Celebrations With Jake and Joe

by Roger W Buenger

  “Ahh!” she responded with a smile while Joe had moved close enough to her to sniff at her fingertips.

  “So, how about you take a seat and tell me what this is all about,” Henry directed as he headed past the pair toward the sink to replenish his drink.

  Anne caught herself and realized she wasn’t there to play with a cat. She rose quickly and took a seat at the end of the table nearest the front door.

  “Well Mr. Engel, I am a writer,” she began.

  “Oh yeah? What kind of writer?”

  “Books. Mainly novels but I’ve done a bit of non-fiction too,” she explained.

  “Are you any good?” he asked as he pulled the bottle of Jacob Patrick Jasterson’s Bourbon from its home in the cabinet beneath the sink.

  Anne was watching him intently and duly noted that this was the “Jake” Henry had just referred to.

  “Well, my publisher surely seems to think so,” she answered slyly. “They’ve sold nearly two million copies of my books over the years.” She had placed a little extra emphasis on the number hoping to catch his attention. Her ploy worked.

  “No kidding?” Henry shot back with an impressed tone. “That’s terrific! Should I know who you are?”

  Anne laughed. “No, I wouldn’t suppose so. You aren’t exactly in my target demographic. No offense intended,” she added with a light giggle.

  “None taken.” Henry smiled. He liked this woman already. There was something pleasant and comfortable about her demeanor. They had only met a moment ago, and yet there was a fascinating and familiar quality about her that he found very appealing.

  “Say, I don’t suppose you’d be interested in meeting Jake, would you?” he asked, holding up his full glass before he put the bottle away.

  “You know, I’ve just been 10 hours in a car, and a spot of tea would be lovely, but I don’t suppose you have that…”

  “Sorry, I don’t drink it,” he confirmed while shaking his head.

  “Well then, yes, by all means I’d love to meet your friend. Same as yours, please.”

  “Ok, you got it!” he proclaimed as he proceeded to retrieve a second glass from the cabinet.

  Joe had now begun to rub against Anne’s leg, which was concealed beneath a well-fitting pair of dark blue jeans. Anne noted the affection and reached down to pet her. As she did, she realized that she had yet to explain why she had just barged into Henry’s world.

  “So, as I said, I’m a writer. I look for stories that grab me. A few months ago I ran across one of those and decided I wanted to find out more about it to help me with something I am working on. So, I tracked you down.”

  Henry was approaching the table and smiled as he saw how Joe had taken to Anne. “I see you two are fast friends,” he said as he handed her the glass he had just prepared and took a seat.

  “So it would seem. Thank you very much,” she acknowledged as she accepted the drink and took a sip from it. “Lovely,” she exhaled after swallowing.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t follow. What does any of this have to do with me?”

  “Well, I was in Natal recently, and I heard a story of a man named Engel, who is quite legendary there with some of the locals.”

  Henry’s eyebrows rose as he listened intently and became even more intrigued now.

  “Oh, really?” he said, quite surprised by this turn of events as he took a swallow from his glass. He had only been to Africa once in his life, and it had been a most memorable adventure.

  “Yes, I met an elder tribesman there by the name of Jombo who told me of a white hunter named Henry Engel and a magnificent lion. Does that ring a bell?” she asked coyly.

  Henry leaned back in his chair. “Wow! That was a lifetime ago. What on earth was so special about that to cause him to remember and then tell you about it?” he asked incredulously, remembering the safari he had gone on in 1967.

  “Well, according to local legend that was the largest lion anyone has ever seen there. After the ‘great white hunter’ referred to as ‘Engel’ refused to take him as a trophy, that lion took on a mythical status with the locals. He disappeared shortly after you left, only to be seen in shadows and glimpses on the savanna from time to time. The legend says the lion is a god-like spirit and that you could see that because you are a holy man of some sort with special powers. You didn’t shoot it because it couldn’t be killed. Jombo sure seemed to think so anyway. He spoke about you with reverent whispers.” Anne was excited, and each of her words was expressed with great emphasis for effect.

