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THE SEAT IN MOE’S OLD pickup truck was worn through so badly that the foam padding pushed out of the ripped seams. He laid an empty feed sack over it to protect Traci’s legs from being pinched by the tattered brown vinyl. The roof liner hung down and brushed the top of her head, and the rear-view mirror was missing. There was a rancid odor that she dared not ask about. Despite all of that, she was grateful for the ride. Moe had not hesitated when she approached him that morning at the farm. He dropped everything, lifted her into the cab and got them down the highway.
There was no one stationed at the Rest Haven receptionist desk when she arrived. Traci glanced down each corridor for assistance until finally one of the attendants stepped away from his task cleaning the window cocoon and approached her.
“Hello, can I help you?”
“Hello,” Traci said reaching for her wallet. “I’m here to see Mr. Earl Garrett. I apologize for not calling ahead. It was a last-minute idea to drop in for a visit.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Earl is no longer with us,” the attendant said frowning. “We’re all very sad about that. But we know nothing in this old world is permanent. Still, you get attached to the residents. Some more than others.”
“Oh, I didn’t know.”
“They usually contact family members first,” the attendant said looking her over. “Are you a relative? Wait, I think I remember seeing you here before. What is your name again? Wait, it’ll come to me.” He studied her face for a few minutes. “Boy, Mr. Earl really enjoyed your last visit. After you left all he did was play his music. It was so loud that the other residents complained about it.” He laughed and shook his head. “But next thing you know, they were dancing in the hall. It was something. I sure am going to miss that old man. But when it’s your time to go ...”
He shrugged and wheeled the service cart to a spot along the wall. “We should have some paperwork for you to complete, though. Give me a moment to take care of Miss Clarice down the hall here and I’ll be right with you.” He walked away toward the office. “In the meantime, go ahead and sign the book for me, please.”
Traci rushed back to the parking lot and climbed into the truck.
“What happened?” Moe said helping her pull the door closed.
“He’s dead.”
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure,” she said patting her forehead. “They wanted to give me some paperwork or something. I don’t know. I just make a mess of everything. What was I thinking about coming here in the first place? Instead of helping, I just make things worse.” She grabbed a fistful of her hair.
“Listen, Miss Traci,” Moe said and loosened her grip and pulled her arm down to her lap. “Ain’t nobody mad at you but you. Everything you did was to help us and to keep alive what Miss Rowena started. And we appreciate that. Everybody does. Don’t get down on yourself about nothing.”
“Wait here,” Traci said and took a deep breath. She climbed out of the truck and slammed the rusted door behind her.
She walked back to the reception desk and waited for the attendant to return. There had to be something that she was missing about Earl Garrett. If she had gotten this far, what did she have to lose to ask a few more questions? She glanced down at the Visitor Registry. And there it was.
Visitor: Charlotte Carter
Resident: Earl Garrett
Sign-in Time: 3:16 pm
Sign-out Time: 3:48 pm
She bent over the counter and read the sticky note.
Notes: Resident self-discharged accompanied by C. Carter. Forward mail to Franklin Manor, 1442 Smoketree Ct, West Keeferton
“Let’s go,” Traci shouted as she raced back outside, waving to Moe. He started up the truck and met her at the entrance, then took off out of the parking lot and back onto the highway.
“Where we going, Miss Traci?”
“To find Sarah.”
Moe followed the highway to the unmarked road behind the old abandoned rail yard, then turned onto the snaking single lane dirt road through Wyman’s Campground. He parked at the entrance to the permanent resident area. They climbed out of the pickup and walked up the trail of pine shavings toward the cabins.
“T-Babe!” Josh St. John approached them with a Remington 12 gauge propped under his arm, a beer in one hand and a cigar in the other. Gray-white smoke curled through his dusty red hair, held back from his forehead by a loosely tied camo bandana. His cheeks were covered with sweat and sunburn, adorned by a chest-length beard braided at the tip. He smeared the front of his barn coat with the mud from his fingers. Then wrapped his hand around the back of Traci’s head, leaned down and gave her a loud kiss on the forehead. She glanced over at Moe’s startled face and gestured for him to go ahead without her.
