Family Matters (7 page)

She adjusted her rear view mirror as she backed out of the parking space by the kitchen steps. Joe was hefting a 50-pound bag of dog food from the storage shed. He threw it easily over his shoulder and walked to the kennels. Would he really work out?  She wished she didn’t have such a bad feeling about him. Her cell phone buzzed insistently from the depths of her bag. It had to be Isabelle. How was she going to pry
Izzy off her back without having to admit she’d lied?  Something would come to her. It had to. Sighing, she turned the small SUV around the driveway and sped out onto the road.

J
im poured Joe a cup of coffee and motioned to a folding chair. Joe plopped down and took a sip.

“Thanks. This hits the spot. My grandmother still uses instant. Doesn’t have a coffeemaker, which ticks off the other guys. I don’t mind it, but this is good coffee.”

“Other guys?
Jim sat at the desk and popped open the top on the container of muffins.

“Yeah.
A couple of guys from prison. They were released about the same time as I was. We hung out together.”

“Oh.” Jim said slowly. “Help
yourself,” he said, pointing to the large streusel-topped blueberry muffins.

Joe pulled one out and took a large bite, washing it down with another gulp of coffee.

“I think my grandma liked having the company in the beginning. But they’re a little rough, and she’s been complainin’ about the mess they make.”

“Your grandmother is getting up there, isn’t she?
Over 80 anyway.”

“She’s 84, I think.”

“Right.” Jim licked gooey syrup from his fingers. “That’s getting up there. What are these guys doing for work?”             

“Still
lookin’. Brad’s picked up some yard work, and Carter’s trying to get a job with a construction outfit. He used to do drywall. If they don’t get something steady pretty soon, they’ll probably head to Buffalo.”

“There’s more work up that way than around here right now. Have they signed up for Second Chances?”

Joe shifted in the chair, resting his left foot over his right knee. He tugged at the hem of his jeans.

“No. They’re not much interested in programs. Not into counseling or anything.”

“Right. You’re OK with that?”

“Doesn’t bother me.
I wanna get it right this time. Figured if Rev. Minders’ wife was involved, that would keep Grandma happy too. She’s always after me to go to church and get right with God. I know she means well, but if I stay in this program, that’ll keep her happy enough.”

“Makes sense.
I’m not much on church myself. Gracie goes, or she used too. Michael always went, but I do my own thing.”

“Me too.”
Joe put the mug on the desk.

There was a light tapping on the doorframe. Marian stood with a pink slip of paper in her hand.

“Sorry to interrupt, but this Isabelle has called twice for Gracie.”

Jim shook his head and stood. “I’ll take it. It’s Gracie’s cousin.”

Marian handed him the message. “That’s what she said, but I wondered. She wasn’t exactly friendly.”

“No. She’s not. Her mother just died though.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize. That’s too bad. Then the message makes some sense.”

Jim glanced down at the paper. The message read: “Call me about my mother’s books.”

He grimaced. “Yeah. It’s an estate thing. Family stuff.”

“That can be difficult. I’d better get back out front. Beth is doing playtimes. Maybe Joe would like to help.”

“Sure. I can do that,” Joe said, smiling. “That should be fun.”

“Good idea,” Jim said. “We’ve got most of the runs done anyway. Let’s go.”

He shoved the paper in his pocket.

B
ea Youngers was methodically washing breakfast dishes in her deep cast-iron sink, etched with years of use. The dishes were piled in the old red dish drainer on the counter. She sighed as she looked out the kitchen window toward the street and wondered if she had done the right thing. She wanted to help Joe and his friends. Joe was her only grandchild still in Deer Creek, and Bea wanted to give him the best chance to get his life straight. Maybe she could get him to go to church with her this Sunday. At least he had a real job at the new kennel now. His friends seemed to be a different story though. They’d been released from prison at the same time as Joe, and even though they said they only needed a couple of weeks to find jobs, they were still here after three months. They left trash and dishes everywhere. Their dirty clothes were perpetually on the floor of the bedroom they shared. They had to watch their TV shows, and she was relegated to her bedroom to watch the tiny set in the evenings. Brad, the taller and heavier of the two, had been especially polite to start, but now they both treated her as if she were their maid. Carter, who was balding and had tattooed arms, hardly spoke, but he had a mean look in his eye. She didn’t trust him at all.

She was 85 years old, she was tired, and she shouldn’t have to put up with their rudeness. She would tell Joe tonight that his friends had to go. She couldn’t do this anymore. They should be cooking her meals and picking up after her. She knew Joe needed friends, but she didn’t think he needed these two. Joe kept trying to clean up and
smooth things over between her and this Brad and Carter. She desperately hoped Joe wasn’t doing anything criminal with them. She didn’t think they had real jobs, but they had money for cigarettes and beer. Joe wasn’t supposed to drink while he was still on probation. Bea hoped and prayed that he was doing the right thing. Maybe she would make a special supper of chicken and biscuits, and then have Joe tell them they needed to leave by next week.

