by N. C. Lewis
When hell freezes over, Edwina thought. The man could barely paint stick figures. Now after a handful of lessons the pompous fool wanted to talk with her about real art. Hiding her distaste she said, "Finished?"
His eye traveled the length of her body, and his voice dropped an octave. "Truly finished. I mean, how can one know?" He paused, face wide with expectation.
Edwina touched her brow as if deep in thought. This little man, she said to herself, is talentless, fat, and boring. "It's a feeling," she said at last, "one feels in the gut. A sense of order on the canvas, completion to the eye, and a deep-down knowing that your creative work is done."
"But how will I get this… feeling?" He stepped a little too close, his soft gaze directed into her eyes.
It was always the overweight, middle-aged men that hit on her in these classes. Men who had spent years in cubicled offices, lost their hair in the process, and developed blubber for a belly. It seemed, she reflected, middle-aged men realized they'd neglected their creative side. Though these male students had little talent, they could easily afford the fees. Soon, she mused, when the museum check cleared, she would put an end to these miserable adult education classes, with their hordes of middle-aged men who, because they had a few dollars to spend, believed they could buy anything and anyone.
"Feeling, I want the feeling," the chirpy, little man said again; his eyes were bright and very eager.
Shorty's paying my electric bill, Edwina reminded herself before answering. "You'll know, and when you do, it will feel amazing."
The man, mouth half open, seemed to hang on every word. "I have a long way to go, but with you as my personal teacher I'm sure we'll get there."
Even as she sat there puffing, Edwina registered disquietness at "we." But she didn't speak, simply smiled with her lips, but her eyes stared back, cold and hard.
The tip of the little man's tongue made a circuit of his moist lips. He touched Edwina's arm. His hands felt cold and clammy. "Edwina, I feel there's a certain electric connection between—"
"Recess is over," Edwina interrupted, exhaling a thick choking plume of smoke into his face and getting to her feet. "Let's get back to class."
Chapter 12
Ever since Amy's husband, Nick, had begun work in the lollipop liaison unit, they had taken to walking the grounds of Mayfield House one evening every week or two. This Wednesday evening, at the tail end of summer, Victoria, Ruby, Zach, and Noel had joined them.
"Oh, look at the peacocks!" exclaimed Victoria, pointing at the majestic birds as they walked through the courtyard of the historic cottage. "I'd forgotten about those. Ruby, do you remember when we came here as children?"
Ruby half turned to her sister and scowled. "I remember all right."
Noel, picking up on what might be an interesting story asked, "What happened?"
Ruby's scowl deepened.
Victoria's eyes twinkled. "Ruby, do you want to tell Noel or shall I?"
"He doesn't need to know," Ruby answered firmly.
Now Zach showed interest. "Come on, Victoria; spill the beans."
Victoria looked at her sister. Ruby nodded and sighed. "Okay, sis, you tell them. But stick to the facts."
"Mom and Dad brought us here for the first time when we were maybe five or six years old. Ruby was always wandering off, getting lost. As I remember it, she disappeared right here in this courtyard." Victoria paused, swinging her arms in a low arc.
"Disappeared?" Noel asked, a tinge of concern in his voice.
"Yep, vanished. Mom and Dad were frantic. We searched the cottage, Ruby always liked playing with dollhouses, and back in those days you could wander in and out at will." Now Victoria pointed, this time at the historic cottage. "Used to belong to the Texas Secretary of State, Allison Mayfield. That's why it's called Mayfield House."
"We don't need a history lesson; get on with the story," Zach cried in frustration.
Everyone laughed.
"Victoria," Ruby said, her voice tinged with amusement, "always likes to wander with her stories. Got to keep her on track."
"Okay, okay. Let me finish," huffed Victoria.
"Please do," her sister replied.
"Well, as I was saying, we searched the house, but Ruby was nowhere to be found. Then we heard shouting from the courtyard."
"It wasn't shouting, it was birds squawking," corrected Ruby.
"Sounded like a catfight," Victoria continued. "We rushed to the window and peered out."
"What did you see?" interrupted Noel.
Victoria's lips curved into a grin. "Ruby running."
