The Sweet Spot

by Joan Livingston

  “You shouldn’t drive the dozer if you don’t know what you’re doing,” he told her. “We can get one of the guys from the highway crew.”

  “That’s not necessary. I’ve done it lots of times for Pop.”

  “Really?”

  Then there were the locals. Just like at Walker’s wake she sized up who would feel what fast. She did what she had to do. She ignored their smirks and remarks. Pop must have put up with a lot because of her and Walker. No wonder he had a heart attack.

  She leaned against the shack’s doorjamb, draining the last of the lukewarm coffee in the thermos. It was fifteen minutes to closing. She eyed an end table someone was throwing out and five window screens with wooden frames. Pop would be proud she was bringing them home.

  Through the trees she saw a blue truck, and then as it passed through the gate, the man’s face in the windshield. Sharon St. Claire’s brother, Jim, was at the wheel. He worked on the highway crew. His boy was the one who threw pig guts and eggs at her house. Jim put the truck in reverse and backed it with such force it appeared the pickup would ram the pile of garbage, but it stopped at its edge. He left the door ajar before he marched toward the rear.

  Edie watched.

  “You need any help?”

  Jim dropped the tailgate. An orange cat with a bullet hole in its head lay on the pickup’s bed.

  Edie swallowed hard.

  “Uh, Jim, you can’t leave that here.”

  He glared.

  “Who says?”

  “We don’t take dead animals at the dump. Town rule.”

  “You do today.”

  Jim grasped the cat’s back legs and flung the animal hard, so its body landed high on the pile of garbage. With a satisfied grunt, he was back in his truck. Jim spat through the open window, not close to Edie, but in her direction before he drove away slower than he came.

  Edie sat on the shack’s stoop. She eyed the dead cat. There was no way she could climb the pile of garbage to give it the burial Jim should have done. She wondered what the cat did to deserve being shot. Knowing the Crockers, it was probably nothing. Maybe Jim killed the animal just for her benefit. That family was cruel enough.

  “Stupid Crockers,” she said.

  Edie didn’t have time to feel sorry for the animal or herself. She had to run the dozer. She’d take care of the cat that way. Amber was waiting at Aunt Leona’s to see Pop. Her aunt called early this morning to say she might come, too.

  Edie swore when she heard a truck’s engine. This would definitely be her last customer. Maybe Jim was coming back. If so, what else would he do? She wished she had a phone in the shack.

  She smiled when she saw Harlan’s pickup. He beeped the horn in a friendly way.

  Edie went to the driver’s side.

  “You’re lucky,” she told him. “I was just ready to shut the gate.”

  “That so? I actually didn’t bring anything to throw away. I came to see if you needed any help.”

  “I gotta run the dozer and close things up.” She nodded toward the shack. “See those wooden screens and that little table? I was gonna bring them back. There’s a pie safe in the shack, too.”

  He eased himself to the ground.

  “Those look like good finds. I can put them in the back of my pickup.” He studied her. “How’d it go today?”

  “As best to be expected. Those that like me, still do. The others hate my guts. I’d say they were the majority.” She shrugged. “The newcomers don’t know the difference.”

  Harlan gestured toward the top of the pile.

  “Is that a dead cat up there?”

  “Uh-huh, one of the Crockers brought it by. Guess he was making a point.”

  His head shook.

  “Edie, I’m sorry.”

  “I’m more sorry for the cat.” She pulled her gloves from the back pocket of her jeans. “I better get to work.”

  Harlan limped toward the shack for the screens.

  “Why don’t you do what you need to get done,” he said. “I’ve got this. Besides, I’ve never seen a woman run a dozer before.”

  Smiling, she decided this was the best moment of her day.

  “Stand back, Harlan Doyle, and enjoy the show.”

  Heebie-Jeebies

  Edie led Aunt Leona and Amber to Pop’s hospital room.

