Paddy Plays in Dead Mule Swamp

by Joan H. Young

  “They’ll do fine with your dog. We used to have a Golden, but the poor old thing died last year. The loss was hard on them. It’s nice outside, shall we sit out here?”

  He motioned me to some mis-matched chairs scattered around a dented patio table sitting in the sand with no patio under it. He walked unevenly in that direction, leaning on the cane. I followed, brushing red dog hair from my pale yellow summer pant suit. I was glad I’d worn cotton; the hairs clung to polyester as if held by an electromagnet. We seated ourselves across from each other. I was thinking we’d had a rather unprofessional beginning.

  “Mr. Leonard, I’m not sure I introduced myself to you properly. I’m Anastasia Raven, and I’ll be your liaison with the Crossroads Fellowship Family Friends services. People call me Ana.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Anna. I’d appreciate it if you’d call me Len.”

  “’Ana,’ please, as in ‘I wanna be your friend.’” I smiled, but I really like people to get my name right. The man held out his hand, and I shook it. His grip wasn’t strong, but it wasn’t limp either. He seemed physically weak, but genuine. My interest was personal, but it was also official. Most of the assignment for my first meeting was to make observations, and to assess any particular needs.

  “What I hope to do today is get acquainted. Do you mind explaining to me about your family?”

  “Not at all, ma’am. It’s kind of a sad story. I’m glad enough the girls aren’t here to have to listen to it all again. Bringing that pup was a real good idea.”

  “I’m sure Paddy is delighted with the attention,” I said, smiling. I didn’t admit that bringing the dog was simply expedient, rather than planned.

  “Mostly I want to join the literacy program. The short answer to why I want to read, now, is that my wife, the girls’ grandma, died this past winter. My Becky was good to me. She never cared that I couldn’t read. I used to have a good job driving forklift over at Forest Tech Products, but then I got hurt, and then I had to go on disability. She did our paperwork, and kept track of things. Star tried to take over, but she’s not quite old enough to be able to handle it all.”

  “I’m so sorry about your wife. When did she die?”

  “In March. It was cancer. We thought she had it beat, but then it came back and there was nothing anyone could do. It was terrible for Star and Sunny. First they lost their mama, then the dog, and finally their grandma.”

  “Is their mother dead too?” I asked softly.

  “We don’t rightly know,” Len said, moving his head from side to side and frowning.

  Chapter 4

  Len was shaking his head in the negative, but he lifted the tone of the sentence into a beginning, opening a door rather than closing it.

  “What do you mean?” I urged, my curiosity aroused.

  “Star was eight and Sunny was just a toddler. They lived with Angie, her full name’s Angelica—our daughter, and her boyfriend, DuWayne Jefferson. He’s the girls’ father. Becky and I were worried some. They weren’t the best example of a stable family, but they were pretty good parents, and we tried to help out when we could. They lived in the last trailer, that tan and brown one down there.” He pointed vaguely to the east.

  “I’ll never forget that day; it was Monday, June 14, in ‘04, Angie was out by herself. DuWayne was hauling sand with a friend, and the girls were here with us. Angie—we always called her that, but when she grew up she wanted to use Angelica—she went over to Paula’s Place to apply for a job. That’s a diner in Waabishki, east of here on the edge of Emily City. It’s in Sturgeon county, but that’s closer for us than Cherry Hill. Paula said later that there was an interview scheduled with Angie for that morning but she never showed up. Paula didn’t think much about it till later; people do that to her all the time—not show up, you know.”

  I nodded. “Those kinds of jobs have a high turnover rate, that’s for sure.”

  “Angie could’ve had a better job, but she didn’t have much self confidence, and with two little girls she needed something flexible.

  “Anyway, we thought she’d been hired and started right away, so didn’t worry at all till much later. She often forgot to let us know how long the girls would need to stay here, but we didn’t mind. DuWayne came by about nine o’clock that night and picked them up. The next morning, the three of them came back here asking if we’d seen Angie. Of course, we hadn’t.

