A Good Measure, page 24
“I do,” Libby answered, setting Goodness on the porch and watching her go right over to the chair on which her brother lay, put one foot on the edge, and sniff him again. Then she hopped up and curled up next to him.
Libby felt tears sting her own eyes, too, but she brushed them away. “I’ll get a towel.”
“I’ll be right back, too,” Matt said, eyeing Ellie.
The little girl knelt next to the chair again and tried to console the sibling that had been left behind. “It’s okay, Goodness,” she whispered, gently stroking her fur.
Matt returned with a small wooden box and a shovel, and Libby came out with an old blue towel. “Where do you think would be a good spot?” he asked.
“I was thinking out under the pines. He loved to stroll through there and roll in the soft needles.” She tucked the towel neatly into the box.
Matt lifted the gray cat off the cushion and gently laid him in the box, and Goodness hopped down, and hurried over, meowing loudly. “You’re gonna talk about this the whole time, aren’t you, girl?” he said, kneeling to pet her. Then he looked up at Ellie. “You comin’?”
Ellie nodded and he handed the shovel to her and picked up the box.
Ellie looked back at her grandmother. “I’ll come get you when we’re ready.”
Libby nodded and watched the sad procession make its way slowly toward the pine grove with Goodness following them, still meowing mournfully.
AN HOUR LATER, ELLIE SLIPPED HER HAND INTO LIBBY’S AS THEY WALKED BACK to the house. She turned to see if Goodness was following them, but she was still lying on the mound of fresh dirt under which her lifelong companion, playmate, and brother—after being prayed for and blessed—was buried.
“I don’t know about you, my dear child, but I could use a cup of tea,” Libby said, trying to lift her granddaughter’s spirits.
“I could, too,” Ellie replied.
“I have a lovely Yorkshire tea that is wonderful with condensed milk and a spoonful of honey,” Libby suggested.
“Okay. Do you have any more of those cranberry scones we made the other day?”
“I do,” Libby replied. “I even have some clotted cream.”
“Mmm,” Ellie said, smiling, “I didn’t think I’d be hungry, but I guess I am.”
“Being hungry is a good sign—it means you’re going to survive.”
“It’s funny how you can be really sad, and still feel hungry.”
“Well, your body knows it needs food, even if your heart doesn’t think so.”
“I hope Goodness gets hungry and doesn’t stay out there all night.”
“She will,” Libby assured her as they climbed the porch steps. “She just needs time.”
Ellie pulled open the screen door and held it for her grandmother. “Gran, do you think animals have souls?”
“I do,” Libby answered without hesitation. “We’ve had so many animals live and die on this farm, and they’ve all had unique personalities, eccentricities, and soulful story-filled eyes—especially the cows, but even the chickens . . . so I absolutely believe they have souls, and they mourn, and go to heaven.” She filled her kettle with fresh water. “Do you remember how the cows—after Grandpa died—used to stand under that big oak tree in the field where he and Cale are buried?”
Ellie nodded. “They missed him, too.”
Libby smiled wistfully as she set the kettle on the burner. “They wore a path in the grass.”
Ellie watched her grandmother drop two bags into her teapot and drape the strings over the side. “Two bags?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
Libby smiled. “Two. I think we can both use a little extra comfort today.”
“I think so, too.” Ellie sat at the kitchen table and lightly traced her finger over the grooves and scratches. “Gran, did you know elephants mourn when a member of the herd dies?”
“I’ve heard that,” Libby said, setting the scones and clotted cream on the table. “I also heard they have good memories.”
Ellie nodded. “One time, Dad took me to the Elephant Sanctuary in Hohenwald and there were these two elephants there, Shirley and Jenny, who had performed together over twenty-four years earlier, and when they were reunited, they remembered each other and gently stroked each other’s scars with their trunks.”
“That’s amazing,” Libby said. “Seems to me I saw a story on the news about an elephant from that same sanctuary who was friends with a dog, and they were inseparable, and when the dog died, the elephant was devastated.”
