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Monday, April 22, 1996 - Martinsville
Marmalade woke me early by burrowing under the cover and kneading my tummy. Glaze couldn’t sleep though that amount of activity, so we took turns patting the cat and using the bathroom. I’d forgotten to write my gratitude list last night, so I picked up the little white fabric-covered journal with the big orange sunflower design on the front, and wrote:
~~~~~
MY SUNDAY GRATITUDE list (written early Monday morning)
1. Fresh bread
2. Bob’s presence
3. Glaze
4. Baby birds that flew the nest
5. Marmy
That was my five, but I decided that today we could use some extra thankfulness, so I added:
6. Rain
7. Doughnuts
8. Safety
9. Soup
I am thankful for
good eyesight
good hearing
good sense of smell
whiskers
claws
I will add:
leftover salmon
~~~~~
IT HAD RAINED OFF AND on all night, but wasn’t raining now, although some light thunder still rumbled in the distance. A good day to stay indoors, which is what I wanted to do anyway. A good day to sew more of the curtains. Maybe we could even tackle making a couple of valances today. Some people like those elaborate ones that look like an interior decorator came in to top the curtains with waves of cloth, usually surmounted by at least three enormous fabric rosettes. I go for the simpler stuff. It wouldn’t take us long to make some quiet little drapings to hide the curtain rods.
Glaze was beginning to come to life slowly, brushing her hair and watching me rummage through the closet. I chose a pair of soft cotton slacks, a white tee shirt that said Relax and Breathe over the pocket. On the back, in bigger letters, it said for the REST of your life. Then I pulled a soft lightweight pink cardigan out of the third dresser drawer. As I opened the top drawer to pull out undies and socks, Glaze brightened visibly and hopped off the bed where she had been snuggling in the flannel sheet. I like flannel, even in summer.
“We’re going to look like a mirror today,” she chuckled as she did her own rummaging. “Where on earth did I put my ... Phooey! She sure did move things around.”
“She? Who’s She?” I asked.
“Oh, the nurse who re-packed this for me. The cop who came to the scene brought my suitcase to the clinic. Nice of him to do that. It had popped open during the wreck, and he must have crammed everything back in.” As she was talking, she pulled out a pair of gray cotton pants, a plain pink crew-necked top, and her own cardigan that could have been a twin of mine except that it was white. It was the one she’d worn to CT’s on Saturday. “See?” she chirped. “Pink-white, white-pink.”
Just then Marmalade hopped up onto the windowsill by the bed and started doing her own chirping, a sort of singsong whine. I stepped around to the dormer window, looked down at the birdfeeder, and saw two male cardinals disputing the back-yard territory. Marmalade put her paws on my arm and looked up at me expectantly. “Do you want to go outside, sweetie?” I asked her.
Yes. Now!
“It looks pretty damp out there, but I’ll let you out for a while when we go downstairs.”
We would have made a grand entrance, except that Glaze tripped somehow as she turned on the landing to head down the second flight. I tried to catch her, but she bounced smartly down the eight steps and landed in a heap at the bottom. Of course, Bob and I both rushed to her, and we managed to bump heads as we leaned over her. Glaze laughed at us, claimed she was okay, tried to stand up, and grimaced as she put weight on her left leg.
“I think I twisted my ankle as well as my dignity,” she said. “This’ll be great for the wedding. A Maid of Honor in an ace bandage.”
“Take a big breath,” I told her, “and stop worrying.”
“Don’t worry about the wedding,” Bob agreed, now that we were sure she wasn’t too badly damaged. “You can be my best man, and Tom can be the maid of honor for Bisque. That way you won’t have to walk down the aisle.”
We looked at him in astonishment. Actually it wasn’t a bad idea. We might as well give the town something to talk about for the next ten years or so. He and I maneuvered Glaze into the kitchen, propped her foot up on one of the yellow chairs, smoothed on some arnica cream, gave her a few drops of Bach’s Rescue Remedy and applied an ice pack. Bach’s is one of the best herbal remedies I’ve ever found. I always keep it handy.
Then I took a good look at Bob. He hadn’t shaved yet, and he looked a bit the worse for wear. “You didn’t pull out the bed, Bob? Don’t tell me you slept cramped up on that couch.” I felt a pang of remorse that I hadn’t even thought to help him make up a bed last night. In fact, I’d been too anxious even to give it a thought.
“I was fine. Marmalade makes a pretty soft pillow, and the rain played me a lullaby.”
“Do I detect a smidgen of sarcasm, dear sir?”
“Not even a whiff of it. Actually I slept pretty well. I had planned on sitting up to watch, but Marmalade talked me out of it. That purr of hers is hypnotic. Once I shave I’ll feel 100% better. By the way, I squeezed some orange juice for all of us while you two were being lazy.”
“Bless you, oh loved one,” I said, and started over toward the coffee pot, but he reached out and pulled me to him in a long, slow hug that was sheer comfort. Then he went to do his whisker thing.
I would like to go out now.
Glaze pointed over at the back door, where Marmalade had curled up in her meatloaf position, looking for all the world like the pillow Bob had said she was. A pillow with ears. And whiskers. Meowing loudly.
I walked over and looked out the peephole again. No sense in being casual about somebody who’d beaten up my sister, although I didn’t want to think about that this morning. Marmalade scooted out the door, which I then locked behind her. “I’ll get the pancake ingredients together.”
“Can you bring in the paper first?”
“What do you mean, bring in the paper? Here, if you want the paper, you walk a couple of blocks to the grocery store. What do you think this is, a suburb? We do have fresh orange juice, though, since Bob is spoiling us. I was going to get you to squeeze it, but now you can just relax and ...” I paused, looking down at the front pocket of my shirt. “... just relax and breathe!”