  “Really?” uttered Henry in disbelief as he digested what she had just told him. He recalled the hunt and Jombo’s face like it was yesterday. The event had indeed been moving and almost spiritual. It was an experience that he would take to his grave. However, he felt that this version of it was quite far-fetched to say the least.

  “Surely you didn’t drive all the way out here from the East Coast to talk about that. A god-like spirit lion and a holy man who runs around disguised as a white hunter?” he quipped.

  Anne laughed. She was impressed by Henry. He was witty and charming.

  “East Coast, eh?”

  “New York plates on your car.”

  She smiled. “No,” she agreed, “I most certainly did not. I did, however, want to meet the man that walked away from what rumor has it might have been a world-record kill. A man who had gone on safari hunting for a prize lion and then when he had the ultimate trophy in his gun sight showed mercy. This is a most uncommon and extraordinary man. This is a man I wanted to meet. I smelled a good story. So, I tracked you down and here I am.” She spoke with the matter-of-fact tone one would use to refer to a quick run to the corner market, not a cross-country journey.

  Henry’s mind drifted back to the waterhole, and he relived the moment his eyes first met the beast. He didn’t often think of it, but each time he did, it still moved him. It was truly an extraordinary event in his life, but he was at a loss as to why it was worthy of her or anyone else’s interest.

  “Ms. Wagner, I can understand how a tale like that, told by a mysterious tribesman in an exotic location, could stir the interest of a renowned author,” he said as he took a sip from his glass. “However, I regret to tell you that is all there is to it. It’s just a tale. I’m just a man, and not an interesting one either. For someone who writes books, I suspect you were hoping to find more, but the man before you is all there is.”

  “Mr. Engel, with all due respect, I’ve been writing extremely successfully for over twenty years, and some say I’m quite good at it. I think I’m a pretty good judge of what is interesting and what is not. Besides, a man who has meetings with a cat and a glass of whiskey is interesting to say the least.”

  Henry smiled. “Well, I suppose you’ve got me there,” he conceded. “So what exactly is it that you have in mind?”

  “I’m working on a novel and the main character is a man that needs a bit of shaping up. When I heard the story of your hunt, I immediately wanted to use it in my book. It’s unique and breathtaking. I want my guy to live that moment, but I need to know what it was like from your end of things. You know, to see it through your eyes so that it will be authentic, not just my guess at it. So, I was hoping I could persuade you to join me for lunch or something and tell me about it.”

  “Ms. Wagner…”

  “Please call me Anne,” she interrupted.

  “All right then, Anne,” he agreed. “I’m a pretty private person. I’m not one to have my life show up in a book.”

  “Mr. Engel, I can certainly respect that. Your story is your own, and I promise if you tell me, I’ll change the names and places in such a fashion that no one would ever guess it was you. I just really want to know what you were thinking. You know, what it felt like to be there. That’s all I am asking for.”

  Her words were succinct and had a sweet sincerity to them. Henry found her deportment and appearance to be both pleasing and persuasive, and he genuinely felt compelled to comply with her reques
t. However, he had long been a very private person and though recent times had brought on a tremendous change in him, he still had reservations about sharing himself with others.

  “By the way, how the heck did you track me down?” he inquired.

  “Oh, I’m part bloodhound,” Anne kidded.

  “And you never thought to just pick up the phone?”

  “What? And miss out on meeting Jake and Joe?” she responded deftly with a grin. “Actually, I needed to get out of New York for a bit and clear my head. I do my best writing when I get away so I thought perhaps a cross-country jaunt might do me some good. Besides, I’m a fan of little towns and Lewis sounded like my kind of place.”

  “Anne, I think I’m going to like you.”

  “Well, thank you, Mr. Engel, I think I’m going to like you too. Very much.”

  “It isn’t that I am unwilling to help you, I just would like to think it over. I’m assuming you aren’t driving back to New York tonight, right?”

