Saving Medesha

by DK Land

  The manager of Vander-Wear had organized the employees into voluntary teams that were going over to the island to clean up debris. Mayor Paul Sorenson, on behalf of the city of Medesha, had secured the lease of a barge which was being used to haul material away that could not be burned at the site. Jefferson Cordain had offered free use of his private boat ramp on his property at the north end of the lake so that the barge could be unloaded onto dump trucks without interfering with the recreational use of the marina in town.

  The city commission had appointed a study group to check into the legalities and costs of creating the Preston Vandervork Memorial Park on the island. At the meeting, Sheriff Harold Wheaton had suggested the name of the proposed park be, The Medesha Island Memorial Park to honor all citizens of Medesha, not just a single person, especially given the fact that five people had died on the island, not just one. The mayor had said that his suggestion would be taken under advisement.

  As she leaned across the counter to freshen his coffee, Mabel said, “Under advisement? Did he really say that?”

  “Yep,” replied Harold. “That's what he said.”

  “So what do you think he really meant?” she asked.

  “I know exactly what he meant,” said Harold. “He meant, 'You're just the Sheriff and since you arrested me I'm not interested in a single thing you have to say'.”

  “I think it goes deeper than that, Sheriff Wheaton”

  Harold swiveled his bar stool around to face Ollie Torgerson and Wallace Crenshaw sitting in the first booth. “Oh do you really, Wally? How so?”

  “Well,” said Wally. “What you did to him . . . arresting him, I mean. You did that to him in private when he came to your office, but what he did to himself, he did in public.”

  “In public?” asked Harold.

  “Sure! Sure, he did. Everybody down there at the marina saw that he was drunk as a skunk and makin' a fool of hisself. And then, when he pulled that poor woman's top clean off and she was beatin' him over the head with a full can of beer . . . well, that kinda put the icing on the cake, if ya ask me.”

  Harold chuckled, “I did get a bit of enjoyment the next morning when I woke him up for breakfast and I had to explain to him how he got all those bruises.”

  “Harold, shame on you,” said Mabel. “You shouldn't be talking about Paul Sorenson like that. I think the man might have a drinking problem.”

  He turned back to face the counter. “Yeah. I suppose you're probably right. The guy sure seems to have more than his share of personal problems.”

  “Yes he does,” she replied. “And I think you should keep that in mind when you're talking to him. He really is a good man.”

  “Oh,” said Harold. “Speaking of drinking problems, I forgot to ask you how the party went last night. Did ya get all sloshed and crazy.”

  “Uh! All sloshed and crazy! When was the last time . . .”

  Just then, the cowbell over the door rang and in walked Tandy Williams. At the sound of the cowbell, she put her hands over her ears and moaned, “Oh that bell. I don't need to be hearing that thing right now.”

  The sound of applause greeted her as she stepped into the diner. Smiling through gritted teeth, she said, “Good morning, Mabel. Good morning, Sheriff Wheaton. Oh, please, please don't clap. You're gonna make my head explode.”

  She walked directly behind the counter and grabbed the coffee pot and an empty cup. “I have got to get some caffeine into my system fast.” Not until she turned to face Mable and Harold did she notice Wallace Crenshaw and Ollie sitting in the booth. “Oh, hi Wally.” Then, with a big smile, she waved her left hand in the air and said, “Hi Ollie.”

  Wearing the biggest smile he could muster, Ollie teased, “Hi Tandy. Except for the bloodshot eyes, you're looking beautiful today.”

  “Oh, Ollie! My eyes aren't bloodshot.” She looked at Mabel, “Are they?”

  “No, Missy. Your eyes aren't bloodshot.” Then she hesitated as she looked closer and smiled, “Well . . . maybe just a little.”

  “Let me see that left hand of yours, Tandy,” said Harold.

  Proudly, she held her hand out for all to see.

