Prayers of Agnes Sparrow (18 page)

“You mean he opened the door and escaped?”

A slightly embarrassed look crossed her face. “I stopped at Personal's to check on a disturbance that turned out to be nothing but a trip for biscuits, and when I got back, the mutt was gone.”

“No kidding.”

“If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’. Last I heard he was seen tromping through Cora Nebbish's backyard. Took her good linen tablecloth, the one with the tiny eyelets all around it, with him. She put in a report for theft, that's how I know about the eyelets. I’m thinking that canine perp's got an accomplice.”

I smiled with my head down. “Enjoy your books, Mildred.”

She saluted with two fingers and left. “See ya in the funny papers.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her I had just seen the daring dog in back of the library … or that I had a bag of pot in my pocket.

F
ive o’clock rolled around, and after the last of the high school kids finished his research, I closed up the library. I stopped at the café on my way home to pick up meals for Agnes and me. I didn’t feel like frying chicken anymore. It looked like a lot of folks had made the same choice. Monday was meatloaf night, and some of the older folks like Jasper York and Harriett Nurse stopped in for a plate. I walked in and the smell of onions and brown gravy hit me. Zeb had been cooking meatloaf all day.

Studebaker and Boris sat at a booth deep in conversation as usual. Sometimes I think those two had designs to take over the world. It was like watching Harry Truman and Dwight D. Eisenhower.

“Hi, Stu. Hi Boris,” I said.

Boris stood like he always did. “Griselda. Nice to see you.”

Studebaker smiled, but I think he was still feeling a little embarrassed about the sign catastrophe. He could hardly look at me.

“Stu was down in Scranton making certain they got the name right this time,” Boris said.

“I heard that,” I said. “You were gone for a quite a little while. Kind of missed you around here.”

“I have family in Wilkes -Barre so I spent some time there — got a sister and two nieces.”

“I’m glad you were able to visit with family, Stu, but please don’t give that sign thing another thought.”

I said hello to Jasper on my way to the back end of the counter. He and Harriett were sitting together waiting for their specials. Lately, Jasper had been getting even more confused and forgetful than usual. He stood when he saw me and saluted like he was still in the army.

“Evening, Colonel,” he said.

I saluted back and moved to the end of the counter where Cora was standing.

“Poor old guy,” she said. “Harriett told me he's been slipping his gears. Thinks the war is still on and he's somewhere in Belgium.”

“Ah, that's really sad.” I shook my head. “I guess we should play along.”

“That's what Doc says. He's trying to get Jasper to go to Greenbrier.”

“Oh, I don’t know if that's the best thing. Harriett’ll take care of him, don’t you think?”

“She isn’t much better. I mean the lights are on, but I don’t think anyone's home. Just a little while ago it took about eight minutes for her to order the meatloaf. Kept forgetting where she was.”

Cora smiled and looked out the diner window a second. “Got to count my blessings. I’m headed down that same road, I suppose.”

“You? You’re still one of the brightest lights in town.”

She grabbed my hand and squeezed. “Thanks to Agnes.”

“Make me up two meatloaf specials to go, will you? I’ll be right back. Need to visit the little girl's room.”

“Sure, I’ll put extra mashed on for Agnes.”

That was when Olivia sashayed past. We were both headed for the ladies room. She was wearing a tight, lime-green sweater and even tighter black pants, cropped at the ankles, and platform shoes with chunky heels that looked like they were made from cork. She threw her hair back as she passed.

“Yo, Griselda,” she said.

“Yo.”

I followed her into the small two-stall restroom. She adjusted her pants and then her sweater. I watched. She put her hands on her waist and examined herself in the small mirror by standing on tiptoes.

“Does this sweater make my breasts look big?”

“Yes.” They were like two large cantaloupes.

“Good.”

She checked her lipstick and fixed her hair so that it lay on her shoulders with just the right amount of natural swoop, all while I watched. Something stirred in the pit of my stomach as she adjusted her sweater, and I caught a glimpse of myself
in the mirror. Some women were just born with beauty and good taste. That gene skipped me entirely. No wonder Hezekiah liked her.

“You know what you need, Griselda? A man. A man to work out some of those kinks in your face. You always look like you’re about to throw up.”