  “No, I’m pooped,” she agreed. “I took a room in town. I plan on staying the weekend and doing a bit of exploring before heading back. Looks like a charming place.”

  “All right then, good. How about you join me for breakfast tomorrow and I’ll sleep on things and let you know in the morning?” he asked.

  “I say yes!” she replied with a broad smile. It was hard to determine which excited her more: the idea that he was entertaining her request or the prospect of sharing breakfast with him. They were suddenly equally appealing to her.

  “You’re going to be at the Western, I suspect,” he asked.

  “Smart man,” she replied.

  “Not so smart; it’s the only motel in town,” he teased with a wink. “Just down a few blocks on Hughes Avenue is a little diner where I eat breakfast on the weekends. It’s called The Eager Beaver, and I’ll be there by 8:45 if you want to meet up.”

  “The Eager Beaver? Yes, I saw it! It’s the place with the very large and rather comical but dated neon beaver sign out front. Love the baseball cap, too. Fantastic. I’ll be there with bells on!” she agreed as she rose from her chair sensing that was her cue to excuse herself from his company.

  “That’s the one!” Henry took the last swallow from his glass and replaced it on the table before rising as well.

  “Good,” he said cementing the appointment, “I’ll look forward to it then.”

  “Me too,” Anne concurred enthusiastically. “Thank you ever so much for inviting me into your home and for taking time out to talk with me. I do so appreciate it.” She extended her hand again as she had upon entry and Henry accepted it more warmly this time.

  “Honestly, I can tell you it’s been an unexpected pleasure. You’re the most famous author ever to set foot here,” he teased.

  “Now stop that,” Anne fired right back with mock resentment, “you don’t even know who I am.”

  “Ok then, the truth is you’re the only author who’s ever been here,” he amended his statement with playful sarcasm.

  “Now that’s more like it!” Anne declared with a chuckle as she reached the front door.

  After he had watched the Jeep pull past the mailbox and head up the road, Henry closed the front door and secured the locks. He was pondering the past half hour’s events and contemplating all that had occurred. He had made a new acquaintance, and she was a quite young and attractive one to boot. She had proposed an interesting idea, and he was going to have to weigh the pros and cons before making his decision. It had been an unusual meeting with Jake and Joe to say the least. As he cleared their glasses from the table, he looked down at Joe, who was standing near the staircase looking up at him.

  “You liked Anne, didn’t you, kiddo,” he said to her. “Yeah, I think I like her too. She’s quite a gal.”

  Chapter 4

  A Day to Remember

  Henry entered The Eager Beaver Diner at precisely 8:29 a.m. It had been a typical Saturday morning thus far. The drive to town and his regular weekly visit to the Lewis Bank & Trust had been smooth and uneventful. He was in excellent spirits, buoyed by both the warm sunny spring morning as well as his enthusiasm about his breakfast date with Anne Francis Wagner. Though he was planning to decline her request to share his story, he was excited to see her again and looking forward to continuing their conversation from the night before. It had been a long time since Henry had met someone as intriguing as Anne, and he was fascinated by her.

  “Well, hey there Henry!” greeted Suzy Grainger, the owner of The Beaver. From her position behind the counter, she smiled broadly at him as she poured coffee for a patron.

  “Hey there yourself, young lady!” Henry answered back. “How’s the world treating you?”

  “Oh, it just keeps on a spinning but it hasn’t flung me off just yet,” she crowed to the amusement of those within earshot.

  In addition to the excellent food and good company to be found at The Beaver, one could always count on Suzy for a smile, a pleasant disposition, and some good old-fashioned country charm. They were hallmarks of the diner.

  Henry slowly made his way toward his regular seat, which was the first booth past the counter along the back wall. As he proceeded, he exchanged greetings and handshakes with many of the patrons. As per usual, the diner was near full, and there wasn’t a soul among them that Henry hadn’t seen before.

