by Tamara Bundy
So now I was in a pickle and I had no idea what to do. What if Miss Millie opened the door and let the beast out because I’d started making him bark like crazy?
I sure didn’t want to risk getting attacked by whatever was making that noise.
But if I stayed by the fence and she came out wondering who was whistling and upsetting her dog, she’d think I was rude for demanding an old lady come all the way to meet me at the fence just so I could apologize.
Worse than that, Mama would know I was rude.
So I took a deep breath, looked around one last time (hoping it wasn’t my honest-to-goodness last time I’d look somewhere) and I climbed that fence.
As I got closer and closer, the barking got crazier and crazier. I had to force my feet to keep moving . . . right foot . . . left foot . . . right foot . . . left . . .
When I was halfway to Miss Millie’s back door, the beast managed to push open the screen and came bounding out in a brown blur.
I glanced back at the fence and knew I was too far away to make a run for it. Instead, I jumped up on top of the picnic table. I shut my eyes tight and on pure instinct, covered my face with my hands, maybe thinking if I didn’t see how horrible the beast was before it used me as a chew toy, it wouldn’t hurt as much.
I stood there ready to meet my Maker, hands covering my face for another minute before I realized the barking beast wasn’t getting any closer.
I spread the fingers on my right hand far enough apart to allow me to get a look.
That’s when I saw the beast . . . who wasn’t such a beast after all.
Seems the only thing scary about that critter was his bark. The rest of him was just plain pathetic.
Not even coming up to my knees, this loud little guy was running in a circle as if he was angry at his own tail. His short tan fur was no more than a blur to me, but I could tell he wasn’t going to hurt me.
I let out a chuckle, which made him stop chasing his tail and stand still, snorting, like he was tracking down where the laugh at his expense came from.
I’d always heard dogs start looking like their owners after a while, and I was thinking that was true—that dog had about as many wrinkles as Miss Millie.
His face looked kind of smashed in though, like he was once chasing something and ran into it, face-first. He was mostly dirty white in color, but he had patches of tan, like God couldn’t decide what color to make him. And right over his left eye was a splotch of tan placed so it looked exactly like an eye patch.
Just when I was sizing up this wrinkled, pirate-lookin’ mutt, Miss Millie opened her back door and hollered, “Clarence! What you raisin’ Cain for out here?” Then she squinted in my direction. “You again? Land’s sake! Am I running a playground in my backyard?”
“Sorry . . . I . . . uh . . . I . . .” When I started to speak . . . or more correct, when I started to stutter, the dog . . . who I now realized was Clarence, started in with his barking, making it impossible for Miss Millie to hear me if I ever did get real words to come out of my mouth.
“Clarence! Come here. It’s okay, boy. Come here . . . come here.” She walked over to the dog and picked him up and held him like a baby in her arms. I couldn’t hear what she was saying to him, but it calmed him down.
I didn’t know what to do, so I did nothing. I just stood there on top of the picnic table like I was auditioning to be a vase of flowers.
Then Miss Millie walked over to me. When she was close enough, I could hear a low grumble of a growl coming from Clarence, just like he was letting me know he wasn’t quite the baby he appeared.
“So, Loretta’s grandbaby, do ya have a name?”
“Yes, ma’am. I do.”
She snorted at my answer. “Well, do I have to guess what it is, or might ya kindly tell me what it is—’specially if ya gonna be standin’ on my table much longer.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry . . . I was comin’ to apologize . . . but the dog . . . I was scared . . . and . . . my name’s Alice.”
She looked at me like some people look at Eddie for driving his plate around. And then she started making a noise like she had a leak in her and air was coming out too fast. This air-leak sound soon gave way to an out-and-out belly laugh. A minute later, the belly laugh gave way to a coughing fit. Through the fit, Clarence just lay in her arms like she wasn’t coughing but like she was singing him a lullaby.
Finally, I managed to say, “You okay?”