Ellie looked up in surprise. “That was Tarra and Bella! I have a book about them.” She smoothed some clotted cream onto one of the scones. “I heard Shirley died recently—she was seventy-two! And the other elephants at the sanctuary stood by her grave—just like Goodness with Mercy . . . and the cows with Grandpa.”
Libby brought over the tea and sat across from her. “Which is all proof that animals do have souls and they do grieve.”
“Mm-hmm,” Ellie agreed, taking a bite of her scone.
47
“I’LL BE HOME LATER,” CHASE SAID AS HE OPENED THE OFFICE DOOR.
“Any idea what time?” Liam asked. “We’re having burgers and I need to light the grill.”
“Mmm, burgers,” Chase hummed, and then pondered his answer. “Well, we serve from five to six and then we have to clean up, so I guess I’ll be home around seven thirty.”
Liam nodded. “Just text me when you’re on your way.”
“I will.”
“I hope Matthias shows . . .”
“Me, too.” Chase stepped out into the steamy late-day heat, and as he walked through the streets of downtown Savannah, and through historic Forsyth Park, he kept his eye out for the tall man with the little white dog, but he didn’t see him.
He kept going until he came to an old white church, and when he pulled open the door, he was greeted by the heavenly aroma of beef and onions. “Dang, that smells good,” he murmured. He went inside, asked for Big Bob, and was directed to the kitchen, where he found a mountain of a man stirring a huge pot of gravy. “Are you Big Bob?”
The man nodded and held out his hand. “You Chase?”
Chase nodded.
“Thanks for volunteering,” he boomed and then pointed to a pile of aprons. “You’re gonna serve mashed potatoes and gravy. That’s Daisy—she’ll show you.”
Daisy smiled. “Hello, young man,” she said. “Follow me.”
Chase followed Daisy out into a big room where tables and chairs were set up. “There’s already a line waiting,” Daisy said, leading him over to the buffet table, “and they’ll be coming in in about five minutes, so you stand right here next to these two characters,” she teased, nudging her friends. “This is Dell,” she said. “She’s serving salad and rolls, and this is Fran—she’s serving the pot roast and carrots.” They both smiled as he tied his apron.
“Nice to meet you,” he said, smiling back.
Daisy handed him a ladle and a serving spoon. “So you’re last in the line, and they all love their mashed potatoes and Big Bob’s gravy so be prepared!” She eyed her friends. “Y’all ready?”
They nodded and Daisy walked over and pushed open the heavy metal door, and a parade of people of all shapes, sizes, and colors started to filter in. They chatted quietly, picked up heavy-duty paper plates, and gratefully held them out to be filled, and then helped themselves to lemonade or iced tea from Coleman jugs, or hot coffee from a big percolator, and sat down across from their friends. For an hour straight, Chase piled mashed potatoes, made little pools for gravy, filled them to overflowing, and drizzled extra gravy over the tender beef; and after everyone had been served, people started coming back for seconds or going to the dessert table and taking a couple of cookies or a piece of cake.
Before Chase knew it, an hour had gone by and everyone began clearing their plates and leaving, but on their way out, Daisy and Bob handed them each a paper bag with a sandwich and a piece of fruit—a banana, apple, or peach in it. It was such an organized system that it went off without a hitch, and the time flew by. In fact, Chase was so caught up in serving and chatting, he forgot all about Matthias . . . until it was over, and he realized he hadn’t come.
He helped carry the empty food trays back to the kitchen and set them on the counter, and then Daisy asked him if he could stay to help wipe down the tables. He nodded and she handed him a bucket of hot sudsy water and a cloth. He went back out, cleared the remaining plates, and thoroughly wiped down the tables, and when he carried the bucket back, they all beamed at him.
“Dang, you’re a good worker!” Big Bob said. “You comin’ back tomorrow?”
Chase laughed. “I can’t come tomorrow, but I can come back next week.”
“Please,” Daisy begged, smiling and squeezing his arm.
“You come anytime you want,” Dell said and Fran nodded.
