Amateur Hour

It was irrational, to be hurt, she told herself, as she headed in, from the barn. It was like Callie’s reaction to Margaret’s “wait another year”.

“Better?” Toni asked, catching sight of the white gloves.

“Much, thank you. The lotion I used, earlier, stung.” Lisa got out the plates, and began setting the table, for dinner.

“Yeah, they look kinda raw. No dishes for you, tonight.”

“I’ll use gloves.”

“See that you do. Have you had your hands in anything, unusual?”

“No, Dr. Toni, I haven’t,” she retorted, with a smiling frown. “I think I’ll go back to the crib, and play with my papers, a little, unless you need me.”

Toni looked like she would like to draft her do something else, but could think of nothing.

“Dinner’s in about a half hour,” she replied. “You may have to snug some neoprene over the cotton,” she nodded toward the gloves. “It’s fried chicken,” she finished apologetically.

“That’s what I’ll do then,” Lisa smiled. Poor Toni — she hadn’t a thing, to be sorry, for. “Where’s the little man? I can watch him, if that would help.”

“Dad has him, on the porch, with a jar, in case the fireflies come out.”

Nice to know Tuck was good for something. She shook herself. Where had that thought come from?

Callie:

“I can do very well without them. Who are they, anyway, playing at herbs and spells? They don’t have medicine. I do. Granny said so, and she would certainly know. She always said White medicine takes more than it gives. Perhaps, after all, I’m ‘too brown, for a fair praise’.

I had thought better of Margaret. Kitty and Beatrice are blood kin, true sisters, and might have a mind, between them. Fine, civilized ladies, those two. Margaret seemed to have an air of something wilder — like Granny. What a disappointment, she turned out to be!

Margaret made me feel like someone saw me, for the first time, since Granny died. With Mama gone (I never knew her), and Daddy at the bottom of some jug or bottle, Granny was all I had… Then Margaret took notice of me, loaned me books — I surely will miss her library. I’ll miss the Judge, as well. People avoid the Judge — something to do with the War. But, he’s a fine gentleman, in the best sense.”

“Dinner,” Tuck announced, tersely. “Been calling you, for five minutes.”

“Eat, Mamaw!” Willy chirped, as if to back him up.

Lisa scowled at her husband’s tone of voice, then beamed at the baby. “Mamaw is hungry,” she agreed. “She’s got to have the blue gloves, to eat with, though. Mommy’s fried chicken will get all over the white ones.”

“They’re by your plate.”

“How thoughtful,” she said, frostily. Just put the leper’s gloves, right by her plate, she wanted to add.

Tuck turned on his heel, and Lisa scooped up the baby, planting him on her hip.

Tuck

Lisa’s apologies to Toni and Will, for keeping them waiting, were sincere, as she settled the grand baby in his high chair. She did give Tuck a cold look, after glancing at the neoprene gloves, however. This puzzled him. She’d needed gloves; he’d provided gloves.

Everyone instinctively confined themselves to the two topics that weren’t radioactive, throughout the meal: the stables, and the nascent museum taking shape at the old Lovejoy house. The museum was a topic near and dear to Lisa’s heart, and she seemed to relax a bit, when the subject came up.

“Heard anything from Miss Margaret, lately?” Will asked, breaking a biscuit in half, for his son.

“Not as much as usual,” Lisa smiled, a bit sadly. “Just a nod, when she approves of an idea, and a small suggestion, now and then. I offered to bring back the chairs I borrowed for the bookstore, yesterday. She said, ‘Those hideous chairs. The fewer the better, I think.’ It was the most complete thought I’ve heard, in weeks.”

“She might be fading,” Tuck suggested.

“Possibly,” was his wife’s cordial reply. “May I have another biscuit, please?” she asked Toni.

When dinner was over, Tuck offered to do the dishes. He might just as well have offered to urinate in the sink, for all the regard she had, for that suggestion. She said nothing, looked everything, and swapped neoprene gloves for latex. Toni, cleaning up the high chair, and the baby crumbs, was too busy to notice.

