Heywood Fetcher

by W.H. Harrod

  ~The Ladder Story, et al

  Coming back to the world, as it was referred to by returning Vietnam veterans, took some time. Soldiers didn’t merely put aside all those survival tools that had served them so faithfully over the long months in a combat zone. Things did get better, gradually. A loud clap of thunder, a truck backfire, or about any kind of sudden loud noise, and Heywood was on the ground or worse, running out the door, heading for cover.

  Still, there is no way to sugar coat one unfortunate instance that happened soon after Heywood returned home. When it was all over, some of the individuals involved understood and cut Heywood some slack. But still, a lot of folks scratched their heads whenever the topic of Heywood’s eccentric behavior on this one particular occasion came up.

  The incident occurred late one afternoon. In hindsight, what happened shouldn’t have been all that unexpected. Heywood was sitting on the couch with his new son by his side feeling at peace with the world. He was married, attending college; they had rented a trailer home nearby. His wife had an office job, and he worked part time as a night janitor for a large department store. Things were progressing famously.

  That is until a particularly noisy late afternoon thunderstorm rolled through the area. All of a sudden, it was there. Gusts of wind, pounding rain, and, most unfortunately, one super loud thunder clap. Heywood, reverting to his Vietnam experience upon hearing loud bangs, quickly did what he’d been trained to do when loud bangs occurred within his vicinity. He hit the floor, and then jumped to his feet and ran out the door, heading for a shelter located about a half block away.

  As he burst through the opening into the shelter, Heywood was surprised to find that several other park residents were already there ahead of him. He also noticed that every one of them was staring intently at him. What was so special about him that they would continue to gawk? Then it hit him, his family. He’d ran away and left them in the trailer.

  Out the door he ran as fast as he could back to the trailer where the door remained open just as it was when he first busted through it on his way to safety.

  Heywood would never forget the wide-eyed look of utter amazement that met him when he first stuck his head back through the door opening. His poor wife sat on the couch holding their baby, looking as shocked as if she had seen a ghost.

  “You ran away and left us,” is all she could say, over and over, as Heywood took the child and gently guided them all to the relative safety of the local storm shelter.

  Heywood was glad the people in the shelter didn’t have a rope nearby or there might have been a public lynching.

  Even well into the future, Heywood was one of the favorite topics of conversation in the trailer park. On any number of occasions he would hear those most dreaded words as he walked by, “That’s him. That’s the guy who ran off and left his family.”

  Heywood tried to explain that what had happened was simply a result of all his Army survival training, but nothing helped. He would, for evermore, be the cowardly cur who abandoned his family at their moment of great need.

  There were no more incidents for the longest time, say about three months. Then once again it involved Heywood and his wonderful little son. Heywood absolutely adored the child, but if you had asked one of the other residents, you stood a good chance of getting an entirely different story.

  This time all Heywood did was open the trailer door, which most unfortunately opened outward, and his pride and joy, who had been leaning against the door, fell out the door head first onto the hard concrete below. Heywood was so paralyzed with fear that he could only stand and stare at the horrible sight lying on the concrete at his feet.

  Fortunately, his wife was there in seconds to pick their child up. Heywood would later admit that he had never been more afraid in his entire life, including during his adventures in a war zone. He just knew the child was dead. The sound of the sickening thud resonated in his mind.

  Ultimately, only the most beautiful sound of a child crying at the top of his lungs kept Heywood from losing it. Except for the slightest redness where his son’s forehead hit the concrete, no other evidence existed. It was then that his wife, yet in possession of her wits, told him to start the car so they could rush him to the hospital to make sure the child was okay.

  Heywood’s good fortune continued as the emergency room physician gave the child a clean bill of health. Heywood, having learned a lesson, vowed to do better. And he did. For the next several years his record was clean. This was not such an easy task because between classes during the early part of the day and his janitor job at night, Heywood spent many hours with his son.

