by James Ross
“All we need is J Dub and Julie and Curt and it will feel like old home week,” Pork Chop added.
“Now da bucket on da dozer be actin’ up,” Tuey drawled. “I’s figga’d dat’s I’s would git me some breakfast an’ let tings calm down uh li’l.”
Neal placed the newspaper on the counter and raised both palms to the ceiling as he got Norma’s attention. Without letting the others see he rolled his eyes and tilted his head back as if to look to the gods for help.
“What job are you workin’ on?” Norma asked, fully expecting to hear the answer that she already knew.
“I’s uh runnin’ da sewer line through da golf course,” Tuey answered. The stinky camouflage suit and bright lime green skull cap took attention off of his bandage.
“You didn’t get your hand caught in anything, did you?” Norma pried as she noticed the wrap on Tuey’s index finger.
“Nah,” Tuey said. “It was uh fishin’ accident.”
“Fishin’?” Norma asked incredulously.
“Yeah, it’s been freezing out,” Pork Chop butted in.
“De-bonin’,” Tuey replied. “I’s cuts myself.” He was fidgeting with the silverware and spittle gathered at the corners of his mouth.
As distraught as Neal had become at the delays, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the rapport between the two heavy-set fellows, the cook, and the contractor. “See what happens when you assume,” he said.
“What?” Norma asked.
“You ask a simple question and you get a simple answer,” Neal butted in. Norma put down her spatula, wiped her hands on her apron, and placed them on her hips. Tuey’s effervescent attitude, in spite of the bad luck, had rubbed off on Neal. He addressed Norma again. “You thought that he hurt himself fishing in this cold weather . . . and all he did was cut his finger filleting fish.”
Tuey smiled at the reasoning that ran up and down the counter. “An’ dem carp be soooooo good when dey git de-boned. Ummmmm, mmmmmm, mmmmm.”
Neal laughed at the suggestion as much as he did at Tuey. He was joined by Norma and Fred and Pork Chop. “Did you ever meet your boss?” Norma turned to the Tuey and asked.
A confused look covered Tuey’s face. “I’s don’ts has no boss. I’s works fo’ my’s self.”
“That man down there is the one payin’ you,” Norma volunteered.
Tuey looked at Neal and smiled from ear to ear. “He is? J Dub tole me dat da banka wuz uh payin’ me.”
“Are you the one putting in the subdivision?” Fred asked as he turned and yelled to the other end of the counter.
Humbly, Neal nodded his head. “It’s my land. I’ve got some partners.”
“Is dat banka frien’ uh yo’s one uh da partna’s?” Neal stirred his coffee and nodded his head. Tuey cocked his head. His lips flew open as he stared at Neal. “Dat guy can be’s tough I’s hear.”
Neal turned to Norma. “I guess the word is out.” He laughed. “He can be tough on all of us I suppose.”
“It’s the price you gotta pay for the big bucks,” Norma said with a smile as she refilled Neal’s cup.
“Tank ya fo’ bein’ so undastandin’ uh aw uh my problems,” Tuey said as he got up to shake Neal’s hand. The contagious smile made Neal overlook the stench coming from the insulated suit. “I’s sho’ do appreciates da work dat you be givin’ ta me an’ my’s family.”
Up until that time Neal had only been hearing one side of the story . . . that being from Harold Syms. The contractor seemed personable enough and sincere. Neal looked squarely into Tuey’s eyes. He noticed and acknowledged the good intentions. “Glad to finally meet you.” He paused before releasing his grip. “Good things take time. Keep up the good work.” Neal shook Tuey’s hand and turned to Norma. “Breakfast is on me.” It looked like the holiday spirit spread through the diner after all.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
The sirens had long ceased. After being rushed to Spilker General Hospital, Curt laid flat on his back with a bandage wrapped around his head. He had gone down running laps around the irrigation lake only ten days before Christmas Day. J Dub sent Pork Chop out to check on his brother only to find that Curt had pushed himself too hard, stumbled, and struck his head on the asphalt cart path. It looked like any plans that he had for the holiday were going to be changed.