Chase untied his apron and handed it to Daisy. “You don’t happen to know an older gentleman named Matthias, do you? I thought I might see him here tonight.”
“You mean tall handsome Matthias?” she asked, her eyes sparkling in recognition. “And little Marmalade?”
“Yes!” Chase said. “He’s a friend of mine.”
Daisy laughed. “Matthias is everyone’s friend.”
“How come he doesn’t come to dinner?”
“Oh, he comes sometimes, but we can’t let Marmalade in—some dumb state law about dogs, and he doesn’t want to leave her outside. We tol’ him he could come to the door and we’d give him a plate, but he’s only done that a couple times, when he’s absolutely desperate, or worried that she doesn’t have enough to eat.”
“It’s too bad she can’t come in,” Chase said, shaking his head. “She’s such a sweet dog.”
Daisy nodded. “She is, but our hands are tied. Matthias is welcome to come to the door, though.”
“Well, if you see him, would you please tell him I was asking for him.”
“I will,” Daisy replied, “and if you see him, tell him to come by and get a hot meal.”
“I will,” Chase promised.
“Thank you for helping tonight, Chase. We’ll see you next week.”
“You’re welcome,” Chase said. “I’ll definitely be here.”
He stepped out into the cool evening air and as he walked back to his car, he listened to the usual evening hum of downtown Savannah, but as he cut through Forsyth Park again, still checking park benches for any sign of his friend, the peaceful night was suddenly pierced by the scream of sirens, and he realized they were coming his way. He turned to look and saw them stop at the far end of the park, their lights flashing through the trees and against the old brick buildings, and he felt an odd wave of worry wash over him. Drawn to the lights and commotion, he hurried across the park to see what had happened.
A crowd was forming as yellow tape was stretched from a flickering streetlamp to the edge of a building and across an alley. “What’s going on?” Chase asked a man standing nearby.
“They found some old homeless guy in the alley,” the man answered.
Chase tried to swallow the lump in his throat and watched in dismay as two EMTs steered a stretcher out of the alley toward a waiting ambulance.
“Oh, no,” he whispered, his heart pounding. He ducked under the tape and hurried over. “Who is that?” he asked, trying to see, but the body was covered with a white sheet. “Can you tell me who that is?” he asked one of the EMTs.
The EMT turned to him. “It’s some old homeless guy. You think you know him?”
Chase swallowed. “I . . . I might,” he stammered. “Can you show me?”
The EMT lifted the sheet and Chase saw Matthias’s weathered face. “Damn,” he whispered, tears springing to his eyes.
“You know him?” the EMT asked.
Chase nodded, his shoulders sagging. “He’s my friend,” he said, wiping his eyes.
“Well, maybe you can go talk to the officer because we couldn’t find an ID on him.”
Chase looked over to where a policeman was talking to a woman trying to tug a reluctant scrawny white dog to a van that said CANINE CONTROL. “Marmalade,” he cried, and hearing her name, the little dog looked over, and even though her ears were back and her eyes were full of fear, when she saw Chase, she started to wag her whole hind end. “Thanks,” he said to the EMT, and approached the woman, and without a second thought, said, “I’ll take her.” He knelt in front of Marmalade and she climbed into his lap.
The animal warden looked stunned. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely,” Chase said. “She’s my friend’s dog and I’ll take care of her.”
“Works for me,” she said, slipping off the choke chain.
“Do you have her leash?”
“You mean this ratty old thing?” the woman replied, holding up the tattered rope Matthias had always used.
Chase nodded, took it from her, and hooked it to Marmalade’s old blue collar, but he needn’t have used it—the little dog was sitting on his foot. Chase stroked her side, and when he realized she was shaking, he scooped her up into his arms and held her against him.
The policeman pulled out his pen. “Did I hear you say the deceased is a friend?”
Chase nodded. “His name is Matthias Abraham. He’s a Vietnam vet and his family lives in Atlanta.”
The policeman jotted down this information, thanked him, and then held out his pen and pad. “Can I just have your info, too, in case I have any questions.”