“Still not talking to you?” Will asked, when Tuck joined him in the living room, with his coffee.

“I have a feeling that’s going to change,” Tuck drawled. “I don’t know what to do about it. Just let her be mad, ‘til she’s done, I reckon.”

“Maybe she can be distracted. There are some things in the strong box, that might not be too lively, for her, and might go well, in the museum. I saw a set of candlesticks, and at least three silver sugar bowls.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe I should just get rid of the papers. Out of sight, out of mind.”

“If you’re going to pull eggs out from under a broody hen, you’d better have a golf ball, for her to sit on.”

***

“What are you doing?” Lisa’s voice was quiet, chilling.

“Delivering you, from evil,” Tuck quipped, dropping Callie’s papers, and the leather folder into the tin box.

“You’re God, now?”

Tuck turned to see her arched eyebrow, over a cold, green eye.

“No,” he replied, steadily, returning her stare. “Just the head of this family. I see where this is going to lead you, Lisa. You’re like Gil, with a rawhide toy. He snarls, when you try to take it away, so we don’t give him rawhide, anymore.”

“You didn’t give me that. It’s mine. From my cellar, in my house.”

“This is your house, now!”

“For the time being.”

“What in hell does that mean?!”

“The rectory is still furnished. The only things that came here, with me are my clothes, and that box. I can come back, for my clothes.”

“Do you even hear yourself?”

“Do you hear me?”

“You’d leave me, and the kids, and Willy, for a box of dirty, dusty old papers.”
“I’d leave you, to get some of myself back.”

The ice had finally cracked, and there was lava under it.

“Go ahead, then. Have fun falling into that gaping hole in your former bedroom floor.”

It was the wrong thing to say. To remind her of what had happened to her in the cellar, and his role in it. Oh, yeah. Wrong thing, to say.

The ferocity died out of her eyes. She studied him, in a way that she’d never looked at him, before, and it was horrible, in its detachment.

“I suppose I’ll just have to put my bed over the hole, then, won’t I? Kindly get your hands off my papers, and step away.”

“Honey —“

“Step away,” she repeated.

Defeated, he complied. Lisa moved past him, and seized up her box, not without effort — it wasn’t light. She turned and left their apartment, without a backward glance. Likewise, she strode through the house, acknowledging no one, on her way to the door.

Because the temperature was nice, the screen door was the only barrier between her, and the porch. Lisa shouldered her way through it, and through the outer screen door. Heedless of dings or scratches, she dropped the heavy box on her hood, to open the back door of her Outback. After a little struggle, the box was loaded.

“You’re forgetting someone,” Tuck barked, from the top step, as she was getting into the car, herself. Gil pulled at his collar, and whined to be freed.

“I’ll get him, when there’s no gaping hole, in the floor, for him to fall into.” With that, she slammed her door, started the car, and was gone.

Will

“I’ll go,” Will volunteered, from the doorway, to the house. Toni was settling Wille, for the night, but Will had heard the argument, through the open door, from his chair, in the living room.

“She’s not coming home. Not with you, or anyone else.”

“I’m sure she’s not. I’m not gonna ask her to.”

“Then, what—”

“That house is ripped, from hell to breakfast. Her bed is stacked against a wall, and she’s got nothing to wear, tomorrow, when she opens the store, for the day.”

Toni reappeared, and frowned at them both, while she played catch-up.

“You’d give aid and comfort?” Tuck sneered.

“Implying that she’s the enemy? Since when, Pa? Get a grip, on your temper, and pack a bag for her.”

“I won’t.”

“Fine. Toni will. Probably better to have another woman do it, anyway.”

“Want me to come with?” Toni offered.

“No, babe. That’s no place, for a lady. It’s in worse shape, now, than the last time you were there.” As he spoke, he gave Tuck a hard stare.

Tuck had the grace to look ashamed. “There’s a piece of plywood, out back, that one of us can slap over the hole. Should keep Gil from tumbling into the cellar, if he crawls under the bed — not that that’s his habit.”

