The Curious Prayer Life Of Muriel Smith

by Raj, Carol;

  Lord, which way should I go?

  There was no answer.

  Vernon had come from the left. He had returned that way. That meant she should go right. Away from a known danger. There had to be something to the right. Roads didn’t just go off to nowhere and then abruptly end. If she walked far enough, she’d come across someplace she could get help. Maybe she should have brought one of Roxanne’s blankets along to cover herself for a second night in the fields.

  She shivered. Surely, she would find help before evening. And if she were still on her own in the morning, she’d flag down the person who delivered the newspapers. Kevin said he saw a newspaper in a roadside box. Somebody must have put it there. It was only logical.

  Muriel looked both ways then crossed the road. Her mother had taught her to always walk in the road so that she faced oncoming traffic.

  Yesterday she’d prayed for someone to mow her lawn. Why couldn’t some teenage boy with a lawn mowing service have popped into Roxanne’s car? Why did it have to be a teen with a gun who wanted to go west? If God could get the shape of an egg right, couldn’t He have arranged that for her? Now she was in the middle of nowhere with an old man she didn’t trust and a teenage boy she couldn’t quite figure out. What was God thinking?

  Was it possible he got her confused with somebody else? Somebody who was praying for an adventure? Another Mrs. Smith, perhaps? It was such a common last name. Maybe that other Mrs. Smith lived on the third floor of an apartment building and didn’t even have a lawn, and now somebody from a landscaping service was standing at her front door asking what she wanted mowed. Maybe that other Mrs. Smith was wondering why God hadn’t answered her prayer for a car trip in the country.

  Lord, are You even there?

  Muriel glanced up at the sky. Maybe he’d send a cloud shaped like an arrow pointing out the direction she should go. But only one little cumulus cloud scuttled along, hurrying to catch up with the bigger clouds disappearing on the horizon.

  At first Muriel turned back every few steps to memorize where she’d came from. It was an orienting technique she’d learned in Girl Scouts. But the road behind her looked the same as it had ten minutes before. A long monotonous stretch of asphalt stretched out. A few wooded areas towered here and there. Each one looked exactly the same as the one where she and Kevin hid Roxanne’s car.

  What if she had to find her way back? She should have used one of the pieces of junk from Roxanne’s trunk to mark the spot where she came up onto the road. Oh, why hadn’t she thought of that before? Too late now. Even if she could find the spot again, it was possible that old man would be back, too, pawing through the piles they had taken from the trunk.

  There was no turning back. Maybe this road, like life, was a one-way street. No U-turns allowed. No retakes. Just one step put painstakingly in front of the other and then repeated ad infinitum.

  She had accomplished nothing important in seventy-one years. There was nothing to look back on with pride. No romance or exotic vacation to look forward to. Only the birth of Chloe’s baby. Muriel could hardly wait to cradle it in her arms, count its little fingers and toes, inhale the sweet newborn scent.

  Maybe her great-grandchild would come to her funeral. That would make five mourners. Somehow the thought didn’t make her feel any better. If Muriel had mattered to only five people in seventy-one years, Natalie had every right to look down on her.

  Muriel took a deep breath of morning air. I’m sorry, Lord. She mustn’t have such negative thoughts. Why, she hadn’t even expected to be alive today. It was certainly enough to be thankful for. She straightened her back and began to swing her arms. She had walked like this in her younger days. She’d forgotten how good it felt. Maybe she’d walk to the Pacific Ocean. Seventy-one years all on the same continent, and she had never even seen the Pacific. Imagine that.

  She and Howard had fantasized about all the places they would go once he retired. Hawaii. Alaska. A Caribbean cruise. Maybe the Greek isles. All those years they had scrimped and saved. But then a leaky roof needed to be replaced. And Natalie’s college tuition bills were due. And Natalie wanted orchids at her wedding instead of the lilies they could afford. And a professional video. And a dress that cost more than Howard’s first car.