"Running?" quizzed Zach, turning to look at Ruby.
Victoria shook her head and burst out laughing. "Followed by five peacocks."
"More like fifty," muttered Ruby under her breath. "I've never liked peacocks since."
"Oh, they're beautiful," mocked Victoria with glee.
Nick and Amy had wandered off while Victoria was talking. They'd heard the story a thousand times, lived it many times more in their memories.
"Let's walk the Bell trail," Amy had said in a hoarse whisper so as not to disturb Victoria's rendition.
They slipped away quietly through the little iron gate and down steep steps carved into the hillside to a little babbling brook where the air was heavy with the scent of wild plants.
Amy enjoyed the summer evening strolls with her husband but felt a tinge of guilt knowing it came about because of his heart attack and job reassignment. She always prepared a picnic as a way of making up for it, and Nick enjoyed them as much as she did. Healthy, nutritious, satisfying meals were scarce when he worked in the executive protection unit. Fast food, usually deep-fried, was the order of the day.
"Let's take the short loop," Amy said catching her breath and wondering whether her knees were this sore the last time she'd walked this way. "When we get back, Ruby and Victoria will have set up the picnic."
"Good, I'm hungry," Nick replied, trudging off down the trail. "Come on, Amy, keep up."
Meanwhile, Victoria and Ruby returned to the car to gather the picnic baskets which they set up on one of the many picnic tables scattered around the grounds.
"Come on, Zach," Noel said. "Let's explore Mayfield House, and see what's changed."
As they strolled toward the entrance, a little old woman sitting at a picnic table, with a pink-and-white tablecloth spread across the top, and a sandwich in her claw-like hands glanced up. Sharp-eyed with a firm set to her jaw, she leaned toward the two men and said, "Howdy, rain's keeping off. Gonna sit here till dusk, enjoying the peacocks and a little supper. Y'all have a nice day."
As if summoned by magic, a peacock strutted in front of the elderly woman, the magnificent green and copper plumes on full display. Another bird squawked contentedly, hidden in the branches of an unseen tree.
"Wonderful," the old woman said. "Better than television!"
The house was much like both men remembered it: a musty odor that clung to the walls, bare, wooden floorboards, and a gloomy light, eased only slightly by French windows. Noel and Zach chatted excitedly, each recounting memories of their childhood from their visits to this historic Austin landmark. They were in a jovial mood when, at last, they turned to leave.
The courtyard was very quiet when the two men closed the door of Mayfield House and stepped into the early evening sunlight. Gone were the high-pitched screech of the peacocks, and even the gentle rustle of the light breeze blowing through the trees had ceased. It was a peaceful place, and both men were happy they had come.
Zach blinked, gazed at the table where the little old lady sat, and blinked again. It took a short moment to understand what he was seeing: her lifeless form slumped over the table. She still had the sandwich clasped in her skeletal hands as she lay facedown on a pink-and-white tablecloth.
Zach took off toward the woman, legs moving like pistons in a gasoline engine, leaving Noel aghast at the front door.
"Lady, are you all right?" Zach gasped, catching h
is breath and shaking her gently.
Blue tinged her lips.
"Lady," Zach said again. "Can you hear me?"
There was no response.
Zach held the old woman in his arms. Her bones felt thin, and she weighed hardly anything. Uncertain what to do and fighting back panic, he lay her gently on the ground as Noel rushed over.
"Is she breathing?" Noel asked in an urgent voice.
Zach leaned forward, his head close to the old woman's dull, gray face. "No," he said, turning to Zach with distress, "I don't think so."
There was a long moment of silence when time itself seemed to stand still. In Zach's mind everything vanished—the trees, the courtyard, the historic cottage. All that remained in that instant was the old woman, who minutes earlier, had waved at him as she ate a pleasant supper watching the graceful peacocks.
Then Zach's first-aid training kicked in." Dial 911; get help," he said to Noel, placing a finger on her neck. After another long moment, he looked up. "There's a faint pulse; she's alive."
Noel didn’t hear. He was already on the phone talking to emergency services.