“What happened to you?” Tina Ventimiglia asked as Curt opened his eyes. Her teenage son Justin and his friend, Keith, had worked on the golf course all summer as Curt recovered from colon cancer.
“It was warm out. I was feeling good. So I opened things up a little. I guess I was running too hard,” Curt mumbled as he raised his hand to give Justin a high-five.
“You just got over cancer,” Tina said as she chastised him. “You need to ease into things.”
“That wouldn’t be his style Mom,” Justin said as he rushed to defend his good friend who had looked after him since he was a tot.
“Yeah, he always told us to go hard to the finish line,” Keith reminded Justin’s mom. He came over to shake Curt’s hand.
Curt smiled. “Hey, you remembered,” he said as Keith made sure that his grip was strong. “How’s that collarbone doing?”
“I got the cast off six weeks ago. It’s as good as new,” Keith said.
“How about you?” Justin asked. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah, the doctor said that I need to stay over for observation for a couple more days. Other than a knot on my head, I feel fine,” Curt said.
“Are you still going to be able to shoot fireworks for us on New Years’ Eve?” Justin asked.
“I don’t think we better do that right now. Plus it might be too cold. Let’s wait a few months and shoot them when it’s warmer. We’ll go somewhere out on the course,” Curt replied.
Tina always worried about her son. “That’s a good idea. You know how I hate those firecrackers. Maybe sparklers are okay . . . or Roman candles.”
“Aw, Mom, we don’t want to hold that stuff,” Justin complained. “Let us blow some things up.”
“Let’s give Curt some time to mend,” Tina said as she moved toward the door. “He’s going to need a few more days at least.”
“I hope you start feeling better,” Justin said as he stepped forward and gave his mentor a hug.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine . . . and maybe not so clumsy next time,” Curt said as the trio headed out the door.
A few minutes later J Dub and Julie stopped in for a visit with Ginny Slater. “All the guys are asking about you,” J Dub started. He tapped his knuckles against Curt’s fist. “Are you going to be alright?”
“I’m fine, but I’m sick of being in the hospital. Between cancer, chemotherapy, and now a head injury, I’ve spent way too much time in here this year,” Curt answered with a little disgust. “My biggest hurt right now is a bruised ego. It’s kind of stupid to stumble jogging.”
“Between you and Pork Chop being hurt, the guys can’t put a golf game together,” Julie chirped.
“Thank goodness it’s winter,” Curt followed. “We should be good to go by the spring.” He smiled at Ginny. “Now which one of you wants to be my guardian angel?”
“I think that you’ve had somebody looking over you this year,” Ginny said.
Curt shook his head. “I don’t know. It sure seems like a lot of close calls.” Then he thought about what he said. “But who knows, I met you.” He shifted himself, grimaced, and reached for the back of his neck.
“Is now a decent time to ask her?” J Dub asked his brother. It was obvious that they had been talking about some things behind the scenes.
“I didn’t really think that this would be the time or the place,” Curt said.
“Especially in front of Julie, but she’s like one of us anyway and knows what’s been going on,” J Dub added.
Ginny hadn’t spent too much time around the guys and felt a little awkward. “Do you want me to ask her now?” Curt asked his brother.
�
��You’re the one that has spent the most time with her,” J Dub admitted. “It’s probably more appropriate if you say something.”
“Ginny,” Curt began. “We’d like to know if you can do us a favor.”
“I will if I can.”
“Can you help us do some civil rights investigative work?” Ginny was bewildered. “I know that this isn’t the time or the place,” Curt apologized, “but one of the guys that’s doing some work for us . . . Tuey . . . is going through some rough times and he needs help.”
Ginny was tongue-tied. “I don’t even know how to respond. I could make a few phone calls, but I’m not sure how much interest I could garner.”
“We just thought you might have some contacts that could help us,” Curt said. You know, maybe some referrals or something. Kind of steer us in the right direction.”
“His lawyer has filed a civil suit and he wants to know if we can help him gather some momentum,” J Dub added. “It’s a racist, discrimination type of thing.”
Ginny considered the request and said, “Don’t count on anything. That’s out of my expertise. It’s an area of the government that I don’t know much about.”