  Harold leaned closer and said, “Wow! That is really a pretty ring. Congratulations, Tandy.” He turned toward Ollie. “Congratulations to you too Ollie. You got yourself a really special gal here.”

  “Thanks, Harold,” smiled Ollie. “I sure think so.”

  Wally said, “ Hey, wait a minute. What's going on here? Are you and Tandy engaged?”

  Proudly, Ollie said, “Yes, we are.”

  “I'll be darn! I'm always the last one to hear anything. When did this happen?”

  “Five days ago,” said Tandy. “Over at the station. Ollie handed me a bulky envelope and said it was my first paycheck and there was a bonus in there because I was such a good worker.” She looked down at her hand and smiled as tears began to well up. “It was so sweet, I cried like a baby.”

  “Well, congratulations to both of you,” said Wally. “There ain't nobody that can say you wasn't made for each other. Oh, now I get it, Tandy. You're under the weather because you were having another one of those, 'girls only' parties down at the Minnow Bucket, weren't ya.”

  Mabel interrupted as she pointed to the clock that hung over the door next to the cowbell, “Uh, Wally? You're gonna make yourself late for work again.”

  “Oh, hang it all,” said Wally as he jumped up from the booth. “I gotta quit doin' that.”

  He was digging in his jeans pocket when Mabel said, “Wally, just go. Don't worry about that now. You can pay me next time.”

  With a sheepish smile, he thanked Mabel and was out the door.

  “Oh,” said Tandy, as she rubbed her temples from the sound of the cowbell. “Come on, caffeine. Start doing what you're supposed to do.”

  Ollie stood up and walked over to the counter. “I'm sorry Tandy. I'm gonna have to go pretend that I work for a living. I'll go open up the station. Why don't you just go home and sleep for a few hours? I'm sure you'll feel better this afternoon.”

  “No, Ollie,” she replied. “I wanna be with you. And besides, I've also got a job to do. We'll open the station together.”

  Mabel put her arm around Tandy's shoulders. “Why don't you do this, Missy? You go help get the station opened and then go lay down on that old couch in Ollie's office for an hour or two until your head stops throbbing. Then maybe you can tell Ollie all about last night's party.”

  Ollie reached for Tandy's hand. “Good thinkin', Mabel. C'mon, Tandy. Let's head on over to the station.”

  With a half smile, Tandy replied, “Okay, Ollie. Thanks Mabel. We'll probably be back for lunch.”

  When the door had closed behind them, Harold said, “They sure do make a perfect couple, don't they? Well, that is except for Tandy's drinking problem.”

  “Harold, shame on you! That young girl does not have a drinking problem. She was just having such a wonderful time last night at the Minnow Bucket. In fact, all the girls were really raising the roof. Even Shauni and Cindy were up on one of the tables for one dance. It was such a good time, even though I was only there for about a half hour.”

  “I was just teasing,” grinned Harold. “I know she doesn't have a drinking problem. It's probably because she's such a tiny person that only a couple beers affect her strongly. But why were you only there for a half hour? That isn't very much time to party, is it?”

  “I told you before that those parties are for young chicks, not us old hens, but I wanted to stop by for a short bit, just to congratulate my little Missy and wish her all the luck in the world.” As she put her hand on top of Harold's hand, she winked, “Besides, today is going to be a very special day and I didn't want to be all bleary eyed and queasy”

  “So, when are we going to be able to get this special day started?”

  She looked up at the clock, “Marti should be here any . . .”

  The cowbell clanged as the door opened and Marti Mitchell walked in.
“Good morning, Mabel. Hi, Sheriff Wheaton. How are you folks this morning?”

  Harold tipped his hat, “Mornin' Marti. Doin' great.

  Mabel smiled, “Hi Marti. Boy, a person could set their watch by you. Always exactly on time.”

  “I don't like to make promises that I can't keep,” said Marti. “And I can't stand being late for anything. Are the girls here yet?”