Zach couldn't understand what had happened in the short time he and Noel were in the cottage. He glanced around frantically looking for clues. There was a bench with the pink-and-white tablecloth, a flask which he thought might contain coffee. But there was nothing unusual there. Then he wondered if she had a heart attack. If that was the case, he didn't have access to a defibrillator. They'd have to wait for the paramedics to arrive, but by that time she might be dead.
A wave of hopelessness washed over him, and he was about to stand up when he saw the sandwich she had been eating, clasped tightly in her hand. Could it be possible that she choked?
Quickly, he swept her mouth with his fingers, but found nothing there. Next, he gave her three short breaths—nothing. Then he gave her three more. It was like trying to blow up a car tire with your mouth. Again he tried, finally giving up, believing it to be too late.
It was then he remembered the words of his first-aid instructor. "Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation won't work if the airways are blocked."
Zach had practiced the Heimlich maneuver on a training mannequin back in London, laughing, along with the other students, at their feeble efforts. Now, as beads of sweat formed and trickled down his forehead, he straddled the old lady's body and then with both hands interlocked, pressed her abdomen. The first push was too light—ineffective. In desperation he pushed harder, then harder again.
Suddenly, there was a sharp explosive pop, like a cork pulled from a wine bottle. A piece of bread flew out of her mouth. The old woman was coughing now and gasping for air. Zach eased the woman onto her side as two paramedics hurried into the courtyard.
With speed, they continued where Zach had left off, and ten minutes later the old woman was sitting up.
"I'm going take you in for observation," one paramedic said, easing the woman onto a stretcher. "I will strap you in, and my colleague and I will carry you to the ambulance. Okay?"
Quickly the old woman's eyes flittered around the gathered crowd. She raised her head, eyes wide open, and when she saw Zach, smiled. "Thank you, young man," she croaked in a weak voice. "You saved my life."
Chapter 13
Everyone was talking at once as Amy, Nick and the family sat around the picnic table in the grounds of Mayfield House.
"Zach moved with the efficiency and professionalism of a full-time paramedic," Noel said, taking a sip of iced tea. "Can't say I knew what to do myself, and thought the nice old woman had died of a heart attack."
"Victoria always said you had a cool head," said Ruby. "I'd have fallen apart. Zach, we need more people like you in this town." Then she added with a cheeky grin, "Have you considered running for mayor? We need someone who can save our taxes! You've got our vote."
Zach took a sip from his cup. "Mayor of London, yes. Mayor of Austin, not so much."
"What's wrong with Austin?" asked Ruby.
"Nothing, it's just that I like riding around on the tube. Build an underground system in Austin, and I'll run for mayor."
"Fat chance of that," huffed Ruby draining her glass of iced tea. "The politicians have been talking about a light-rail system for years, but they have done little with that one! Don't hold your breath for an underground system here."
The conversation gradually waned as the family turned to enjoy the food—smoked brisket, potato salad, baked beans, and a leafy green salad dressed with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. For dessert, Amy had baked a peach cobbler served with fresh whipped cream.
As Zach dished himself a second helping of potato salad and two slices of smoked brisket, Victoria leaned into him, holding his arm tight. "My hero," she said, giving him a peck on the cheek. "I couldn't ask for a more sensitive and attentive husband. Love you, honey."
"Guess it was the first-aid training," Zach replied in a bashful whisper. "I wouldn't have known what to do without it."
"Training is one thing, but to keep your head under pressure is another," added Nick. "If I have another heart attack, I know who I want around."
Zach beamed. Praise from his father-in-law meant a lot to him. He knew as a police officer Nick put his life on the line every day. "Thank you, sir," he said rather too formally.
Everyone laughed.
"Eat up; there's plenty of food," said Amy, her eyes still twinkling with laughter.
After they had finished their main course and were on to dessert, Nick turned to Zach and said, "Fully half the administrative staff in the police department are on blood-sugar-lowering medication of one type or another. I've spoken to a few who monitor their glucose levels; they hate pricking their finger every day and would love a noninvasive monitor. Amy and I have talked a little about your new company, and it seems like a great investment opportunity. We've agreed to put a few thousand dollars aside to invest in the company stock." He paused for a moment. "It won't be until the end of the month; that's when we sit down together and go over our financial plans."
