Katherine

by S. A. Glenn

  As he stood next to a redwood tub, he noticed folded towels and soap on a shelf. He stripped down, grabbed the soap and hopped into the water—it was ice cold and he shrieked. “Ahhhhh!” He quickly washed, shivering uncontrollably. Not being in the water more than three minutes, he leapt out and grabbed a towel to dry his cold dripping-wet body. As he put aside the cloth, he slid one leg into his grungy pantaloons—then Sara opened the door, holding a folded pile of clean clothes. She quickly turned her head. Embarrassed and shocked, he nearly fell over as he tried to keep his balance. He grabbed his hat and placed it over his privates.

  “S-s-sorry, ma’am,” he said, teeth chattering, face red.

  “My apologies, Samuel. I should’ve let you know I was coming, but I didn’t think you’d be out so quick. Please, forgive me!”

  “It’s okay, ma’am.” He snatched the towel off the tub, wrapped it around himself. “I didn’t think the water’d be so darn cold.”

  “Put these on.” She set down a change of clothes onto the shelf. “They’re old clothes my husband used to wear.”

  Sara recalled her husband wearing the very clothes she gazed at on the shelf. Steven, her only love who used to light up her world, looking so handsome in the shirt and pants, would play the piano for her and their daughter. Everything was wonderful, all the laughing and love filled the air with joy. Then Sara recalled the night that her world changed. She was washing the dishes when she heard a rustling out-side. With her sweet smile, she journeyed out the back door toward the shed. She ventured inside, expecting to see her husband hard at work, building furniture; (that was his job. He created beautiful works of art. His best creation was the grandfather clock that still chimed on the hour inside the restaurant.) He was hard at work, all right. He had a young, blond-haired woman bent over his workbench and he was hammering her.

  Leave your dirty ones here, I’ll wash them,” she told Samuel, fading back into the present.

  “Thank you, ma’am. I really appreciate everything. It’ll be nice wearin’ clean things for a change—been on the road, its hard keeping kept up.”

  “You’re welcome, Samuel. Now go ahead, get dressed. Come up to your room afterward, I’ll be up there getting it ready.”

  While he dressed he noticed some loose and missing boards on the steps and walking area around the tub. He decided to repair them since he was good with his hands, to repay Sara’s hospitality with chores. Hoping she would have what he needed to do the work, he headed inside wearing his clean clothes. He journeyed up the stairs and noticed many pictures on the wall. As he stopped for a moment he paid particular attention to one. There was a young girl in it, maybe twelve years old, standing next to Sara, holding her hand. The girl had a bow in her hair, wearing a lovely dress. The girl’s smile and eyes had a hold on him. Those enchanting eyes pierced through him as though she knew him. He shook himself free from her captivating stare and joined Sara. “Ma’am! Who’s that girl in the picture with you?” he was quick to ask.

  “That’s my daughter, Katherine,” she answered as she fluffed a pillow and tossed it into place onto the bed. “She lives with her father in New York. My husband and I separated some years back.”

  “She’s very pretty.”

  “Thank you, Samuel. Maybe you two will meet. She’s coming home next summer after graduation.” Sara put her finger to her lips. “I bet you two’re close to the same age. How old are you, Samuel?”

  “Twenty, ma’am. Just turned…”

  “She just turned eighteen. My, how the years go by.” Sara pondered briefly. “Anyway, my little girl’s coming home. I can’t wait. There’s so much to catch up on.” She straightened out the bedding. “Well, Samuel, you’re all set. Anything else you need?”

  “Yes, ma’am. A hammer, nails, and a saw, if you got ’em.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “For your generosity. I’ll take it upon myself to fixin’ up stuff ’round here. Ain’t got nothin’ much else to do, ma’am.”

  “Thank you, Samuel. I’ve been meaning to take care of things around here. Just haven’t had time to do so. Out back in the shed is everything you’ll need.”

