Apron Strings (16 page)

“Hello to you, missy. Ready for some of those little men?” He patted the bench next to him. “Come on, sit next to ol’ Mr. Dabney and give me a hug.”

“I don’t think I have time to stay and eat,” I stalled. “I promised Ethel I’d get home as soon as I found Helen. She’ll be worried, you know.”

“Where’d she get off to?” he asked, looking around for Helen.

“Oh, she’s in the other room. I’d better go get her.”

“Oh, don’t wake her up,” Mrs. Dabney interjected. “I’ll give your mother a call and tell her you’ll be home as soon as Helen wakes up. Go on, give Mr. Dabney a hug. He loves little girls.” She hurried to the phone and started dialing.

“Hello, may I speak with Mrs. Mackey? Oh, well, this is Mrs. Dabney from next door. I just wanted Mrs. Mackey to know that the girls are over here, and as soon as Helen wakes up from her nap we’ll send them right home. Oh no, they’re no bother at all. Mr. Dabney and I love having them visit—our pleasure.”

“Come on over here and talk to an old man,” Mr. Dabney said. He held out his arms, flesh sagging like wet sheets on a clothesline; his nasty old cigar clenched between yellowed teeth.

Mrs. Dabney came into the room shaking her head and clucking her tongue. “It’s none of my business,” she said, “but I don’t know why that woman lets that…that…” Her eyes fell on me and she shrugged.

Mr. Dabney “humphed” in agreement then turned his attention back to me. “Come over here and sit on ol’ Mr. Dabney’s lap.”

I moved closer, standing next to him with my arms down by my sides. Then I leaned into him, praying that would suffice as a hug. I could smell his sour breath. His crooked teeth were all chipped like he ate rocks or something. There was no way I was going to sit on his lap. The smell of his sickly sweet aftershave caught in the back of my throat and made my head spin. He wrapped his hairy arms around me. The thick cigar smoke curling around his pink face made me even woozier. I pushed away and started to cough. Waving the smoke away, I coughed my way to the other side of the table.

“Phew, I’m allergic, you know,” I gasped with my hand still waving at the offending cloud. Mrs. Dabney was busy with the muffins and bustling about with plates and potholders.

“I have to use the bathroom,” I said, adding a cough for good measure.

“Around the corner,” he said, indicating with his cigar stub and looking a little less jovial than before.

In the bathroom I coughed sporadically, played with the water taps, and then stood on tiptoe to see out the window. I waited for a few
minutes before opening the door. I let it bang against the stop, hoping the noise would wake Helen. No such luck. As I peeked around the corner, I saw Mrs. Dabney with her back to me. Mr. Dabney was gone, so I crept over to the sofa to shake Helen as hard as I could. Just as I was about to hiss, “Get up,” Mr. Dabney spoke from the chair across the room.

“What are you doing? Didn’t Miz Dabney tell you not to…?”

Startled witless, I shrieked. Helen woke up terrified and let loose a war whoop. Mrs. Dabney ran in from the kitchen, her silly yellow apron bunched in her hands.

“The little brat woke her up!” Mr. Dabney shouted as he pointed at me.

Mrs. Dabney yelled back at him, “Luther, don’t call the children names.”

Helen and I were shrieking and crying. Then, as quickly as it all started, it stopped. There was a banging at the kitchen door. Standing there was Ethel with her hands on her hips. “You two git on home, ya hear me?” she said before Mrs. Dabney hardly had the door open. Ethel glared at the Dabneys. They sneered back at her. No one spoke. Ethel shook her head from side to side and left without a word.

Helen and I ran crying into our house. When we burst into the kitchen, we saw our lunch ready on the table. Gordy and Lil’ Early had almost finished eating theirs.

“Don’ ya’ll be botherin’ them folks again,” Ethel said as she huffed through the kitchen door after us.

“You aren’t going to have to worry about that,” I said, relieved to be home. I glanced at Lil’ Early as he shoveled the last bites of food into his mouth. I was curious to know what he and Gordy had been up to all morning. I wondered if Lil’ Early ever missed me the way I missed him. I reached into my pocket and touched the locket.

The next week, just after Daddy had pulled out of our driveway to take us to school, three tires started flapping at about the same time. They were kicking up a terrible racket. Daddy pulled over quickly. “You three sit still for a minute,” he said. He got out and inspected the tires. Boy, did
he look mad. He opened the passenger door. “All right, then,” he said, “we’ll have to go back to the house.”

