by Blythe Baker
When I finally got to the tree, I stopped and held my breath. With my ears searching for anything that sounded unnatural, I waited several minutes before scaling up to a safe height. There was no one in the garden but me, as I shimmied up the tree to a thick branch about fifteen feet in the air. I tried not to think about the bugs or spiders that might be out scurrying across the bark for their nightly adventures. Instead, I listened. The leaves of this particular tree hung lazily, like streamers. With even the slightest blow of the wind, they rustled. They also camouflaged me almost completely.
There was a very comfortable crook in the branches that I settled into. Not only could I stretch my legs out but I could also easily stand, bracing myself between the crook and the branch overhead. Both branches were thick and strong, and I could maneuver easily without making any sound. Everything seemed perfect for a stake out.
Except for one thing. I’d had a cup of coffee before I headed out from home and I didn’t go to the bathroom before leaving the house. Basic surveillance 101 said if you knew you might be stuck in the same place for an undetermined amount of time, go to the bathroom first.
I was pretty calm, in the beginning. I knew I could wait. I focused on my plans for the next few days when the inspectors were scheduled to arrive. I still had the work being done in the house to deal with. Detective Michael Sullivan has left two messages and I haven’t even thought of calling him back yet. Plus, Drake said he’d help me get all my bases covered just in case there was a lawsuit on the horizon, but I hadn’t called him back yet either. All these things were on my To-Do list.
Half an hour passed. Then another. By the time it turned one-fifteen in the morning I was getting ready to call it quits and hurry to the house to relieve my over-burdened bladder. So of course that was when the excitement started.
My view of the landscaping site was good in that I could see all of it from where I was sitting. The bad part was that I was too far away to be sure of what I was looking at.
Slowly, a hunched creature hobbled along the uneven terrain toward the area where the trees had been cut down. It was obviously a person. It had to be. I wasn’t subscribing to Kelly’s theory of orbs and ghosts and bugaboos. Sure, it was oddly formed and was using a stick to support itself. It seemed to be dragging itself along, swinging a very dim light that gave a ghostly glow rather than anything that could really help illuminate the area.
The whole scene reminded me of the old black and white version of Frankenstein when Igor and the Doctor go to the grave to dig up the freshly buried corpses. Except that my garden wasn’t a graveyard and this wasn’t a movie. It was really happening.
The person stopped just slightly out of view. I had to stand up on tip-toes and lean to my right in order to see that the person had paused. They looked around quickly then, taking what I had thought was a walking stick, began to dig in the ground. Whoever it was had brought a shovel with them.
What were they digging for? Why were they doing it on my property? If that wasn’t enough to make me angry, the fact they were near the landscapers’ equipment made it that much worse. I would have to warn the crew in the morning. For now, I watched.
It didn’t take long for my bladder to remind me that it didn’t have much longer before it would burst. I found myself sweating, as I struggled not to move. I tried to focus in the very limited light to see if I could make out any features of the mysterious digger. Was it a man or a woman? Did I know this person? Was it Zane Jones or one of the other lackies from the quarry?
Part of me really wanted to slowly climb down and utilize the element of surprise, demanding the trespasser identify himself. But for all I knew, they could be dangerous. They could have a gun, a knife, or some other weapon. There were a million possible bad outcomes to a confrontation and I wasn’t willing to risk my life to find out which one it would be. So, I stayed put.
This person dug feverishly in the ground. And it wasn’t like they were collecting night crawlers. This was a big project that required they dig deep and wide and, for whatever reason, fast. The steady sound of the shovel hitting the ground, scooping the earth and tossing it to the side, became a rhythm.
Before long, the person was tossing dirt out of a deep hole they were standing in. If I was going to confront them, now would be the perfect opportunity. But my body wouldn’t move. I had to admit it. I was scared.
Just as I was about to shift, I saw the figure pull itself clumsily up out of the hole. Whoever it was picked up the dim glowing light and, using the shovel like a walking stick, began to leave the same way he or she had come.