“I’ll take ‘em both,” Will relented. “Best if I go alone, I think. Don’t want her to feel ganged-up on. She’ll be glad to see Gil.”

Lisa

The fever of the day broke in the promised thunderstorm, as Lisa pulled into the bookstore parking lot. Under the pole lamps, the rectory looked more forlorn and decrepit than ever. Worse, even, than when she had moved here, just a few of years ago. Then, it had been faded and empty (or so she’d thought). Now, it had all the charm of a squashed armadillo, on the side of the road.

As the first fat drops of rain hit the windshield, she realized she couldn’t face it, just now. She got out, and opened the back door. Not up to taking the whole box inside, either. Lisa grabbed the portfolio she’d been reading, and two others that she knew she hadn’t seen, yet, stuck them under her shirt, to protect them as much as she could, and made a dash for the shop, through the rain.

The generous eaves of the roof sheltered her, sufficiently to find the key on her ring, but it didn’t do a thing, for the lightning, which was starting to strike, perilously close. Inside the narthex, she finally relaxed. The store still held some of its original essence, as a church sanctuary, and landing here was like coming home.

She switched on the lights, flooding the store. It was her electric bill, after all. It was all hers — the lights, the stacks, the books the layout. The cat. Grady appeared, from the rear of the mystery section, where he had been sleeping, in his favorite chair, and sidled up to her.

“How has your evening been, Sheriff Grady?” Holding the folders to her, so they wouldn’t fall out of her shirt, Lisa bent to scratch his jaw, and stroke his ginger back. “Mine has been the pits, buddy.”

She placed the books on the biggest of the reading tables (just because it was the biggest), and headed for the coffee pot, in her little snack shop area. When the coffee was made, she dumped a dollop of the flavored creamer that was her guilty pleasure into the cup, sugared it, to her liking, and carried it back to the table, along with a tea towel.

She wiped a drop or two off the top edges of the three folders, where they’d been exposed, even under her shirt, then held her breath, as she opened the one she knew to contain Callie’s words. Seeing the ink wasn’t smeared, she released the breath. The words had faded, over time, to begin with. The last thing she’d need would be to have them obliterated.

“To enjoy coffee, on a rainy evening, with a book,” a pleasing voice drawled, from the opposite side of the table. “But that’s not a book, at all.”

“The song says: two outta three ain’t bad. What can I do for you, Gerald?”

“Why, nothing, my dear. I’ve been dead for more than a century. I don’t want or need a thing. I simply enjoy your company. You should have one of those nice cookies Toni brings in, with that coffee. Shall I fetch you one?”

He was capable of it. Gerald’s idea of a good time, was to move things around.

“No. Thank you.” She gave him a stern look. “I’m here, to read.”

“Something you can’t read, at home? Is it scandalous?” he teased.

Lisa wasn’t in the mood for Gerald, in high good humor. Most of the time, he was thoughtful and serious, but he took spells of madcap antics, and blithe quips about the nature of being deceased.

“Not tonight, Gerald. I just want to be left alone.”

“You’re not even interested in hearing about the huge rat Grady caught, this evening? Big as a ‘possum.”

“Not as big as your lies, I’ll bet.”

“Not nearly,” he grinned, in agreement. “No, darlin’ the only rodent Grady’s caught, since he’s been here is that toy one you gave him. He ignores it, when you’re here, but he bats and swats it, all over the store, after you leave. Cats must preserve their dignity. On the internet, last night, I read an article —”

“No, you didn’t!” Lisa scoffed.

“I did, on Catster. Look at your browsing history, if you don’t believe me.”

Lisa frankly gaped at him, now. His satisfied air assured her, he wasn’t lying.

“I don’t type, with nine fingers, as you do. I have to enter everything slowly, one key at a time, with one finger. Tell me, why are the keys all mixed up, the way they are?”

“And deprive you of the satisfaction of looking it up, for yourself? I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“That I’m learning to use the internet, and you’re plowing through handwritten manuscripts.”