Her crooked, blue-veined fingers slid the dishrag over the last plate, and it went into the overfull dish drainer. At last the dishes were done. Maybe she could watch
The Young and Restless
before anybody got home. She wiped her hands on the worn hand towel and then went to turn on the TV. She was fast asleep with her favorite soap opera blaring when Carter and Brad slunk through the living room and disappeared into their bedroom. The backpacks they carried were quickly deposited under the beds.

Midge’s was hopping. Gracie took a quick look around for a seat. The steady clank of plates and the sizzle of grease in the fryers indicated lunch was in full swing. The stools at the counter were full, and Midge was flipping burgers, stirring gravy, and yelling at everyone to keep moving. Midge was vertically challenged and skinny as a rail. She had short brown hair liberally streaked with gray and a tongue as sharp as her chef’s knife. In the days when you could smoke inside, she kept the kitchen blue with cigarette smoke. Now, she had to step out the back door and smoke when she had a chance, which wasn’t nearly as often as she thought necessary, as she was quick to say. She was perpetually grumpy and her voice husky.

She and her husband Ernie had raised six boys, all of whom had fled Deer Creek as soon as they graduated from high school. After Ernie and Midge divorced a few years ago, Ernie took off to Alaska to make his fortune and shack up with some woman he dated on the Internet. Her chat room name was
Huggy Bear. Midge had said good riddance, since he’d never helped much around the house or the restaurant.

For all practical purposes, she lived at the restaurant; a folded-up cot resided in the huge walk-in pantry. She was a terror to her wait staff and cooks, but she made the best sweet rolls in the county and had more business than she could handle most days. Her Friday fish fry was legendary, and it wasn’t uncommon to see a line winding around the block, waiting for a table or an empty stool at the counter.

The men at the counter were exchanging their daily gossip with animation. Gracie caught sight of Harry, the Hillside Feeds delivery driver, who by the laughter was regaling the boys with his stories, which were probably spicy. Midge planted herself squarely in front of him.

“Harry, so help me, if you don’t keep your mouth shut and mind your own business, I swear I will knock you off that stool. You’re just full of you know what.”

Harry frowned and muttered something unintelligible. The rest of the men at the counter shifted uneasily on the stools. A couple of them stood up to pay their bills and shuffled to the cash register. Midge happily took their money, stabbing each check on the long spike next to the register, and told them to come back tomorrow. There would be fried green tomatoes and meatloaf. Their faces brightened at that news.

Gracie shook her head, watching Midge clear the counter area. The way the woman treated customers, it was a wonder she stayed in business. Midge punched the buttons on the cash register and tucked a wad of cash in the drawer. She looked up and smiled.

“Hey, Gracie, there’s a stool down here by the kitchen. I bet you want a chicken finger salad with poppy seed dressing.”

“You’re right as usual, Midge.” Gracie walked past the row of men who eyed her surreptitiously.

“Hey, Kelly! Finger salad with poppy seed on the side,” Midge called out to her kitchen help. She poured a tall glass of fresh lemonade and slid it over to Gracie.

Gracie leaned across the counter and softly asked, “What’s up with the guys today?”

“They’re just being stupid. They’re worse than old women. That Harry gets gossip going like a grass fire. I just have to put him in his place every so often.” Midge quickly changed the subject. “How’s everybody holding up after your Aunt Shirley died?”

“Well, pretty good. It wasn’t unexpected. In a lot of ways, it’s probably a relief for Uncle Stan and Isabelle.”

“Heard you and Isabelle had a few words.” Midge popped a piece of gum in her mouth and chomped down hard.

“Well, yeah. You know how everybody gets on edge at a funeral.” Gracie squirmed inwardly. She’d known that little scene would get around town in no time.

“You’ve had quite a week then, with the funeral and robbery, and all.” Midge was now seriously pumping her for juicy details.

She’d have to give Midge something that would satisfy her insatiable appetite for information.

“It sure has. Fortunately, they didn’t get any cash, just caused some damage in the reception area. I guess the alarm system scared them off. The sheriff’s department is working on it though.”

“Yeah, right.
Since when have they ever caught anybody?”

“You sound like Marian. I’m talking with a deputy this afternoon. Maybe they’ll have a lead or something.”

Gracie poured a thin stream of dressing onto the huge salad and started munching on the pile of greens. Just as she was washing it down with the lemonade, her cell phone sang, “Who Let the Dogs Out” in her bag. Midge took a couple of steps back to create personal space, but still close enough to get the details. It was Jim.