  “I’ll get right on it!” he said eagerly, tipping his hat. He made his way outside, finding hammers, nails, saws, chisels, and levels. His spirit became lifted while listing in his mind projects he could battle. The biggest one, other than his life’s problems, was to build a house; that was, if he could save up enough money. He became enthusiastic about applying his talents again and felt worthy with some piece of mind—then he became still as he recalled all the tools he once owned but had to leave behind. They were his life, his way to contribute to the world and express himself. He’d felt empty and unappreciated by society since then. Who needs an unproductive man who cannot take care of himself, and cannot stay out of trouble, he thought to himself. He took a deep breath as he hoped to overcome his inadequate feeling, desperate to rid himself of the past; but it had a way of finding oneself—hopefully not this time, though. With a stiff upper lip he collected the tools he needed, hoping to have another shot at a good life.

  Samuel counted the missing planks, cut them to size and secured them with nails. He also weeded Sara’s garden since he loved caring for food sources. After a couple of hours, when he was done, he washed up and headed into the kitchen, feeling productive. As he cracked open the swinging door, he peeked into the dining room and saw lots of customers enjoying lunch. He closed the door and stayed out of their way, not wanting to interrupt their meals. He was uncomfortable around crowds, felt like their eyes judged him harshly. It was best that he kept to himself, that way nobody would mistake him for someone he was not, or accuse him of something he had not done—it had happened before.

  “Hello, Samuel,” said Sara as she came through the door with a tray full of dishes.

  “Let me help you, Ma’am,” he insisted as he took the tray and set it down.

  “You look exhausted, Samuel. I’ll take care of the rest. You’ve done plenty! How long has it been since you’ve slept?”

  “Um… three days, I guess, ma’am.” He let out a big yawn. “I’m wound up. But I could use some shut eye, I reckon.”

  “You want lunch, first?”

  “Still full from breakfast—but I could use a drink… It helps me unwind, if you don’t mind, ma’am.”

  “Here, take this with you.” She slid a full bottle of whisky and a shot glass across the counter.

  “Thank you, ma’am.” He grasped the stuff and nodded. “I believe this’ll do the trick. I’ll get outta your way.” He headed up the stairs.

  “Have a good sleep, Samuel. Sweet dreams.”

  He walked up the narrow staircase and came to Katherine’s picture; again he glanced at it and saw something wonderfully intriguing about her. Her mesmerizing eyes followed him as he passed by; as though she were concerned about him; like they were once great friends; but he could not place the seemingly distant, warmhearted memory. It seemed like he missed her dearly, like he wanted to see her again. Yet, he knew that was crazy—he had never met her.

  He entered his room and plopped down onto a chair by a table next to the window. He uncorked the bottle, poured himself a shot, put the glass to his lips and threw back his head. He poured another shot and slammed it down his throat. He wiped off his lips with the back of his hand and smacked the cork into the bottle. The warming sensation hit his stomach and brought him comfort. He sat back, flopped his feet onto the table, rolled a cigarette, ignited the wooden match with his thumbnail, lit the smoke and puffed on it. Inhaling, he blew out smoke rings and watched them crash into the window as he absorbed the hell that took place three days ago: all the bullets that flew past his head when he escaped with his life, and the fear of not knowing what was to become of him next, was too much to grasp without whiskey. He wanted to be left alone. He could never hurt an
yone; at least, not on purpose. He was a passive person, receiving situations in his life, whether they were good or bad, without resistance. The thoughts brought him anxiety, turning his stomach as he tapped his restless fingers on the table. His agonizing recollections soon faded as the whisky numbed his emotions. He extinguished the cigarette, kicked off his boots, fell into bed and passed out.

  Over the next few hours he tossed and turned, periodically awakening. His surroundings were unfamiliar, his mind, not resting. Eventually he relaxed and dreamed.

  There was a large tree. Samuel was a boy, swinging from one of the branches. He looked outward as a barn burst into flames. A coyote passed by and pointed at Samuel. “There he is!” it stated. The tree’s branches clenched Samuel’s throat. He fought for oxygen, pulling and tugging for his life. He could not break free. Just before he lost consciousness he abruptly awoke.

  He was sweaty. The sheet was wrapped around his neck. He loosened its grasp, coughed and gagged. Once he obtained his composure he stared endlessly into the darkened ceiling, motionless as he tried to gather the concepts of the dream. No clarification came. He got up, disturbed by his dream.