  “We called the Sheriff, it was Stan Portman back then, and he said we couldn’t even file a missing person’s report until she’d been gone twenty-four hours. The next day, she still hadn’t come home. I picked up DuWayne and the kids and we all went to the Sheriff’s Office, but they kept putting us off.

  “We tried to tell him that she wouldn’t leave the girls, but folks from this part of the county don’t get much respect anyway, and Portman wasn’t known for feeling gracious toward people like DuWayne, if you get my drift.”

  “I do,” I said. My stomach was tight. Even though Forest County wasn’t very diverse, I hated to hear that outright prejudice still existed.

  “Finally, after two days, on Wednesday, the police started making inquiries.” I could hear the agitation in the man’s voice, and he began to shake from the emotional strain of retelling the story, even seven years after the fact.

  “They couldn’t find her?”

  “Not a trace. DuWayne said she’d felt real peppy, and wanted to walk to Paula’s; it’s not even three miles. Since it was technically illegal for all four of them to ride in the truck cab, he let her walk. Apparently, no one saw her after she left home that morning. DuWayne dropped the girls off here at about nine. Of course, DuWayne was the prime suspect to have done something to her, but Star insisted that her mother had been there to feed them breakfast and dress Sunny before she left, and then her daddy had put them right in the truck to come here. Even though she was only eight, she told so many details, matched by Sunny, as much as a three-year-old can say, and they kept her in another room so she wasn’t copying Star, that there was no way DuWayne would have had time to do anything to Angelica that morning. After he left here, he went to Larry’s house, and they hauled sand together all day. Earned $50.00 each, and that was verified too. He just couldn’t have fit in anything else.”

  Len sighed, and he seemed to lean into the table even more than his bent back required.

  “Where is DuWayne now?” I asked.

  “Gone too.” Len sighed again. “He said he couldn’t live in a place that treated him so bad, and he went to Chicago. He shows up every few months with a bit of money, and presents for Star and Sunny. But he gave up all rights. We... I, am their full legal guardian. The girls are happy to see their daddy when he comes, but they don’t understand why he won’t stay.”

  It was a difficult story to listen to. I could see how poignant it all was to this man whose life had become pretty much a classic tragedy. And yet, he wanted to learn to read, to try to make things better, even yet.

  “How do the girls get along at school?” I asked. I was a bit afraid to hear the answer.

  “In their work, or how they are treated?”

  “Both.”

  Len brightened and sat up a bit. “Better than you probably think. I have to say that most people in the county don’t give a rat’s elbow about the color of people’s skin. The girls both have friends, but we live so far out here that it’s hard for them to get together much. The school bus is their only transportation into town unless I drive them, but that’s getting really hard for me to do. Star is itching for her learner’s permit, but she can’t get into Driver’s Ed until this fall.”

  “Teens are always eager to learn to drive, and I’m sure she can be a big help to you.” My comment was obvious, but I wanted Len to know I was interested.

  “As for academics, Star is a hard worker and she gets Bs all the time. Sunny is a wonder! Her report cards are full of As and it seems as if she gets them with no effort at all.” He hung his head. “I’m the stupid on
e of the family.”

  “I hardly think that’s true,” I said, and I meant it. “You don’t talk like someone who isn’t intelligent. Do you know any reasons why reading has been difficult for you?”

  Len seemed glad to change the subject, even if this topic was only slightly less painful. “Yes, the letters get all mixed up when I look at them. Sometimes a t looks like an f, or a b like a d, and then I get nervous, and they all just swim around like alphabet soup. They call it dyslexia now, but when I was a boy they just called it retarded.”

  “There are lots of ways to help overcome that,” I said.

  “Star works so hard at school. I want to show her that I’m willing to study hard too, that good effort can really pay off.”

  “That’s truly admirable,” I said, but Len didn’t respond. After a few seconds I added, “We don’t want to intrude on your life where you don’t want us, but are there other ways that Family Friends could help you, in addition to the tutoring?”

  “I’d like it a whole lot if there was a woman who would make friends with Star and Sunny. They need someone with a softer touch than an old man, someone who understands girls. At least better than I do. They’ve got no one to talk to about hair and clothes and female stuff, except for each other. They are good children, but I think they need some female guidance.”

