Daddy. I can manage.” I knew I could.

  Then I picked up my bench and marched right down to Momma’s tree. I explained to her I’d be putting this bench in my own spot. It seemed right to keep open the space beneath the pecan.

  Under the peach tree, on the east side of the house, would be a fine place to sit and watch the morning come.

  I heard GrandNam say plenty of times that the road to perdition was paved with good intentions.

  I don’t guess I ever thought on what the road to Heaven might be paved with.

  But as I sat on my bench, I finally knew one answer.

  A COUPLE OF DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, Daddy said he thought, in the spirit of the season, he might call on Miz Pickerel. He looked worried when he said it, like he expected one of those ugly toads to hop out of my mouth, but all I felt was my heart squeezed with love, and I knew he deserved to feel that again too. Wasn’t my place to keep him from it anyway.

  “I think that’s a fine idea, Daddy.” And he smiled like the sun coming out. Momma wanted us to keep smiling. I made sure he wore his good coveralls.

  Around toward dusk, Jump came by and asked did I want to go frog gigging with him.

  Did I? “Last one there’s a rotten egg.” I took off running. When we got near the creek, I ran ahead and slid down the muddy bank, laughing.

  Jump was right behind.

  “Possum.” His voice took on a serious tone I didn’t know if I could get used to, his face a question mark. “Can I ask you somethin’?”

  My throat and stomach traded places.

  “ ’Course, Jump.”

  “You ever wonder—them tadpokes. Where do you s’pose those tails go?”

  Maria D. Laso (whose nickname was Mari Lou) was my wife for the last twenty-six years of her life. This lovely book is her legacy.

  Mari Lou loved to read at an early age. She read the classics throughout high school, and her strong vocabulary helped prepare her for a copyediting career in newspapers. But she always loved reading children’s books and someday hoped to write one.

  She eventually started creating clever picture books and short stories. She mixed wordplay with life lessons, but her priority was a middle grade novel with the working title The Morning Come. She spent months sketching out the story, which centered on a young girl nicknamed Possum in the Deep South in 1932 during the Great Depression. Mari Lou researched that time and place extensively and began to flesh out her characters: Daddy, Miss Arthington, Tully, June May, but most of all LizBetty, “otherwise known as Possum.” In Possum, Mari Lou found a kindred spirit, a feisty girl who spoke her mind, had a wicked sense of humor, was fiercely loyal to her friends and family, and didn’t suffer fools gladly—which come to think of it, sounds just like my wife.

  As I would read the drafts of her story month by month, year by year, I marveled that this had all sprung from Mari Lou’s far-reaching imagination. The setting and adventures were nothing like her own childhood, so she was truly letting her mind run free. She felt compelled to take Possum through these encounters en route to learning about life and love.

  Mari Lou worked on this story for almost a decade. At about the same time she was close to finishing the book, she grew seriously ill. As her strength and focus weakened, she managed to complete her final edits with the loving, devoted help of friend and fellow writer Dawne Knobbe, who got to know the story and characters almost as well as Mari Lou did.

  Mari Lou passed away in September 2015, but she took comfort in knowing that her wonderful story would be published and read by young people of all ages. I am so proud of what she accomplished.

  It is sad that Mari Lou won’t be able to create further amazing adventures, but I know that she would hope that Possum’s endearing and enduring spirit will inspire others to create adventures of their own.

  —Stephen Elders

  A former journalist, Maria D. Laso was a beloved creative writing teacher in Orange County, California, where she helped people from teens to senior citizens find their voices. She completed her debut novel, Otherwise Known as Possum, shortly before her death in 2015.

  Copyright © 2017 by Maria D. Laso

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available

  ISBN 978-0-545-92795-6

  First edition, March 2017

  Jacket art © 2017 by Julie McLaughlin

  Jacket design by Carol Ly

  e-ISBN 978-0-545-93194-6

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