The Least of These.

by Kathleen Neely

  “Thank you for helping him. If it’s not too much to ask, could someone let me know where he goes and when he…when he passes?”

  “We can do that. Here’s my card if you want to contact me.”

  “Thank you.”

  With that, I stepped from her porch and walked to my car. Mary Anne watched until I had pulled away. I regretted that there wouldn’t be reconciliation, but I couldn’t fault her. So what now?

  21

  Claire Bassett

  “Claire, what in the world are you doing?” My mother stood there staring at me.

  “I’m packing Bella’s lunch. Why?” It should have been obvious.

  “You’ve been standing there with that knife in your hand for five minutes not doing anything.”

  Had I done that? Distraction had been my constant companion while I attempted to perform everyday tasks. My hands and feet moved at my command, but my mind stayed focused on the city.

  I set down the knife. “Oh, thinking about today. Lots to do at work.”

  “Well here, I’ll finish that. You go get dressed.”

  I allowed her to take over, too weary to assert my independence this morning.

  After a quick shower and sliding into the simplest, comfort clothing suitable for work, I managed to get Bella on the school bus and drove to the university under a gray October sky—a perfect match for me on this day. Please let Jonathan be out today. I couldn’t handle any level of conversation with him.

  But I didn’t get my wish. After lunch, he strolled past the receptionist desk.

  I glanced up to greet him without stopping my work. “Good morning, Jonathan.”

  “Don’t you mean good afternoon? It’s almost one.”

  My laugh came out as hollow as a drum. “Guess the day’s going fast.”

  “Missed you Friday. Were you sick?”

  “I didn’t feel well.” That was the truth.

  “Better today?”

  “A little,” I lied. Maybe the stilted conversation would deter him?

  No, he began to sit.

  I stopped him with a shake of my head. “I have Friday’s work to catch up on. Can we talk later?”

  His disappointment showed, but he acted with kindness, as always. “I’ll leave you to your work. Looking forward to Saturday.”

  Saturday. I had forgotten I’d agreed to an evening with him. Well, that was almost a week away and a lot could happen.

  When I arrived home, I had to again explain that I would be gone tomorrow. I would take Drew to Molly’s. Mom and Dad needed a break on my days off.

  “Mom, I’ll be going to Molly’s tomorrow for a visit. We have breakfast planned, so I’m leaving early. I’m taking Drew. It’s good for him to socialize with other kids.”

  She squinted. “You’ve been going there often.”

  “I know. You and Dad need some space, and I enjoy seeing my old friends.”

  She nodded her agreement but tilted her head in question. During dinner, she pried for information. “Is there anything new from the police? I haven’t asked you for a while.”

  “I haven’t heard from them and haven’t tried to contact them. Guess I should do that while I’m in town.”

  “Anything new in your neighborhood? How are the renters?”

  “They pay their rent. I don’t know them, so I can’t say how they are.”

  With a big sigh, she dropped the inquisition. No doubt it would resurface at some point. She had a keen instinct, and I was easy to read. I might tell them, depending on how tomorrow went.

  ~*~

  The next morning, traffic along I-279 delayed my arrival at St. John’s. It was six forty by the time I found a garage and made my way to the church. A chill in the air that would only get worse as winter approached, reminded me of the urgency to find Andrew and bring him home.

  I tried the main door. Finding it locked, I set out walking to locate another doorway. A plain metal door off to the side posted a sign for the free breakfast hours.

  I turned the knob and entered the large room, not sure what to expect. No one greeted me, and I saw no place to check in. The diners probably went up to the counter for their food. Although about twenty people were eating and four serving, the room felt empty because of its grand size.

  Looking around, I shuddered at the defeated faces. The joyless meal served only enough sustenance to make it through another desolate day. Our mealtimes at home had been spent sharing anecdotes about our days, laughing at Bella’s silliness. Our meals had been filled with bright eyes.

  But my husband had chosen this place over his kitchen table—an old man his companion instead of his wife. I knew he suffered a deep grief, but why wasn’t I enough?