  Chapter 5

  Barking and shouting from the top of the hill intruded on our conversation. We watched Star throw a stick, and Sunny and Paddy both ran full tilt down the slope in our direction. As they came nearer, my heart sank at what I saw. Paddy was dragging a sodden leash, dripping water and flinging brown globs with every shake of his body, and the girls were well dotted with water spots and mud. Sunny was wet to the knees, her socks sagging over the tops of her sneakers. She was grinning from ear to ear, and so was Paddy. Star was trying to maintain some dignity as the mature one of the group, but her eyes were bright and she broke into a real smile as they came nearer.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” I began, as I stood up. “This dog can’t seem to stay out of trouble for ten minutes.”

  Len laughed, a deep laugh that shook his round hips. “Don’t you worry about a little mud. Our trailer isn’t one of those fancy starter castles like over in Emily City. I haven’t seen those girls so happy for quite a while. You’re a real hit here, today.”

  Sunny ran up to me. I thought she was going to hug me, but Star grabbed her arm, stopping her abruptly. “Don’t touch her,” Star said in a sharp tone. “You’re filthy, and she’s wearing good clothes.”

  Of course, Star had no such luck controlling Paddy, who was trying to rub against my legs while I circled around him in an effort to stay clean.

  “Go get one of those old blankets from the back closet,” Len said, and Star immediately headed for the house.

  “Ana!” said Sunny, quickly glancing at her grandpa, “I mean Ms. Raven; Paddy is the best dog ever. I wish I could play with him again.”

  “You may call me Ana if it’s all right with your grandfather. And I’m sure we could work it out for you to play another time.”

  “How about ‘Miss Ana?’” said Len, turning toward me. “I like the girls to show a little more respect for grownups.”

  “Miss Ana! Could we?” Sunny caught on quickly.

  Before I could answer, Star appeared with a well-worn, but clean, synthetic blanket. She unfolded it, wrapped Paddy expertly from ears to tail and began to rub him down. The dog stood still for her and wagged his tail beneath the blanket, making the Sponge Bob print dance at a furious pace.

  “Please,” begged Sunny.

  “Yes, we can do that,” I said to Sunny. To Star, I added, “Thank you. It looks like you’ve done that before.”

  “Our Gracie liked to play in the creek, too,” Star said. “It’s easy enough to wrap him up and hold in the mud.” She averted her eyes, and I thought maybe she was trying not to cry.

  “Take the blanket with you for now. You can keep your car cleaner that way,” said Len.

  “I guess I’d better do that. You girls are teaching me a lot about how to take care of a dog. How would you like to come to my house and bake cookies one day soon?”

  “That’d be fun,” Star said quickly, looking me full in the face for the first time since I’d driven into the yard.

  “Hooray!” chimed in her younger sister.

  “Is Saturday morning all right?” I asked Len.

  He looked at Star and Sunny, “Do you have any other plans?”

  They shook their heads. We agreed that I’d pick them up at ten o’clock Saturday, and I bundled Paddy, with the blanket, into the Jeep. Driving out of the dusty driveway, I could see both girls in the rear-view mirror, watching the Jeep and waving. As I turned onto the road, Sunny blew a kiss in my direction.

  What had I accomplished? I found out that Len hoped the girls would find a mentor, and he was hoping to be a better example himself. I discovered that because of this exuberant puppy, the mentor might turn out to be me. And I learned that sometimes people who have the least are the most generous. Instead of me leaving anything with the Leonards, I was taking away a blanket and a kiss.

  Chapter 6

  It was too early to go home. The construction crew would still be working on the house, so I decided to drive into Emily City and do some shopping. They had a large pet store and I thought there were a couple of places that sold fabric. To get there, I needed to turn right around, go back past the Leonard place and on into the small city. I felt a bit foolish doing this. Would Len think I was returning to spy on them if he saw me go by? Well, I’d just have to take my chances. I turned around in the next driveway and headed east on Sheep Ranch Road.

