On Little Wings (17 page)

My jaw dropped in open surprise, but Sarah laughed her best laugh, loud and light and contagious. “I don’t know if she wants to play with an old grouch like you.”

I threw Sarah a quick, panicked look, but she was too tickled to notice or care.

“Well?” Little demanded, looking at me.

“What do you want to do?” I choked out.

“Walk into town. Make fun of the fishermen.” She glowered down at Charlie and he stopped mid-jump, rolled onto his back and pulled his mouth into an ingratiating grin.

“Good Grief, Little, I wouldn’t miss that for anything,” Sarah said. “You better let me tag along. Are you in, Jennifer?”

“Sure,” I answered, surprised that Little could make a mile walk. I eyed her bony ankles with serious reservations.

“Well, we can’t get there standing here,” she barked and Sarah and I hustled to locate our shoes. Unfortunately, mine were still cold and damp, but I tried to ignore that.

“So you guys like being ordered around?” I whispered to Sarah as I tied my laces.

“Not many people can order around a Smither. It’s nice to see someone try,” Sarah answered under her breath.

“Just cause I can’t hear ya, don’t mean my eyes are broken. I see your cussed lips moving. I’m not an idiot,” Little growled.

Sarah looked up at me, her eyes twinkling. “Let’s go.”

Little turned and began a surprisingly brisk shuffle up the road, not looking like she cared if we followed or not. Charlie slinked behind her, his rear end constantly dipping close to the road as he tried to figure out how to walk and look submissive at the same time. Some kind of power emanated from the small woman that even the dog could sense. I kept my eyes on her thin, veined legs, sticking out from her housedress.

Sarah made several attempts at conversation (
look at the wildflowers, Little. Aren’t they pretty? So you didn’t lose your power last night? Jennifer grew up in Nebraska
) and to Sarah’s great amusement, Little fended off every attack (
Look like they always looked. Didn’t have power at all when I was little. Never heard of it
.) It was easy to see that it was a game they played. The more caustic the ancient woman got, the giddier her audience became. But beneath it all was a partnership, someone to listen to complaints, someone to laugh with. A friendship.

Before we got to the town a horn beeped behind us. We all turned to see Nathan’s dented, white truck bumping down the road. He pulled up beside us and called through the passenger window. “Little, I always give a pretty girl a ride. How ‘bout it?” I stared in amazement as he flashed her a charming smile untainted by his usual sullenness.

“You idiot, boy! Honk your horn at me like that and I could fall down dead. Would you wanna die in the middle of the street? You think that’s fittin’?”

Nathan raised his hand in surrender. “Don’t want to kill you. Just want to give you a ride.” His laughing eyes slid to my face, but never met my gaze.

“Why? Cause I’m old?” Her blue eyes flamed dangerously.

“No. Cause you’re pretty. Like I said.” He leaned over even farther and popped the passenger door open, making it swing on its squeaky hinges.

The corners of her mouth put up a valiant fight against a smile. “Idiot,” she grumbled as she walked toward the truck. Sarah gave her a hand up into the cab.

“Jennifer and I will take the bed,” Sarah called as she hurried to the tailgate. She dumped Charlie into the back with an unceremonious thud and then in a fluid leap, swung herself up. I followed her, slower and clumsier.

“Is this legal?” I scanned the rickety vehicle.

“Jed won’t care. It’s just a mile and no traffic.”

“Jed?”

“Our sheriff. Don’t you love it- a sheriff named Jed? I try to work his name into casual conversation whenever possible because it does my heart good to say Sheriff Jed.” I laughed as the truck gathered speed and rocked us in the fresh, windy air. Moments later Nathan parked on the main street, close to the docks to let us out.

“Where are you headed?” I asked him.

“Not far. I’m power-washing a fence today. I’ll stain it tomorrow.”

“Oh. I’m apparently taking an old woman to make fun of fishermen.”

Nathan nodded and grinned. “Have fun,” he said.

“Oh, loads and loads, I’m sure.” I paused and then asked, “Can I see what you’re doing?”

I don’t know where the idea came from. Furthermore, I don’t know where I got the courage to ask. Maybe two people can’t rescue an old woman from an ocean storm and not feel like some of the barriers are swept away.

“You mean come with me?” He said it like I’d suggested something insane.