  After scanning the room for any sign of him, I moved from one table to the next, starting with the one seating the only other woman in the room. Her hair streaked with gray had been cut right at the base of her ears—a bowl cut. I suspected she chopped it herself. Grime embedded her mismatched clothing, and body odor hung heavily in the air. My heart broke for her, but I had to stay focused.

  I sat across the white plastic table and spoke softly. “Good morning. I’m looking for someone and wondered if you might have seen him.” I pulled out the picture of Andrew and laid it on the table in front of her. “I believe he comes here to eat breakfast.”

  She glanced at the picture, shook her head without ever looking up at me. When she opened her mouth to the fork filled with eggs, wide gaps were visible where teeth should be.

  I moved to another table. A few people had seen Andrew, but no one knew him or where to find him. Each one said the same thing—that he came with an older man, and they ate breakfast here most every morning.

  A man who had been serving behind the counter came out and sat down across from me.

  “My name’s Don. Can I help you with something? I see you taking a picture around to folks.”

  “Yes, I’m looking for this man. Do you know him?”

  He took my flyer and held it up. “Sure do. He’s in here most every morning. Usually by now. I suspect he’ll be in soon. You related to him?”

  “He’s my husband. He’s sick and needs help.”

  “Well, he should be along soon. Didn’t appear to be sick.”

  “I mean that he...” I couldn’t finish. “Is it OK if I wait here?”

  “Sure. Can I bring you something to eat?” His face displayed kindness.

  “No, thank you. I’ll wait over there.” I motioned to a table off to the side and out of the way. I could see the door, but when Andrew walked in, he wouldn’t see me.

  People came and went. They ate their breakfast then took their lost dignity back to the streets.

  Don returned to bring me coffee.

  “Thought you might need this. Here’s a little cream and sugar.”

  I thanked him as he left the tray for me.

  By nine thirty, volunteers began cleaning the kitchen and locking the door. Andrew never arrived.

  “Sorry, ma’am. Sure surprised he didn’t show. You can try back any weekday.”

  “I can’t come tomorrow, but I’ll try Thursday.” I felt a pulse in my throat and heard the crack in my voice. “If he comes, please don’t tell him I’m looking for him.”

  “Sure thing.” He gave an understanding nod and patted my shoulder.

  I stood outside looking at the vastness before me. I didn’t know where to go next. With heavy feet, I lumbered back to the parked car and headed for home.

  22

  Scott Harrington

  After leaving Mary Anne, I debated going to the hospital or going home and decided to stop home first. I had no good news to share with D.J. or Pete. I needed Stella’s ear. She had a knack for seeing things with clarity when I couldn’t.

  I stopped by the café, but they told me she wasn’t in. Parking my car in my driveway, I walked next door, knocked and tried the door. It was locked. A key to her house was on my keyring, but I wouldn’t use it while she was h
ome.

  She peeked out the window and opened the door. A glance told me that she had taken the day off. She wore jeans and a sweatshirt with her long hair loose.

  Stella leaned back and held the door open wide. “You look terrible. What’s going on?”

  Leave it to Stella. She could read me like a book. I told her about Pete’s cancer and about Mary Anne.

  “I can’t blame her. She’s filled with bitterness. Plus, she has a lot going on in her own family. But Pete, he’s such a likeable old guy. He’ll be dead in a week if he goes back to the storage shed. I know what’s going on in his head. If he’s at a facility, he can’t get a drink. His bourbon’s more important than the time it would deny him.”

  “Obviously, the drinking isn’t good for him, but what does it matter at this point. I say let the old guy have his bottle and be happy.”

  “I don’t disagree, but I hate to see him lose the possibility of two more months, and I hate to see him die alone in that old outbuilding. It’ll kill D.J. to watch him go.”

  Stella took my hand and wrapped her fingers through mine.

  “Scott, I know what’s on your mind, and I’ll help you with whatever you decide.”