Miss Millie nodded while coughing like it was a speech she was used to giving, before finally stopping and continuing right on with our conversation. “Well, Alice-girl, my name’s Millie, but ya probably knew that, didn’t ya?”
“Yes, ma’am, Miss Millie, ma’am,” I answered as polite as I could.
“And this here”—she nodded to the dog, almost asleep in her arms—“this here is my baby, Clarence. Can’t see worth a lick, but he’s still the best dog this side of the Mason-Dixon Line.”
I had to stop myself from reaching out to pet the dog, who now resembled a pup cuddled in Miss Millie’s arms. Looking at the two of them, it hit me even more how similar they were. Besides kind of wrinkly, both had a pretty loud bark. And so far, neither of those barks had turned into a bite.
But there was still time for that, I guess. Miss Millie looked away from her dog to take in the sight of me. “So, ya plannin’ on standin’ there all day, all week, all summer . . . ?”
“No, ma’am.” I climbed off the table and took a deep breath. “I came over to apologize to you.”
Even though that should’ve made Miss Millie smile, it did the exact opposite. Instead, she tilted her head to one side and looked at me like she was trying to figure out what I was guilty of before I had a chance to confess. “Whatcha been doing to me, other than causin’ all this racket, stirring up my dog and trespassing . . . twice in two days?”
“No, ma’am . . . I mean yes, ma’am . . . I’m sorry for those things, too. But what I’m apologizing for is last night . . .”
Her eyes squinted in concern. “Umm . . . hmmm . . . ?”
“Well, you see, the phone at my grandma’s house rang and I went to answer it, and then I heard voices and realized it wasn’t for Grandma. It was the party line.” I said that last part like that would clear everything up. But Miss Millie just stood there not looking too clear, so I went on with my rambling. “I kept on listening even though I knew it was eavesdropping. So . . . I’m . . . sorry.”
“Umm . . . hmmm?” she repeated, still looking at me sideways. But her mouth went from clamped up to curled up and I swear there was a hint of a smile as she asked, “Did ya hear anything . . . good?”
“No, ma’am. Just boring stuff about the grocer’s daughter and her daddy being madder than a wet hen and apples not falling far from trees . . .”
“Well, don’t that beat all,” Miss Millie said. “Little pitchers got big ears . . . Heck! That wasn’t much. Frankie calls me up ever so often justa hear her own self talkin’. She loves gossip more than fleas love dogs. No harm done.”
I was relieved, but I knew Mama. And I had a feeling that if I came back and said Miss Millie said there was no harm done, she would find some harm in that and make me march right back and start the whole conversation over again. So I thought I’d try again. “My mama wants me to do something for you to make it right. Is there anything you need . . . um . . . any way I can help . . . or something?”
She smiled this time. “Well, that’s mighty neighborly of your mama. But I think I have everything I need. I got this old dog right here.” Clarence made a low growl just to say he knew she was talking about him.
I was thrilled. “Well, if you’re sure,” I said, and then just to seal the politeness, I added, never thinking it really meant anything, “I mean, just let me know if you think of anything.”
And wouldn’t you know?
Sure
enough, she did.
chapter 7
I’d almost made a clean getaway to the fence when I heard Miss Millie’s voice from back where I left her and Clarence. “Hey . . . girl . . . Alice, was it?”
I turned around, wondering what I did this time.
“I maybe thought of something ya could do for me, for Clarence, I mean.” Her voice was cracking a bit and I didn’t want her to start coughing again by forcing her to talk too loud, so I walked back.
When I got close enough, she continued. “Poor Clarence here is pretty near blind. Ya saw him running in circles? That’s ’cause he hears something and wants to find it, but can’t see it in order to find it. Well, he can’t even come out in the yard without hurting himself. But a dog who can’t run in his backyard at least needs to walk. Maybe that’s something a strong young ’un like you could help with?”
Now, I’d heard of guide dogs that help the blind, but did I have to be a guide girl for a blind dog? But I knew going home and telling Mama I helped Miss Millie by walking her blind dog would make things so much better than going home and saying there was nothing I could do.
