Harry and Amy: Chapter 2

Posted: August 07, 2005 - 12:10:37 am



The sharp rap of knuckles impacting the door broke Amy's concentration.

Irritated by the interruption, she turned on the screen saver and looked up from

her computer screen. In a harsh voice, she said, "Come in."

Richard Montclair, her boss, opened the door and entered the room without saying

a word. Usually, he didn't visit the people who worked for him in their offices,

but called them to his office. On this occasion, he had made an exception for

this visit. His boss had requested that he deliver a personal invitation to the

company picnic to Amy.

He looked around her office for a minute. It had been years since he had been in

her office and he couldn't believe that she had been working in it all that

time. He had never seen such an empty room in his life. It was totally devoid of

anything personal, not even a photograph. Unnerved by the stark and sterile

surroundings, he said, "The company picnic is this Saturday."

Amy looked at her boss for a minute before deciding that it would be in her best

interest to attend. He wouldn't have personally delivered the invitation

otherwise. The problem was that she didn't like picnics. They were held outdoors

and the ground made it hard for her to move around. She couldn't participate in

any of the events and always ended sitting off to the side alone. She replied,

"Sorry. I'm busy, Mr. Montclair."

From behind Richard, a male voice asked, "Did I understand that there's a

picnic?"

Richard wondered which of his employees would stand at the door eavesdropping on

their conversation. He answered the question even as he turned to face the

speaker. "Yes, a company picnic."

"I love picnics. Picnics always include my favorite foods -- fried chicken, cole

slaw, potato salad, and pickles. And we can't forget the games. A good picnic

includes games - three legged races, tug- o-war, and baseball."

Richard stared at the green robed man standing before him in shock. Not knowing

what else to say, he repeated, "It's a company picnic."

"Splendid," the Druid said, "Amy and I will be more than happy to attend."

Amy listened to the exchange in shock, wondering who was the mystery man hidden

behind Richard. The echo through the partially blocked door and noise outside

the office made it difficult to tell who was speaking. When Richard moved out of

the way, she saw the green robe and the shepherd's staff. She didn't need to see

his face to know who it was. Excited to see him, she shouted, "Harry!"

"Hello, Amy. We're going to a picnic. This nice gentleman invited us," replied

Harry with a smile and a wink. He patted Richard on the shoulder as though he

were a long lost friend.

"Who are you?" asked Richard.

"Harry!" she repeated. This time she said his name in protest at accepting the

invitation without discussing it with her.

Richard turned back to look at Amy wondering what she had to do with a Druid.

The last time a Druid showed up at the Chicago Stock Exchange the market dropped

ten points. Harry's presence was going to cause a bit of turbulence in the

market, of that he was sure.

"That's me," answered Harry with a grin. He stepped around Richard and looked

around the office. His face wrinkled as he took in the lack of décor. Frowning,

he said, "This has got to be the ugliest room I've ever been in. You sure you

work here?"

"Yes," answered Amy. She was used to the reaction of other people to her office.

Richard interrupted, "Excuse me, but who are you?"

"I'm Harry. Happy Harry, last of the Hoboes."

"Happy Harry?" asked Richard trying to figure out what kind of name that was. It

wasn't a proper name and he wondered if the guy was actually a Druid.

"Yes, that's my name," answered Harry. Turning back to face Amy, he asked,

"Don't you believe in pictures? How about a few plants?"

Staring at the fireworks displayed by the screensaver, she answered, "I don't

have any photographs and I can't take care of plants."

Snapping his fingers, Harry said, "I need a piece of paper, a pen, and a piece

of scotch tape."

Richard asked, "Who are you?"

"You've asked that three times. Are you slow or something?" asked Harry enjoying

the unease of the immaculately dressed man. He estimated the man's suit cost

over a thousand dollars. He decided the man was the kind who thought charity

consisted of writing checks for the tax write-off.

"Excuse me?" asked Richard shocked at the statement. No one had talked to him

like that in years. He stuttered even as Harry turned his back to him.

Amy handed the paper and pen to Harry. Bending over to write on the desk, Harry

drew a picture of a sun over a tree under which stood a hobo complete with

bindle on a stick. Little heart shaped figures floated from the hobo to a stick

figure woman. In a corner, he wrote, 'Harry loves Amy.' When she handed him the

tape dispenser, he hung the picture on the wall. Stepping back, he said, "Much

better."