  “This place gives me the heebie-jeebies.” Leona gripped Edie’s arm. “If I get real sick, promise me, Edie, you won’t bring me here.”

  Edie slowed her steps.

  “You want me to bring you someplace else?”

  “Nah, just let me go.”

  “Aunt Leona, suppose you’re only a little sick, and you ain’t gonna die?”

  Leona’s bony hand wrapped tighter.

  “If I’m only a little sick, I’ll get better on my own,” she said.

  “I don’t know who’s stubborner, you or Pop.”

  “You might say we have a contest going although I do believe Alban is a little bit ahead this week.” She snorted. “Do your sisters know?”

  “I left messages. Maybe they’ll call back.”

  “Those two,” Leona said.

  Edie glanced over her shoulder. Amber walked a few feet behind.

  “Stay closer,” she told her daughter. “If anyone asks how old you are, you say you’re eight. Okay?”

  Leona snorted again.

  “You can tell ’em you’re small for your age like your Ma.”

  Edie pointed.

  “That’s his room.”

  Pop grinned when he saw them.

  “My favorite girls,” he said. “Nice to see you too, Leona.”

  Edie slid a chair beside the bed. She nodded to her aunt, who lowered herself onto its seat. Amber moved behind her.

  “Alban, don’t make me sorry I came all this way to see you.” Leona frowned. “When are they letting you out?”

  “Not soon enough. Damn noisy place. I can’t get enough sleep. Someone’s always pokin’ and flashin’ a light at me.”

  Edie studied her father. He looked tired but not from the lack of sleep.

  “You see the doctor today?” she asked.

  Pop waved.

  “That quack says I gotta stay here for a while. Then I gotta take it easy at home. I asked him how I’m supposed to work at the dump if I gotta take it easy. He says I won’t for a while.” He paused. “You call your sisters?”

  “I did. They send their love.”

  Pop snorted.

  “Likely story.”

  “Honestly, you don’t look half bad for someone who almost kicked,” Leona told him. “Glad you decided to stick around, Alban.”

  Pop made a whistling laugh.

  “Me, too,” he said, and then his eyes were on Amber. “Come here, sweetie. I won’t bite.”

  Amber stepped closer.

  “Hi, Poppy.” She handed him a folded paper. “It’s a card. I made it for you. That’s you in your chair. See? You’re watching TV.”

  Pop studied the card.

  “That’s me all right. Why don’t you put it on that table for me?”

  A nurse, all rustles in her white uniform, came into the room.

  “How are you doing, Mr. Sweet?”

  “Sweet as ever,” he joked.

  The nurse laughed.

  “I see you have company. Is this your granddaughter?”

  Amber raised her hand.

  “I’m eight and small for my age like my Ma,” she said.

  “I can see that.” The nurse laughed again. “I’m going to check on your neighbor.”

  Pop shook his head.

  “You do that, honey. Poor bastard worked in a sawmill. His lungs are filled with sawdust.” He waited until the nurse passed. “How’d it go today at the du
mp?”

  “It went okay,” Edie said.

  Pop’s eyes narrowed to slits.

  “Nobody gave ya a hard time?”

  Edie thought of Jim Crocker and the dead cat then let them go.

  “I said it was okay.” She paused. “Pop, I was thinking I could do your job for you until you get better. You know, as your substitute.”

  Leona’s red head shook.

  “What the hell?”

  “I know what you’re thinking, Aunt Leona. It’s dirty work, but it’s only open two days, and one of them’s a half-day. Besides, Pop wants to keep his job, and I can’t find anyone to hire me around here.”

  The features on Leona’s face sharpened.

  “Sons of a bitches,” she swore.

  “You got that right.” Pop lifted his head a couple of inches from his pillow. “You sure you wanna, honey?”

  “Pop, I’ve been there enough times to know what to do. I already told one of the selectman, the really nice one, I’ll take over for now.”

  His head fell back onto his pillow.