As we walked the several hundred yards back to our drive, Daddy sputtered and muttered about “irresponsible carpenters” dropping nails all over the shopping center construction site. Delighted at this turn of events, Gordy, Helen, and I skipped and laughed alongside him.

“Boy, too bad for Stuart that she went to school on the bus,” Gordy remarked.

“You can’t tell with her,” I said. “She seems to like to go to school these days. Who knows?” I shrugged my shoulders. When we turned and started up the drive, Helen tripped and landed on her knee. Daddy leaned down and picked her up. He wiped Helen’s tears. “Aww, honey, I know that hurt.” He went down on one knee. “Let me see.”

“Owie, owie! Daddy it hurts,” she sniffed, hopping up and down; blowing and waving her hands over her knee. When she saw blood trickling down her leg, she dissolved into a full throated wail.

“Come on, sugar, let me see. I think you’re going to be all right,” Daddy said. He pulled a fresh handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped the dust and gravel from the tiny wound. After mopping her face and coaxing her into blowing her nose, he puckered his lips. “Can I kiss it and make it all better?” he asked.

Helen nodded with a little smile.

Leaning over, he hesitated for just a second to tease her, and then quickly kissed the knee. “Gordy,” he said with a funny edge to his voice, “take your sisters home and tell your mother to come down here. And be quick about it.”

“Yes sir!” Gordy said. He puffed himself up with pride as he assumed his newly bestowed responsibilities. I rolled my eyes. Helen took a step gingerly on her injured leg. Like a sheep dog, Gordy began herding us up the driveway.

Because I never wanted to be outdone, I ran ahead of my brother and sister. “Wait!” Gordy yelled after me. “He told
me
to tell her. Sallee, wait!” He tried to move Helen into a faster gait. Then he just grabbed her by the hand and started dragging her.

I burst through the front door, banging it against the mahogany card table on the adjacent wall. The blue and white Chinese vase perched on the table was rocking back and forth as my mother’s eyes widened from shock to anger. “Sallee, what on earth?” She hurried over to steady the vase before it toppled over. “Young lady—”

“Daddy wants you!” I broke in breathlessly.

Just then Gordy repeated my entrance, nearly smacking my mother in the face with the door as he and Helen plowed into the front hall. My mother stood in stunned silence, holding the vase as Gordy, in between great gasps for air, attempted to relay our father’s message. Bending over with his hands on his knees, he managed to get out, “Flat tires.”

“A whole bunch of nails,” I interjected, “in the tires.”

Gordy shot me a scathing look. “Daddy wants you to come now. He’s with the car out on the road near the end of the drive.”

“He sounded really serious,” I added, interrupting Gordy.

Ethel must have heard all the commotion. She came out to the hall and exchanged a worried look with my mother. Then she took Helen, who had started crying again, by the hand. “Come on you two,” she said over her shoulder as she patted Helen’s back as she led her to the kitchen. “Miz Ginny, don’ be goin’ out wit’out yo’ coat, it’s cold out there. I’ll git it fo’ ya.” She dropped Helen’s hand and bustled to the coat closet. “Sallee! Gordy! You two git in this kitchen!”

Ten minutes later my mother was back in the house scurrying to the phone. I heard her ask for a police car and then give our address. “New nails,” she said, “like someone scattered them in the gravel. Yes, my husband will meet you.”

That afternoon, as my mother was reading the
Daily Progress
, she shook and rattled the newspaper, then refolded it to the editorial page. She got up and fixed herself a drink. That was pretty unusual since Daddy hadn’t gotten home. When he finally arrived, my mother didn’t even let him get all the way in the door before saying, “Joe, look, there were two more today. That makes eight in the last month.”

“Hello to you, too,” he said as he breezed past her. He took off his coat and dropped it on the nearest chair. “Drinking already?
Did you make one for me? I could really use it. God, what a day!” he sighed.

“Here, look at the editorial page,” my mother said, dropping the paper onto the seat of his favorite chair. “I’ll get you one.” She left the room. My father sat down, glared at the television for a moment, and then picked up the paper.

Gordy and I could see that whatever my father was reading wasn’t improving his mood one bit. We turned the TV off and sat quietly, hoping we might find out what was in the paper before we were dismissed. My mother returned with his drink.