  By the time he had reached his booth, Suzy’s daughter Jenny had already poured fresh black coffee into a cup and set a small pitcher of cool cream next to it for him. Alongside, the morning’s editions of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch and the Lewis Gazette were stacked neatly and waiting.

  “Good morning, Mr. Engel!” Jenny greeted as she moved past him on her way to retrieve his standard breakfast order.

  “Hi, Jenny!” Henry responded. “Say, Jenny, can you hold my food back for a bit; I’m expecting someone.”

  “You are?” she asked with a look of genuine surprise on her face. From time to time, someone may join Henry for breakfast, but he had never waited for anyone before.

  Henry smiled. He could read her mind and her reaction amused him. It was fair. He knew what a creature of habit he was, and deviance from his routine was cause for curiosity if not outright concern.

  “Um ok, sure. No problem,” Jenny added after recognizing it wasn’t any of her business who he would be dining with. “I’ll just check back in a bit then.”

  “Thank you, dear,” he said as he settled into his seat. He figured that the town would soon be set on its ear when Anne arrived and joined him. In a place the size of Lewis, not much happened that didn’t make the rounds. Having a stranger the likes of the English author in town was going to be gossip enough; that she would be seen with Henry might just make the newspaper.

  Nearly on cue, Henry noticed a very attractive woman heading toward his table with more than a few pairs of eyes tracking her as she neared him. Glancing at his watch, he noted that she was early. Always an impressive trait, he thought as he stood and extended his hand to greet her.

  “Good morning! Looks like you found me,” he proclaimed as they shook hands.

  “Good morning to you as well! Thanks so much for the invitation,” she replied cheerfully.

  Henry pointed for her to take a seat across from him and then retook his seat as well while everyone watched.

  “This is a charming little place,” she observed, taking in the sights and sounds of the diner.

  “Yeah, you could say it’s a bit of a local landmark in Lewis. Anybody within 50 miles has been here. It’s a three-generation family business… And here comes the third generation now,” he declared as Jenny approached and caught his attention

  “Well, Mr. Engel you didn’t tell me you were waiting on such a pretty lady. Hi there ma’am, I’m Jenny.”

  “Thank you, you’re too kind. Nice to meet you, dear. I’m Anne.”

  “Oh, I just love your accent! You’re English, aren’t you?” Jenny asked excitedly.

  “Guilty as charged. So
, your family owns The Eager Beaver Diner?”

  “Yes ma’am. My Granddaddy started The Beaver and then when he retired my Mom and I took it over. What part of England are you from?”

  “I was born just outside of London, but I’ve lived in several places there and lots of other places in the world too. My father worked in the government and the private sector during his life, so we moved about a lot.”

  “And now you’re here in Lewis,” Jenny added with a huge grin, enthralled by the stranger.

  “Yes, now I’m here in Lewis,” the author grinned in response.

  “Can I get you some coffee?” Jenny asked, now recovering from her trance and realizing that she needed to return to her duties.

  “Honestly, I would die for a good cup of tea. Might you have any?”

  “Tea? Of course. I’ll be right back with that and a menu. Mr. Engel, did you want to see a menu too or are you sticking with the usual?”

  “I’ll have the usual but please hold it until she orders.”

  “You got it. Be right back.”

  “She’s a lovely girl, isn’t she?” Anne declared as Jenny walked away.

  “Oh yeah,” Henry agreed. “She’s solid gold. Her mom and granddad are too. Just a real fine family all the way around. They’re Lewis lifers.”

  “I like that. I’ve been on the move my whole life, so I envy people with deep roots.”

  “I can relate to that. I grew up here and then left but came back in ‘74 for good. I just couldn’t shake the place off. Say, did you just say your dad worked for the British government?”

  “Yes, he served for years in several capacities before he went into the private sector.”

  “Did he used to work for the Akron Corporation?”

  “Well, yes. Right after he left the government he took a job with Akron. He was there for three years, heading up their Paris office.”

  “By any chance was his name Lawrence Wagner?”

  “Why yes, it was! How could you possibly know that?”