Authors: Sydell Voeller
“I...
I’m
not sure exactly what I should do, but I promised her I’d take her place today. If I
don’t
stick to it, she may jolly well drive right over here—fever, cough, and all. It’s the only way I can keep her down.”
“Oh, I see.
The independent type... just like my missus.”
One corner of Ted’s mouth lifted. “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?” He rocked back on his heels and hitched his thumbs in his belt loops. “Well, as far as the roof goes, just let me know.
We’ll
work it in—whenever. I hope the little lady is back on her feet soon.”
“So do
I
. And thanks. Thanks again, Ted.” Though Austin’s voice was filled with appreciation, he
couldn’t
dismiss how the tenor of their conversation was frightening him. It seemed they were talking almost as if he and Jo were husband and wife. He had to change the subject. He had to change it quickly. “By the way, any further news about the owl Joanna hauled into
Anchorhold ?”
“It recovered without incident. I turned the owl loose not far from her place.”
“Good, I’ll tell her. That should help pick up her spirits.” Austin lifted the collar of his windbreaker against the rising breeze.
Ted grinned. “You’re too late, pal. She already knows. She phoned in to check on the owl almost every day.”
“I might’ve guessed,” Austin answered with a chuckle. “Pretty soon, she’ll probably be showing up on your doorstep to be your newest volunteer.”
“You’re too late on that one also. She said
she’s
making arrangements at the aquarium to take off every Friday afternoon so she can help me. It might take her another few weeks to get everything squared away, but she’s working on it.”
“And by that time, if I’m lucky, I’ll be well on my way up north,” Austin said. “I’ll be holed up in some fishing shack, living the good life.” He rummaged through a box in search of the extra bag ties,
then
glanced at his watch. Hopefully the local service club would show up in time to dish out the traditional picnic lunch, he thought anxiously. If he and Ted had to take charge of that, too, those poor volunteers might starve.
“You in a hurry to leave Southport?” the older man asked, snapping Austin back from his thoughts.
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“I’m just Jo’s hired help—even though I’m her late husband’s brother.” Austin hesitated, realizing that Ted undoubtedly knew little, if any, of the circumstances. He told him briefly, then added, “To make matters even stickier, I’m practically the spitting image of Kyle—and because of that, it’s tough on Jo. She needs to get on with her life without my complicating it.”
“And how do you feel about all this?”
“Austin swiped a hand over his chin and sighed. “I knew you’d ask.” He paused. “Okay, here goes. Bottom line is,
I’m
not sure how much longer I can hang in there, living so close to her like this. Besides,
it’s
a guy thing, you know? I’d never take advantage of Jo—emotionally or otherwise.” Absently he brushed sand off the registration table.
Ted nodded. “I’m sorry about your brother.
Real sorry.
And I read you, pal. You’d have to be
blind,
and probably half dead too, not to realize what a looker Joanna is.”
“Yeah, and not only that. She’s caring, dedicated,
intelligent
.” His voice caught. “I’ve never known anyone quite like her.”
For the next half
hour
they continued working, tacking up more posters, answering questions from inquisitive campers, and taking final inventory on registration supplies. All the while, they chatted companionably.
Maybe this is what
I’ve
been missing back home,
Austin thought.
The small town camaraderie.
Friends helping friends.
Handshakes and clambakes instead of corporate back-stabbing and cocktail parties.
In some ways, perhaps, it was a shame he
hadn’t
any intentions of staying around. Then too,
he’d
really taken a liking to Ted Ashelman.
Austin looked down at his watch again. “I’m getting nervous, Ted.”
“Why? You have an aversion to crowds or something?”
“No.
It’s
the hot dog feed that’s got me concerned. Where’s the service club that’s supposed to handle it?”
“Uh-oh.”
Ted’s face fell. “I almost forgot.
You’re
right, Sullivan.
The Lions Club.
They were due almost an hour ago with Jake’s Wiener Wagon.
They’re
normally as reliable as the sun and the moon. If they haven’t shown by now, then there must be some wrong.”
The jangle of his cell phone sliced through his next words.
“What? Speak louder, Jake! Our connection’s lousy.”
While Ted talked, Austin watched a shadow pass across the older man’s face. “You sure there’s no other way? Isn’t there someone else who could bring in the supplies?” A long pause followed. “Oh, I see. Well, thanks for the call, Jake.
Looks as if we’ll have to forget it this time.”
“We’ve got a problem,” Ted explained, turning to Austin after
he’d
folded up the phone. “Jake was about ten miles down the highway when he called. The Wiener Wagon got stopped by a major mudslide
that’s
blocking both lanes of 101. Jake had no other choice but to turn back. No
one’s
been injured, thankfully, but there’s going to be big-time delays. It’s right near the tunnel on the north end of town.”
“And there’s no one else who can fill in?”
“Apparently not.
Jake tried calling other club members, but they were either not
home,
or already involved at other registration sites.”
Austin heaved a sigh.
“Now what?
The hot dog feed has been highly publicized. It’s part of the incentive to get people to turn out.”
“True enough, but don’t overlook the obvious, Sullivan. If Jake can’t get through, then that’s probably also true for many of the volunteers.”
“But what about the Boy Scout camp?”
Austin countered. “Joanna worked especially hard to solicit their help. It’d really be a shame to let those kids down.”
“Oh, wow.”
Ted’s
faced paled. “I forgot about that. Maybe I could call my wife or—”
“No, don’t bother,” Austin cut him off. “I’ll go round up the food. You man the registration table.” His mind raced as he scanned the picnic shelter. “I see there are built-in barbecues,” he said, “but we’ll need several bags of charcoal. Is there a store close by? I’ll buy a couple dozen packages of hot dogs and a ton of potato salad and soda pop and—”
Before Ted could answer, the sound of an approaching van interrupted their conversation. Behind it droned a smaller van, followed by a meandering string of other vehicles. In seconds, doors were
slamming,
kids were running towards them, shrieking with laughter.