"Oh man," said Noel before Zach could respond. "You and Amy have patience. Ruby and I have already invested; we have little money, but we've thrown it all at Zach's company."
"The stock's up two percent already," added Ruby. "Do you know how many pairs of shoes I can buy with that?"
"You'll be able to buy your own shoe shop when the stock price really takes off," replied Zach with a broad grin.
"In that case, I'll buy a chain of stores," laughed Ruby.
"Me too," Victoria said joining in the fun.
"Me three," Amy added. "Although, if my staging business takes off, I'll give the stores to charity."
"What is it with women and shoes?" Zach asked, rolling his eyes. Then he turned to Amy. "How is your staging business going?"
"It's only a few months old, with only one employee, Danielle. I think you all know Danielle, don't you?"
Everyone nodded.
Amy continued. "Business has been a little slow, but I've snagged a staging gig at the Bullock Museum where Noel works. The museum has purchased a collection of pottery pieces—figurines, I think. There'll be a photo shoot. Studio Shoal Seven will do the staging. I'm meeting with the event organizer, Miles Block, tomorrow morning to discuss details. We've worked together before."
"What time tomorrow?" asked Nick. He liked to keep up-to-date with Amy's business plans.
"Nine thirty a.m., at the museum. Unfortunately, Danielle can't make it, so I'm going alone. Miles and I are meeting a man by the name of Floyd Adams." Amy turned to Noel. "Do you know Mr. Adams?"
Noel shook his head. "Lots of people work at the museum. I'm getting to know some other docents, but I'm yet to meet Floyd Adams."
Chapter 14
It was nine fifteen in the morning. Amy and Miles sat in the Bullock Museum cafeteria each sipping their morning brew. Besides a handful of staff eating breakfast, the impressive dining space was empty. Today, the museum opened at ten a.m.
"So," expl
ained Miles, fidgeting with his cup, "the figurines are part of a historical exhibit about the battles that shaped Texas."
"Most people think of the Battle of the Alamo," Amy commented. "The other battles aren't as widely known, at least not by the public."
Miles nodded, looked anxiously at his watch. "That's true. But the Battle of San Jacinto, along with almost a dozen others, shaped Texas into what it is today. That's a message the museum wants to get out, especially to educators. I suspect we'll see several books published about the exhibit and a handful of television shows."
"Sounds impressive! When will the exhibit go on display for the public?" Amy had a growing interest in history, especially local history. She'd attend when it opened and would drag Nick along, even though he wasn't a fan of museums.
"Not for another eighteen months, at least." Again Miles glanced at his watch. "Floyd Adams is a stickler for time. He said he'd be here at nine thirty on the dot. It's now nine forty-five. I wonder where he is?"
There was a commotion at the far end of the cafeteria. A figure, dressed in the neutral clothing of a docent, scurried behind a tall man in an expensive pinstripe suit and shiny, black, patent-leather shoes. The tall man strode with authority toward the food counter. As they drew closer, Amy recognized the docent—her son-in-law, Noel. And Miles recognized the pinstripe-suited man—Dr. Jeffery Stubbs.
While Amy kept quiet and observed, not wanting to embarrass Noel, Miles jumped to his feet. "Dr. Stubbs, over here!"
Dr. Stubbs looked across the cafeteria and waved.
Miles turned to Amy and whispered, "Jeffery's a new member of the board. I'd put money on him being the chair in a year or two; he is very ambitious."
Dr. Jeffery Stubbs ordered his coffee and walked, with huge loping steps, over to their table. Noel waited at the counter for the doctor's drink.
"Good to see you, Miles," Dr. Stubbs said with a booming voice. "Please, don't stand for me; sit down."
Miles, conscious he was in the presence of a superior, waited until Dr. Stubbs took a seat. Then he sat down.
Dr. Stubbs folded his arms, leaned back in his chair. His pinstripe suit, expensive button-down, starched, white shirt and deep-blue tie, seemed to enhance his air of affluent superiority. "Thought I would drop by to see how things were running. I only have a couple of hours then I'm in surgery for the rest of the day. I decided to squeeze in a visit to the museum this morning, seeing as I'm now a board member."
