A Dove for Eddy
Page 6
Chapter 6
“Mrs. Mc - McGrath, wake up.” Porter pulled on the sleeve of her duster. “It’s get-getting late, please wake up.”
“What?” She held her hands over her eyes, protecting them from the sunlight that poured through the blinds.
“I tried-tried to take- take care of her, but she- she looks bad. She-she looks really bad,” he said.
“Who looks bad?” Eddy asked as she sat up and wiped the sleep from her eyes.
“The - the -- bird. I tol- told Karen that I would help, so – so - she wouldn’t die, and…” He looked down at his feet. “I don’t -don’t know what to-to-do- to -- make her better.”
Sitting on the side of the bed, Eddy searched the floor with her feet, and then eased them into the well-worn soles of her slippers. “Alright, give me a minute to get my bearings. Oh,” she groaned as she stood. “I feel like I got hit by a Mac truck.” She straightened her back and cracked her knuckles. “Now, let’s check on that bird.”
Porter had been right. The bird was lying at the bottom of the cage barely moving. I can’t let this bird die; it means so much to those kids, she thought. “I’ll call Joe up and have him take it to the vet. After all, he owes me a few favors. I give him twenty bucks a week to bring me a few groceries and mow the lawn. He’s been overpaid for years.” She put her hand on her hip and shook her finger. “Joe ought to pay me for putting up with him.”
She lifted the handset from the cradle of the black rotary dial phone. “Now what was his number?”
“What is that- that – thing?” Porter said.
“This here is a real phone,” she answered.
“Is it plu – plugged -- into the wall?”
“Well, of course it is,” she said. “Now, leave me be, so I can dial this phone.” Placing her finger in the finger hole, she rotated the dial to the finger stop and then listened to the click, click, and whoosh sound as the dial returned to its resting position. She did this for each of the seven numbers. At last she heard the familiar sound of a completed connection.
“What do you mean this isn’t Joe?” she said a little too loudly. Her face turned crimson, “Look, lady…Watch your mouth… That’s all you had to say, wrong number.” She hung up the phone abruptly, and then cleared her throat. “She talked like a sailor.” Eddy put on her glasses and steadied her hand, then dialed again. “Joe, I got a job for you. . . .And bring me some more hand sanitizer.” Then she hung up the phone, smoothed her hair, and straightened the collar on her duster.
“My mom uses a- a -- cell phone,” Porter said.
“You can’t depend on cell phones. Besides that, people can eavesdrop on your conversation with those things.” She pointed her crooked index finger at him. “You know spy’s use cell phones to keep track of people.”
“Really?” Porter said as he scratched his head.
Placing her hand on her hip, she leaned toward Porter. “Listen here, kid,” she began.
“Somebody’s got to tell you about the things that go on in this world,” and then she pulled up a chair.
As she jabbered about this and that, they heard the rumble of Joe’s truck in the driveway followed by the creak of the truck’s door. Soon, Joe was at the backdoor with his customary double knock followed by three longer knocks. It was his own personal Morse code that seemed to say, “Its Joe, let me in.” Eddy checked her reflection in the mirror before opening the door.
“It’s about time you got here,” she said. He ignored the comment and greeted her with a toothy smile. Joe was tall and thin and a couple of years younger than Eddy. His clothes were well worn, but they appeared clean and pressed. He removed his ball cap, and then ran his hand over his salt and pepper flat top. “How are you today, Ms. Eddy?” He leaned over to kiss her hand.
“Look here, Joe,” she jerked her hand back hastily. “People just don’t do that anymore.” Wiping the back of her hand with her handkerchief, she said, “Do I look like the Queen of England?”
“No ma’am. Well, what I meant to say,” he faltered and then handed her the sanitizer she had requested. “I am still a gentleman, and that is the proper way to greet a lady.”
“You didn’t get the right brand,” she said. “I want the kind that kills 99.999% of germs. This kind only claims to kill 99% of germs. What if I come down sick after using this stuff?”
Joe gave her an amused look of concern. “I think God will protect you from that 1% that’s on the loose.” He cleared his throat. “Is this the bird you were telling me about?”
She threw up her hands. “Just how many birds do you think I have in the house, Joe?”
He chuckled and pulled his ball cap down over his brow. “You sure are a funny lady, Ms. Eddy.”
“Now, Joe, I’m not joking. That bird needs to go to the vet,” she said.
“Well, I’ll take him there for you.” He leaned forward on his cane and retrieved his wallet from his back pocket. “Humph,” he searched through all the niches of his wallet. “I’m just a little short on cash.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and widened her stance. “I gave you gas money last week,” she said.
“You know that I just have a small pension to live on, and it doesn’t cover the cost of gas for all these errands you been sending me on lately.” He arched his eyebrows. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you liked having me around.”
“If that’s not a bunch of mush and molasses,” she said, as she tapped her foot impatiently.
“Well, if you don’t mind then, I just need a little more gas before I can head across town.”
“Joe, I’m not your sugar momma,” she retorted.
“No, ma’am,” Joe chuckled as he shook his head in obvious frustration.
She retrieved a twenty-dollar bill from her pocket. “That bird better arrive safely at the Southtown Vet, or I’ll be looking for another lawn man.”
“Now, there’s no sense in getting all riled up. You know you can trust me to help you out,” Joe said. “Which one is the Southtown Vet? Is it on Grand Boulevard or by the diner on Broadway?”
“Don’t you have one of them GPS things in your rig?” she retorted. “It’s where it’s always been by the diner.” She gave the new bottle of germicide a quick pump and rubbed her hands together. “Money is filthy, just filthy, I tell you.” He smiled and winked at Porter, “You know, young man, once you get to know Ms. Eddy, you’ll see that she’s a nice lady.”
A trace of a smile crossed Porter’s face.
“Hey, don’t you live across the street?”
Porter nodded his head.
“It’s good you two are getting to know each other,” he said as he steadied his cane.
Joe managed to carry the cage with dignity, with only a slight trace of a limp. Eddy watched him walk away before securing the door.
“Is he - he -- your boyfriend?” Porter asked.
“If he’s a boy, then he’s the oldest boy I’ve ever seen,” she said. “Boyfriend,” she said a little too sharply. “If that isn’t the silliest thing I’ve ever heard!”