“We kind of expected that answer,” Curt said. “We wanted to throw it out. We’ve got a guy on the job distracted by outside hassles. He’s having a tough time of things.”
“If you’re looking for an angel, then my advice is to decide whether or not you really want to get involved,” Ginny said. “That’s a hot button. It’s a federal thing, but,” she paused, “what’s the best way to say it . . . a real hornet’s nest.”
Curt looked at his influential friend and weighed what she had just said. “Kind of like walking down a dark tunnel that has no end?”
Ginny nodded her head. “You get the picture.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
For the most part the winter months had been mild. Temperatures had held above freezing with the exception of a few nights when they had dipped into the twenties. An eight-inch snow had blanketed the area in early December but a warm front followed and melted the snowpack in three days to make the golf course a soggy quagmire.
J Dub hopped on the John Deere and sloshed his way out to the creek to check on Tuey. The crew was up to their knees in mud as the water rushed downstream. “Do you have anything special going on for the holidays?” J Dub asked after he parked the vehicle and approached Tuey.
“It’s jus’ uh nudda day,” Tuey started. “LeVournique has gotsta work.”
“On Christmas Day?” J Dub asked impervious to that fact that employers would make employees work on the sacred holiday.
“Dose casinos . . . dey’s neva close down,” Tuey replied.
“I thought that I was the only one that would have to do that,” J Dub said.
“Even if it snows?” Tuey asked.
J Dub laughed. “No, not then. But you’d be surprised how many guys will show up if the weather stays warm.”
“Duz ya goes ta da church service?”
“Marcia and I will take the kids to the Christmas Eve production. That’s when they play the songs I like,” J Dub answered.
“Maybe dat’s what I’s will do at dat church dat D. Wayne got’s me goin’ to,” Tuey said.
“Do they have a Christmas Eve service there?”
“I’s guesses dat dey duz,” Tuey said. “I’s needs ta axt dat ta da Reverend Puld.”
“If they don’t offer a service then you’re welcome to join us,” J Dub offered wanting Tuey to feel welcome.
“Tanks fo’ dat offa dere J Dub, buts I’s jus’ stay wit’ my kind,” Tuey said as he politely declined. “I’s like dat new church dat D. Wayne got’s me goin’ to.”
“Whatever works,” J Dub said as he shrugged his shoulders. “Hop in. I want to show you something.”
“Where’s ya goin’ ta be takin’ me?” Tuey asked as he climbed into the passenger seat of the utility vehicle.
“We’re going to go over to the lake,” J Dub said as he pulled away from Asia and Fanbelt. The duo was toiling in the creek and intent on fitting a section of PVC pipe together. “I’ve got to do a few things that I’ve waited way too long to do this winter.”
As J Dub pulled the utility vehicle to a stop Tuey asked, “What’s you’s gonna be showin’ me?”
Off of the side of the dam wall an electric meter box was attached to the top of what appeared to be an old fence post. J Dub strolled to the wooden mount. He located a key on his chain, unlocked a secured fitting, and adjusted a setting. “That should do it.” The fountain that had been spraying water skyward stopped instantly. “I didn’t want it to freeze up.”
“Dat ice sho’ would make uh mess uh tings,” Tuey responded as J Dub continued down the dam wall with a crow bar in hand.
“Now I need to shut off the overflow valve,” J Dub said as he continued to the runoff pipe. “We need to keep this water in the lake until spring.”
“Is dat gonna take da wata out uh da crick?” Tuey asked.
J Dub nodded his head yes. “It should.”
Tuey reached up with his bandaged finger and scratched his hand across his skull cap. “Den why’s dint ya do dat when I’s startin’ workin’ on da crick?”
J Dub laughed. “We needed to keep the water in the creek. It was autumn around here.”
“But it sho’ woulda made my job uh lots cleana.”
J Dub made a face as if to acknowledge that what Tuey said was a good idea. “I never even thought of it.”
“Why’s dint ya say sumptin’ ’bout dat befo’ now?”
“We always just shut it down before the cold weather hit,” J Dub said as he answered a simple question with a simple answer.