“Have you a point, Gerald?” she demanded, in tired exasperation.

“I have, indeed. Whoever set pen to paper, to write what you’re reading, there, is as dead as I am.”

“So is Mark Twain. People still read him.”

“They don’t see him, though, do they?”

“I don’t see Callie, either.”

“Callie, is it?” His jocularity ceased. “My dear, don’t go down that road, again. It’s dark, and treacherous — and you have sense enough to know better.”

“I believe she deserves to be heard.”

“To what purpose? You cannot change the past, Lisa.”

“I can acknowledge it — from all sides.” Her eyes narrowed. “What are you afraid of, Gerald? That I might find out something unflattering, about Margaret? Or, Beatrice?”

The Judge laughed, but it was an angry sound. “I thought you understood that I and my ilk are beyond want, and fear. I have only concern, and right now, it’s for you.”

“No need. I’m well equipped to take care of myself. You might say, I was designed, for it.”

“Are you, indeed? Tell me, then — where is your brown dog, and, where are you sleeping, tonight?”

Before she could attempt a reply, Will appeared, at the entranceway, dripping. Of course, they sent Will. Charming, reasonable Will.

“Was that him? The voice I heard?”

Lisa didn’t have to look, to see that Gerald was gone.

“It was. Will, I’m not —”

He held up a hand.

“I come in peace. I’m only here to lay a sheet of plywood over the cellar trap, help set up your bed, and deliver some things. If you’re gonna camp out, you need some supplies.”

“No need to be dragging plywood around. If we set my bed over the hole, I won’t fall in.”

“You won’t, but Gil might crawl under there, and take a tumble.”

“You brought Gillie?”

“He’s in the truck, staying dry. Brought some food, too for both of you. Anything in your cupboards has gone south, by now.”

“Thought I’d just live on Toni’s last cookie and scone delivery,” Lisa joked. She wanted to cry, both at his kindness, and at Toni’s — the groceries would have been her idea.

“It’s just soup and sandwich stuff, for lunch. The kind of thing you always pack, for yourself. Meals at home are the same time, as always. If you want leftovers, instead, for your lunch, you’ll have to be there, to grab some.”

“That’s the deal, huh?

“That’s the deal.”

Will made quick work of the plywood barrier, and getting the bed set up. When Lisa reached for a set of sheets, he stopped her.

“Not those. Toni sent fresh ones. She said those were bound to be full of dust and crap, from having set out, so long.”

“That was thoughtful — and kind.”

“She sent your pillow, too.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake! Does she want me to go back, or is she trying to move me out, by inches?!” Lisa laughed, a little hysterically, then the tears came.

Will held her, as a son would have. “She wants you to go back. We all do.”

“With… strings!”

Will chuckled. “You think you’re the only one, with strings?”

“I think I’m the only one with strings, and no say-so.”

“What do you want say-so, over? Do you want to decide what we’re having, for dinner, sometimes? Do you want to take on some of the running of the stable? I’m sure either one of those could be arranged. You want me or Pa to teach you to train riders or horses? You’d be great, with riders, especially.”

“I want a bigger table, in the apartment, so I don’t have to clutter up Toni’s. And I want your ‘Pa’ to keep his mitts off my things! I don’t go into his office, out in the barn, and plunder his files. I don’t interfere with anything Toni does — but, why can’t I do a grocery run, once in a while? Shit — all she does is place the order online, and pick it up! I built a whole bookstore, from below the ground, up. I run it, myself, and it makes money. I’m not a helpless moron! I’m not… I’m not a stray cat, anymore!”

“I’ll pass on the message,” he replied, mildly. “Too many restrictions, not enough authority. You’re sick of being the only Private, in the army.”

“I can speak for myself.”

“Not to that pair, no. You need an interpreter — trust me,” he chuckled, letting her go, gently.

Because he was Will, and always prepared for anything, he found his handkerchief, with ease, and handed it, to her.