  Yet it was Heywood’s wife who later bore the brunt of their child’s pranks. The kid was an early riser, to his mother’s great misfortune. The terrorist attacks commenced without any prior hint or notice. Amazingly all of them were directed at the child’s mother, the same individual who washed the diapers, read the story books for hours, and fixed all the special foods that nurtured his growth.

  What did she get in return? Miscellaneous small objects deposited in her mouth as she slept, that’s what. Heywood personally heard the pitter patter of little feet on more than one occasion. As it was usually his wife’s task to corral the little crib escapee during the morning hours, (Heywood was responsible for the hours during the latter part of the day) Heywood usually rolled over and went back to sleep.

  Eventually, the attacks escalated and the objects placed in her mouth became larger. The small pieces of cereal, along with the occasional raisin, caused her little concern, but the larger objects that began to show up caused her to jump out of bed choking to spit out that morning’s little gifts from her child. The attacks ended the morning she woke up spitting out one of their baby’s shoe strings she discovered being deposited down her throat.

  All was quiet around the trailer home for a while with the adventuresome lad safely ensconced behind the accordion type wooden safety fence Heywood had been ordered to install. That is, until the morning when Heywood, who had also been forced to sleep on the side of the bed most exposed to the young marauder’s early morning attacks, observed a scene straight out of those cartoons where the big dog always ends up getting bopped in the noggin with a hammer by some crafty tomcat.

  Heywood was lying awake on the far side of the bed staring down the hallway leading to the living room some thirty feet away. That’s when he caught sight of their kitty leisurely strolling down the hallway in his direction. If you ever wondered what loping looked like, that’s what the cat was doing. The pace gave indication the cat was in no hurry at all. He obviously intended to come back to the bedroom and begin his usual morning clawing and ripping routine in expectation of someone getting out of bed to feed him breakfast.

  While Heywood observed this daily ritual, the thought came to him that in the future he needed to keep a shoe close by so he could dissuade the pesky critter of his daily assault on his sleep time. But right as he finished this inspiring thought something else happened to delay Mr. Kitty’s morning assault.

  What happened caused Heywood to feel like one proud papa. Right as the kitty came abreast of the their son’s bedroom door, a little hand shot through one of the openings in the expandable gate put in place nightly to keep the their marauding son caged in, grabbing the cat around the throat. Immediately the surprised cat’s eyes opened as wide as silver dollars. The next thing that happened was Heywood’s pride and joy attempting to pull the surprised critter back through one of the small openings. By this time his son had both hands around the cat’s throat, causing the cat’s eyes to bug out even wider.

  Only after lying there for some time enjoying the usually annoying kitty get a taste of his own medicine, did Heywood decide he should go rescue the animal from the clutches of his determined son. Some days later, the kitty did ultimately resume his usual morning treks back to the bedroom to get people to pay attention to its needs, but it never, ever again, walked close to his always lurking child’s fenced in do
orway.

  After some time, the toddler’s parents relented and took down the gate that kept their child safely locked in his room. He had been such a good little guy as long as nothing fuzzy happened to stroll by his cell. And sure enough, not one time did either parent wake up with something strange having been dumped into their usually always opened mouths, a fact that Heywood had just mentioned to his wife one night before another event occurred.

  The first he knew that something was amiss was when Heywood heard his frightened wife plead with him, in a nervous voice, to wake up and very slowly get out of bed and come around to her side. Knowing by the desperation in her voice that something was wrong, he did exactly as she requested.

  It didn’t take Heywood long to determine what had happened. Their young marauder was at it again. For no sooner had Heywood turned around to look at the bed he’d just crawled gingerly out of when he saw the problem. A full glass of water was sitting precariously between his wife’s shoulder blades as she lay as unmoving as a rock on her stomach. Plus, it looked as if the glass might topple over at any second. The only way she knew that was because as soon as she had opened her sleep-filled eyes at the first hint of the child making his presence known, she spotted the danger herself via a reflection from the closet door mirrors. But that wasn’t all, as another smaller glass of water sat not a foot away from her nose on the mattress. The kid had gotten the climb up on the step stool by the bathroom sink to get a glass of water routine down pat.