  “They sure are. They're both in the kitchen getting the prep work out of the way,” said Mabel.

  “Great. I'm going to go back and help them out until the earlybirds get here. Now, why don't you two finish up your coffee and get out of this place so you can start enjoying what looks to be the start of a beautiful day.”

  Harold stood up and took one last sip from his cup, “I think that's exactly what we're gonna do, Marti. Have a wonderful day.”

  Mabel grabbed her purse from behind the counter and walked toward the door. “Let's go, big guy. See you this evening, Marti.”

  They walked out and stood on the sidewalk in front of the diner. The sun was not yet up, but the sky was beginning to lighten. As they gazed toward the lake, Mabel commented, “This time of day, when all you can see is the darkened silhouette of the island, it still appears peaceful. Like it used to be before that terrible explosion.”

  Harold walked over and put his arm around her waist. He pointed toward Ollie's Service Station. “Don't look at the island, Mabel. Some day, it will be a peaceful part of Medesha again. But right now, that's a perfect example of the peaceful, pleasant future of our little town.”

  In the dim light of pre-dawn, Ollie and Tandy could be seen wheeling display racks of new and used tires out of the service bay. Then Ollie gave Tandy a gentle hug as he pointed toward his office, apparently trying to urge her to get some rest.

  “It's not the people like the Vandervorks that made this town what it is. It's not even the people like our slightly wacky mayor, Paul Sorenson. It's people like Tandy and Ollie and Shauni and Jeffer, and even the Deimert brothers with their little pirate flags hanging at the marina. Heck, it's even people like you and me that have contributed to what makes this town such a wonderful place to live.”

  Mabel rested her head on Harold's chest as she watched the movements at the gas station. “Yes, Harold. You're exactly right. We're the little people. But . . . that's what really makes this town. The little people.”

  “Are you ready to continue with our little plan for the day?” he asked.

  She smiled up at him, “Oh, I am so ready.”

  They stepped down off of the sidewalk, and Harold opened the passenger door for her as she seated herself in his squad car. Then he walked around the car and climbed in the driver's side. He made a u-turn and drove west on Main Street, away from the lake. They drove slowly past the hospital as they continued toward the outskirts of town.

  “Is Shauni working today?” asked Mabel.

  “Yes, she's scheduled to work the early shift this week,” he replied. “In fact,” he tapped lightly on his horn three times. “There she is just getting out of her car.”

  They could see Shauni wave back at them as they continued driving.

  “Are you sure she won't be upset with us when she finds out what we've done without telling her beforehand?” asked Mabel.

  “I don't see why she would be,” he said. “You know she loves both of us very much. I'm sure she will be very excited.”

  He pulled up to the stop sign at the intersection where state Highway 53 came up from the south and turned toward the northwest, and the county road that continued north through The Cordain Nature Preserve. He checked for traffic before continuing across the road and onto the northwest bound highway. There were no cars traveling the highway at such an early hour, but he did notice what appeared to be a person walking a dog on the northbound side of the county road about a quarter of a mile away.

  “But don't you think she'd like to be there to witness the event?” asked Mabel.

  Harold grinned, “I'm sure that she'll believe us if we just tell her that we eloped. I suppose we could show her the papers to prove it.”

  She punched his right arm. “Harold! You know what I mean. Maybe she would want to be there.”

  “I know what you mean,” he replied. “She's very busy with her job. She's also busy planning her own wedding. Oh, and let's not forget that exotic honeymoon they're planning. I think we'll be fine if we stop by the house this afternoon when she's off work.”

  “I hope you're right.”

  He looked down at the clock in the dash and then squeezed her leg. “The main thing right now is that we've got an appointment with Judge Cullen in Plentywood in forty-five minutes.”

  * * *

  Back on the county road, where it wound it's way through the Cordain Nature Preserve, an old man carrying an old beat up leather suitcase and leading a German Shepherd dog was slowly walking north along the side of the road. Occasionally, the dog would stop and sit patiently while the old man would experience a fit of coughing and wheezing. He would sit on his suitcase until the episode subsided and then get up and continue walking north.