  And then, just as they’d paid off their mortgage and handed Natalie over to Stan and finally started putting serious money away each paycheck, Howard got cancer. He lost his salary and accumulated medical bills that Muriel’s insurance wouldn’t pay. And then he’d died.

  Except for Howard’s death, Muriel didn’t mind most of it. But she had really wanted to go to Hawaii. If she couldn’t talk Stan into taking money out of her account to have her lawn mowed, how could she ever talk him into giving her money for a frivolous trip? And who could she go with?

  Stan and Natalie had been to Hawaii several times. They stayed in five-star hotels and ate at world-renowned restaurants. They wouldn’t want her tagging along. Chloe would want to go with her fiancé. A romantic vacation for two.

  There was nobody for Muriel. She was all alone in a couples’ world.

  West! She’d walk west. The same direction Kevin insisted on. Muriel should have agreed to his plan. She looked behind her. The sun was struggling to reach its zenith above the trees. Kevin was right: she should have paid more attention when she was driving. Who in their right mind chose a deserted road just because they were afraid to merge?

  Muriel reached out farther with each leg, purposefully increasing the length of her stride. She tossed her purse from her left hand to her right. It was all about coordination. Today she felt young and competent. Today she’d have no problem merging. Today she wouldn’t hesitate to get on that highway. Why, she might even speed along at forty miles an hour.

  She tossed her purse back to her left hand and missed the handle by inches. Oh, my. She had never been good at catching things with her left hand. Her purse rolled down the grassy incline, its clasp opening, its contents scattering over several square yards of closely mowed grass. The clasp was never one hundred percent trustworthy. No wonder the purse had been on the clearance rack.

  She started down the incline, steadying herself with one hand. Just as she reached the bottom, the roar of a truck’s engine sounded. And the barking of a dog.

  Vernon.

  Muriel pressed her body close to the bottom of the incline. The slope on this side of the road was steeper than where she and Kevin pushed the car yesterday. There was also a bit of an overhang formed by the partially exposed roots of a large tree. Maybe the driver wouldn’t be able to see her from the road.

  She moved her head an inch. A flash of light shone a few feet away in the grass. The sun was reflecting off something, creating a sparkling beacon. She adjusted the glasses on her nose. It was Natalie’s hand mirror, lying reflective side up in the grass, far from the gape-mouthed purse it was in just seconds ago. Each time she looked at the mirror, it reminded her of the happier times they’d shared. The days when she thought they would always be best friends. The days when she had been the sun to Natalie’s planet.

  It was hard to believe those days had ever existed. Whenever Muriel felt alone, she’d take the mirror out of her purse and turn it over and over until the memories played again in her mind, as vivid and real as high definition TV. Muriel could not live without that mirror.

  If only she hadn’t been swinging her purse. If only she hadn’t tried to catch something with her left hand. If only the clasp had held. If only God had not allowed all this to happen. He was supposed to be watching over her.

  But, of course, if she had actually caught the purse, she would still be up on the road and quite visible to Vernon.

  The truck drove by, leaving a dark cloud of exhaust wafting down the hill.

  Just as she breathed a sigh of relief, the roar of a truck’s engine came again. From the other direction this time. A dog barked. It might not be the same truck. But two different trucks in just minutes on this deserted road? And two di
fferent trucks with a dog? The more variables there were, the lower the probability.

  Vernon. Oh, dear God, not Vernon.

  Muriel wasn’t so afraid of the truck when it went past the first time. Vernon might have a dozen perfectly good reasons to make a trip in his truck. Groceries. Dog food. Gasoline for his lawnmower. But the truck turning around and coming back so soon terrified her. He had looked for her in the field, as he’d threatened, and now he was searching for her on the road. It was all so logical.

  God, do you remember me? Muriel. The Mrs. Smith who just wanted her lawn mowed? The one who lives at 521 East Chestnut Street? Because, this time, I want to make sure You don’t get me confused with somebody else. Anyway, I sure could use Your help again.

