Spring Forward

by Catherine Anderson

  Striding across the parking area with the box in his arms, Tanner began to feel nervous. What if someone questioned him? Pausing outside the double glass doors, he took a calming breath and then pushed inside. A middle-aged woman with red hair sat at the front desk. She fixed her friendly-looking blue gaze on Tanner’s face and smiled.

  “You’re new,” she observed. “Brian usually delivers our Courier Express packages.”

  Tanner nodded. “Uh, yeah. Just helping out today. I’ve got a package for Tucker Malloy, apartment twenty-three.”

  She pointed to a wide hallway to the left of the counter. “About halfway down on the right.”

  Tanner circled her workstation and moved past her. When he reached Tuck’s room, he knocked on the door and called, “Delivery. Courier Express.”

  He heard a shuffling sound, and seconds later, Tuck opened the door, flashing a broad grin. “Come in, come in,” he said in a booming voice. “Must be those shoes and pants I ordered.”

  Tanner winked at his old friend as he made his way through the doorway. As he set the box on the living room floor, he noticed that Tuck held a walking cane in his left hand. After closing the door, he walked with a limp as he crossed the tiny kitchen. Tanner guessed the old fellow’s hip still pained him. Otherwise he looked the same, tall and lean with slightly stooped shoulders. His blue eyes held the same merry twinkle. Deep smile creases bracketed his mouth. His hair, still thick, was mostly silver, but a few streaks of brown remained to indicate its original color.

  “It’s good to see you,” Tanner told him. “When your place went up for sale, I tried to call you several times and left you voice mails. Then I couldn’t get through anymore. I figured you’d passed away and your phone had been retired to a drawer.”

  “Hell, no. I’m too ornery to kick the bucket just yet. Not to say it’s an outlandish thing for you to think. At eighty, I don’t buy green bananas anymore. They’re a risky investment.”

  Tanner laughed. Tuck bent to open the box, plucked a can of beer from one six-pack yoke, and offered it up. With regret, Tanner declined. “I can’t stay, Tuck. My kids will be getting home in a couple of hours.”

  Tuck straightened slowly, as if stiffness had settled into his spine. On his right arm he wore a red elbow-high cast that extended down over the back of his hand to his knuckles and encircled his thumb. “That’s a shame. I miss our bullshit sessions.”

  “Me, too,” Tanner confessed. “I’ll try to come back for a visit when I have more time.” He bent to lift the six-packs from the box. “Where you planning to hide these?”

  “In my boots and coat pockets. My beer’ll be warm, but that’s better’n nothin’.”

  Tanner carried the twelve-ounce containers to the closet, opened the doors, and began slipping cans into the old man’s footwear. Tuck hobbled in with the roll of Copenhagen, which Tanner broke open before stuffing the rounds into shirt and jacket pockets. He couldn’t help but grin when everything was hidden. With a wink at Tuck, he whispered, “They’ll never know.”

  “Damn, I hope not,” Tuck said. “My Pabst Blue Ribbon helps me relax at night. Without it I toss and turn. When I complain, the damned administrator just scowls at me and says to ask my doctor for sleeping pills. Like that’d be any better for my health? Hell, no. I like my beer.”

  Tanner stared at him. “What are you going to do with the empties?”

  Tuck winked. “They got a resident laundry room down the hall with two tall trash cans. I’ll sneak ’em down there and bury ’em real deep under other garbage.”

  “I see no harm in you enjoying your beer of an evening unless your doctor has forbidden it,” Tanner said. “You’d tell me if that were the case. Right?”

  “Wouldn’t have asked you if he had. I don’t have a death wish. I just want my damn beers and chew. The doc knows I have three beers a night and he never said nothin’. Of course, it’s a different fella here. Their Dr. Fancy Pants might not make allowances for a man’s personal pleasures.”

  “That sucks.” Tanner had never stopped to consider how many liberties people could lose when they grew old. “But it’s temporary. Right? Once you’ve healed, you can live somewhere else again.” Tanner remembered the real estate sign on Tuck’s front gate. “You do get to leave here, I hope.”