Chase set Marmalade on the ground and wrote his name and number down, and while he did, he felt her trembling between his legs. “If you can’t find his family, please let me know and I will make the arrangements and cover any funeral expenses,” he said, handing the pad and pen back to him, before scooping Marmalade up again.
The officer eyed him. “That’s very generous of you. How did you know him?”
“I would see him around town and we chatted—that’s all.”
The officer reached up and gently stroked Marmalade’s soft ears. “I’m glad you’re taking her. She had her head on his chest when we got here and she wouldn’t leave him. I didn’t like seeing the warden tugging her like that with a choke collar.”
“She’s a sweet dog,” Chase said as Marmalade licked his chin.
“Thanks for your help,” the officer said. “I’m sorry about your friend.”
“Thanks,” Chase replied, extending his free hand. “Have a good night.”
“You as well,” the officer replied.
Chase turned to walk away. “You want to walk, Marmy-girl?” he asked softly, but when he tried to set her down, she resisted and he ended up carrying her all the way back to his car. He set her on the passenger seat and went around to the driver’s side but when he opened the door, she was on his seat. “Um, are you driving, missy?” he teased and then he gently nudged her, but once he got in, she moved closer and rested her head on his lap. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “Everything’s gonna be okay.” And then he pulled out his phone to call Liam.
48
“DID CASH COME WITH YOU?” AMES ASKED, HOLDING THE DOOR OPEN FOR Payton—who was carrying a big cardboard box. “I told Ned he was coming.”
Payton shook her head. “He’s been working on the music for the wedding every night this week and said he still has more to do. Gage and Chase sent him playlists and he wants to be ultraorganized. You know how he gets.”
“I do know,” she said, chuckling. “But I also know he’ll do a good job—he would do anything for Chase—and Libby said he was thrilled when Gage asked him, so I’m not surprised by his enthusiasm.”
“Enthusiasm bordering on obsession!” Payton said, setting the box on the counter.
“How much more do you have?”
“Two more boxes.”
Ames propped open the door and followed her through the garage, and Ned took advantage of the opportunity to scoot out and lie in the sunny driveway—his favorite spot. “Are you staying out here?” Ames asked as she walked back by with a box, and he responded by lazily thumping his tail.
“You’re so silly, Ned,” Payton said, chuckling as she walked past him, too. They set the boxes on the counter. “You leaving this door open?” she asked.
“Just don’t let it latch, so he can come in if he wants to.”
Payton chuckled. “Doesn’t he know how to bark and let you know?”
“He knows,” Ames said, chuckling, too. “If he hears something outside at night, he tears down the hall barking like a maniac, and it scares the bejesus out of me, but it doesn’t happen very often. He finds other ways to communicate, like flopping his ears or groaning. He really is a character.”
“That reminds me—Sarah Whitman called Cash and asked him if he’d be available to house-sit and take care of Samson for a week in July.”
“Is he gonna do it?”
“He is,” Payton said, nodding. “He also had business cards printed and put them in a little holder on the counter at the shop . . . and he’s had to refill it twice already!”
“Wow! He’s gonna have more business than he can handle!”
“And now, both Rylee and Jessie have said they want to work for him!”
“That’s too funny,” Ames said, “but if you decide to sell the shop, it’ll make it easier if they have different jobs lined up.”
“Well, Rylee said he wants to do both. I’m not sure about Jessie . . . and at the last softball game, I mentioned I was thinking about selling and retiring, and Jen said she and her husband might be interested.”
“Wow. That would be too easy!”
Payton nodded. “Guess we better get going on these or we’ll be up all night.” She gestured to the vases. “So they’re all washed and I cut the ribbons and picked up some baby’s breath. I also brought some sustenance,” she said, smiling and pulling a bottle of chilled chardonnay out of one of the boxes.
“You think of everything, don’t you?” Ames said, laughing and reaching into her cabinet for two wineglasses.
“I try,” she said, and then her smile faded. “Are you allowed to drink with a concussion?”
