“There won’t be any scenes here today. Donny-boy. I think it’s time for you to go home. And I think whatever is left of that case, you’ll do just fine leaving it behind.”
“That won’t be happening, Doc,” Donny sneered. “I might agree to go home, but I paid for that beer; it’s mine.”
Edith turned sharply, suddenly fed up with her son’s boorish behavior.
“Excuse me, Donny. Who paid for that beer?” She kept her voice low, but she could feel a flush begin to creep up her chest. She was embarrassed by him today in a way she hadn’t been in a long time.
“I did, Ma.” His voice caught a little, but he turned his scathing stare on her, challenging her to contradict him publicly.
Usually, she just backed off, but this time, today, when almost everyone in the park had come together like a big family reunion, she was angry. Angry that her son would be that family member that everyone snickered about, the person everyone rolled their eyes over, the one people expected to screw up. Donny was a big boy. Why was he still expecting her to fix his mistakes?
“You did? With what money? The stuff you stole from my candy dish?” She waved a hand at the flowers on the table, perky and pretty and festive. “And the flowers? The champagne? Did I pay for that, too?” She tried to keep her voice down, but her eyes began to smart and she turned away. She would not cry.
“It’s time, buddy. Up you go.” Doc leaned forward to put a hand on Donny’s shoulder, but the younger man shrugged away from him, shoved his chair back, and sauntered away, his head high. Without missing a beat, Doc dropped into the chair Donny vacated and winked at Edith, then pointed at the desserts she still held. “You going to eat that?”
She smiled tremulously, handed one to him, and whispered “Thank you.”
“Everything all right at home?” She loved the way Doc dealt head-on with things without making a big to-do about it. The crowd had quieted around the exchange between him and her son, but the conversations were picking up quickly, and from appearances, no one would guess that he was asking her a very serious question.
“I think so. I don’t expect him to ransack the house or anything. And I have my car keys in my purse right here.” With her heel, she tapped her bag beneath her seat. “He just needs to sleep it off. I suppose he had too much to drink.”
Doc snorted. “Yep. I suppose you’re right.”
Edith glanced up to see Eddie and Shelly crossing the little bridge from the front of the property—they must have crossed paths with Donny, but Eddie didn’t look upset. They made a lazy beeline to her side, though, and Eddie brought a chair around for Shelly, and one for himself, too.
“I just ran into Donny,” Eddie stated, matter-of-factly. “He’s going to get some rest. I’ll walk you home tonight, Mom. Make sure he’s feeling better.”
“I’ll walk Edith home,” Doc stated, winking at Shelly. “You make sure Ms. Little gets home in one piece, Eddie.” Edith smiled when she thought she saw Eddie’s face flush a little.
She liked the girl from Space #8. She remembered Shelly’s father, but not her mother. He was a hard man, always scowling. Edith often greeted folks as they came to the row of mailboxes that lined the edge of her lot, but Mr. Little only responded with a grunt, if at all. It made her feel like he thought she was spying on him rather than simply being neighborly. It got to the point where she would go inside if she saw him coming. She seldom saw Shelly at all during the years her father was alive, and when she did, she looked like his limp shadow, head down, hair falling forward around her features, never quite beside him, never quite falling behind. Since the man passed away, Shelly had become even more invisible; Edith remembered Eddie explaining that the girl worked nights and slept during the day. Kathy called her the Cat Lady, but then, everyone else called Kathy the Dog Lady.
So for Shelly to be so lovely, soft-spoken, and pleasant was a complete surprise to Edith. Granted, she could tell the girl worked hard to behave that way, but it was clear she wanted to fit in, to get to know the others in her neighborhood, and she was doing a good job of it.
As though in response to the thoughts in Edith’s head, Shelly swallowed the last bite of her cake and sighed deeply. “I don’t think I’ve been to a cookout since I was a little girl,” she said. “But since changing my work schedule to days, everything is different.” She blushed a little when she glanced in Eddie’s direction, and Edith sent up a little prayer that her big boy might open his eyes and see the potential in this girl. He needed someone in his life, and Shelly seemed like a perfect fit.