  “The doctors are sayin’ that I shouldn’t live alone again.” He shrugged. “At my age, that’s how it goes, with other people decidin’ what’s best for you.”

  “I’m sorry to hear you can’t live alone anymore.” Tanner sincerely meant that. “Maybe you can make arrangements for some kind of in-home care. If you can afford that, of course.”

  “I’m workin’ on it. I got plenty of money saved back, so I had Crystal get me another house here in Mystic Creek. She found a nice little place on ten acres just outside town. It’s a short drive from her salon, and she’s already livin’ there. The house was made over for an old lady in a wheelchair, but she passed away. Crystal thinks it’ll suit my needs, and she’s willin’ to stay there to look after me.”

  Tanner nodded. “That sounds ideal. Ten acres isn’t quite as much land as you had in Crystal Falls, but at least you’ll still have elbow room.” For most of his life, Tuck had been a rancher. Tanner doubted he would be happy living inside the city limits on a small lot. “You’re blessed to have a granddaughter who loves you so much.”

  “I am, for certain. She’s a sweet girl.”

  “Where’s Bolt? At the new place?”

  “Nope. Crystal has enough to do without fussin’ over a horse. I had her find a place to board him. When I’m able, I’ll bring him home and take care of him.”

  Tanner walked back into the living room, stabbing his fingers under his belt to neaten the tuck of his brown uniform shirt. “I sure wish I could stay for a while, but I’ve got to run.”

  “I understand. It’ll soon be suppertime, and you’ve got kiddos to feed. Next time we’ll enjoy a beer together and get caught up. You drive safe on that curlicue highway gettin’ home. You’re all your kids have left.”

  Tanner paused at the door. An urge came over him to hug the old fart goodbye. He wasn’t sure when he’d come to care so much about Tuck, but after believing him to be dead for nearly a month, he found the feelings were there inside him. The old man had some crazy notions that Tanner didn’t agree with, and sometimes he told stories so far-fetched that no sane person could believe them. But he also had a big heart, an indomitable spirit, and a way of looking at life that brought everything into perspective for Tanner sometimes. Still, Tanner wasn’t sure the older man would appreciate being hugged.

  “I’ll be seeing you,” he said.

  Then he let himself out and softly closed the door.

  * * *

  Crystal Malloy’s feet ached as if she’d run barefoot on concrete for eight hours. When she glanced in the styling mirror and saw her reflection, she yearned to wash her long red hair. Pink spray-on highlights had been a poor choice. The clash of color was nauseating, and she looked awful. But she had no time to spare for herself. She hadn’t even found time to eat lunch or visit the bathroom.

  Prom night. It was normally her favorite spring event, the school year’s grand finale that always filled her salon to the brim with customers. She had girls sitting double in the chairs lining one wall and all four stations were filled with more teenagers. They wanted updos, wash-out streaks, metallic highlights, straight hair, curly hair, or crimped hair. And all of them wanted their makeup done.

  The sulfuric smell of permanent-wave solution burned Crystal’s nostrils, her skin felt sticky from the clouds of hair spray inside the building, and her nerves were shot. Her technicians had been trained never to overbook appointments, so half these kids must have been walk-ins. With only four stations, how would they get to all of them? There were drawbacks to owning the most popular salon in town.

  Relax, she
told herself. Just roll with it. By six thirty, they’ll all look gorgeous and be going home to put on their gowns. Only, she was so tired. It had been a long day, and everything that could go wrong had gone wrong. At noon she’d gotten a call from a neighbor that Rip, her grandfather’s dog, was running loose again. In order to find the animal, she’d had to hand over a tint job to Shannon Monroe, a tall, slender brunette who’d had a cancellation and was able to finish the customer’s hair. Then, after two hours of driving the gravel roads surrounding Tuck’s new house, she had missed two more appointments and she still hadn’t found the dog. Where was he? Had he been struck by a car? Her grandfather loved that heeler like no tomorrow and would be inconsolable if anything happened to him. Even worse, Rip’s escapes were becoming a daily occurrence. How could she make a living when she spent half of what should have been her workdays looking for a runaway canine? Locking him up inside the house was out. He was destructive when he was confined indoors alone.