  No thunder sounded in the distance. No lightning flashed. Only the beep, beep, beep of a truck backing up. And the creak of a door opening. And the slam of it being closed. And the bark, once again, of a dog.

  “Shush, Laddie. Sit. Stay. I’ll just have me a look around.”

  Muriel pulled her body even closer to the slope of the incline, tightening her girth, willing herself invisible.

  The footsteps on the road stopped directly above.

  She held her breath.

  “Well, looks like she’s been around here, Laddie. I can see women’s things strewn in the field. Looks like she dropped them walking over to those woods on the other side. Funny she didn’t stop to pick ’em up. It’s almost like she were leaving a trail for me to follow. She’s a feisty one, she is. Maybe I should climb down and take a look-see.”

  Oh, God. Don’t let him climb down. Not now. Not while I’m all alone.

  Whistling rang through the air. The tune was a happy one, reminiscent of sunny country mornings and roads without end.

  If only the whistler could distract Vernon. Ask for a ride perhaps. Specify some destination it would take a long time to reach and a longer time to return. Such a long time coming and going that Muriel would be able to pick up her scattered belongings, push them helter-skelter into her purse, and head down the road again until she found someone who could finally help her.

  “So, how ya doin’?” Vernon asked.

  Moving only her eyes, Muriel glanced above the exposed tree roots to the lip of the road that hid her. There was no face peering down. The question was meant for the whistler. She breathed a sigh of relief and willed her heart to stop fluttering.

  “Fine. Just fine. Just had to get me some gas.”

  Kevin? Oh, thank God.

  “Looks like a mighty heavy container you got there,” Vernon said.

  “It is. But I’m not going much farther.”

  “You live around here?”

  “Nope.”

  “Didn’t think so. I’d recognize an ugly mug like yours. So what you doin’ on my road?”

  “My car ran out of gas. That’s all. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get a move on.”

  There was a prolonged silence. “What if I do mind?”

  Silence again, this time even more prolonged. “Don’t know why you would mind, mister. I’m just looking to fill up my gas tank. It has nothing to do with you.”

  “You here with some old lady?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “That has something to do with me. Seems like the two of you were using my field without my say-so. I don’t care for strangers using my property without permission. And without offering to pay? That’s close to stealing in my book.”

  “I’m not a thief, mister. We didn’t see anyone to ask about the field. If we had, we would have gotten permission for sure. It was late when we stopped. We didn’t choose your field on purpose. It’s just where we happened to run out of gas.”

  “Deer hunters ask to use my field,” Vernon continued as if he hadn’t even been listening. “I tell them it will cost ’em. Snowmobilers ask to use my field. I tell them it will cost ’em. Times are tough. I can’t just give my property rights away. Wouldn’t make any sense now, would it? Heck, it’d be like owning an apartment building and letting just any loser squat there month after month without paying one dime in rent.”

  Muriel could hear feet scuffling on the hard road surface.

  “Just let me by, mister. I’d pay you if I could. But I don’t have any money. I used the last of it on this here gas.”

  “You still owe me for the use of my field.”

  “I told you. I don’t have any money. I spent it all.”

  “You left a lot of junk in my field. Piles of it behind your car. It’s not my job to clean it up.”

  “You’re right, mister. I’m sorry about the mess. As soon as I get back to the car, I’ll put this gas in the tank and we’ll be gone. We’ll pick everything up first. Leave the field just like we found it. Neat and clean. I promise.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d like me to let you off scot free.”

  A plunk sounded as metal met asphalt. Kevin must have put down the can of gas.

  “Look. See? My pockets are empty. I told you. I spent all the money I had on gas.”

  “Not one red cent to your name?”

  “Not one red cent. Honest.”

  There was another pause before Vernon spoke again. “You got one thing I’d like.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Your grandma’s a mighty fine lookin’ woman. Substantial. Just the way I like ’em. How about you stay in my field tonight? Free of charge. Your grandma can stay in my comfortable little house. Old lady like that, she shouldn’t be sleeping on the hard ground. Bet she’d like a nice soft mattress. And a fluffy pillow. ’Specially for a second night on the road. We could call it even.”

