Robby was not the sharpest tack in the box.
I would have laughed off the request, but Dinny kept talking about how much I resembled what Hookums was rumored to look like. The rest of the incident is rather foggy. All I know is that at night’s end, I found myself dressed as a pirate and holding Robby on my lap. Leonard talked his relative into closing the store and moving someplace where he could live in twenty-four-hour monitored bliss. Last I heard he was in Florida someplace, and Dinny was selling vinyl siding in Oklahoma with a new husband named Tim. Despite the results, the trip brought Leonard and me even closer together. Now, however, he was here in my personal place, eating cold cereal out of my future in-laws’ house and talking about settling down.
It wasn’t right.
“Anyhow,” Leonard interrupted my thoughts. “About this town being a gold mine. Did you know that there is not a single independent distributor in this entire valley?”
“You can’t sell tea tree oil and legal aid in this place,” I laughed. “These people have no money.”
“I’ll teach them how to make a little.”
“Leonard,” I said for lack of anything else.
“Trust,” he replied with equal cleverness.
I was going to say something a little more complicated but was stopped by President Heck’s walking through the front door, dragging what looked to be a well-weathered kitchen chair.
“What a day,” he said happily, acting as if it were perfectly normal to see me and a towel-clad man standing in his house. “Look what I found.”
I looked at the chair again, wondering if I had missed something. He explained himself with no prompting from us.
“The garden’s been killing me this summer,” he said, as if the mere thought of it made him tired. “All that bending. And the chickens are taking longer and longer to feed. That rooster’s right good at making new mouths to stuff. Anyhow, I think my back’s aging faster than any other part of me. Not anymore,” he said, holding up his chair as if he were standing on the center podium at the cerebral Olympics and hoisting his trophy.
He looked back and forth between Leonard and me. I tried to act as if he were making perfect sense to me.
“Wheels!” he exclaimed, tipping the chair upside down and showing me the swivel wheels on the bottom of his treasure. “I’ll sit on this and scoot around.”
“You’re going to have a hard time maneuvering that thing across the ground,” Leonard said, puncturing Ricky Heck’s dream.
“Toby gave me a shed full of cement.”
“Oh,” Leonard said, as if that settled that.
“He got it from a lady in Virgil’s Find who just passed away.” President Heck bowed his head for a moment of respect. Leonard crunched his cereal loudly. Ricky Heck looked up and continued, “Toby would read to her in the afternoons at the hospital. Her husband used to sell concrete and left her with a garage full of the stuff. She willed it to Toby. Some folks are so lucky.”
“Right place, right time,” Leonard agreed.
“I’ll say,” Ricky said. “Anyhow, Toby said I could have my share if I help him clear out the trees back behind his saturated leech field. Shoot, I would have done that for free.”
“And you were calling him lucky,” I contributed.
“Trust, you’ve got a real nice way of looking at life,” Ricky smiled.
“Don’t give him a big head,” Leonard warned.
Tired of just standing there, I walked over to the couch that was facing the kitchen and sat down. As usual the entire sofa rocked back just a bit. Ever since I had known President Heck, he had been trying to find the right piece of wood to balance his couch. He wasn’t there yet.
“Anyhow,” Ricky continued. “I’m going to put in a cement path around our house, with a few shoots going out to the chickens and around the garden. I can scoot myself around just like them kings.”
I was unfamiliar with any rolling kitchen-chair dynasties.
“I’d be happy to help you with your path,” Leonard offered nicely.
“I’d be happy to let you,” Ricky replied.
“It’ll give me a chance to talk to you about a couple business opportunities.”
“I’m all for that.”
The two of them walked out of the room together, President Heck blissfully unaware that Leonard was wearing nothing but a towel or that he had ulterior motives.
I helped myself to a bowl of cereal and then set out to find Grace.
10
There is Beauty All Around
I was almost to the meadow when I spotted Grace coming my way. I stepped behind some trees in an effort to surprise her. I watched her get closer, amazed at what I saw. She was a completely different girl from the one I had once met in these very woods. She walked with confidence and ease, passing through the forest like nature’s inner child. Her green eyes looked ahead, full of wonder and finding new interest in the same surroundings that she had wandered a million or more times before. She stopped and tied her hair loosely behind her head. Strands broke free as soon as she began walking again, brushing in front of her face and making the stunning forest look simple and passé.
She walked closer, passing me by without noticing. I stepped out directly behind her.
“Hey,” I whispered.
She stopped but didn’t turn.
“It’s not safe to be out in the woods alone,” I informed her.
“Really?” she said, still not turning to look at me.
“Really,” I confirmed. “Just a couple of years ago a girl in these exact woods fell in love with an average guy and was eventually tricked into getting engaged to him.”
“How awful.”
“For the girl,” I agreed. “The boy, however, really made out.”
“Did he?” Grace said, turning to face me.
“I mean he got a good deal,” I clarified.