  Glancing around the salon, Crystal remembered a time when this place had been only a dream. Instead of being in a foul mood, she should have felt proud of her accomplishments and thankful that she’d met her goals. The shop was high-end and classy. The hair and nail techs were dressed in designer uniforms. The waiting room was packed with paying customers who hoped to look beautiful when they left. Soft Hawaiian music played on the sound system, enabling people to imagine they were in a tropical paradise. The thought made Crystal smile. Mystic Creek was anything but tropical. City plows sometimes left berms of winter snow in the middle of the street that were higher than her head.

  The phone rang just as Crystal had finished applying temporary color to a strand of a girl’s blond hair. “I can’t get it! Does anyone have a hand free?”

  Nadine Judge, a half-Cherokee woman with thick black hair and almond-shaped brown eyes, yelled back, “I’ll get it!” Then Crystal heard her say, “I’m sorry. Is this an emergency, Patricia? She’s really busy.” Then, in a louder voice, she cried, “You’ve got to take it, Crystal. It’s Patricia from the assisted living facility. Tuck has done something wrong, and she’s threatening to evict him.”

  Pain bulleted into Crystal’s temples. For a dizzying moment, bright spots danced before her eyes. When her vision cleared, she grabbed a piece of foil, laid a still-wet strand of her young client’s lavender hair on it, and said, “Sorry, Megan. I’ll be right back.”

  Crystal walked over to the front desk. Nadine cupped her hand over the mouthpiece and said in a stage whisper, “God, she can’t kick him out! You don’t even have neighbors near the house who can check on him during the day, and according to what you’ve said, he’s still not steady on his feet.”

  Crystal didn’t need anyone to outline the reasons she couldn’t take her grandfather home yet. She tried to smile at Nadine and knew she failed miserably. She took the phone and pressed it to her ear. “This is Crystal.”

  “Hello, Crystal. This is Patricia Flintlock. Again. Your grandfather has really done it this time.”

  Crystal clenched her teeth and counted to five. She didn’t have time to go clear to ten. “Hi, Patricia. I know Tuck is having a hard time adjusting to his new surroundings, but surely he’s done nothing so bad that he should be evicted.”

  “Think again.” Patricia didn’t handle a position of authority well. As administrator of the assisted living center, she reigned like a female Hitler. “I have rules in this facility, and they’re nonnegotiable.”

  The pain in Crystal’s temples stabbed deeper. “What rule has Tuck broken?”

  “Make that rules. We caught him drinking beer and chewing tobacco in his apartment. I will not countenance drunkenness in my building, and chewing tobacco is messy and thoroughly disgusting. I won’t have it, I’m telling you!”

  Crystal had to bite her tongue. She’d gone to live with Tuck when she was eleven; she was now thirty-two, and in all those years she’d never seen her grandfather drunk. “How could Tuck get his hands on beer and chew? He can’t drive yet, and even if he could, his truck is at the house.”

  “Well, now,” Patricia replied in a snarky tone, “that’s a good question, and the only answer I can think of is that you brought it to him. I know you’re aware of the facility rules. Your flagrant disregard of them is infuriating, to say the least.”

  Crystal struggled to control her temper. “That’s a preposterous accusation. You know Tuck isn’t recovered enough to come home. I haven’t even found a daytime caregiver for him yet. Why would I take him beer and tobacco when I’m fully aware that you might evict him from the only place he has to stay right now?”

  “Another good question. Tuck is new to Mystic Creek. Nobody but you comes to visit him. Do you expect me to believe those substances appeared out of thin air?”

  “I expect you to believe me when I tell you straight-out that I did not supply my grandfather with beer and chew.”

  “You complained early on about the rules here being too strict.”

  “But I agreed to abide by them,” Crystal argued. “And I have. I don’t know how Tuck got his hands on beer, but I can assure you I’ll find out and it’ll never happen again.”

  “You need to come to the facility. We’ll discuss the matter further. Your grandfather is upset and yelling obscenities. If you don’t get him calmed down, I’m calling the police.”