“How you doing, baby girl?”
“I’m good, Josh.” She didn’t oppose this invasion of her personal boundaries. “Thanks for taking care of my friends.”
It had been over a year since she felt that embrace. He had put on weight. Not that bloated kind of weight that she had seen on guys like him. But the kind that meant he was eating regular meals and packed on some extra pounds. And that made her happy.
“You know it’s no problem at all. Anybody that wants to stay out of trouble, I got a place for ‘em,” He swallowed down the rest of the beer and tossed the bottle in a barrel. “I ain’t turning nobody away. If I hadn’t found that lottery ticket, none of this would be mine, anyway. I’m a lucky guy.” He poised the cigar between his teeth. “Just a lucky guy out here in the woods.”
“Yeah, it’s a long way from tent city under the Logan Street bridge,” Traci said remembering when they first met.
Josh had been a shield against the elements that tried to take her out, people and things, and sometimes herself. When he found the winning lottery ticket, Josh didn’t waste the luck. He bought a twenty-five-acre parcel at the county line, and scavenged building materials from demolitions and abandoned properties. With no housing code enforcement to slow him down, he assembled the campground and filled it with fellow military vets and marginalized folk. It had become a small village sitting between Faucier and Pekote that neither county official wanted to claim. And that’s how Josh wanted to keep it.
“How’s that house coming along?”
“I still have a lot of work left to do,” she said shaking her head.
“That’s always the way.” His voice was a low growl that some took for anger. Traci knew better. “Things ain’t never finished, sweetheart. So, don’t wait on that to be happy.”
“I’m not sure it’s worth it anymore, to be honest. I’m thinking about packing it in, Josh. Maybe head to the West Coast. What do you think?”
“Naw, I like it right here in the middle where life is slow. You know, I could always use your help around here. You remember what I taught you, right?”
“How to use a ripsaw,” she said, then smiled at his fake scowl. “And that ‘quitting is the way of cowards and thieves.’”
“That’s right,” he said and took in a long draw of his cigar. He watched the sequence of smoke rings float over their heads in silence as if meditating, then snapped back. “Well, I gotta check on a little trouble over by Bear Falls with a couple of the guys. Take care, T-Babe, and don’t be a stranger.”
He gave her a bear hug, pressed his moustache against her temple and whispered, “Anybody give you a problem, just say the word.” He tilted his head back, those dark gray-green eyes staring down at her, then lowered his voice even more. “And Ol’ Josh’ll take care of it, alright?”
She nodded, then forced back her tears as she watched him lean the shotgun on his shoulder and walk off into the shadows. The dry brush crunched under their feet as the other men appeared and joined him on the trail through the woods.
Traci wiped her face and caught up with Moe who stood inside the enclosed porch of the cabin he shared with the other growers. They stepped inside the dimly lit common room. It was rustic but spacious, outfitted with three separate sleeping areas and a mini kitchen. Mosquito netting draped across the open windows and she could smell the scent of citronella pots burning in each corner. Only one person met them.
“Sarah, it’s okay.” Traci said softly, touching her shoulder. “I’m going to show you a picture of some people. And I just want to know if you remember seeing them anywhere. Take your time. Okay?”
“Okay.” Sarah looked at Moe and he nodded. Then, she looked back and nodded at Traci.
Traci held out the article containing the photograph of Earl Garrett. Next, she showed her a group photograph that included several people, including Rowena Garrett.
“She sure was pretty back in the day,” Sarah said her eyes starting to fill with tears.
“Do you recognize any of the other people, Sarah?” Traci held the photo closer to her wishing the quality was better and the room lighting brighter. “Any of the women?”
“No, not a one.”