Doc grinned at the girl. “I’ll say. You look like a million bucks, little lady. If I’d run into you on the streets, I wouldn’t have recognized you from the little mouse I knew at the beginning of the year.”
Shelly giggled. “If you’d run into me on the streets, there may not be much of me left to recognize.” Then she grimaced, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. “Oh dear. That was a morbid thought, wasn’t it?”
But the men laughed, and Edith could tell they were enjoying watching Shelly blossom in their company.
Chapter 7
Donny had fallen asleep, crashed on the couch, the television blaring ESPN highlights. When he awoke, the sun was just starting to fade away, and he was hot, sweaty, and absolutely parched. At the back of the vegetable drawer in the fridge, he found just what he needed; Sheena’s peppermint Schnapps. She loved this stuff and he always kept a bottle chilled on the off-chance she might show up and want to talk. Any conversation that started with Schnapps always ended well for him.
Today, however, with his beer still over at Willow’s, and Sheena still not answering her phone, and nothing to drink in the fridge but milk and prune juice, he’d just have to make do with what he had. Making his way out to the front porch, bottle in one hand, a bag of potato chips in the other, he dropped into a flimsy beach lounger, turning it so he was facing the back of the Coach House property where they’d be setting off the fireworks. The row of trees that grew along the stream blocked his view to the party still going on just the other side, but through the break in the brush where the bridge crossed over the water, he had a good shot out toward the field. He’d be able to see the majority of it without having to play nice with the others. Besides, he could hear the rise and fall of conversation interspersed with laughter, and a few hoots and hollers over something said or done. The distinctive sound of Willow’s laugh, especially, made him momentarily glad he was way over here. If he was going to take her on, he’d have to figure out a way to knock that thing down a notch or two.
As the first of the bottle rockets shot into the air, Donny felt a keen desire to join the boys in their play, but he knew he wasn’t welcome, and it made him angry. Who could fault him for staring at that redheaded hottie? Everything about her drew a man’s eyes. Had he really been so out of line? He’d seen the way Eddie stared at her. Hey; he’d seen Doc ogling her, too. Even Ivan, with his leanings, seemed drawn to her side repeatedly throughout the afternoon. So what was wrong with him showing his appreciation for her, too?
Willow didn’t seem to mind; in fact, she’d been pretty adamant about him being there for her party, come to think of it. Sure, she’d pulled the coy act, but he’d caught on to her when he saw how she kept peeking at him from the corner of her eye, sending him those ‘come hither’ smiles. And when he showed up with the flowers? Oh yeah; that was definitely more than gratitude in her eyes. And she made sure everyone knew it by announcing his gift to the whole crowd. When he was sensitive enough to put the beer in her fridge instead of the cooler, she’d been very, very grateful, and her throaty “thank you” sent a chill of anticipation rippling over his skin, even now.
He took a long swig off the cold bottle in his hand, then pressed the curve of it to his neck, his cheek. Just thinking about her had him working up a sweat.
Not long after the fireworks—amateur, but admittedly fun to watch—Doc, Al, and Ma made their way across the bridge, still jabbering away. Th
ey didn’t notice him sitting there in the dark until they were at the steps.
“Donny-boy.”
What a jerk. Doc knew he hated to be called that. One of these days, when Doc wasn’t looking, Donny might just alter his whiskey. Nothing serious, but he would get a kick out of knowing why the old soldier-boy kept making a beeline to the bathroom.
“Ma.” He wouldn’t even acknowledge the two men flanking her.
“Hi, Honey. Sorry you missed the fireworks.” She didn’t sound like she was too sorry about it.
“Didn’t miss them. I sat right here and watched them.”
“Good. I’m glad.” Why was she just standing there at the bottom of the steps?
“I see you didn’t miss your beer, either,” Doc drawled, pointing at the bottle in Donny’s hand.
Donny held it up, brandishing it like a trophy. “You mean, because I have this?” In the light of the lamppost on the driveway, Donny was a little surprised to see the once-full bottle was nearly half-gone.