“What in the hell is wrong with people?” he sighed. “Jesus, you would think I’d suggested we burn all the churches and build strip joints in the ashes! It’s a shopping center…just a shopping center.” My mother sat on the edge of the love seat and watched him read. “Robbing old ladies of their land!” he ranted. “Who writes this stuff?”

He stood, slammed the paper against his knee, and stormed from the room. My mother followed. I jumped up and peeked down the hall. I could see him bent over, dialing the phone. He straightened. After a moment he began to yell into the receiver. My mother put her hand on his shoulder, but Daddy kept yelling.

A few weeks later, just before Thanksgiving, the day was cold and wet; the kind that Ethel says “gits in yo’ bones.” Gordy and I had our noses pressed to the window. We watched Lance thrashing up the kitchen steps, slobber flying every which way. Daddy had found him wandering in circles in the backyard. Now he was behind Lance, driving him toward the kitchen porch.

“Ethel!” he called. “Ethel! Open the door!”

Ethel scurried out and swung open the screen door. She pressed herself against the stair rail, trying her best to stay out of Lance’s way. His big head swung toward her as he passed, and he growled, showing his teeth. Spit and foam flew all over her.

Ethel let the door clap shut and latched it. Daddy herded Lance into a corner of the porch with his arms spread, holding trash can lids like
shields. “You go on into the kitchen,” he told Ethel. “I’m coming right behind you.” Just then Lance lunged at Daddy, teeth bared. Ethel leaped in the air and landed in the kitchen, a good five feet from where she’d taken off. It was a sight to behold. Daddy scrambled in after her, slamming the door behind him. The door shuddered as the big dog threw himself against it with all his weight.

“Lord, Mista Joe, you thank he got the rabies?” Ethel asked. “Po’ thang don’ even know us.”

Daddy rubbed his jaw, looking concerned. “I don’t think so. He must’ve eaten something. I’ll call the vet. He can take a look.” The spectacle of Lance gone mad kept all of us riveted to the kitchen window. The vet showed up quickly, like it was an emergency, but he didn’t venture out on the porch.

As the vet and Daddy stared through the screen door, puzzling over the possible causes of Lance’s madness, the vet suddenly changed the subject. “I hear tell you’re the one building that shopping center over yonder,” he said, gesturing with his head toward the stove. “I was thinking I might open up an office there. Do I talk to you ‘bout that?”

“I’ll give you my rental agent’s number before you leave,” Daddy said, his voice a little edgy. “Right now I’d like it if you’d check out my dog.”

“Dog’s in bad shape. Nothing I can do for ‘em,” the vet said. “Gonna have to put him down. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was poisoned. Symptoms look like it—dehydration, delirium. I’ll take a closer look, but like I say, probably poison. Could be antifreeze; plenty of that around.”

“Poison!” Gordy and I chorused.

Daddy glared at us, indicating that we had better be quiet or get the hell out of there. “Who’d do such a thing?” he asked.

“Coulda just gotten into some. Ya let him run loose?” the vet asked. “People aren’t real careful about how they dispose of the stuff.” He hemmed a little. “Course, that shopping center of yers has a good many people riled up. But you know that, don’t you?”

“I knew there was an element that didn’t approve,” Daddy said as he placed his hands on our heads and pointed us to the door. With a little
push and another glare, he indicated we should go. We scurried from the room.

“Poison! Who would do such a mean thing?” Gordy blubbered. He gave the door a good kick on his way out. “Son of a bitch,” he said.

“You better shut up,” I warned. “If Ethel…”

“
You
shut up,” he roared then stomped up the stairs and out of sight.

I could hear my father and the vet talking. “To poison someone’s dog, though…” Daddy said.

“I’m not saying it was on purpose,” the vet said. “I’m just saying it wouldn’t be the first time some lowlife took his rage out on a dog.”

“Can’t you look at him? Do something?” Daddy said. Then he muttered, “Jesus, it’s just a goddamn shopping center.”

I heard a big crash out on the porch. I ran to see. I heard Gordy coming down the steps, taking two at a time.

Poor Lance had flung himself against a big metal locker Ethel used to store cleaning supplies. It had come clanging down on top of him, pinning him. The vet hustled out on the porch, but came right back in.

“He’s dead,” he said. “Crushed his skull. I can send his body down to Richmond for an autopsy, if you want. That’ll tell us whether it was antifreeze or something else. It’s against the law to poison a dog, if that’s what happened here.”

Daddy raked his hand through his hair and then stood real still. “I guess it can’t hurt to find out,” he said.