  Sitting at the table, he gazed across the way at the saloon, watching others having fun on this late Friday evening. The place resonated with laughter. He wished he could partake in the pleasures, but he knew that there was trouble when others drank, and he neither needed nor wanted that attention. He just stayed in his safe place, downing five more shots, smoking and witnessing others enjoying themselves. He eventually passed out.

  Bright and early Samuel awoke to the smell of bacon. He was starving. He slipped into his clothes and hurried downstairs. He felt good about the new day, though a bit hung over. He caught Sara ready to pull muffins from the oven. He grabbed a cloth and interjected. “Ma’am, allow me.” He took out the aromatic, small, soft cakes and got a nose full of them. “Boy, these sure smell good”

  “Thank you, Samuel. They taste even better. So, how’d you sleep?”

  “On my back, ma’am.”

  “No, Samuel,” she laughed. “I mean, did you sleep well?”

  “Like a baby.”

  “Babies are up every few hours, crying, hungry and needing a dry diaper, Samuel.”

  “Then, I guess I slept like someone that hasn’t seen a bed for a week. I slept great.”

  “Wonderful! Now, if you’re hungry, take a seat. Everything’s ready.”

  “Don’t hafta ask me twice, ma’am”

  Sara loaded his plate, poured him a cup of coffee and sat his breakfast onto the table. Grabbing a piece of bacon he chewed on it and thought about what he should do for the day. As he took a sip of coffee he decided to scout out the landscape to familiarize himself with his new home. He ate quickly, cleaned up after himself, and then began his adventure.

  CHAPTER 2

  He walked along the bank of the river, taking him a mile of so out of town. He found a meadow with four trees standing in it: an apple tree, a cherry tree, a plum tree and a walnut tree. There were also wild black berries, raspberries, a grapevine hanging over an old picket fence, and a bush, unknown to Samuel.

  Being a good time to prune the plants he pulled out his pocketknife, tickled about his discovery. His mouth salivated with wonder, hardly able to wait to taste the juicy fruits they would bear in a few months. He cut away at the raspberry stalks. After he finished the job he closed the blade, slid it into his pocket, then cupped his chin and admired his accomplishment.

  His drinking from last night had him drained, so he moseyed over to the walnut tree for a break. He sat and leaned against the tall, woody plant. A dried-up leaf from last autumn floated down and landed into his lap. He grasped it, studied its intricate nature and learned how complex it was, like his life. “Where does my fate lie?” he asked himself as he crushed the withered thing, dispersing it into a breeze that carried the fragments away.

  The river and birds blended, producing tranquilly soothing sounds. Fluffy white clouds with flat bases and rounded outlines on top drifted by. His eyes grew heavy as he noticed the shapes of the brilliant shade casters. Falling into a deep slumber, he entered a dream world.

  A transparent cloud formed around him. Its presence reflected lurking dangers. He was carried off to town. Standing in the middle of the main street, the negativity of the danger lying about him was forced away by his invisible shield. The townsfolk perceived him as a suitable citizen—then his dream turned grim because he was not protected from the outsider. The outsider’s deception was the most malevolent and his wickedness would penetrate Samuel’s armor. The man stood in the dark, unseen as his grisly laugh finished Samuel off—then a sweet little girl appeared and chased away the nightmare. She smiled at Samuel; he smiled back and took her into his arms. The lollipop in her hand touched his face, getting sticky candy on him.

  Samuel woke up as a puppy licked his face. “Hey, little doggie. Where’d you come from?” He scratched the pup on its noggin. He hadn’t seen a dog in years and it stimulated him with laughter as he played with his new friend. He wondered if he had an owner; but by the looks of the filth on his coat, and his ribs that were showing, he believed he was alone. Samuel stood, walked toward town and said, “Betcha needa home, don’tcha, boy?”

  The puppy gave him a crisp bark and trotted along Samuel’s side.

  At the restaurant Samuel picked up his companion, knocked on the back door and called out for Sara. She came out and saw Samuel’s big grin as he held the cute animal. He let out a couple of chuckles as the puppy licked his ear.

  “Awww, he’s adorable. Where’d you find him?” she asked, rubbing the puppy under his chin as she smiled at them.