  Muriel’s breath whooshed in, a sudden and unpremeditated inhalation. Would Kevin take Vernon up on his offer? There was no way she was going back to that field. But walking along the road wouldn’t be much safer. She wouldn’t be able to take cover every time she heard a truck. There might not even be that much cover available. She was lucky her purse fell near exposed tree roots.

  Would Kevin protect her? They’d known each other less than twenty-four hours. Kidnapper and kidnapped. He had no reason to think about anybody but himself. Still, he was talking to Vernon as if she really was his grandmother.

  Kevin could sleep in the field, and Muriel could sleep in the house. It seemed somehow age related when Vernon suggested it. Shades of old-fashioned chivalry. As if Vernon were a knight of the round table showing due respect to a damsel in distress. But Muriel knew very well what he meant. Kevin might not even understand what Vernon was talking about.

  She had caught glimpses of some of the modern sitcoms when she was channel surfing. Sex seemed as casual on them as a game of gin rummy. Had Kevin seen such programs, too? If so, he’d know what Vernon was talking about. And yet she found herself just as sincerely hoping that he was too innocent.

  “I don’t think so, mister. My grandma and me, we need to stay together,” Kevin finally spoke.

  “What’s the matter? A big strong fellow like you afraid of spending the night all alone in the big, bad field? Goblin might get you?” Vernon guffawed.

  “No, sir. That’s not it.”

  “What is it then?”

  Kevin paused. When he spoke, his voice was just above a whisper. “She wouldn’t want me to tell you this.”

  “She’ll never know.”

  Kevin paused again. “The thing is…you see…I have to help her take her medicine.”

  Muriel hadn’t said anything to Kevin about medicine. She took one pill every night to control her cholesterol. What in the world was he talking about? Oh. Kevin did understand what Vernon was talking about. And this was his way of getting out of the situation with a little dignity on both sides.

  “What medicine?” Vernon asked.

  “Insulin. She’s a diabetic. I have to give her shots. She can’t do it herself. You should see her behind. It looks like a black and blue pincushion.”

  Muriel hadn’t had a shot since the beginning of
flu season last fall. And that was in her upper arm. Goodness, Kevin was a fast thinker. And a talented liar. She could almost feel the needle pricks in her own bottom as he described them.

  “Really?” Vernon seemed hesitant.

  “Really,” Kevin said. “But she doesn’t like me to talk about it. It’s kind of embarrassing, I guess. But believe me, it’s not a pretty sight. Not even when you’re used to it. I can see why her husband left her. The police force almost demoted him for that. Yep. He’s lucky they didn’t take away his collection of guns. Especially the semi-automatic ones. He’s such a good marksman. Too bad he has such a bad temper. He’s a real jealous type, too. You wouldn’t want to mess with him.”

  Police force? Howard? Muriel’s eyes crinkled up at the thought. Howard never even liked to watch police dramas with her on TV. Too much violence.

  “Guns?” Vernon cleared his throat.

  “Oh, yeah. Lots of guns. My grandpa still loves my poor gram. But she’s got too many medical problems. It’s hard for him to deal with them what with his anger issues and all.”

  “Too many medical problems?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Not just diabetes?”

  “Heck, no. Hives, too. The doctors are still trying to figure that one out.”

  “Didn’t see no hives,” Vernon said. “Maybe you’re just making all this up.”

  “No, mister. Honest. You wouldn’t see them. She always keeps her chest all covered up. I only know about them because I have to put ointment on them sometimes. They’re big, red, ugly things. Kind of rough and scaly. They look like lizard skin. And she scratches them so hard they turn black and blue. I’ll tell you the truth. It gives me the creeps. But don’t tell her I said so. It would hurt her feelings.”

  Another long silence.

  Muriel held her breath.

  “Well….you know…I don’t begrudge you two the use of my field for one more night. Seeing as the old lady’s so sick and all. But you be gone by morning, you hear? The both of you.”