She dropped her lipstick into her purse. “See ya. Hezekiah is meeting me here in a few.”

I washed my hands in the rust-stained sink. The sweater Hezekiah found flashed through my mind. How could he be sure it was blood? Could be anything, including rust from a leaking pipe. Could be that Agnes spilled fudge all over it and didn’t want to tell our mother and she just forgot.

I waited at the counter until Zeb brought me the meat-loaf specials. “Hey, Griselda,” he said. “I gave Agnes extra everything.”

“Thanks, Zeb. Business looks good tonight.”

“Meatloaf night. The old folks love their meatloaf.” He wiped his hands on his apron. “So, when we getting together?”

Olivia, who was sitting close enough to hear, slurped her soda loud enough to draw my attention. She winked.

“I don’t know, Zeb. Got something in mind?”

“They got
Dirty Harry
showing down at The Crown. Supposed to be a good movie. Clint Eastwood.”

“Go on,” said Olivia, “go see a movie. Do ya some good, Griselda, like I said.” She winked again and then pulled her straw across her lips. “You know you wanna.”

“How about it, Grizzy? You. Me. A movie? Have you home by ten.”

“Not if you get lucky,” Olivia said.

I gave her a glare. “All right, Friday.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

I paid Cora for the dinners and left feeling just a little lighter then when I entered, but a little shaky at the knees.

Agnes enjoyed the meatloaf special, eating most of mine as well. I couldn’t eat a bite.

“What's the matter, Griselda, you sick?”

“Nah, just not hungry.”

“How come? You got to eat. You’ll get skinny. Not that you ain’t skinny already.”

I took a bite of the meatloaf. “It's good tonight.”

“Yeah, that Zeb can sure cook. Gonna make some gal a good husband someday.”

“Now why did you say that?”

“What? I’m just saying.”

I swallowed potatoes and poked at my peas. “He asked me out for Friday.”

“You gonna go?”

“Yes.”

Agnes sucked in air and then finished off her meatloaf. “I don’t like being alone at night.”

I felt a sigh rise up in my chest like a wave. It was always about what Agnes wanted, and I wondered if the day would ever come when she’d see that. But I didn’t let on that I was feeling the least bit frustrated.

“I’ll see if Hezekiah can stay with you or maybe Vidalia will come by. You can play Scrabble.”

“Well, okay, Griselda, just so I’m not by myself.”

“I heard Rassie Harper today,” I said, desperate to change the subject. “He's advertising your radio show.”

“No kidding. Guess we’ll have a lot of listeners. I’ve been praying about it, and I still don’t know what I’m gonna say.”

Agnes poked at her dessert. “Did Hezekiah burn that stuff?”

“Said he was going to. Why are you so interested? If he said he did, I see no reason to question him.”

“Now there you go getting testy. I just want things cleaned up.”

“I’m not testy, Agnes, but you never had me check on him before.”

She swallowed some ice cream. “You’re right. It's just … those things he found gave me the willies, you know?”

“I know. It's weird. Why would Daddy save those terrible things, if it is what Hezekiah says—blood?”

Agnes dropped the spoon in her bowl. “So Rassie is making a big deal out of the show.”

“Yep, he sure is. And Vera Krug mentioned the Pearly Gates Singers.”

That made her smile. “Oh, good. I’m looking forward to that.”

After I cleaned up the kitchen and called Arthur in for the night I managed to do three loads of laundry. I must have been moving on adrenaline that night. I could hardly think about anything more than Zeb, although it wasn’t entirely pleasant thoughts. I didn’t even know if I liked him like a woman is supposed to like a man.

H
ezekiah came by early the next morning. He entered the back door as usual while I was making breakfast.

“Did you burn that sweater and shoes?” I asked right off, not giving him a chance to say hello or start another subject.

“Um, sure. Burned to a crisp, Griselda, just like you said. He smiled at me in a way that sent a chill down my spine. “No more evidence.”

“Evidence? What are you claiming?”

“Ah, nothing. I’m just making a joke.”

I heard a long, desperate meow at the door. “Oh, there he is. That cat's been out all night. Would you let him in, Hezekiah?”

Arthur strolled in with a bloody mouse hanging out of his mouth by the tail. Small droplets of blood dotted the linoleum as he walked close to me and dropped it at my feet.