  “He found me up on the hill, ma’am.”

  “Whatcha gonna do with him?”

  “Well, I was thinking if I build him a house out back, maybe, just maybe, I could keep him, ma’am.” Samuel’s heart was beating fast, nervous about being told no. He was dying inside for a ‘yes’.

  “Sure,” she replied, “I don’t see why not. Does he have a name?”

  “Thank you, ma’am. You gotta name, boy?” he asked, peering into the puppies big, brown eyes.

  “Ruff!” the puppy spoke.

  “Guess his name’s Ruff, ma’am.”

  “Good,” she laughed at them. “Are you boys hungry?”

  “We’re starving, ma’am. Can we eat out here so we can start on his home?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, giving him a salute.

  Samuel gathered scrap wood from around the shed and compiled a quaint house for Ruff. He painted Ruff’s name above the door in bold, black letters. Ruff ventured into his new home, sniffed around then lay down. He watched Samuel build a fence and gate around the doghouse. Samuel felt it was his duty to keep his puppy safe until Ruff learned to fend for himself.

  It was dusk when Samuel completed his task. He and Ruff were content from their dinner and ready to relax for the night. Samuel placed a bowl of water next to Ruff’s shelter. “Okay, boy. You’ll be fine now. I’m gonna take good care of ya. I’ll bathe you in the mornin’.” He headed inside, feeling needed.

  Samuel sat at the table in his room, downing two shots. A smoke hung from his lips as he tossed his hat at the rack—it hit the mark. There was a knock at his door. It was Sara. He invited her in. She entered, holding folded clothes in one hand and a plate with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the other. She smiled as she placed the clothes onto the dresser; the sandwich, onto the table. He grinned as he watched her straighten out her dress, realizing how beautiful she was.

  “I thought you might want a little something to eat before you turn in. And I cleaned your clothes.” She rested her hand on his shoulder.

  “Thank you, ma’am. I’m really lucky to have your help.” He placed his hand atop hers, feeling sentimental from the alcohol. “I app
reciate your kindness, fussin’ over me an’ all.” He looked up at her, wanting to shed a tear.

  “Fussing? Not at all! I’m just helping you get back on your feet. I can tell you’ve been through a lot. I see it in your eyes.”

  “You can?” He took a big bite of his sandwich.

  “Yeah, but you’re safe here, don’t worry,” she smiled, patting his shoulder.

  He studied her comment, wondering what else she might discover—then his taste buds went wild. “Mmmmmm, ma’am. You make good sandwiches! The jelly’s tasty.”

  “Thank you. A neighbor made the peanut butter, but Katherine made the strawberry jelly. She sent a few jars from New York.”

  “I could eat this every day,” he said with his mouthful.

  “She’d be pleased to know that. Oh, I almost forgot. I’ll be leaving here at 7:45 in the morning for church. Do you want to go with me?”

  Samuel chewed a couple times, swallowed. “Thank you, ma’am… but no thank you, if it’s all the same.” He was worried she’d judge him.

  She smiled. “That’s fine. The door’s always open if you change your mind. But, anyway, I’ll leave you to your business. Have a good night.”

  “You too, ma’am.” He was relieved that she wasn’t harsh with him. Samuel poured another shot. He felt guilty about not attending the church services. “But why should I go?” he asked himself, not knowing if he believed in God or not. “But if He does exist, He don’t want a drinker, smoker, or a ’nobody’ like me in His house. Maybe when I’m a better person… if that could happen,” he declared, drinking another shot, smoking one more cigarette and eventually passing out in the chair.

  In the morning a rooster crowed. Samuel’s eyes slowly opened, fluttering for a moment. He lifted his pounding head off the table, his mouth as dry as the desert. Wiping the gunk from his eyes, he stood and stretched with a big yawn. He almost fell over from the rush of blood to his head. He stumbled down to the kitchen in a daze, gulped down two tall glasses of water. He chomped down on an apple and devoured a handful of nuts. His drinking binge had clouded his mind, having him stare at the floor until he could gather his thoughts. Once done, he grabbed meat scraps and a bone then visited with Ruff. Ruff wasted no time gorging the tasty delight, finishing with the bone between his paws for dessert.