“You’re kidding. How did it…?” Gracie felt her face drain of color. “I’ll be right there.”

She flipped the phone shut. Gracie fumbled into her cavernous tote bag and found her wallet.

“Midge, I’ve
gotta go. Kennel emergency. This should cover it.” She handed Midge a $10 bill.

“What’s the matter?
Another robbery?” Midge snapped her gum, eyes shining with interest.

Although she knew better, Gracie blurted out, “Beth was bitten. They called the squad.”

“Is she OK? Where did she..?” Midge was cut off in mid-sentence. Gracie was already pushing the door open to the street. The remaining group at the counter began a low hum of conversation. Midge, disappointment showing in the slump of her shoulders, headed back to the kitchen. The fire hall siren began wailing for an ambulance call, and several men followed behind Gracie to answer the call.

The SUV churned up loose gravel as she turned into the kennel’s long driveway. The wail of the ambulance siren grew louder behind her. Joe was standing outside the kennel entrance, nervously scanning the road above the kennel.

“How is she? Is it bad?” Gracie’s words tumbled out.

“Uh, I’m not sure. Jim and Marian are with her.” Joe’s face was pale, and he had to force his words out.

Gracie dashed through the door and found all three in the kennel corridor near the end of the building. Beth was sobbing, and Marian was pressing a towel on the girl’s bloody thigh. Blood was slick on the floor beside them. She sat on a storage chest and bent over to examine the injury.

“It’s going to be fine; the squad is here,” Marian crooned to Beth. It was the soothing voice she used with skittish dogs.

“It hurts so
bad. I can’t stand it.” Beth continued sobbing. Her face was ashen. Dogs were anxiously whining and yipping in the background.

Two EMTs strode down the corridor, with Joe tagging along behind them. Gracie didn’t recognize either one; they must be new to the crew. They also looked pretty young, one with dark brown hair and the other with curly blond hair. They quickly put on gloves, and one retrieved a stethoscope and blood pressure cuff out of the kit. The
blonde relieved Marian and continued to put pressure on Beth’s leg.

“What happened here?” the dark haired EMT asked.

“I was just, jus
t
oh, it hurts. I’m going to bleed to death,” Beth howled.

“She was taking two dogs to the play area, and I guess they decided to mix it up for some reason. Beth got nailed trying to get them apart.” Jim answered the EMT matter-of-factly over the din.

Both of the EMTs nodded. The blonde carefully began to ease the pressure on her wound, and the blood gushed again. He quickly reapplied the pressure and pulled a large pressure bandage from the kit. Even though Gracie had been a vet tech and dairy farmer’s wife, she started to feel sick to her stomach and turned away. She gave Marian a lot of credit. She knelt at Beth’s side, holding her hand, and patting her shoulder.

“Did anyone call her parents?” Gracie managed to get out.

“Yes, and they’re on the way. They’re both at work, so they’ll probably get here in about 10 minutes or so.” Jim’s face was furrowed with worry.

“Tell them to meet us at the hospital; we’re loading her up right now. We’ll need the shot records on those two dogs.”

“Sure, no problem. I’ll get them now.” Gracie headed for the reception area, glad to have an excuse to get some breathing room.

“What dogs”? She yelled to Jim.

“Barney, the Bingels’ Boxer, and Smokey, the Smith’s Collie-mix.”

Gracie quickly printed off the vaccination records and handed them to the dark-haired EMT.

“There you go.”

“Thanks.” He folded the papers and stuffed them in his shirt pocket.

Beth’s leg was now wrapped securely, and the men packed up their equipment. Her sobbing had stopped, and she had become quiet, wiping her face and snuffling on her T-shirt.

Emery Harwood was wheeling the gurney through the hallway. It was always a little unnerving to Gracie that the funeral home director was on the ambulance crew. It seemed like a conflict of interest.

Beth’s parents were both pulling into the driveway as she was being loaded into the ambulance. They anxiously talked to the EMTs. Both were trying to be calm, but Gracie could see that Frank and Evie were far from it. The dark-haired EMT was shaking his head “no” to Evie. Gracie guessed that she wanted to ride along in the ambulance. Jim was already outside talking to them as the ambulance made a wide turn in the driveway.

“Gracie, I’ll clean up this mess. Why don’t you see if Jim needs help with Beth’s family?” Marian spoke gently.

“Uh, right. Yes, I’d better go see if we can do anything for them.” Gracie broke out of her self-induced fogginess. The blood on the floor and the ambulance had brought back memories she hoped to bury. She stopped by her office and found the bottle of Xanex in the top desk drawer. She quickly gulped down two pills with some cold coffee left in her mug and hurried outside.