  I furrowed my brows. “How do you know what’s on my mind when I don’t know?”

  She smiled. “You know.”

  I leaned back on her sofa and stared at the ceiling. A myriad of thoughts danced in my mind, competing for focus, but Stella could always bring order to the chaos.

  “I only have three bedrooms and one doesn’t have furniture. And I’d have to bring D.J. as well.”

  “I believe they’ve both slept in worst places than an air mattress in your spare room.”

  Tension began to ease, and I sat up straighter. “I suppose it would help me write my story. And I could stop going downtown.”

  Stella tapped a finger on my sleeve. “Hey, Clark Kent, put the reporter side of you away for once.”

  I smiled at her. “You want me to be Superman instead?”

  She grinned “Mr. Fix-it. Here he comes to save the day.”

  “I believe that was Mighty Mouse. Get your superheroes straight.”

  “I’ll try to catch a few more Saturday cartoons. What can I do to help you?”

  I rested my head again, coming to terms with what was about to happen. Stella still held my hand in hers. I gave it a gentle squeeze. “I guess I’m doing this. You can do what you do best—help to keep us fed.”

  “I can do that.”

  “I’ll pay you. No arguments.” I freed my hand and stood, holding it out to help her up. “Walk over with me, and let’s talk with Tyler.”

  We came up with a plan. We’d put Pete in the spare bedroom that Tyler was using, D.J. would camp on an air mattress in the office bedroom without any furniture, and Tyler would use my camping cot in the finished basement. He rather liked that idea since he’d have his own bath, TV, and space. Ginger would stay downstairs with Tyler most of the time to keep her out of Pete’s way.

  I hadn’t talked with Pete and D.J. yet, but I suspected Pete would be released tomorrow. So Stella, Tyler, and I set out to move things around to accommodate the change.

  “Someone’s phone’s ringing.” Stella said.

  “Can’t be mine,” Tyler said. “It’s been shut off for months.”

  “Hello,” I answered. “This is he.”

  I finished my call and shared the news.

  “That was the Pittsburgh Police. Their undercover cop had some success. Two guys have been arrested. Description sounds like Jim, but he must have given you a false name. It should be on the news tonight.” Tyler let out a whoop of delight. “Now I can move forward and try to do something with my life.”

  “Like work in my café?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Not kidding. I can use the help and you can have flexible hours while you go to school.”

  Tyler’s head shot up in surprise, and he looked in my direction. “We talked about school, but I can’t go yet. I need to work and get my own place.”

  I listened in on their dialogue.

  She put her hands on her hips. “You can and will go to school. I see you pining over those brochures. There are grants and loans and scholarships. Think big.”

  “I don’t know, Stella. I’ve gotta find somewhere to live.”

  “You don’t like it here?” I joined the conversation.

  Grinning, he said, “I like it here a lot. But I can’t keep mooching.”

  “You planning to help with Pete? You planning to keep up the yard work you’ve been doing?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So you’re not mooching. Let me get Pete settled, and we’ll look into some options next week.” I still held my phone when it rang again. I answered, surprised to hear Caroline’s voice on the line.

  “I wanted to thank you again for taking me to that conservatory, and I’d like to show my appreciation by taking you to dinner.”

  Caroline showing appreciation? That seemed out of character and brought an amused smile. “Well that sounds great, but I have a few things going on, and I’ll need to be close to home. Could we make that lunch? I could do tomorrow.”

  She named the restaurant and time that I should meet her.

  “Thanks, Caroline. I’ll see you then.”

  Tyler and Stella exchanged a look, and she moved toward the door. “If we’re about done here, I’ve got stuff to do in my own house.”

  “Sure, Stel. Sorry if I kept you.”

  And with that she left.

  Tyler ran his hands through his hair. “Man, that was cruel.”

  “What was cruel? What’s with you two?”

  “Aren’t reporters supposed to have good intuition?”

  “What am I missing here?”