What? They had just come to dig a hole and leave? Were they trying to cause one of the landscapers’ diggers to tip over? Maybe this was someone who had a grudge against my workers and it really had nothing to do with me at all.
Either way, they had no right to be on my property after dark, digging around. Carefully, I inched my way down the tree. I carefully retraced my steps down the branches and I was sure there was a third branch to grab on the way down. I reached my hand out but there was nothing there. I waved a couple times in an attempt to find the branch I could have sworn was just within arm’s reach.
Nothing. Just air.
I felt my heart jump and a rush of adrenaline raced through my veins as I tumbled out of the tree, landing awkwardly on my feet. At first, I thought it was a grand display of talent. That was, until I tried to take a step.
My right ankle shrieked in pain. I clenched my jaw as I transferred my weight to my other foot. Quickly, I scanned the darkness for the intruder and saw the dim light shaking and vibrating as the person staggered further into the garden.
I couldn’t let this bad ankle keep me from finding out where the trespasser was going. With all my strength, I bit down hard, made my hands into fists, and followed.
The shadows seemed to be closing in on me as I followed that bobbing sphere of light. It convulsed at some spots and swung in an even, easy flow at others. But one thing was for sure. It was getting smaller and smaller as the intruder pulled away from me.
I had nearly forgotten about my bladder when I suddenly saw the light stop. Unlike professional investigators and detectives who were trained to follow and tail suspects of all sorts, I was a greenhorn in the area of surveillance. So when the light stopped advancing I kept going, stepping on several dry twigs and giving myself away as if I’d struck a red flare and waved it in the stranger’s direction. I froze.
The person who I had thought was small and stooped suddenly stood upright. The span of the shoulders assured me it was a man. The dark hood that concealed his face didn’t conceal the eyes that I could feel searching for me.
I held my breath and stood still. The sky had been clear, like it usually was over Little River. But the moon wasn’t full. For that I was thankful. Had it been, I would have been seen as if a spotlight were shined directly on me. I would have preferred to be crouching behind a bush or tree instead of hiding in the open under the shadowy veil of a trumpet creeper.
The vines must have been enough because the person slowly turned, then, without warning, took off running. I tried to keep up but with my injured ankle it was impossible. I felt like I’d been beat up and I needed to get back home.
The small round light got further and further away from me until it was completely out of sight. By that time, I was well on my way back to the parking lot.
The evening wasn’t a total bust. There was someone sneaking onto my property. The question was, were they there to get me in trouble or to make problems for the landscapers? Either way, if anything happened to those machines or any of the operators on the property, I was going to be held responsible.
“Can’t think of that right now,” I muttered breathlessly on the walk home.
My house finally appeared up ahead. Favoring my good ankle, I made it up the steps of the porch and into the dark house.
Normally, I’d have flipped the lights on as I went but this was a real emergency. I made it to
Mamma Jackie’s downstairs bathroom, turned on the light, quickly shut the door, and sighed with relief. Once I got my wits back, I looked at my ankle.
Unlike my bladder, my ankle couldn’t be relieved so easily. It had swollen up to at least double its normal size by the time I pulled off my shoe and sock. My entire foot had swollen, making my toes look like miniature Vienna beef sausages.
“Brilliant,” I muttered. As soon as I opened the door again, I screamed.
“Settle down. What’s the matter with you and why are you using my bathroom?” Mamma Jackie asked.
“It was an emergency.” I tugged at my shirt, which had a huge dirty smudge across the front from my adventure in the tea garden.
“What is that?” She pointed.
“It’s mud from when I fell in the tea garden.”
“What were you doing out in the garden at this hour? Is that where your new boyfriend wants to meet?” She chuckled. For some reason, her obsession with me having some kind of love life, real or imagined, tickled her pink. It offered endless fodder for her sarcasm.
“There was someone out in the garden digging holes where the landscapers are working,” I explained.
