Mighty Old Bones (4 page)

W
hen I got home from the bookstore and Jane left to run her errands, I thought I’d be ready for a nap. Hah. I was so wired up I couldn’t sit still. I had to get out and do something, so I visited the rest home even though I’d already been once earlier in the week. Also, a couple of people from my congregation were in the county hospital, so I stopped there to see about them.

By the time I got back home, I was plumb wore out. A shower and comfortable clothes made me feel better. A movie I wanted to watch was about to come on, so I flipped on the TV, hoping the storm would hold off until the show ended.

Now that I am armed, I watch more shooting movies. I relaxed on the couch with Sylvester Stallone and we both went into a hot, dripping wet jungle with nothing but our will to survive. I took out my CZ 75, a hefty black handgun made by the fine people of the Czech Republic, and held it out toward the TV. Anytime I watch a good movie with some shooting in it, I like to grab the CZ, unloaded of course, and practice aiming like they do in the movie.

Usually I get this one because my other gun is bigger and mounted on the wall. It’s hard to get it down and back up again without climbing in a chair. Besides, I prefer being able to look up at it when things get rough in the movie, you know, like when the bad guys get entirely too ugly with innocent people, or they’re fixing to get ugly and the scary music is playing. Times like that, it’s a comfort to have one gun in your hands and one looking over you. It’s a security thing.

However, with this particular movie, I probably would have to get the big gun down to hold when Sly started taking care of business with his AK-47. That’s what my rifle is. Well, it almost is. Mine is an AK-46 and a half, the ladies’ model. It’s smaller overall with smaller handgrips and magazines. I got it airbrushed in a pretty apricot color and had its name, Smokahontas, written on it with smoke coming off the end. It matches my living room, not just the colors but also with the Native American décor. I’m pretty white, but like most people in and around Tullulah, I have a little bit of Indian blood. I haven’t actually looked it up or anything. Some things you just know.

I’m still learning how to shoot my guns. Jane gives me lessons every now and then at her shooting range. We pick off cans and bottles set up on rocks out by the bluff on her place.

These days, a lady has to find comfort where she can get it, especially when murderers and rapists are running wild all over the country. Everywhere except here, I guess. Tullulah, Alabama, has got to be the dullest spot on earth. But that’s a good thing. It’s so dull, none of those mobsters would ever come here. And if they did, they wouldn’t last a minute. They’d take one look, see there’s no sushi or Italian restaurants unless you count the Pizza Hut, and there’s no beer or liquor stores for miles and miles, so we don’t have any bars. They’d go around the town square once and keep on going out of town.

I don’t think they’d like the women here, either, since mobsters seem to favor the hubba-hubba kind. Tullulah’s only got two choices, sweet homemakers and cranky spinsters, and neither one of those talk nasty or let their boobs hang out of their clothes like doll-face arm-candy women do.

So bad guys have no reason to come here. Which is fine. It makes for a peaceful life, and I am thankful to be so blessed as to have lived here all my years. It also makes for stone-cold boring, though, so I have to make up for it with my action hero movies.

I’ll tell you which new action heroes I like, all those young hunky Asian guys in the fancy new kung fu movies. I like how they fly through the air. That’s what I’d like to do, fly in slow motion with my legs stretched way out in front of me, my hands cocked and ready to deliver about a hundred karate chops sped up so fast it only takes a second or two. I’d be through with the chopping before I could finish saying,
“Hi-yah!”

The doorbell rang right when Sylvester Stallone was about to smack the living daylights out of a perp. I stuffed the CZ under the sofa cushion while I waited for Sly to deliver his line. The doorbell rang again.

“Phoebe?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sakes.” It was my youngest sister. “Keep your drawers on, Corene. I’m old and it takes me longer to get my joints working than it used to.” I took my time and kept watching Sly. “You got that right, son,” I said to him. “You show those bad guys who the boss man is.”

Corene had her fist reared back to knock again when I opened the door. “Oh, there you are,” she said. “I was afraid you’d fallen down and broken your hip or something.”

