The story so far ... Ben and Nate ride past the clothesline again, although Ben doesn't mention the first message to his friend. Again there are T-shirts hanging, and they stop and look at the slogans. Ben focuses on the words, think first, on a Capital Insurance shirt. That evening, the boys play their last Little League game of the summer. Ben is frustrated because the worst player is assigned his usual position. When he finally replaces the boy in the 6th inning, he makes a mean comment, which results in a scolding from the coach. The coach's main point is that Ben should think first before talking, the very same words Ben had seen on the clothesline.



I couldn't fall asleep that night. Turning from side to side, I kicked off the blankets. I kept thinking about the clothesline and the string of shirts with words on them. It just had to be a coincidence. There were lots of shirts and lots of words. I was putting too much into it, thinking I was receiving special messages.

The next morning, I was up early. I decided to ride out to the little farm by myself. I needed time to study the clothesline, and I knew Nate would start wondering what was going on. I couldn't tell him that I might be receiving messages from the clothes on the line. He would just shake his head at me with that know-it-all grin, "Ben, I think you're losing it."

If I took my time, and looked closely at the shirts, I was sure I could tell whether it was just chance or if there really was something that made certain words stand out to me. I needed to ride by myself this morning and take as long as I needed.

I went to the garage and got my bike. As I started down the road past Lehman's, Jack came out. "Ben. You're just the guy I was looking for." He walked down the steps. "How would you and Nate like to earn some cash today helping me with the hay?"

Instead of taking a bike ride, Nate and I spent the day working. Jack still had one small field that he cut and baled in the old way. Earlier that week, he drove his antique tractor and cut the grass. It had to dry in the sun. Then he took his baler and swept the dry stuff up and shaped it into squares held with twine. The bales sat in the field a couple days.

Now it was time to collect the bales and stack them in the barn for the winter. While John drove the wagon, Jack, Nate and I followed, throwing the bales on the wagon. "This is better than biking and weights," Nate grinned, sweat dripping down his face. "More exercise and real work."

"Yeah, not bad. Plus we'll get a good lunch and cash. I want to get some new soccer shoes." When the wagon was full, we jumped on and headed back to the barn where we helped unload the bales. Then it was back to the field for another load.

Most farmers either made gigantic round bales lifted by a machine or simply swept the hay into plastic tubes. It was kind of cool to be a part of doing hay the old fashioned way.

I was so hot and tired by the time we quit, that I could hardly eat supper. I didn't even pay attention to Conner going on and on about getting the quarterback position for the high school football team. I fell asleep right after eating without one thought about the clothesline messages.

But the next morning, I woke up extra early. More determined then ever to bike past the clothesline, I slipped out to take a ride. I needed to figure out once and for all about these messages. And I had to do it without Nate. Because it was windy, I worked extra hard pedaling against the wind. I was huffing pretty good by the time I turned onto the little side road.

I was so deep in my thoughts that I almost lost my balance when a deer raced across the road in front of me. She sprinted over the soybean field to the tree line and disappeared beyond. What a beauty.

Finally, I arrived at the farm, tired from the windy ride and looked immediately over to the clothesline. I nearly crashed from disappointment. There were no clothes hanging out. It had never occurred to me that they might not wash clothes every day.

The next morning, I awoke to the sound of steady rain. Obviously, there'd be no clothes on the line in the rain. I dragged down to the kitchen. Mom was talking to little Rosie who was sitting in a high chair. She was playing with Cheerios on the tray but looked up and gave me a big smile. "Play with me?" She asked holding out her arms.

I ignored her, grabbed a bowl, and filled it with cereal at the counter. I took out the milk, and was about to take a swig when I remembered Mom was watching. Instead, I carefully poured some into the cereal and sat down at the table. "Why are you still home? Shouldn't you be at work?"

"Obviously, you forgot that we're going on vacation to Aunt Barbara's in St. Louis tomorrow. I took off work to pack." She lifted Rosie out of the high chair, and she ran over to me. I pulled her on my lap.

"Oh yeah." I sat down and began eating, reading the back of the cereal box. I wouldn't be able to ride my bike for a week. Worst news possible.

"Well, you sure don't sound excited about the trip. That's too bad. Your cousin Zeke has all kinds of stuff planned for you."

"No, it should be fun. It's just that..." I didn't know what to say to her. I couldn't tell her about the clothesline messages. She'd never believe me.

"Well, I've been trying to ride my bike every morning to get back in shape for soccer this fall. I just hate to miss all those days." Rosie was putting her fingers in my cereal and then sticking them dripping with milk into her mouth.

Mom retrieved Rosie and sat down. "I wouldn't worry. You'll be very busy and active. And you'll still have a week before school starts when we get back to get in some more bike rides."

The first day after we returned from St. Louis, I couldn't wait to ride my bike. I actually set my alarm. I hadn't thought about the clothesline the whole time we were gone. Zeke, two years older than me, was lots of fun. And we did some cool stuff.

But now, I just had to check the clothesline. Would there be clothes on the line? Would there be shirts with words? Would I see another message? And most importantly, would I understand it?