Amy stared at the picture for a minute and started giggling. A five- year-old

kid could have done a better job on the picture, but this one was pure Harry -

humorous, cute, and harmless.

"I'm going to call security," threatened Richard.

Harry turned to look at Richard and shook his head. In a quiet voice, he said,

"No you won't. Today at lunch, I suggest you go down to the burger place and buy

five hundred dollars worth of gift certificates. Don't cheapen your actions by

getting a receipt so that you can write off the money. Once you've got the gift

certificates, go onto the street and hand them out to the panhandlers and

homeless people. When you've given all of them away, come back here and look in

the mirror. You'll see a better man looking back at you."

"What?"

"At that time, you'll be a good enough man to tell me to leave," Harry turned

his back on Richard dismissing him.

Richard turned to Amy and knew she wouldn't dare dismiss him in the same manner

as the Druid. Her job depended upon his good will and he could fire her in a

minute. In getting to his position, he had never been afraid of using his power

to make a point. He asked, "Who is this man?"

Still smiling at the picture, Amy answered, "That man is Happy Harry, last of

the hoboes. He is a Druid who serves his Goddess by taking care of the invisible

people in this society. He watches over the homeless, the poor, the hurt, and

the lost. He's the American version of Mother Theresa."

The comparison of him with Mother Theresa brought a smile to Harry's face. He

shook his head in the negative and said, "Everything she said is true except

that Mother Theresa part. That was a little overboard. Little? Who am I kidding?

It was way over the top."

Amy shook her head with a smile on her face. Seeing the look on Richard's face,

she said, "He's the real thing. He's the one who has built Homeless Hotels all

over the country. He's part of the reason why not one homeless person died in

that horrible storm last February."

"You're really a Druid?" asked Richard.

"Horrible green dress, gold trinket around the neck, and a perverted mind. Yep,

I'm either a Druid or a rapper with a bad fashion sense," replied Harry.

The comment about being a rapper cracked up Amy. She was used to his sense of

humor and had come to enjoy his jokes. She didn't know what kind of sense of

humor her boss possessed, but she doubted it extended to the kinds of jokes that

Harry told. Still laughing, she made a gesture like a rapper. Harry adopted a

similar pose.

Richard shook his head and said, "You're crazy."

"People keep telling me that, but I'm secure enough in my insanity not to

believe them," replied Harry.

"Why are you here?"

"Why I am here is not your business. However, I have accomplished what I came to

do so I shall now leave," answered Harry. He had learned that Amy was spending

almost every evening at the Homeless Hotel helping hand out food and supplies.

It bothered him that the young woman was not developing a social life. Even the

homeless at the shelter had expressed their concerns about Amy.

With a smile plastered on his face, he turned to Amy and said, "I shall pick you

up for the picnic Saturday."

Amy started to protest that she didn't want to go to the picnic, but with

Richard there she couldn't say that and with Harry there she couldn't lie.

Caught, she nodded her head in agreement and mumbled, "Okay, Harry."

As Harry turned to leave, he said, "You work for Michael Walters, don't you?"

"Yes," answered Richard warily.

"He's such a nice man," commented Harry as he left the office. Pointing his way

with an arm, he sidestepped his way down the hall. The sound of Amy's giggle

followed him.

A very uneasy Amy rode her IC ATV across the grounds of the house where the

picnic was being held. Harry walked beside her, cheerful at the change in his

routine. They hadn't quite reached the picnic tables where everyone was gathered

when, in a last ditch effort to duck out, Amy said, "It's not too late. We can

turn around and leave."

"No chance of that happening," replied Harry. He winked and said, "I can't wait

to run the three-legged race with you."

"There's no way I'm doing that," declared Amy.

"I had no idea that Mickey lived in such a big place," remarked Harry looking

over at the house. The house was situated on a hundred acres of land that ran

along the shore of Lake Michigan.

To the best of her knowledge, no one ever referred to the CEO of the brokerage

firm as Mickey. Wryly, Amy asked, "Mickey?"

"Yeah, Michael Walters," answered Harry. He noticed the amused expression on her

face and answered her unasked question. "I met him years and years ago. That was

long before he was a somebody."