“How’s much wata duz ya tink dat ya’ll take outta dat crick?”
“Pretty much all of it,” J Dub responded. “There’ll just be a trickle left unless we get a lot of rain.” He looked at Tuey. “And that will be doubtful at this time of year. Any moisture should be snow and then we’ll have a slow thaw.”
“Dey sho’ do have uh lot uh dem fancy gadgets jus’ ta git da wata ta spray in da air.”
“I showed you the easy thing,” J Dub went on to explain. “The system that we have around here can redistribute the water to all of the lakes.” He paused to think of a simple way to explain the watering operation that was on the golf course. “The computer pretty much runs the irrigation system now. It measures the water that is in the ground and determines where water has to be sprayed. All of the underground pipes run to all of the lakes so that we can control the water level in all of them. The main irrigation lake is our reservoir, but we use the smaller lakes as water storage units.” He stopped hoping that the conversation wasn’t going over Tuey’s head. “The golfers like the lakes so it serves a dual purpose. But anyway, the way it is set up is in a way where all of the lakes kind of talk to each other. They control their own water levels.”
“Dey’s talk ta each udda?” The concept was hard for Tuey to imagine.
“Yeah, in a sophisticated way,” J Dub answered. “It’s really the computer controlling the whole watering system.”
Tuey scratched his head. “Well den I’s sho’ wished dat you’s woulda takin’ dat wata out uh da crick.” The two turned and headed back to the utility vehicle. “Now it’s my turn ta show you’s sumptin’.”
J Dub angled up the incline and climbed into the driver’s seat of the John Deere. “What?”
Tuey pointed into the woods on the other side of the golf course. “Dis same crick goes aw uh da ways ova dere, don’t it?” J Dub nodded his head. “Den let’s go. Dat’s where it is.”
“Where what is?” J Dub asked.
“What I’s wants ta shows ta ya.”
J Dub turned the ignition key, fired up the engine, and pulled off toward the woods. “Lead the way.”
After traversing the hills, crossing a couple of bridges, and circling around some wet spots, J Dub neared the trees. “Right ova dere,” Tuey said as he
pointed to a spot around a bend in the creek. “Dat’s where I’s wants ta take ya.”
J Dub stopped the utility vehicle on the bank of the creek.
“Duz ya knows what’s in dere?” Tuey asked.
J Dub chuckled as he looked into the woods. “Some trees I suppose.”
“I’s knows dat!” Tuey said. “But duz ya knows what else is ins dere?”
Baffled, J Dub ventured, “Wild critters, I guess.”
Tuey scampered down the creek bank, ducked his head under several low hanging limbs, and made his way through the underbrush. “Follow me.” With J Dub at his heels Tuey trudged his way to the entrance of the cave. He stopped fifteen feet away. “My, oh my, dat wata’s aw uh ready gones down.” He found a few flat rocks that protruded out of the water and tiptoed toward the entrance of the cave. “Did ya knows ’bout dis?”
“About what?” J Dub asked. He was clearly confused as to what Tuey was up to.
“Dis here cave,” Tuey said as he peered into the opening.
“I never knew that it was there,” J Dub admitted.
Tuey looked at the water level and realized that he didn’t have to stoop and crawl into the passageway. “Now I’s don’t have ta crawl in dere.” He bent slightly at the waist, ducked his head, and took a step into the darkness.
“Where are you going?” J Dub asked. He wasn’t about to follow Tuey into the cave.
“Ta see some uh my frien’s,” Tuey answered. “Come on an’ ya can meet dem.”
Friends? What’s he talking about? “No, that’s okay. Some other time maybe,” J Dub said as he zipped up the front of his jacket. “Let’s get on back.” Disinterested, he turned and made a step back toward the fairway.
“I’s came back an’ ’pologized to dem. Den dey’s tole me dat’s I’s could come back if I’s dint bring dat glitta.”
“What the heck are you talking about, Tuey? Come on, let’s go.”
His feelings bruised, Tuey backed out of the entrance to the cave. “Ya don’t wants ta meet Bandit an’ Deputy Matt an’ Nose Twitch an’ . . .”