“Why would anyone be doing that?” she asked, looking more annoyed than worried. I shrugged my shoulders and lifted my eyebrows.
“We should get a dog,” Mamma Jackie said, out of the blue.
“We can’t get a dog. We aren’t home enough to take care of one. Plus, I didn’t think you liked dogs.”
“I like them better than people,” she huffed.
“That’s probably mutual, Mamma Jackie.” I walked out of the bathroom, holding onto the doorframe.
“What happened to your foot?”
“I twisted it jumping out of a tree,” I said, offering no further explanation.
She stood there and stared at me for a long, uncomfortable minute.
“What?” I asked. “I told you, someone was on my property, digging holes. I hid up in the tree to try and get a look at the person.”
“Did you?”
“No. I was too far away and they were wearing a hood.”
“Uh-huh.” Mamma Jackie looked me up and down and then turned to go back to her room.
“It’s true,” I said to her back. “This is how far I’ll go to make sure you’re safe. I should just set you out there and let you handle the trespassers. That’ll scare the daylights out of them.”
“You can bet I wouldn’t be hiding up in some tree, that’s for sure.” She went back to her room and shut the door. I saw the light beneath the door go out. She was done with me.
Truthfully, I was done with me too. My body ached and my ego was bruised. I needed to wash up and go to bed. Another night of worrying about what tomorrow would bring. Lawsuits? Accidents? Locusts? Boils and sores?
I limped around my room as I got ready for bed.
“Just go to sleep, Maddie. Nothing more is going to happen tonight,” I promised myself.
I should have known I was in no position to make such promises.
10
“Maddie!” Mamma Jackie yelled up the stairs. She could walk up them. Heck, she could run up them if she felt like it. But why do that when she could scream at the top of her lungs and get me to come downstairs to her?
“Maddie!” she shouted again. I could hear her mumbling something about me being lazy.
“What is it?” I shouted back, tugging the covers up around my chin, while I stretched. The clock on the nightstand read 5:05 a.m. An hour early.
“Moonshine! It’s Moonshine!” she yelled.
Within seconds, I was up and out of bed, cringing as the pain in my ankle reminded me of what had happened the previous night.
“What’s wrong with him?” I asked nervously, making my way down the stairs.
“He won’t get back in his cage. He’s outside now.” Mamma Jackie said it like a kid giving a parent bad news about a failing grade.
“Again? Mamma, how many times have I told you to keep the veranda door closed when he isn’t in his cage?”
My ankle still sore, I hobbled miserably to the back screen door. I could see the bird perched regally on the branch of a baby oak tree in the back yard. Its branches were the perfect size for Moonshine’s talons to wrap around. He looked in our direction as if he was surprised we were talking about him.
“I’m old,” Mamma Jackie defended herself.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
She only grimaced. Her eyes didn’t blink and her mouth was pulled down tightly as if she didn’t understand the question.
I stepped out on the wooden porch. Some nights in Texas got downright cold. Last night was one of those nights. This morning there were still traces of frost on the ground and when I called Moonshine’s name from the porch I could see my breath.
“Hey, pretty bird. I’ve got your breakfast.”
“Rawk!” he squawked. “Lazy!”
“Moonshine, if you don’t show some manners, I’m going to leave you out in the cold.”
The bird only screeched in reply.
“Don’t you want breakfast? Come on back inside and you can have some,” I said cheerily. “And a frying pan with some corn oil and salt and pepper to cook you in.” Those words I muttered so just Mamma Jackie could hear. She scowled at me.
Just then, Moonshine flew to a higher branch.
“Come on, Moonshine. Come on, Pretty bird,” I cooed.
There was more squawking and wing flapping but the parrot stayed in the tree.
As I limped out into the yard, clicking my tongue and cooing to Moonshine, Mamma Jackie followed behind me.
“Go over that way.” She pointed to the far end of the yard. “No, no, no. Go there. Over there!”
“What for? He’s right here!” I said in an angry hushed voice. I didn’t want to scare the bird off.