“A good deal of what?” she asked.
“Not of what,” I corrected, realizing that I was choosing my words poorly. “He just got lucky.”
“Oh really.” Grace’s soul backlit her green eyes as she smiled.
“You know what I mean,” I tried.
Grace put out her right hand and took mine. She pulled me back behind a thick trio of trees and began thanking me for bringing her home. Nothing even close to inappropriate took place, but I feel safe saying that I had never received a thank-you like that from anyone else during my lifetime. When we stepped back out, Toby Carver was standing there staring at us.
“I heard some rustling,” he said with concern. “I thought it might be that stranger who stole my pig.”
“It was us,” I explained.
“Oh.”
“We were just looking for Grace’s shoe,” I said, throwing out the first thing that came to mind. “It flew off while she was walking.”
Grace laughed, offering no help whatsoever.
Toby looked down at her shod feet. “I see you found it.”
I nodded and whewed.
“Well, I was wondering if either of you had seen Winton.”
“Winton?” I asked.
“Jerry’s uncle,” Toby answered. “He came to stay with Jerry a couple months ago after he accidentally burned down the apartment complex he was living in back in Georgia.”
“Never seen him,” I said.
“Neither have I,” Grace added.
“Well, I suppose I best keep on looking,” Toby said cordially. “I’m glad you found your shoe. I know how hard it can be to go around with just one.” Toby walked off towards Lush Point.
“Looking for my shoe,” Grace laughed after Toby was out of earshot.
“What? It worked, didn’t it?”
Grace stuck out her hand again.
“Really?” I said happily, thinking she wanted to hide behind the trees again.
“No,” she smiled. “I have something I want to show you.”
Now she was choosing her words poorly. She took my hand and dragged me down th
e hill, into the meadow, and towards a discovery I had not been expecting to make.
11
Plane as Day
Cindy hated planes. Not because she was scared of crashing or because turbulence made her nauseous. Nope, the problem was that thanks to new FAA laws, she could be arrested for acting up and causing a commotion on a moving flight. So she sat in her aisle seat thinking up ways to subtly annoy people. She kept retrieving things from the overhead bins and moving other people’s stuff around. She stuck her long legs into the aisle and pretended to be asleep so the stewardess couldn’t pass out the drinks on schedule. She shifted a lot in her seat, elbowing the woman next to her and kneeing the seat of the passenger in front of her. Eventually both of those in harm’s way picked themselves up and found other places to sit. She buzzed the stewardess every few minutes to ask where they were and insisted on the pilot’s coming out and introducing himself to the passengers, seeing how it was only fair for all of them to be able to see the face of the man holding their fate in his hands.
After the woman sitting right next to her left to find another place, Cindy began to pester the bald gentleman sitting one seat away by the window. She would lean all the way over, sticking her head in his space and pretending to look out the window. After a couple of minutes the man spoke up.
“I must say I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone more desperate for attention than you,” he said with a British accent.
“Think again,” Cindy snipped. “We’ve never actually met.”
“Pathetic,” he said with polish.
“Excuse me?”
“I wish that I could.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re a woman of little goodness.”
Cindy was silent while she thought of something mean to say.
“Nice hair,” was all she could come up with.
“Extraordinary,” he tisked.
“Thanks,” Cindy said, brushing her curly mane back.
“Amazing,” he said in disgusted astonishment.
“It’s about time you noticed.”
“You are the most unbelievable creature I have ever encountered.”
“There’s a line I’ve never heard before,” Cindy said sarcastically.
“You’re not fooling anyone,” he said solemnly. “Your insecurity and ugliness are as plain as the nose on your face.” With that he got up and relocated.
Cindy sat alone, bothered and thinking about her nice nose.
12
Caught on an Eye
He looked closer. Yep, it was red. His heart whirled like a one-winged bird tossed from a high tree. Never had he seen anything more fixating. His simple mind focused in on her as he huddled back behind the thick brush. He willed his large frame to be more compact and unnoticeable.
If he were spotted, it could ruin everything.
This was the closest he had ever been to anyone in town, and he liked it. She was pretty. Her white skin and green eyes reminded him of something nice—a warm meal or new boots. He liked her. He had never desired anything from Thelma’s Way besides the bare necessities. His wish list, however, was changing.
One redhead, hold the boyfriend.
13
Family Secrets
Grace pulled me across the meadow, up the porch steps of the boardinghouse, and into Roswell’s room. I thought of Feeble, Roswell’s unidentical twin brother who had died a couple of years ago. His sagging twin-sized bed still sat there, rumpled and worn from all the nights of rest it had provided his big body for all those years.
“You wanted to show me Roswell’s room?” I asked Grace.
She kept silent, dragging me over to the cluttered desk in the corner. She picked up a picture frame and handed it to me.
“Roswell showed this to me earlier,” she explained. “I couldn’t believe it.”
“What’s so . . .”
“Just look,” she said with excitement.