“Look at that,” I said, “It's a wonder there are any mice left in this entire town.”

Hezekiah stared at the blood droplets. His eyes darted to the still squirming rodent.

“Hezekiah,” I said, “it's just a mouse. You’ve seen Arthur's little gifts before. Would you clean it up for me?”

He grabbed a role of paper towels and wrapped a couple around his hand and cleaned the mess. He tossed the mouse out the door.

“Do you want breakfast?” I flipped a slice of French toast.

“Sure. It smells good. I could eat a few pieces. You put cinnamon in there with the eggs?”

“And vanilla.”

He took a breath through his nose. “Just like my Mama used to make it on Saturday mornings.”

“You don’t talk much about your family.”

“Ah, I never knew my old man, and my Mama's been dead going on six years.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t worry about it, Griselda. I don’t.”

I wanted to ask him the question that had been on my mind since the day I met him. I wanted to ask him how come he ended up on the streets. But I didn’t. I can’t explain why, really. It just seemed like something you shouldn’t ask a grown man.

We finished breakfast. Everyone was quieter than usual like we all had things on our minds. Hezekiah helped me with the dishes.

“Does that library of yours have old newspapers?” he asked.

“Some. Why?”

“Just something I want to look up. Something that happened, I figure, maybe twenty or twenty-five years ago.”

“Oh, well, for that you’ll need to look through the microfiche files. Most of the papers are on file, but a lot are missing.”

“Can you show me how?”

“Sure. Just come by later.”

I opened the curtains for Agnes, revealing a bright, blue day. Not a cloud in the sky and you could see clear to the mountains.

“They sure look nice this morning,” I said.

“They sure do,” Agnes said. “I can see spring making its way here.”

She was right. It wouldn’t be long before the trees would bud and bloom. The crocuses always popped up first and then the daffodils.

“I saw a tree full of robins the other day,” I said.

“Oh, it must have been a sight. I thought I heard them singing this morning.”

“Spring is coming, but it's still cold, so you keep your socks on.”

“It was only twenty-one degrees this morning,” Agnes said.

I pulled on my coat and slipped my hand into the pocket looking for gloves when I remembered the bag I found in the truck.

“Did I hear Hezekiah go out back?” I asked.

“Yeah, I think he said something about having some more stuff to burn—old magazines—and I told him to go ahead and chop up a couple of old stools he found yesterday.”

I found him tossing wood on to a pile inside a large, black, scorched area in the yard. “Stand back,” he said, “I was just about to throw some gasoline on there.”

“Thought you burned all this stuff yesterday.”

He twisted the lid on the gas can. “I burned the sweater and shoes yesterday. This here is leftovers, stuff I wasn’t sure about until I asked Agnes.”

I pulled the baggie from my pocket. “What do you know about this? I found it my truck.”

Hezekiah snorted a laugh. “Ah, come on, Griselda, it's just a little pot.”

“So it's yours then.”

He dumped gasoline on the pile. “It's no big deal. I picked it up when I went into Shoops with all them clothes. No big deal. Hardly ever use it.”

He tossed a match onto the pile, and flames ignited with a whoosh. I stepped back from the sudden heat. “Then take it. Don’t leave it in my truck or my house, and I better not hear you been keeping it at Vidalia's.”

Hezekiah tossed a stack of magazines on the fire. “All right, Griselda.” He moved close to me. “Look, I’m sorry. I haven’t hardly used it, and I promise you I never came to work high.”

I believed him. “Okay, but please be careful. Now, I got to get to work.”

“I’ll come by later,” Hezekiah said. “Check out those papers.”

“If you want to tell me what you’re looking for I could start researching, maybe find something before you get there.”

Hezekiah looked into the roaring fire. “Well, I’m not too sure exactly,” he said. “I was just wondering about any unexplained deaths in town, or accidents that might have seemed suspicious at the time.”

I felt my eyebrows arch. “I don’t know of any right off. Why you so interested?”

“Oh, no reason,” He grabbed the garden hose and squirted the high-rising flames. “I like to keep it with me in case the fire gets out of hand. Don’t want to burn the trees.”

“Come by later, but make sure the fire in the fireplace is down before you leave and don’t lock the front door and—”

“I know the routine.”