“Yep. Think it’s time to put a lid on that one, too.”
“Back off, Doc. This is my house and you’re standing on my property. Maybe you should go on home, now.” He spoke slowly, but even he heard the slur in his words.
Suddenly, Ma was marching up the steps to her front porch, her finger out, pointing at him. “This is not your house, Donny Banks, and this is not your property. This is my house, and my property, and these are my friends, and I don’t want you talking that way to them.”
Her head, backlit from the streetlight, glowed like she wore a halo of light, but her plump stature denied her efforts to be some kind of an angel of wrath. A gurgling laugh slipped out of him, and the minute it did, he knew he shouldn’t have let it.
“Give me your keys, Donny.” Ma held out her hand.
“I don’t have them. They’re in the house on the coffee table.” What was she going to do? Lock him inside for the night?
“Perfect.” Edith turned to face the two men still waiting at the steps. “Gentlemen, thank you for bringing me home. I’m going inside now. Donny, on the other hand, is going to have sleep this off out here. I’m letting you know, just in case I need to call one of you or Eddie to report a break-in.” And with that, Ma spun on her heels, walked inside, and locked the door behind her.
Stunned, Donny stared at the door, waiting for it to open again, for her to tell him she was just trying to teach him a lesson, but it stayed closed. The porch light suddenly flickered on, blinding him so he had to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment.
Doc waited until Donny was looking at him. “I didn’t have any trouble understanding what your mom said, did you?” Without waiting for a response, he turned to Al. “Did you understand Edith, Al?”
“Sure did. Looks like Donny’s sleeping out here on the front porch tonight.” Al, not one for confrontation, but one who tried to stand behind the right side, nodded at the end of his statement, adding a visual punctuation mark to his words.
“Yep. That’s what I heard. How about you, Donny-boy?”
“I heard her.” Besides, he really wasn’t sleepy. His three-hour nap had given him a second wind, and he was just starting to cool off in the night air. It wouldn’t get below 68 degrees tonight, so he wasn’t worried about being too cold.
“Good. Just making sure we’re all clear on this.” Then Doc and Al, as one unit, turned and walked away.
Donny glared after them, wishing for a pellet gun so he could pop them both in the backs of their heads. That would teach them to mind their own business.
An hour later, the park was quiet. The last of the party-goers had gone home, and he saw Willow’s patio lights wink off between the trees. Eddie had strolled by and waved, apparently not surprised to see Donny sprawled in the lounger. Ma must have called him to let him know what was going on.
Feeling restless now, the bottle of Schnapps nearly empty, he decided to take a walk. He stumbled down the steps, and turned to walk along the front of the main building. It was a huge old monstrosity, most of it just storage or empty space, but the two apartments housed the couple who both worked at the post office—he still couldn’t remember their names—upstairs, and the beautician who lived on the ground floor apartment. She had an enclosed patio right on the stream, and he knew, because he’d made it his business to know, that she had quite a green thumb, too. He hadn’t seen her at the party today, but she had a boyfriend, and he’d heard her folks lived close by. She was several years older than he, probably mid-fifties, and he didn’t go for old ladies, but in her younger years, she must have been something else. She still wore big hair, shiny lip gloss, and he was pretty sure her eyelashes, and perhaps a few other body parts, were fake. Nothing wrong with that.
The big house was quiet, dark, and the shadows that loitered under the expansive overhang where stagecoaches and horse-drawn buggies—and later cars—pulled under to unload for the evening, seemed to shift and whisper menacingly. Donny picked up his pace, his feet making too much noise on the gravel. He moved to the opposite side of the driveway where weeds turned to grass, and ambled along.
Myra’s place was dimly lit by a lamp in her front window. There were no lights at Eddie’s trailer, and Donny was glad for the lampposts along the drive that gave him some illumination. He’d stumbled along this way many times before, but tonight, the silent shadows bugged him. Following the curve of the driveway past Eddie’s, Donny crossed the bridge at that end of the park, pausing to listen to the water, seasonably low, as it gurgled along below him.