Sarah overheard and jumped in. “I can take Little to breakfast at the Sturgeon. Jennifer should get away from us old folks for an hour.”

“Dirty, boring work,” Nathan said, peering at me like I was a subject under a microscope – mysterious and maybe a little dangerous. “Suit yourself. Whatever floats your boat.” He grabbed a machine that resembled a canister vacuum cleaner and started down the street without another word. I threw one hesitant look at Sarah, trying to decide if I really wanted to go and she gave me a coaxing nod. Nathan was several yards ahead of me and gaining speed so I swallowed once and trotted after him, feeling like Charlie following Little. For a fleeting moment I thought of confronting him with a loud, “What’s your problem,” but the compulsion burned hot and brief, dying before it reached my lips.

Nathan surprised me when he broke the silence and said, “Did you get to see Little in a movie last night?

I cleared my throat. “Yeah, part of one.” Little’s face in the storm flashed in my mind. “Nathan, when we found her in the storm . . . she wasn’t trying to … you know …”

“Off herself?” he scoffed as he stopped in front of a small, yellow house.

“I don’t know.” The mocking in his voice made me timid.

His face softened. “Truth is no one knows why she does it. We’re all used to it by now. A little crazy, maybe.”

“I don’t think so. She seems clear-headed to me.”

“Okay, not clinically crazy. Just conventionally crazy.”

“I think that’s a contradiction. I don’t think you can be conventionally crazy.”

“Well, what’s your guess then?” He looked up from where he knelt with a garden hose with a smudge of dirt beneath one eye. I stared too long before answering.

“I’ll just ask her.”

That made him laugh as he stood up and turned the rusty spicket. “That’s original.” I opened my mouth to defend myself when he held up a hand and motioned me to stand back. “Don’t let the water hit you. It will take skin off. Better back up a little more.” He hit a button and the machine jumped to life, vibrating on the grass and a sharp line of water hit the ground, making mud fly. Nathan pointed the sprayer at the grey fence and fanned his hand up and down in a steady, fluid motion. Wherever the stream hit, the gray, surface wood dissolved, revealing a richer brown. He made it to a spot covered in a green, scaly lime and with the touch of the water it burst from the wood.

“Can I try?” I asked loud enough to hear over the power washer.

“Why would you want to?” He asked.

“For fun,” I shrugged.

From the way he eyed me he probably classified me as the same kind of crazy as Little. “If you must. Don’t keep it on any one spot for too long. Keep it moving. Keep it even. Here’s the off button if you panic.”

“I’m not going to panic,” I grabbed it from his hand and mimicked his slow movement. It was oddly soothing, the easy change of old to new, rotten to healthy. Neither of us spoke for several minutes while I worked on the fence, wondering how many years of storms I was washing away.

“Not too bad. For a girl,” he qualified.

Keeping my serene expression I answered, “You can be a real jerk. Even for a boy.”

The hose shuddered in my hand before coming to a limp rest as he shut off the machine.

“Do you just say everything that crosses your mind?”

“Not even close.”
If I said everything you would know I think you’re rude, reclusive and scared to death of exposing your real feelings.
“Why? Do you think I talk too much?”

His poker face faltered. “Not too much as in
quantity
. You just don’t, I don’t know. You don’t play the game.” He leaned against the wet fence, his eyes trained on my face.

“What game? Another Smithport thing?”

His mouth lifted into a smile. “No, a human thing. Everyone else plays the game. Hides the bad stuff, the stupid stuff, the sad stuff. You are … you just radiate …”

“What?” I met his intense stare, fascinated that he saw anything other than utter ordinariness in me. “I radiate bad, stupid stuff?” I laughed in spite of myself.

“No,” he grinned. “You just say it like it is, is all.”

“Huh,” I said, pursing my lips and assessing the comment. I made a special effort to hide the surprised pleasure unfurling in my chest.

Nathan’s smile grew. “That’s all you’re going to say?”

“Yup.”

“I guess there is some Smither in you.” He took the handle from my grasp with gentle hands and turned the machine back on. I backed away from the flying water, grateful for an excuse to move out of his range of sight, and sat down with my back against a thick tree. I’m thankful he didn’t turn around and catch the irrepressible smile spreading across my face when I touched the spot where our fingers met.