~~~~~
WEDNESDAY, MAY 3, 1995
Garner Creek
It was a Wednesday. They never had lunch together anymore. It all had ended that day they went to the Hideaway. But today, Sarah decided to go back to the little diner across from his bank. She felt summer-time free, even though it was only early May.
When Sarah went in, the yellow-haired waiter brought her decaf. It was good to be remembered after three whole months, but her usual table was occupied, so she sat near the front door. This time she could take a whole hour almost and eat at a leisurely pace. She leaned back in her chair and looked around. She smiled at Pamela, Marcia, and Helen. Marcia, she noticed, was wearing her new silk scarf, tied in a simple square knot. Sarah felt good about that, and she’d gotten new business for Mabel’s, too.
Glancing farther to her right, she noticed that, even in the warm spring weather, the older man with the crooked nose wore a sweater with leather patches at the elbow. The sweater looked new somehow. She was glad he was doing well.
Sitting at the table to her left was the same man in the same black tee shirt, looking rushed as usual. From where Sarah sat it was hard to see the whole room. She turned a little in her seat. Yes, there was the student with her tote bag, still wearing a denim dress, although this one had short sleeves, which was more appropriate for summertime.
She’d heard that the young man with the long face had been murdered last week. That was so sad. She still thought of him as one of the regulars here at the diner. Although, now that she thought about it, she’d seen him only a couple of times. And then, of course, she’d seen him last Friday at Cherokee Motors. On her anniversary. Ha! What a laugh. Some anniversary. She’d gone home after dinner and straight to bed. She hadn’t even heard Sid when he came in. He said he had tiptoed in about 9:15, not wanting to wake her. That was nice of him. Maybe there was hope after all. She stirred more cream into her decaf and ordered a turkey sandwich on rye.
~~~~~
MONDAY, APRIL 22, 1996
Thank goodness there is a gap in the fence. I do not mind hopping over it, but I got a foot caught in the wire once, and that was no fun whatsoever. The gap is much easier. He was hiding in the trees out back. That is how he could see Widelap and Smellsweet in the kitchen yesterday. They should have noticed him sneaking along the fence line behind those tall trees that smell so good.
I told them he was here yesterday. Why did they not listen to me? Too bad I lost him when he got into his big truck. I will keep hunting him, though. Maybe today ...
This is where he jumped over yesterday, and he came this way again this morning. There is a big dent in the grass where he landed.
He stepped on one of her baby bushes. That will hurt Widelap. Her face will crinkle, and her eyes will bunch in from the sides, and her nose will go a little flatter. Widelap spends a lot of time on her knees talking to all these plants, and patting them and fussing with them, but she does not always seem to hear what they are telling her. This one that he stepped on needs more light. He did not kill it, but it is going to grow up lopsided, leaning out to try to catch the sun.
This is so easy it is absurd. Up the hill, along the sidewalk, across the street. Uh-oh, I had better run – there is Looselaces in her yellow car. Now across this street and into the place where they plant the bodies in boxes.
Well, well, well. There he is sitting on the back flap of his blue truck, stinking up the world with his smoke. I think a little leg-shredding is called for. I will move a bit closer first ...
I’ll teach you a thing or two, you lousy dog-kicker. How dare you sneak around and scare my people?
*&$^$@(%#&^^(^%^*&()%^” ^&%&*
Ouch!
~~~~~
FROM THE STATEMENT of Esther Anderson (Mrs. Leon Anderson) to the Georgia Bureau of Investigation
No, I hardly knew him. He never came here to the library ... Yes, I volunteer here with Sadie Masters and Rebecca Jo Sheffield ... Yes, I think a lot of the new librarian ... My shoes? Size seven or seven and a half. It depends on the style ... No, I don’t know how he got into the library, unless it was through the back door. Biscuit, the new librarian, that’s what we call her, always locks up the front door real tight. ... Everybody in town knows about that door. I don’t think it’s ever had a lock on it ... No, I don’t know why he was here.
~~~~~
MONDAY, APRIL 22, 1996
Martinsville
By the time Bob emerged, clean-shaven and smelling like Old Spice, the coffee was dripping and we had already started on the orange juice. It had taken me a while to explain to Glaze that I followed the food-combining principles that say that fruit of any sort needs to be eaten (or drunk) half an hour before any carbohydrates or proteins are put in the stomach. Helps the digestive processes immensely.
When I told Bob about it almost a year ago, he agreed to give it a try. Luckily, he liked the results, which, since they had to do with the end results of digestion, were better left undiscussed during breakfast. Heaven keep me from the belief that the activities of my bowels are of vital interest to every person I meet. Years ago, thinking of my great-grandfather on my dad’s side, I told Sandra and Sally both that if I ever start a conversation with, ‘So, have you had a bowel movement yet today?’ they are to COMMIT ME instantly. Either that or take me out into the hills in the middle of winter and leave me for the bears. No, they would be hibernating, so it would have to be wolves. I hope they eat me fast, so it doesn’t hurt too much.
So we drank our juice and sat talking of simple non-digestive things until it was time to start the pancakes.
After breakfast, Bob left for work, reminding us again to keep the doors locked. Although I thought Glaze should stay in the living room rather than tackle the stairs again, she insisted on hobbling back up. “I left my toothbrush up there, for one thing, and I’ve brought some things for you that I keep forgetting to get out of my suitcase. Not wedding presents, just some fun stuff.”
I held her left arm and she leaned on the bannister with her right arm as we inched up the stairs.