  “I ain’t doubting you can do the job.” He fingered a tear. “Don’t you forget you gotta be extra nice to the newcomers. They give big tips at Christmas when you help ’em with their trash. Carry their bags and tell ’em hick stuff like what bird is making that racket in the trees and talk about the weather. They like that kinda shit.”

  “Yeah, Pop.”

  Pop winced.

  “It might not be so easy with the locals, I’m afraid. You know because of what’s goin’ on in town over… ”

  Edie didn’t let him finish. She gave a warning eye to her aunt. The doctor said Pop shouldn’t get excited.

  “Eh, don’t you worry about me. I can handle myself. I was a Sweet before I was a St. Claire. We’re tougher. Besides, I can always bring Aunt Leona with me. She’d take care of the troublemakers.”

  “I’d like to see any of them try,” Leona said.

  Her father winked.

  “If you gets a little thirsty, there’s a bottle or two stashed in the shack,” he said.

  Edie rolled her eyes.

  “I’ll remember,” she said.

  Pop chuckled.

  “By the way, you three ain’t my only visitors today. Guess who else came?”

  “One of your pals?” Edie said.

  “Nah, it was our neighbor.”

  “Harlan? He didn’t tell me he saw you when he came by the dump.”

  “He was just being neighborly. Asked me if I needed anything. Edie, I told him to keep an eye on you and Amber. He says he plans to.”

  Leona’s head turned upward. She made a tittering laugh.

  “You should see your face, Edie. I didn’t know it could get so red.”

  “Aunt Leona, you’re being silly.”

  “Ha, am I?”

  The Ring

  Dean swung open the door to his singlewide.

  “What are you doin’ here?” he asked Edie.

  “Hello, yourself.”

  “Edie, you don’t wanna come inside. The place is a pigsty.”

  “Dean, take a look at me. I’m filthy, so I’ll feel right at home.” She brushed dirt from the front of her flannel shirt. “I’m running the dump for Pop until he’s back on his feet. He had a heart attack.”

  “A heart attack? Christ, I hadn’t heard. Then I don’t get around much anymore.” He shook his head. “How’s your old man doin’?”

  “Better. He’s outta the hospital anyway. I don’t know how that’s gonna work. The doc says no smoking. Pop says fat chance he’ll give it up. He made me stop at a store on the way home from the hospital. I hated buying them for him, but he threatened to get them himself. What a stubborn old cuss.”

  Dean winced.

  “You workin’ at the dump for him? Jesus, Edie.”

  She gave a half-shrug.

  “It’s okay.”

  “That bad, eh?”

  “I don’t mind the garbage as much as some of the people. I think the Crockers and their pals come to the dump more just to see me. Gives those sick bastards some kinda joy. But, hell, today’s Wednesday. It’s only a half-day. I only got to see half of ’em. Ask me Saturday when all of ’em come.” Edie didn’t budge from Dean’s door. “You gonna let me in, or do I have to talk with you out here?”

  “All right, all right, but I warned you,” he said.

  The place was a sty, as Dean described. Trash was everywhere. The place stunk of something dying. She lifted a foot over a pile of dirty clothes.

  “You weren’t lying,” she told him.

  “Let me clear a space at the kitchen table,” he said. “We can talk over there.”

  Dean shoved dirty dishes to one side of the table. He left a half-filled bottle of Southern Comfort in the empty spot.

  “Wanna drink?”

  “No, thanks.”

  Dean reached for the Comfort, but yanked his hand back as if the bottle might sting him. Instead, he stretched backward for a pack of smokes on the kitchen counter.

  “Maybe later, eh?” He made jerky laughs in the back of his throat. “Why you here?”

  “I heard about you getting kicked off Walker’s crew,” she said. “I should’ve come a lot sooner, but I’ve been busy with Pop and Amber. Sorry.”

  Dean tilted his head, blowing smoke upward in a strong, steady stream. He pulled the bottle toward himself.