“The Boy Scouts!
Not already!” Austin let out a low moan.
Ted chuckled. “It looks as if we underestimated. Forget the couple dozen packages of hot dogs, pal. You’d better get a couple hundred.”
***
Three hours later, the aroma of sizzling frankfurters wafted on the early afternoon breeze as boys of all ages waited eagerly off to the side, paper plates in hand, while others sat eating at picnic tables. The din of their conversation was punctuated with bursts of laughter. Meanwhile, other volunteers had begun to filter inside the picnic shelter, some in couples, and others in small groups.
Obviously
the washed-out highway hadn’t deterred everyone.
“You saved the day,” Ted Ashelman muttered under his breath. The men stood hunkered over two barbecues, waiting for the next round of hot dogs to finish cooking. Joe Oretega, district Scout coordinator, had also pitched in and was dishing out potato salad and chips, while his wife, Clara, passed out the buns and soft drinks.
“No,
you
did, Ashelman,” Austin tossed back modestly, though the look on his face reflected his own sense of relief. “You stayed here alone and got these kids all registered and organized while all I had to do was
go
shopping. If you asked me, I got the easy end of that deal.”
“Don’t try to fool me. You were sweating bullets there for awhile, and you know it.”
Ted’s mouth quirked in a smile.
“Matter of fact, I guess we both were.
But what the heck?
We pulled it off anyway.”
“And judging from the volunteers’ comments on their data cards,” Austin pointed out, “plus the number of filled bags we put in the parking lot dumpster, the event was a huge success.”
Austin eyed the wieners, roasted and bubbling,
then
called. “Come and get ‘em, everyone! Line forms to the right. I’m getting pretty good at the cooking bit,” he added to Ted, then laughed. “But don’t tell that to Joanna. She might not approve of hot dogs.”
“I hope you hung onto your grocery receipts,” Ted said as a swarm of boys rushed back for seconds. “The Lions Club will want to reimburse you.”
“No big hurry.”
“Oh?
You playing hero or what?
I thought you said it won’t be long till you’re out of here.” Ted slanted him a questioning look as he plopped two wieners on the first boy’s plate.
Austin shrugged with forced indifference. “That’s what I’d like, but that’s not necessarily what I’ll get. It all depends on the roof and how quickly Jo recovers, don’t forget.”
Yet do I really want to leave?
Wouldn’t
a few more weeks with Joanna be just as good as a fishing trip?
Maybe even better?
***
“Don’t worry, Aunt Marcella. I’ll be up and running in no time—tomorrow morning at the latest.” That afternoon, Joanna sat propped up in bed, her cell phone pressed to her ear. “Austin was just overreacting when he insisted I stay home from the beach clean, but I somehow let him talk me into it.” She coughed,
then
continued.
“So how are you? Did you lose your power last night? Are all your trees still standing?”
“Heavens, I’m afraid I slept through the whole thing. I didn’t even realize there were high winds till I listened to the television this morning.” Marcella’s laughter rippled brightly on the other end of the line. “And yes, the trees are fine.
Standin’ green and tall and ramrod-straight.”
“Good. I meant to call earlier but...” Joanna’s voice drifted off as she wracked her mind for a plausible excuse. She was reluctant to admit
she’d
drowsed most of the day and was still feeling as if she’d been run over by a dune buggy. There was no point in worrying Aunt Marcella unnecessarily. Besides, she would be as good as new tomorrow.
“Now, Jo, you do take care of yourself,” Marcella said. “Remember to drink plenty of hot tea to soothe that cough. And please give my love to Austin. It was so good of him to take over for you. Yes, he’s a mighty good man.”
“Oh, there’s Austin right now,” Joanna said. “I hear his Jeep pulling into the driveway.”
“Then I’ll let you go.”
“Take care of yourself, too, Aunt Marcella.” She coughed again and blew her nose into a tissue. “And don’t hesitate to call if you need anything—I’m sure I’m not contagious anymore.”
“Don’t worry, dear. You know perfectly well my next-door neighbor, Lucille, checks in twice a day. Now snuggle back down in bed so you don’t take another chill.”
“I will. Bye.”
Austin appeared in the doorway, both arms behind his back. Though his hair was slightly mussed and his shirt wrinkled, he wore a self-satisfied look on his face. “How’s my favorite sister-in-law?” he asked.
“Better, thanks.” She swallowed to stifle another cough.
“Good.” Eyes shining, he held out a profuse bouquet of lemony yellow roses.
“Oh, Austin!
They’re beautiful.” She took them from his outstretched arms and buried her nose in the fragrant, soft petals.
“I drove by the florist’s on my way home... and...
well
.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t resist. I thought you might need a little cheering up. Besides, I used to grow roses a lot like these—back in the days when I had time for gardening.”
“There’s a vase in the utility room, on the top shelf,” she said, visibly touched as she handed back the bouquet. It seemed forever since she had arranged cut flowers to brighten her home, but then this past year here entire life had been pretty colorless too.
“Fine.
I’ll go get these in some water,” he said, holding the roses out at arm’s length again, eyeing them with a pleased expression.
In minutes,
he’d
returned. He set the bouquet down on her bedside table. For a long moment, his eyes held hers.
“Thank you, Austin,” she said in barely a whisper. “I thought about you all day, you know. I kept trying to imagine you there at the registration site, wondering how you were getting along.”
He sat down on the side of her bed and took her hand in his. “So you want to hear all the grizzly details?”