I’m sorry, I told you a lie a while ago. There is one other kind of woman in Tullulah, but only three times a year, which is when a tall, skinny, redheaded, Camel-smoking, whiskey-drinking, man-chasing hussy, even if she is my sister, comes to call. The rest of the time, the Lord only knows where she’s at or who she’s leading around by the nose ring.

I love my sister. Of course I do. That’s why I said, “Corene, what a surprise,” instead of “Corene, what kind of a crazy mess have you got mixed up in this time that involves me giving you money?”

“It’s good to see you,” she said while she gave me a hug.

Something was up. She had on her Liz Taylor perfume so I was automatically put on alert. “You going out on a date?”

“I’m going on a trip!” She squealed it and hopped up and down a couple of times like a six-year-old.

Did I mention she is fifty-three? Well, she is. “What’s that you got in your bag?” I said.

“It’s a present—for you!” She set the bag on the floor and unzipped the top. A ball of fur with a face in the middle popped up.

“No,” I said, “that’s not a present for me. I know it’s not a present for me because you know how I hate dogs. You know I’ve always hated dogs, since we were children, and that’s why I don’t have one now and don’t plan on ever having one.”

“But this one’s special. Look how cute it is.” She lifted it out of the bag and kissed that nasty thing on top of its head.

I took a step backward and said, “They’re unclean. It’s in the Bible.”

“Oh, hush that, you old stick in the mud. It’s adorable.”

The fur face shook its head back and forth real fast. It didn’t help. Its hair still flopped down over its eyes.

“It’s a mess,” I said. “Goodness, all that hair. I can hardly tell which end I’m looking at.”

A car horn honked outside. I went to the window and drew back the sheer. A yellow convertible Cadillac sat in the drive. A skinny dude wearing a cowboy hat was behind the wheel. He waved. I smiled and waved back. I let the sheer fall back into place and crossed my arms. “So you’re going on a trip. And you don’t want to take your dog so you tell me he’s a present? You beat all, Corene.”

“He’s not mine, exactly. I have been keeping him the last couple of weeks but I had to. My next-door neighbor, Miss Maggie, croaked and so somebody had to feed the poor thing. But now, something has come up.”

“So I see. But I can’t help you this time. Anything else I’d do, but not this. I can’t have a dirty whatever kind of dog that is in my house.”

“Lhasa Apso.”

“Is that cowboy teaching you Spanish?”

“It’s the name of the dog breed. They’re very lovable and practically no trouble at all.”

I closed my eyes, shook my head real slow from side to side, while I motioned toward the door.

Corene huffed and started whining like she always does. “For goodness sake, Phoebe. It’s such a sweet little thing. Look, it wants to give you a kiss.”

The blamed furry munchkin stretched its dirty little neck out toward me and started licking its mouth and nose.

“Get that nasty thing away from me, Corene, before it slobbers boogers all over me. I am not taking that dog. Forget it.”

She jerked the little varmint back just as the car horn tooted outside. “All right then, missy,” she said. “If that’s the way you feel.”

“It is”

“And all I was doing was trying to brighten your life up in your old age when you ain’t got nobody to share it with.” The horn honked again. “And I’ve got to run, so I’ll just take little Rowdy with me and say la-di-da to you.”

“No need to get all hissy. I’ve always taken care of you and done whatever you asked but a dog in my house is going too far. You can drop it off at the vet’s on your way out of town. They board animals, I hear.”

“Huh. I may just do that.”

“Yeah, and they can give it a good bath and a haircut while it’s there.”

Corene’s face relaxed. I reckoned she thought that was a good idea and would be two less things she’d have to do herself for the mutt. She smiled. “Phoebe. Darling.” Her orange lipstick was creeping up the vertical lines over her top lip. “I understand. Really, I do. And I appreciate the tip about the vet. Thank you. That will solve my problem. I knew I could come to you for help. Just like always.”

It was true. All my life I’d looked after her, ever since she was a baby and all the way through four (so far) divorces.

“Not mad at me?” she said with a little hurt look in her eyes. “All I’m doing is going to have a little fun, that’s all.”

“Fine. Whatever. Knock yourself out. Now, do you want to invite your boyfriend in for me to meet him? I’ve got coconut cake or some pot roast, if y’all want to eat before you leave town.”