  “What do you want me to do?” asked Heywood.

  “I want you not to force me to hit you with a baseball bat for letting these glasses of water sit where they are,” she answered.

  It must have been his wife’s maniacal glare reflecting from the mirrored closet doors that told Heywood not to push his luck. Only two of the room’s three occupants thought there was anything close to humor involved in this little incident. Nor did the lady in distress glean any humor from Heywood’s comment reminding her that one was supposed to drink at least eight glasses of water a day.

  As time went by Heywood’s son grew to be a handsome lad. Heywood was so proud of him, and primarily for one reason. He showed no signs of any of the behaviors that caused Heywood to spend so much of his young life standing before adults trying to talk his way out of one unfortunate incident after another.

  One of the ways this had been accomplished, Heywood believed, was simply because he was honest with the lad. He explained to his son how his own unrequited curiosity had caused so much consternation in his life. So much time wasted standing before some official, parent, teacher, drill sergeant, girlfriend, employer, preacher, etc. assuring them that whatever most unfortunate event had transpired was most surely an accident, coincidence, happenstance, not his fault, bad luck, God’s will, a singular event, or the Devil’s doing.

  Another thing that Heywood did that he believed helped immensely was to impress upon his son the absolute necessity of always trying to be aware of what needed to be done, where you were going, what your purpose was, and, especially, for young lads to always make sure to put things back where they belong, to not ever just leave things lying around as they might get lost, stolen, rusty, or get run over by a car.

  Getting run over turned out to be the one his son came to have a profound interest in, especially, as Heywood had also advised him to not be in a hurry, and, especially never, ever, leave anything lying in the driveway.

  Heywood, much to his chagrin, long afterwards recalled the event that brought so much joy to his son’s life. He was in a hurry one afternoon, due to having to haul tools back and forth from home to use in fixing up new office space recently acquired to accommodate a growing business. People were waiting for him to return with the tools to help in the remodeling job.

  Heywood had pulled into the curved driveway and hurried inside to get the needed tools, plus a wooden step ladder. The step ladder hung right inside the garage so it was easy to grab and place on the driveway while he fetched the tools needed.

  All during his trips in and out of the his home, Heywood never once caught sight of his young son, which was unusual since his bike was parked close to the house where it usually remained until night time.

  Finally, satisfied that everything on his list was accounted for and present, Heywood loaded everything in the backseat and got in the car to head back to the remodeling job. He once again looked around hoping to catch sight of his son. Not a sign of the lad, but as Heywood would be back in a couple of hours, he would have time to visit with him before he went to bed, so he started the engine, put it in reverse, checked the rearview mirror, and began backing out of the driveway.

  That’s when a most horrible noise assaulted his ears. Crunchhhhhhhhh! It took all of a half second for Heywood to realize what had happened. He’d gone and done exactly what he forever hounded into his son’s brain not to do - leave something in the driveway that might get run over.

  Exiting the car he could hardly recognize the former step ladder now smashed into pieces, some strewn over the driveway and some still in pieces under the car. Almost instantaneously, another horrible thought forced its way to the forefront of his brain. Where was his son? Please let him be down the street playing at the neighbor kid’s house, was the thing Heywood wanted most to be true right at that moment.

  Alas, it was not to be. For standing at the far corner of the house was a little kid with a grin wider than his face. Heywood had made his day! As Heywood stood there becoming angry with himself an amazing thought came to him. One mashed beyond recognition ladder in exchange for a kid’s smile wider than the state of Kansas. He’d make that trade any day.

  ~~~ The End

  Thank you for reading this book. You may also explore other titles by W.H. Harrod listed below:

  All Things Return

  Streams of Yesterday

  Side Roads and Dandelions