  “What are you sorry about?” Dean said. “You didn’t do anything to me. The way I see it, we both got screwed when Walker offed himself. Stupid Sharon went around saying I should’ve asked her to go up there. Yeah, right. She would’ve stopped him.” His voice was hoarse. “Shit, Edie, I didn’t know he was so fucked up.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment. She and Dean had known each other since they were babies. They hung in the same crowd through school, and he was a pallbearer for Gil. She had enough to worry about these days without taking care of Dean, too. She studied the man as he drank from the bottle. Dean tipped it toward her, but she waved it away.

  “A lot of things are messed up.” Her voice cracked. “At least half the town hates me. Maybe more. My little girl never sees her grandparents. I can’t even shop in their store. Jesus, how long did I work there? When Gil died, everybody treated me like I never did anything wrong. With Walker, it’s like that’s all I’ve ever done.”

  Dean’s gaze hung somewhere over the table as if he was watching her words tumble in the smoky air. Suddenly, he sat upright. His fingers folded tightly around the bottle.

  “You know what I say? Fuck ’em. Fuck Walker, fuck Sharon, and fuck fuckin’ George. That asshole wanted to be foreman all along. And while you’re at it, fuck the whole damn town. I’ve had it.”

  “What are you gonna do?”

  Dean brought the bottle to his mouth. He drank again.

  “I’ll find work. Don’t you worry. I’m not lettin’ those bastards get to me. I can take care of myself.” He raised his eyebrows. “And you can see what an excellent job I’m doin’.”

  She stared at the bottle then Dean.

  “Very funny.”

  Dean stubbed his cigarette into an ashtray filled with butts and roaches. He got to his feet and picked his way through a pile of boxes and duffle bags in the corner. He had his back to her, and when he sat down again, he dropped a small box covered in black velvet on the table.

  “Go ahead. It’s for you.”

  She opened the lid and gasped when she saw the ring inside. Its diamond was as large as the ones Marie wore.

  “What’s this for?”

  He tapped the diamond.

  “Walker bought it for you. He showed it to me a coupla times.”

  She slid the box toward Dean.

  “I don’t want it.”

&nbs
p; “I’m not givin’ this ring to that bitch. She never loved Walker, and he sure as hell didn’t love her.” His head shook. “I don’t blame him. Did ya know she tricked him into marrying her? She told him she was knocked up, but she wasn’t. He didn’t find out until after she threw him out. Walker was so pissed. He felt like he wasted his life. It’s all he talked about. Sharon got her brother, Buddy, after him. It drove him over, I tell ya.”

  “Poor Walker.”

  Dean held the box, snapping the lid over and over.

  “Poor Walker, all right. It really fucked things for him. He could’ve had a happy life. He could’ve had a beautiful wife who loved him. I’m talking about you, Edie.”

  Edie cast her eyes downward. Once again, the old sadness filled her. Dean was getting it wrong, but she didn’t want to tell him. She recognized the old sadness in him, too.

  “I didn’t know any of this,” she said.

  “Nobody did.” He cleared the back of his throat. “I told Sharon at the funeral Walker had stuff here. Her brother, Buddy, came for the guns and cash. He told me to throw the rest out. That’s the stuff in the corner. He didn’t bother going through it. He didn’t give a shit.” He slid the box toward Edie. “Sell the ring. I know how much it cost. You could take the money and move someplace else. You could get out of this shit-hole town. People here ain’t gonna give you any peace, Edie. You could find it somewhere else. Walker owed it to you. He really did.”

  Edie gazed at the ring, thinking about what Walker wanted from her and what Dean said. She pressed her finger on the top, so the box shut with a quick, tight shot.

  “No, I can’t take it. Do what you want with it.” She rose. “I gotta go, Dean. Amber’s with Pop. Call me once in a while, why don’t you?”

  Dean tore at the bottle’s label.

  “You seein’ that guy?”

  “What guy?”

  “The one who lives next door to you, Harlan Doyle.”

  “Harlan? We’re just neighbors.”