“I appreciate that, but we need to get going to beat the storm. Can I use the little girls’ room before we head out on the road?” She turned before I could answer. As she walked, she stuffed the mutt back in the quilted carrier. Its head popped out of the top again and shook. I pictured dirt and fleas and rabies with a hundred legs apiece flicking out and spreading all over my rugs and furniture.

As much as Corene gets on my nerves, it was good to see her and see her happy. Still, I sure would be glad for her to be gone. I had already missed a good fight scene in my movie. Plus, Jane had asked me to go out trekking through the woods the next morning with her. I wanted to get my supplies together and needed to think about what I’d need to fight off the elements.

Corene came out of the bathroom and said a quick ’bye as she crossed through the living room to the front door. I gave her a side hug, the hairball’s carrier on her other hip, and said, “You be careful.”

“I will,” she said. “We won’t be gone long, but if you need something, you’ve got my number.”

Truer words were never spoken. “I sure do.”

She went through the screen door and ran down the stone walkway to the Cadillac convertible. I heard it shift gears as she opened the passenger door.

The Caddy’s tires thunked over the end of the drive and they were gone in a flash. I breathed a sigh of relief. Or of something. You’d think I’d be used to her wild shenanigans by now.

I walked inside, closed the door and locked it, ready for some peace and quiet. I don’t like people ruining my serene lifestyle with surprise visits and mangy mutts and smelling the place up with Liz Taylor and such. Oh, well. Corene would be all right. She always was.

A commercial was on, so I headed to the kitchen. Some coffee and a piece of pie would hit the spot. When I went through the hallway, I noticed Corene had shut the bathroom door but left the light on inside. Sometimes I wonder if that girl has got a brain in her head. I opened the door, reached in and cut the switch off without really looking in, and went on toward the kitchen.

I took two steps and stopped dead in my tracks before putting my rear suspension in reverse. I cut the light back on. And stared at the floor. Two beady black eyes stared back.

“Why, you dirty dog, you.”

The mutt whimpered.

“Not you. That no-account sister of mine. Oooh, when I get my hands on her…”

Rowdy looked a lot smaller out of the carrier. He was about as big as a rat. He tippy-toed on the bathroom tile. His whole little body shimmied across the floor toward me. I couldn’t tell if he was scared to death or doing the Hully Gully.

“If I was you,” I said, “I’d be tickled pink to be shed of Corene.”

He whimpered again. His eyes went all wet and gooey.

“Oh, for goodness sake, don’t you start with that mushy stuff. What in the world am I going to do with you?”

He inched closer, put his front paws up on my legs. His silly tail wagged and all that long hair on it waved back and forth like a hairy flag on a stick.

“If you’re going to touch me, you’ve got to have a bath first. And son, I’ve got to be honest with you. That hairdo has got to go.”

I did the best I could. I wore my Playtex cleaning gloves that go up to the elbows. All I had was regular shampoo, so I used it on Rowdy and hoped for the best. He did look cleaner. He even looked grateful. He wouldn’t have felt that way if he could’ve seen his hair. It was a sight. I brushed it and tried to get the knots out. If he stayed long, I’d have to get some crème rinse for the tangles.

Outside, the heat was a killer. You can’t imagine the humidity unless you’ve lived in a place like Tullulah where there are more trees than are good for a person. They make it sticky around here. I’d had all the miserable summer weather I wanted and was good and ready for a break. Shoot, it was already October and close to Halloween, and high time for some cool air.

The storm on the way made it even hotter. On the news, they said a few tornados touched down in Mississippi. The scary yellow line on the weatherman’s screen was headed this way.

I knew they were coming, even before I turned on the TV. The sky had that weird green look and hard gusts of wind blew stuff all over the streets. When I went outside, it was hard to breathe. The coming storm was already sucking the air out of the air, if you know what I mean.

You might wonder what in the world a grown, intelligent woman like me was doing out in the yard anyway when there’s fixing to be a tornado. Yeah, that’s right, I was out there so that orphan rug rat could do his business. Let me tell you, he took his sweet time about it. He had to go sniff everything out there first, even with the wind whipping his ears and long red and white hair all over the place. Picky, that’s what he is, and wasn’t worried a bit that I might get swooped up in the sky or struck by lightning.