Only my curiosity of seeing Little in full swing amongst the townspeople persuaded me to finally leave. I told Nathan good-bye and headed for the docks. It was strange walking down the sidewalk with no tour guide, no Smither, to assure me that I belonged. My presence intruded on the quiet street. I had gone several blocks when someone called my name from behind. I knew Nathan’s voice instantly. I turned to see him jogging toward me.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he slowed down as he drew level with me. “I just felt like coming. I’ll finish up later.”

“Whatever floats your boat,” I managed to keep my voice casual, in spite of the silent cheer ringing through my chest. Maybe I am too vulnerable to suggestion, but for the first time in my life I felt like a girl who would say anything that crossed her mind. “Last night, did you really think it was me outside?” I asked him.

He ducked his head and looked away from me. “I hoped not.”

“Why would I do that?”

He shrugged. “I thought you might not know how dangerous it is, not being used to the ocean. I thought you might be curious.”

“I’m sure most people seem stupid compared to you, but I’m really not
that
stupid.”

“I hate it when people think that.” His eye tightened, but didn’t have the closed, untouchable glint that I’d grown accustomed to. “It’s like saying everyone is fat to a skinny person. Or everyone is messy to a neat freak. It doesn’t work like that. I never thought you were stupid.”

“Then what – naïve? No common sense?”

His disgusted face screamed at me to change the subject. “You have plenty of common sense. Maybe ignorance – of the ocean. Maybe naïve. Would that be so bad? Who said you should know everything? It’s that whole ‘sadder but wiser’ theory.”

“You think everyone who’s wiser is sadder?” I looked at his bare arm, the way the tiny flecks of dirt stuck to the hairs and made him look like he was covered in freckles.

“Probably. That seems to be the consensus.” He said. I chose the wrong moment to look up at his face because our eyes met and there was something naked in his expression. I saw too much. I flushed and turned, trying to look nonchalant. “Just look at Little,” he said in a much lighter voice to cover the tension. “She’s been around for what? Almost ninety years? And she’s about the saddest person I know.”

“I do not concur,” I said, raising my pointed finger. “She’s not sad. She’s not even mad. She loves it – the façade. I think she’s having more fun than all of us.”

“Touché,” he conceded.

I cocked my head. “By the way, I’ve always wondered what touché really means. I’m guessing you know.”

He retreated back into his sullenness, “Touch. Just French for touch. From fencing. If the sword touches somewhere vital the fight is over.”

I said ‘oh’ quietly and tried not to stare. “You don’t like answering questions do you?” He huffed in frustration. “Sorry. That’s another question.” I could barely contain my curiosity. Something happened in my stomach when the knowledge leaked effortlessly out of him. I could listen to his answers for hours. Before I managed to upset him again we were back on the sidewalk by the docks.

Sarah stood up from a bench and waved to us. “We just finished breakfast. Little eats slow.”

“I chew! You young dolts might want to try that some time,” Little snapped. A deep laugh interrupted Sarah’s answer. I looked up and saw three old men sitting one bench over. The heaviest one wore a flat, grey hat from bygone days, the skinniest had a white, ponytail tied with a piece of string and the third, still laughing, tapped a black, wooden cane on the ground. I approached Sarah and Little slowly, keeping an eye on the men who were watching our little group. The one with the ponytail winked at me and I started, but couldn’t resist smiling back.

“See yuv got a new friend today, Little,” the winker said. Little turned away with a
hurumph
. Undeterred, the man tried again. “Ain’t ya gonna introduce us?”

“She don’t wanna know you,” Little shot back.

“Aw, shucks, Little, you can break a man’s heart,” the man with the cane said, looking like he had anything but a broken heart.

“How ya know? I don’t see any men,” she spat.

Sarah laughed as hard as the three men and even Nathan rubbed his eyes and chuckled.

“I’ll jus have to introduce myself,” the ponytail man threatened.

His threat worked because little mumbled, “Jennifer, them’s the Jacks.”

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“The Jacks,” Little repeated louder. Sarah snickered into her hand.

“All named Jack?” I asked.

“Yup. That’s them, all right. The Jacks,” Little said.

“So should I call you all Jack or do you go by your last names?” I asked. Nathan chuckled behind me.