"Oh," replied Amy. It surprised her how many people Harry knew.

As they approached the crowd, a figure detached itself from the tables and

walked towards them. The man waved and shouted, "Harry! It's great to see you."

"Hey, Mickey!"

The man came over and picked up Harry, hugging him tightly. With obvious

delight, he said, "My old friend. I'm amazed that you're here. How did you know

to come here?"

"Ah, I'm the date of this young lady," answered Harry gesturing to a very

embarrassed Amy. As her face turned a bright red, he said, "May I introduce you

to Amy."

With little more than a causal glance at the braces, Michael turned to Amy with

a genuine smile. She wasn't aware of it, but he had been watching her career

ever since Ed Biggers had worked with her. The fact that she could deal with a

Druid of his caliber without a problem had signaled to him that she was future

executive material. He took her hand in a warm grip and said, "Delighted to meet

you, Amy. Any friend of Harry is a friend of mine."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Walters," answered Amy. She wasn't sure how to address

him, so she chose the formal address appropriate for a business situation.

"Please call me Mike," replied the executive. He said, "Only my employees call

me Mr. Walters."

"I work for you," replied Amy not wanting there to be any misunderstandings

about her position.

"In that case, call me Mike," answered the man with a grin. At the surprised

expression on her face, he added, "I didn't say that I liked to be called Mr.

Walters, just that my employees are the only ones who call me Mr. Walters."

Harry laughed as the three of them made their way to the tables. Amy was

intimidated to be in the presence of the CEO. She wondered if the man really

meant what he said about any friend of Harry's being a friend of his. Harry had

some pretty scruffy and rugged friends that most people wouldn't want to meet,

much less consider a friend. Working up her nerve, she asked, "How do you know

each other?"

Mike answered, "I was a little wild when I was in college. One day I had too

much to drink. When I woke up in an alley, Harry was sitting there watching me.

It scared the hell out of me at the time. I'd never met a homeless man. Pardon

me, a hobo before."

Harry grinned at the correction. Mike continued, "Harry took me on a little tour

in which he showed me what happens to people who can't control their drinking.

He didn't put it to me that way. Instead, he introduced me to some of the people

that he knew. As I learned their stories, I came to the realization that I had

to take control of my life. I haven't had a drop since that day."

"Were you a Druid then?"

"No, that was years before I met the Goddess," answered Harry shaking his head

in denial.

When they arrived at the picnic tables, Harry noticed that Richard was standing

off to the side watching. Turning to Richard, Harry said, "You didn't do as I

asked."

"How did you know?"

"I would have heard about it if you had," replied Harry. He shook his head and

said, "I was very disappointed in you."

Mike paused and asked, "You asked him to do something? What?"

Harry answered, "I asked him to take a lunch out to feed some of the homeless in

the area."

Mike turned to study Richard for a full minute. Richard was a rising star within

the organization. He ran a tight ship and his teams produced good results. He

wondered if there wasn't a character flaw within the man that would eventually

lead him into trouble. Looking over at Harry, he asked, "Harry, could I ask a

favor of you?"

"Sure," replied Harry having a very good idea what he was going to be asked to

do.

"I'd like you to take Richard here under your wing for a month. Take him around

and let him meet some of your friends," requested Mike. He looked at his friend

hoping that the answer would be positive.

"No problem," answered Harry. He made a show of looking over the physique of the

executive as though sizing up his strength. He added, "I've got a couple of

people who are suffering from psychiatric problems that I'm trying to help. I'm

sure that Richard would be a great help."

Unable to believe what was being discussed, the young businessman looked at his

boss in shock. His boss was asking someone to have him deal with crazy people.

Trying to minimize his exposure, Richard said, "Sure, I'll make some calls to

the local hospitals and see if we can't get a bed or two opened up for your

people."

Even Amy had to laugh at that offer. Mike said, "Richard, Richard, Richard. He

can make a collect call to the Surgeon General and get more doors open than you

can possibly imagine. Don't be ridiculous. The help he needs is a little more

physical than that."

"I don't want to do that," answered Richard. He didn't go to an Ivy League

School to end up in an alley wrestling with some crazy man.