  He shook his head. “You’re missing the boat, that’s what.”

  He picked up the cot and headed downstairs.

  I still didn’t know what their cryptic secrets were and didn’t have time to worry about it. I had to head back to the hospital. I owed D.J. some answers. I wanted some answers myself but had to let it go until we made plans for Pete. At some point, I’d learn the story about Andrew Bassett. Then I’d decide if I could merge his story with mine.

  ~*~

  Alone in his room, Pete still looked weak but continued to be cheerful.

  “Well howdee-do there, Scotty.” His voice slogged from the sedation but didn’t appear as weak as yesterday.

  “How you doing, Pete?”

  “Been better an’ been worse.”

  “Where’s D.J.?”

  “He went on back to our place to get him some sleep. Said they don’t let ’em stay out in the waitin’ room all night. He’ll be back in the mornin’.”

  His hands tremored, his eyes glazed over. Was that the withdrawal, cancer, or sedation?

  “Pete, what can I get for you? Anything to eat or drink?’ Even in his weakness, his eyes opened wide. Wrong question.

  “Can you sneak me in a little of my evenin’ refreshment?” A twinkle lit his eye.

  “Sorry, my friend. Can’t do that. Coffee? Soft Drink? Anything else.”

  He waved me off with his hand. “I gotta be gettin’ me outta here. I need to be a’gettin’ home.”

  “We’ll see what we can do, Pete. You rest up ’til morning. I’ll be back.”

  I left the hospital and headed toward town. I’d hoped to never enter the little shed again, but I had to connect with D.J. tonight. I drove past the gatehouse, stopping for my ticket, and parked my car in the same lot that I’d sneaked into night after night. I pulled into a parking space close to the outbuilding.

  Inside, D.J. was reading. He didn’t seem surprised to see me. “Were you at the hospital?”

  “Yeah. He’s awake but groggy. Antsy to get out. He asked me if I could bring him some refreshment.”

  D.J. grinned. “He tried that on me, too.”

  I sat down on an old crate. “I guess I owe you some an
swers.”

  “I’d appreciate that.” D.J. hoisted himself up to a sitting position.

  I wouldn’t mention that I’d considered including him in my project. That would spook him away for sure.

  “I’m a writer. I’m doing a segment on homelessness. Pete talked from the start, and I figured I’d get a lot of input from him. I didn’t have to ask. He invited me along.”

  “So, you’re here to help yourself…not for Pete.” The old glare stole across his face but only lasted a moment. Pete’s illness had moved us past that.

  I didn’t have a quick answer. I’d convinced myself of the altruism of the project, even while my goal was an award. No. In truth, the real goal was Charles Harrington’s approval. Still, I felt the need to justify my project, perhaps to convince myself of its worthiness.

  “Today I’m here for Pete. The old man has a way of getting to you. I’m looking at the shelters, the government programs, the social programs through churches and non-profs hoping to see what’s there and what could be done better. I want to show that homeless people are real, generate some compassion.”

  D.J. looked straight at me without nodding his head or acknowledging my words. “Maybe some people aren’t looking for compassion. Maybe some people want to be left alone.”

  “I don’t think that describes Pete. He likes people.”

  “Pete tried to make the change when they took his daughter. When he couldn’t do it, he accepted his life. He’s not unhappy. Who else are you writing about?”

  Careful… “I have a young kid that’s been talking to me. He’s had a rough life and couldn’t seem to catch a break. Nice kid.”

  “That all?”

  “That’s all I’ve worked on.”

  “Did those investigative skills help you find Pete’s daughter?”

  “Yeah. I found her. That’s a no-go. Pete guessed correctly that she wouldn’t see him. She’s pretty bitter. Has a lot of bad memories. And she has her hands full with a small house, pregnant daughter, and a toddler living there now. New baby’s about to come. It’s a definite no.”

  “I talked with the social worker. She can have Pete moved to the Veteran’s Administration hospice care facility. Pete said he’ll walk out. Do you think he will?”