“Sure?” I answered, knowing it sounded more like a question. “When do you want me to try to do that?”
“How ’bout right now?”
I couldn’t think of one polite reason I could say no, so I agreed that now was as fine a time as any.
Miss Millie went over to that huge tree and grabbed a leather strap that was hanging on one limb. She put the tied loop at the end of the strap around Clarence, who wagged his tail like he was recognizing the sign for a walk. Miss Millie then handed the strap to me. “Here ya go. Maybe just up the street to Maple where the church is, and then back. That’d do him some good.”
I pulled gentle on the leash to go.
But he didn’t move.
Then I pulled a little bit less gentle on the leash.
But he still didn’t move.
“Let’s go, Clarence. Let’s go for a walk to the church,” I said, trying to sound all happy about the idea of the walk.
But Clarence wasn’t having any of it. Not only did he not move forward, he actually moved backward.
Soon we had ourselves a regular tug-of-war going on. For a dog who couldn’t see, he sure seemed to know it wasn’t Miss Millie on the other end of that leash.
She even tried to coax him. “Come on, boy. Come on, Clarence.”
But he wasn’t gonna walk with me.
I can’t pretend I wasn’t a little bit happy right then. It wouldn’t be considered my fault that the dang dog didn’t want me to walk him. I was just waiting for Miss Millie to tell me I should stop trying.
But when Miss Millie finally spoke up, it wasn’t to tell me to go on home. “Maybe if I walk with ya at first, he’ll get to know ya better,” she said. She took the leash from my hands and quick as a blink, Clarence was ready to walk.
But at the rate Miss Millie made us walk, summer would be over before we even made it to the church. For the second time in one day, I was counting my footsteps. Right foot . . . left foot . . . right foot . . . left.
I could hear Miss Millie struggling with her breathing. “Do you want to slow down?” I asked even though I had no idea how that would be possible.
“Nah, I’m okay,” she kind of whispered. “This is what happens when you’re ninety-two. The old ticker tick-tocks a little more slow these days.” She wheezed when she said that, and I prepared for another laughing/coughing fit.
And this time when Miss Millie coughed, I saw a bike coming toward us. The overalls of the bike rider were the same ones I saw on the boy/girl in the yard yesterday. The closer the rider got to us, the more I could see that the person was actually a girl—probably a little younger than me. She smiled this big smile like she saw me walking with Miss Millie every day, and there was no doubt she was waving at us, not swatting flies. I looked at Miss Millie, who I assumed she was waving at, but Miss Millie was finishing up her coughing fit, so she could only nod and wave back to the bike rider as she passed us and then grew smaller riding down the street.
I was afraid to say anything or ask who the girl was what with it causing Miss Millie to talk and then cough again. I was planning on staying quiet as a mouse for the rest of the walk.
But Miss Millie was planning on something else. “So how long ya visitin’ your grammy for?”
“I . . . uh, don’t know . . . My mama says Grandma shouldn’t live alone anymore, so she wants us to stay awhile to help her. But I don’t think it’ll be too long.”
“Hmmm.” Miss Millie seemed to know more than she was saying. “Guess time will tell, huh?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I looked at Clarence, who was marching along with all the confidence in the world now that Miss Millie was guiding him.
I didn’t want Miss Millie thinking I was stuck here forever, so I added, “Plus, my daddy, when he comes, he’ll have something to say about it all. He hates Rainbow.” I looked up at Miss Millie to see if she took offense at me not liking her hometown. She still looked straight ahead but I could tell she was listening by the way her head tilted toward me.
For some reason I needed to keep on talking about my family history. The words just kept coming and coming like they’d been waiting in a pot ready to boil and spill over. “Mama and he used to live here in Rainbow, even went to school here together, but Daddy said he needed to leave as soon as he had a chance. Said he couldn’t breathe in a town so small. He needed a big city to be happy. Mama and Daddy got married right out of high school and moved to Savannah. That’s where I was born. Mama says she wanted to call me Savannah, but Daddy said no. We lived there till I was five. That’s when Eddie was born and we moved to Ohio.”