“He needs to fly in for a landing.”
“What?”
“He won’t just hop onto your shoulder. He has to glide to your shoulder,” Mamma Jackie said, as if this were so obvious I should have been embarrassed for not knowing it.
“I think I have a mosquito net in the shed by the shop. I’ll go get that,” I suggested.
“You’ll do no such thing!” Mamma Jackie squawked, causing Moonshine to bristle his feathers.
“I can’t climb the tree and he isn’t going to glide to my shoulder, or to yours, from the looks of it,” I pointed out.
But before I could even attempt to snag the bird in a net I wasn’t sure I had, Moonshine took off for greener pastures.
“Great! Now he’s over the wall and into the tea garden. It’ll be a miracle if he comes back,” Mamma Jackie barked.
“Look, when he gets hungry he’ll come back.” I hobbled toward the back porch. My ankle was aching. “I’ll put some seeds out and I bet he’ll be back by suppertime.”
“Fine.” Mamma Jackie stood with her hands on her hips, staring off in the direction where the bird had disappeared into the greenery. “Do you think the other birds will fight with him? Moonshine is such a gentle soul. I’d hate it if he had to peck in self defense.”
I looked down at my hands to see the most recent injuries I’d gotten from the bird. One I received as I was changing his water. The tip of his beak was razor sharp and had made a deep cut that would probably leave a scar. The other was a scrape from his talons from an occasion when he hadn’t wanted to get off the back of my dining room chair. That one would heal but it had stung like the dickens when it happened. Gentle soul? Moonshine was as gentle as a Sherman tank.
“He’ll be fine,” I assured her.
“I hope so,” Mamma Jackie said gruffly. When I turned around, I saw her wringing her hands.
I said, “I’ll put his food out and we’ll leave the screen door open all day. He’ll find his way back in.” I nodded and patted my ex-mother-in-law’s shoulder. The idea of leaving the door open seemed to bring her some comfort.
It took less
than a day for Moonshine to return. I had to admit it was a relief to see him glide to a landing on the back porch and walk on the floor into the house, as delicately as if he were royalty.
“Moonshine!” Mamma Jackie gushed. “Come to Mamma.” She patted her lap, as she sat in front of the television.
Casually, the bird walked in his pigeon-toed fashion toward his adopted mother. Tenderly, he hopped onto the top of her foot, then her knee, then her shoulder and gave her a loving head-butt.
“Where did you go, pretty bird? Did you have fun giving us a scare?”
“Hello handsome,” Moonshine replied. “Breakfast!”
I heard my ex-mother-in-law laugh and I couldn’t help laughing too.
While I stood at my new stove that had recently been set in my beautiful fake marble countertop, I took a deep breath. It wasn’t because my kitchen remodel was finally finished and looked perfect. It wasn’t because the mint tea I was making was so invigorating, even though it was. But this was the last bit of renovation my grandmother’s old house had needed.
I could put it on the market at any time now. That thought tugged at my heart a little. Scary as it sounded, I was starting to wonder if I really wanted to sell the big old place. I was beginning to feel attached to the home and it was conveniently close to the tea garden.
As the sun was setting, I took my tea out to the front porch to just take a stroll around the estate. My ankle had recovered from the other night’s injury, so that walking was no longer painful. In my front yard, a large oak tree cast a long shadow over the driveway. My grandmother had a lovely vintage wrought iron table and two chairs settled at the base of its trunk. Painted in the traditional white, it was beautifully weathered and rustic, adding the perfect touch to the Victorian home.
As much as I tried to put the decision off for another day, I couldn’t help but think I didn’t want to move. Not yet. Not while I had a brand new kitchen and all the new appliances to break in.
Strangely, I had no sooner had the thought than I saw a moving van down the road turn onto our street. As I watched, it pulled to a stop in front of a house near the tea garden parking lot. Squinting into the distance, I made out the forms of the movers climbing out of the truck. Anyday Movers was stamped in navy blue letters on the side of the vehicle.