  During one exceptionally difficult fit of wheezing, the old man had to sit for longer than usual before he could finally get enough oxygen into his lungs. As he sat on his suitcase, he reached over and scratched the dog behind it's ears.

  “Don't worry, Kuhn,” he said to the dog. “Once we get to Canada, we can rest in my little cabin up there and I'll get a new and healthy body for both of us.”

  - - - - - - - - - - - -

  Free Bonus Short Story:

  Drain Cleaner

  by

  DK Land

  Copyright © 2011 by DK Land

  Drain Cleaner

  It was one of those hot, humid, lazy days that only seem to become more oppressive as the day begins to age into late afternoon. The air hung on wilted wings and the wind had been holding its breath for weeks. In the living room of the small suburban ranch house, a young mother paced the floor. She was dressed in cut off blue jeans and red halter-top. The child she carried in her arms was only two months old and it seemed as if the poor thing had cried for nearly every minute of its short life. It was in pain, and the mother was at her wits end. She had tried everything she could think of to calm the baby but still it wailed and thrashed. The doctor had said it was an extreme case of colic.

  “Gently rub his little tummy to see if that will sooth him a bit,” said the doctor. “And see if you can get him to take as much juice as possible. With the weather being so miserable lately, and being that you don’t have air conditioning in your home, you’re going to have to spend a lot of time trying to comfort him, and keep him from dehydrating.”

  That had been almost two weeks ago, and still the little guy did nothing but scream. The only time the baby or the rest of the family was able to get any amount of respite from the ordeal was on the rare occasions when the child cried himself to the point of exhaustion and fell into a fitful, raspy sleep.

  The baby continued to cry and the mother continued to pace across the living room floor humming a mindless, monotone tune. From the direction of the kitchen came a subdued sound of dishes being stacked and water running in the sink.

  She walked toward the kitchen door. “Roddy, what are you doing, Honey?”

  She was greeted with a gapped toothed grin from a six-year-old redheaded boy standing on a small stool in front of the sink. “I’m trying to wash up the breakfast dishes for you Mommy, so you don’t have to do it.”

  She smiled. “Oh, Sweetheart! Honey, you don’t have to do those dishes. Mommy will do them as soon as Little Jason calms down a bit.”

  The child put on his most adult face, and wagged his finger. “Mommy! You know Jason won’t calm down for a long time. Besides, I want to do the dishes.”

  “You’re such a good big brother, Roddy.”

  Then she noticed the frying pan lying on the counter from the bacon she’d fried for breakfast. “Oh, Honey, w
hat did you do with all that bacon grease that was in the frying pan?”

  He looked at the pan, and back at his mother. “I scraped it all into the sink and pushed it down into the garbage disposal.” He hesitated. “That’s okay, isn’t it?”

  Trying not to hurt his feelings, she said calmly, “Oh, Roddy, I’m sorry. I should have told you. We have to put grease into the garbage so it doesn’t plug up the drain.

  The boy’s face fell as he looked back at the sink. “Oh no!” He looked at his mother pleadingly. “Should I put my hand down there to dig it out? I didn’t turn it on yet. I’m sorry, Mommy.”

  As tears began to well up in her oldest child’s eyes, and her youngest child continued to scream, a sudden surge of calm serenity began to engulf her. She walked over to Roddy and smiled down at him. “Come on, Sweetie. It’s all right. You did what you thought was best. Mommy bought some new drain cleaner just the other day because the drain needs to be cleaned out anyway, so I guess it’s about as good a time as any to do it.”

  She held the crying baby out. “Could you take Jason, while I get the drain cleaner ready, please?”

  “Sure, Mommy.”

  As Roddy held the baby, his mother opened the freezer door of the refrigerator. “What’s in there, Mommy?”