I was rambling. And Miss Millie was just walking, breathing heavy and staring ahead into the empty space of the neighborhood. Just in case I confused her, I added, “Ohio is north of here.”
Miss Millie, still walking slower ’n molasses, yet still breathing so heavy, stopped walking in order to get enough breath to say, “Land’s sake, girl, I reckon I know where Ohio is.” She whistled when she said the last word like the s got stuck between her teeth.
“Sorry. I just meant to tell you that even though I’m from these parts, and Mama says I still talk like I got some of the South deep in my blood, I’m just like my daddy—I don’t belong here.”
“Hmmm . . . ,” she answered. “Is your daddy’s family still in these parts?”
I shook my head, but that was kind of a fib. Truth was, I didn’t know where Daddy’s family was anymore. His daddy left him when he was little, and his mama, my other grandma, left Rainbow right after Daddy did. There were some pictures of her holding me when I was a baby but I don’t remember her any other way. But I didn’t want to keep stammering on about my family’s business to Miss Millie, so I just said, “No, they left. Like I’ll do when Daddy comes to get us.”
She stared straight ahead. “When might he be coming to fetch ya?”
“Oh . . .” I hated to admit it. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in a while.”
“When’s the last time ya saw your daddy, Alice-girl?” Her tone was kind, not at all accusing, but still, I felt ashamed to answer her the truth. “Right before Christmas . . .”
“Christmas? Well, shame. Shame on him for staying away from his family.”
I don’t like the fact Daddy has been gone that long. And I like it less when I hear Mama talking about him to her friends when she doesn’t know I’m listening. But I like it least of all when a lady who has no idea who my daddy is says shame on him.
“It’s not like that!” I objected. “My daddy’s a good man. And he’ll come back soon. I’d rather you not say any mean words about him, you hear?”
I couldn’t tell whether it was the sunshine or the anger making my cheeks burn so much. I shocked myself with my own words, know
ing good and well Mama would have grounded me for the rest of the summer for being so rude.
I felt bad it all came out like that—bad and ashamed.
And I felt extra-ashamed when I saw we were at the corner of the street, right in front of the church and I saw a man I thought might be a new preacher since I didn’t recognize him, but he looked like he belonged in front of the church. So now we can add yelling at old people to my list of sins for this week.
Miss Millie nodded to the man in question and hollered, “Morning, Reverend Hill.”
“Good morning, Miss Millie. Might I expect you at service this Sunday morning?”
“You might. But then again, you might expect a lot of things that ain’t likely to happen too soon.” I didn’t mean to let out a snort, but I had never heard anybody talk to a preacher man like that before.
He didn’t seem to take offense at her words, just nodded, and looked at me as my face grew redder. Miss Millie pointed to me and told him, “This here young lady is just visitin’. Not stayin’. You can call her . . . Savannah.”
The hint of a twinkle in her eyes let me know she hadn’t forgotten my name and was just pulling the preacher’s leg. I nodded to him, figuring I might as well add lying to a preacher man to that long list of sins.
Miss Millie said goodbye to the preacher and we continued on our walk.
He hollered back to Miss Millie, “Door’s always open, ma’am. Always open . . .” But by then we had turned Clarence around and were heading back to Miss Millie’s house. She didn’t say anything else about my outburst and I didn’t want to talk about it again.
Still feeling ashamed, I changed the subject. “How long you had Clarence?”
Miss Millie smiled a smile that said she understood not to bring up my daddy again. Her wrinkles became more creased. “This guy here’s been a part of my family since . . . I don’t know . . . think it was 1960, something like eight years now. One day he was at my door and no one claimed him. So I guess ya could say he claimed me.”
When she spoke about him, Clarence looked at her like he agreed that was the way it happened.