  Crystal scanned the crowded salon. She couldn’t leave her techs to deal with all this by themselves. But she knew the facility administrator meant what she said. She’d evict Tuck without hesitation. “It’s prom night, Patricia, one of my busiest days of the year. I’ve got a girl half-finished at my station. I can’t drop everything and leave her with only one side of her head streaked.”

  “We all have our problems. Mine is an angry old man who is disturbing other residents.”

  Crystal started to reply, but Patricia hung up before she could. She stared stupidly at the phone and then returned it to the charging base.

  “What did Tuck do this time?” Nadine, putting the finishing touches on a girl’s layered bob, flashed a worried look over her shoulder. “What’ll you do if she kicks him out?”

  Crystal jerked off her salon jacket, a dark brown tunic-length garment patterned with palm fronds. “They caught him with beer and chewing tobacco. Patricia says he’s yelling obscenities and being disruptive.”

  “Patricia Flintlock is an uptight pain in the butt,” Nadine retorted. “Why can’t Tuck have a couple of beers? Better question, what is her definition of an obscenity?”

  Crystal tossed the jacket in the laundry basket. “Regardless, I have to drive over there and get Tuck settled down. Then I need to defuse the situation so he doesn’t get kicked out.” Glancing toward her station, she said, “I’m sorry for abandoning all of you, but I see no way around it.”

  Jules Wilson, a slightly plump blonde with twinkly blue eyes, said, “I can finish Megan. You have an emergency on your hands. And, Crystal, recommend to Patricia that she come to see me. I’ll color her hair and accidently make it green.”

  Crystal grabbed her purse and left the building. The moment she stepped out onto the back porch, she dragged in a deep breath of fresh air and took a moment to appreciate the sunlight angling through the pine boughs to splash the needle-covered ground with butter yellow. Everything will be okay, she assured herself. Patricia will get over her snit, and Tuck will start behaving himself. All I need is a couple more weeks to make arrangements. Then I’ll be able to take care of him.

  * * *

  After making the fifteen-minute drive, Crystal reached the assisted living center at five thirty. The sun clung to the horizon in the western sky over snowcapped peaks, and she knew dusk would soon blanket the valley. It had taken Crystal a long while to grow accustomed to the early sunsets that occurred in an area surrounded by mountains. Twilight lasted for hours. But now she appreciated the cool summer evenings and the ever-pr
esent breezes.

  Dropping her keys into her purse, she slipped out of her Chevy Equinox. Flower-bed tulips had sprung up under the drive-through portico, but the petals hadn’t opened yet. Even so, the closed blossoms lent color to the evergreen landscaping.

  The sound of Tuck yelling obscenities didn’t greet her when she entered the facility. The heels of her shoes clicked against the creamy tile floor as she walked to the front desk. Marsha, a friendly redhead who’d recently divorced her husband, manned the desk for most of the weeknight shifts. She seemed to like her job, but Crystal knew she didn’t care for her boss. Marsha was a regular at the salon and complained nonstop about Patricia while her gray roots were touched up.

  “The dragon is in her cave,” she said. “Enter with caution. She’s breathing fire tonight.”

  Crystal sighed. “Can she really evict an old man who has nowhere else to go?”

  Marsha shrugged. “Legally? It beats me. But I wouldn’t put it past her. And just so you know, Tuck didn’t yell obscenities like she says. He cussed a lot, but he said nothing I haven’t said myself many a time. At its worst, I don’t think of my language as being obscene.”

  “I appreciate the information.”

  Crystal had visited the dragon’s cave frequently and needed no direction. She turned to cross the community area, which was also tiled in cream squares, and furnished with brown sofas and chairs. She tapped on the door tagged with a brass plaque that read, ADMINISTRATOR, PATRICIA FLINTLOCK.

  “You may enter,” the woman called out.

  Crystal might have laughed if her mood hadn’t been so sour. Did the woman think she was a military commander? She stepped into the office, a small space sparsely appointed with only a desk, two chairs, and a file cabinet. Creamy walls blended with the floor, giving Crystal the feeling she’d just been dunked into a tub of milk.