  There was no one outside the blue trailer when I drove past and I hoped I had slipped by unnoticed. I remembered to look for the tan trailer where Angelica and DuWayne had lived, at the edge of Hammer Bridge Town. It was falling apart; some windstorm must have dealt it a deadly blow. Through a hole in the wall I caught a glimpse of a gray table and chairs. I thought it must be hard for the girls to live so close to this reminder of what life with their parents had been like.

  As I crossed Hammer Bridge I noted that despite how the road descended some, the bridge was high above the actual creek.

  Although it wasn’t why I had chosen to come back this way, I recalled what Len had told me about the last day they had seen Angelica. I drove slowly, trying to look at the scenery through the eyes of a young mother who was applying for a job. Beyond the creek, though, there wasn’t much to see. Open fields, growing up to scrub oak and pine, abandoned farm houses, and an occasional woodlot didn’t inspire me. I liked the country life I was finding in the north, and there was plenty of beauty for those who looked for it, but this particular stretch of road wasn’t going to win any awards for most scenic highway.

  In about two miles, ranch-style houses began to line both sides of the road, and a sign informed me that I was entering Waabishki. At the next corner, I passed a gas station and then the Suds-Your-Duds Laundromat. Directly opposite was Paula’s Place. Apparently the diner was still in business; a number of cars were in the parking lot. I pulled in. After all, it was nearly lunchtime.

  Paddy would have to stay in the car, but I found a spot in the shade at the back of the lot. I shook out the blanket and spread it over the seat.

  “Hey pup, you need to stay here and be good. Can you do that for me?”

  Paddy wagged his tail, his response to most questions.

  “I’ll bring you a treat.”

  I locked him in, and tried not to look back as I walked toward the building, but out of the corner of my eye I saw him trying to force his long nose through the small opening I’d left at the top of the window.

  The restaurant had been modernized fairly recently. Probably its location on the edge of a larger town helped build the customer base and bring in enough income to cover occasional renovations. There was an entryway with heavy glass doors, and a bulletin board choked with
business cards on the wall. Two posters with cars for sale, and another asking for help to locate a lost dog were also taped on the paneling. I wondered if someone had put up pictures of Angelica seven years ago.

  When I entered the dining room, I was pleased to find a bright, clean room with both tables and booths, none of which looked damaged or patched with duct tape as they were at the Pine Tree Diner, Cherry Hill’s one restaurant. There was plenty of light and every table held a small vase of flowers. A sign said, “Please seat yourself,” so I chose a table near the side window where I could keep one eye on my car. It looked as if Paddy had lain down. At least I couldn’t see his nose in the window opening. Two blankets and a brush, I thought. I was making a mental list of things dog owners should keep in the car.

  I turned my eyes to the restaurant. The flowers weren’t real, only silk, but the arrangements were tasteful and cheery. I was glad to see a condiment caddy on each table too. Since I’d had to eat out fairly often this year, I knew how annoying it could be to try to get the attention of a server for ketchup or extra napkins.

  After Roger and I had split up, it had taken me a couple of months of searching before I found a place I wanted to live, because Roger had gotten our house. I’d stayed at a motel for a while, before I moved in with Vic’s mother, Rita, my mother’s cousin. She thought I was having a bad reaction to my divorce, driving around the northwoods, and meeting with realtors to view decrepit old houses. She told me in no uncertain terms that I should get over it and find a good college town, where they needed a Professor of Literature. Perhaps I wasn’t being sensible, but it kept my mind off Roger and Brian. I did not want to let my thoughts wander in that direction. Lately I had become more accepting of my situation, but the pain was still there if I opened the door.

  And what had drawn me to Cherry Hill and Dead Mule Swamp? I still wasn’t really sure. The house I purchased wasn’t even particularly attractive. But its location was like something from a half-forgotten childhood dream. The house nestled into a curve of Dead Mule Swamp, the flood plain of the Petite Sauble River, and it was the last building on the maintained road. The area surrounding the yard was solid ground, probably wet in some years, but usually just rich woods. When I had first seen it, in March, there were snowdrops and violets pushing through the snow, and when I signed the papers, pink spring beauty carpeted the ground beneath the trees. I had since found an old trail that wound into the swamp and led to the open water that I could see only from my bedroom window. That was why I wanted the upstairs porch, to see the water better.