He was surprised to see Shelly’s house all lit up, and from his vantage point on the bridge, Donny could see through her half-open blinds. Eddie sat across from Shelly at the round table in her kitchen, a glass of milk in front of each of them, and a plate of cookies between them. They were talking animatedly, and the stupid grin on Eddie’s face told Donny that his big brother was enjoying himself immensely.
He couldn’t stand to look a minute longer. Keeping his footsteps as light as possible, he made his way past Space #8, turning the bend toward Joe’s. Joe’s car was gone, so he must have gone home with his wife. That was a strange set-up, her living in Los Angeles with her kids, him all the way out here. “Whatever floats your boat,” Donny muttered.
The Davis’ always left their porch light on, but the house was quiet, and Ivan’s truck was parked in the driveway behind his folks’ car. Maybe he was moving back home.
Even Kathy’s place was quiet tonight. The afternoon’s activities must have worn her out. He’d been hoping she was still awake. She may not be very smart, but she was always good for a smoke and some meaningless conversation.
Then he was at Willow’s Elderberry Croft. Stupid name, but he had to admit, it suited her. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine her standing in front of him, but he started to lose his balance and stumbled a little.
“Note to self. Don’t close your eyes,” he said, then chuckled at his own humor.
Making his way to the laundry shed, he dropped down on the step and took another drag off the bottle. He had to squint now to make the front steps leading up to Willow’s patio come into focus, and he was staring intently at them when her kitchen light flipped on. The curtains were drawn, but he could see her silhouette moving around the place.
Ms. Willow Goodhope and he appeared to be the only ones awake on this end of the park. He couldn’t sleep. She apparently couldn’t sleep, either. Maybe they could not sleep together.
He pushed himself up, waited for the ground to steady beneath his feet, and made his way slowly toward her patio. The light flipped off, and another, softer one came on, from somewhere else in the place. He liked soft lighting just as much as the next guy.
At the front door, he pondered momentarily whether he should knock, call her name, or just go on in. The door was locked, he discovered, so he raised his fist and banged on her door so hard it even startled him.
Nothing but silence answered him. He knocked again, a little firmer this t
ime. Maybe she was in the bathroom, and didn’t hear him. “Willow?” he called out. He backed up until he stood in front of the kitchen window and called through the screen. “I know you’re in there. It’s me, Donny.” Maybe she knew some other Donny. “Your neighbor.”
Silence. Now he was getting mad. He hadn’t come all this way in the middle of the night to have her ignore him. He knocked again, then leaned his forehead against the door to make it stop moving. “Willowillowillowillow,” he murmured, her name rippling off his tongue in one long word. It sounded to his ears like the water flowing under the bridge, soothing, mysterious. “It’s just me, Willow. Let me in.”
“Go away, Donny.” Her voice, directly on the other side of the door, startled him, not just because she was so close, but because she spoke firmly, loudly, pulling him up short in the middle of his seduction. Then the porch light switched on, just like it had at Ma’s, blinding him. He covered his eyes and tried again.
“Come on. Ma’s making me sleep on the porch tonight, and I don’t wanna be alone. You’re awake. I’m awake. We can—” His words were cut off by the weight of a thick hand on his shoulder, and then he was spinning, falling, his jaw on fire. Somewhere, he heard the sound of breaking glass, and he wondered how much of the Schnapps had just been wasted on the stone patio.
Chapter 8
“Are you all right, Willow? It’s me, Eddie.”
Eddie. Eddie hit him! Donny lay on the ground, his head throbbing. He cracked it pretty hard when he landed, but not enough to knock him out, thanks to the alcohol in his system keeping him loose-limbed.
But when he tried to sit up, he thought he might be sick, so he lay back again, keeping his eyes open, and focused on the bulk of his big brother standing in the doorway of Willow’s place, talking quietly with her. She’d opened the door to him, the little player.
“Hey!” Another male voice, and footsteps. Donny turned his head slowly to see Doc clomping across the bridge toward him. He snickered at the picture Doc made, walking on his side like that.
Elderberry Croft: The Complete Collection Page 21