It was a group picture taken at one of the annual Thelma’s Way Thanksgiving get-togethers. Roswell was front and center, smiling and letting the world know that he had little understanding of dental hygiene. Sister Watson was wearing a rust-colored dress, and the Hecks were standing on the right. Paul, Ed, and Toby were standing on the left. It was obvious that whoever had taken the picture had asked those being photographed to say “cheese” because slower-than-the-rest Ed Washington was still forming the word as the picture was captured.
It was a perfect likeness of Ed.
I handed the picture back to Grace. “That’s nice,” I said, wondering why she had wanted me to see it.
“Did you see my family?”
“They looked great.”
“Look again.”
I picked it back up and stared at the Hecks. They were all smiling, having properly finished saying “cheese” before the flash. Narlette was holding her mother’s hand, and Digby was kneeling so that everyone could clearly see the upper half of his father. President Heck had one arm around his wife and the other over a person I couldn’t quite identify. It was a he, and this he was wearing a hat that covered a good portion of his face.
“Who’s that?” I pointed.
“Can’t you tell?”
I looked again and shook my head.
“I think it’s your father,” Grace said.
“Why would my dad be in this picture?” I replied, instantly realizing as the words came out that Thelma’s Way was where he had gone all those months ago when he was missing. “I don’t believe it.”
“He must have wanted to see where you served,” Grace said happily.
“Then why didn’t he tell me?”
She shrugged.
“And how come your folks have never said anything?” I questioned.
“I have no idea,” Grace answered honestly. “But we could find out.”
We walked out of Roswell’s room with me carrying the picture and feeling incredibly confused. Six months ago, right after I took Grace to Southdale, my father suddenly disappeared. He would call occasionally, but he never let on where he had gone. After a few weeks, he stopped calling. My mother went nuts wondering what had happened to him. Just before we all gave up hope, Dad had phoned my mother and told her that he had been in some sort of accident and that he would be home soon. When he did return, he was a different man than he had been when he left us. No longer was he all business and distant—he was now the father we had longed to have. But even at his return, he refused to tell us where he had been or why he had gone. We had tried to guess it out of him but gave up when we realized that it was a secret he would share only when ready. Now here I had stumbled upon the truth, and I couldn’t understand it.
“Why would my dad come to Thelma’s Way?” I asked as we walked through the boardinghouse. I was very anxious to get to the Hecks’ and question them about my father’s stay here. I suppose we would have gone straight there if it had not been for the pair of people who were in our way, standing on the boardinghouse porch kissing.
It was Elder and Sister Knapworth poised amongst a bunch of bags and clutter. Grace and I tried not to interrupt them. Sister Knapworth noticed us and pulled away from her husband.
“You’ll have to forgive us,” she said. “We’re not acting much like missionaries, are we?”
“You’re fine,” I said.
“Well, aren’t you a flirt.” Sister Knapworth batted her eyes at me. “Grace, dear, where did you find him?”
“Right here,” Grace answered.
“Not a bad place to meet,” Sister Knapworth laughed. “You know we’re having a hard time not feeling like we’re on a honeymoon instead of a mission. So, Elder Knapworth,” she said to her husband, “what do we have on the agenda today?”
He saluted her with his free hand. “President Heck wanted us to go through those records, ma’am,” he answered.
“Let’s get to it, then,” she laughed.
“Give me a second to take our bag back to ou
r place first,” he smiled. “We just went into town,” he informed us.
“Can I help you carry something?” I asked, nodding towards the bags on the porch.
“We’re all right,” he said happily. “These aren’t all ours. We just have this duffel bag full of love,” Elder Knapworth cooed, kissing his companion on the lips. Sister Knapworth hugged him, brushing a wisp of his hair patch down.
I squeezed Grace’s hand, executing the international symbol for “if we were alone I would be laughing so hard about that ‘duffel bag of love’ remark.” She squeezed back twice, indicating that she agreed, while at the same time she thought it was sort of sweet.
Men and women are different.
They walked off to take their bag home and work on the records. We watched them try to stroll and kiss at the same time. They just about had a semiawkward rhythm going, but then they tripped over Lupert Carver and decided that holding hands would have to be sufficient for the moment.
“Do you think we’ll be like that?” Grace asked.
“I think I hope so,” I answered, putting my arms around Grace and trying not to feel as goofy as they had just looked.
Sister Watson came stomping up the porch steps. She had a sign under her right arm, a hammer in her left, and two nails pinched tightly in her lips. She pulled the sign out from under her arm and nailed it up to the front of the boardinghouse. She read it a couple of times to make sure it still said what she had written, and then she walked inside. The poster said:
We have a problem. Gather in the meadow this afternoon for details.
I wondered which particular problem they would be discussing.
“Remember how you used to say that Southdale was just as different and odd as Thelma’s Way?” Grace asked me while looking at the sign.
“Yeah,” I answered.
Love's Labors Tossed Page 6