"You'll do it if you want to keep your job," answered Mike. There was no humor

or friendliness in his voice when he delivered his threat. He explained, "If you

want to understand business, you need to see the effects of various business

decisions. Going to the thousand dollars per plate dinners hosted by politicians

will only show you one side of the story. You need to learn the other side of

the story; the people who are affected by the bad decisions made by executives."

After agreeing to meet Harry at 6:30 Monday morning in front of the office

building, a very disgruntled Richard walked away. He kept looking back at Amy,

blaming her for his current predicament. Although others wanted to take the

place abandoned by Richard, Mike kept his attention on Harry and Amy. He asked,

"So how did you two meet?"

"I heard of the Chicago Angel who was going out every Friday night to feed the

homeless with food purchased from her own money. I tracked her down and

discovered that it was Amy. She'd been doing that for over a decade," explained

Harry. He put an arm on her shoulder and added, "She's now watching over the

Chicago homeless hotel that I started earlier this year."

"Really, I'm impressed," commented Mike looking over at Amy with increased

respect. He hadn't known anyone in his firm was so active in social issues.

Although no one knew it, his wife ran a food kitchen in South Chicago. She

talked about it, but only as if she occasionally did volunteer work at it. He

helped out as much as he could, particularly around the holidays. He was very

proud of his wife's involvement with the poor.

"He makes it out to be more than it is," said Amy. The young woman found herself

blushing.

A bark of laughter forced itself from Mike as he retorted, "He hasn't made it

out to be anything other than a statement of fact."

"Oh," replied the woman. She felt like she kept making a fool out of herself in

front of this man. Not knowing what to say, she decided to say nothing. Harry

grinned at her silence.

Amy frowned as Harry led her over to the starting line. She couldn't believe

that she had allowed him to talk her into participating in the three-legged

race. She was going to look like a fool and she hated looking foolish more than

anything. The others at the starting line were looking at her in surprise,

unable to believe that she and an old man were participating in the race. The

young executive prospects were all highly competitive and were in the race for

blood. Amy said, "This is a really stupid idea."

Discounting her arguments, Harry said, "Nonsense. How can you have fun if you

don't play?"

Amy looked around at the others and said, "They aren't here to play."

"I am and that's that."

It took him a minute to tie her left leg to his right. Once that was done, he

unlocked the brace so that his leg would control it. Standing up, he said, "All

you have to do is worry about getting that right leg of yours out in front of

us."

"You're crazy," commented Amy as she hugged him to keep from falling over.

"You know, a lot of people say that about me," he replied with a grin. He

wrapped an arm around Amy and held her tight to him.

Stepping up to the starting line, Mike shouted, "On your mark. Get set. Go!"

The others participating in the race took off like shots. Amy just stood there

for a second and then swung her leg forward. Harry kept up with her. After ten

steps, she realized that they were actually making progress. They were

definitely in last place, but she didn't care. She was too busy laughing as

Harry made jokes about how they must look to everyone else.

The course was only a hundred yards long, but to Amy it had seemed like an

impossible distance. As they approached the finish line, she was shocked to hear

others calling out in support of them. Although she had no idea which team had

won the race, she was sure who was the crowd favorite. There was no doubt of

that.

When they crossed the finish line, an exuberant Harry shouted, "And the tortoise

wins again!"

Amy was laughing too hard to even stand. Harry was holding them both up. When he

suggest that they take a victory lap, she lost it completely. They fell to the

ground in laughter. It was more than a few minutes before Harry untied them and

locked her brace into place.

Carrying her crutches, Mike came over with a big smile. As he handed the

crutches over to Amy, he said, "You know, it's funny. Forty people participated

in the race, but only two had fun. I hope you compete in the wheelbarrow race.

Maybe some of the others will get the idea."

Mike helped Amy to her feet. Harry handed her the crutches after she was

standing. Grinning, she said, "I'll take part, but only if Harry is the

wheelbarrow."

"Oh my, I've created a monster," complained Harry with a theatric grin.

They sat out the wheelbarrow race as participants, but were chosen to be judges.

As wives cheered on husbands, the competition was fierce as each team tried to

stand out in front of the boss. At least it started out highly competitive. In

the beginning, the only ones who had any fun were Harry and Amy.

Harry ran along side the competitors making announcements as though he were

calling a horse race. He had given each team a nickname. Abbot and Costello had

dropped into last place right out of the starting line. They were the first to

succumb to his jokes about their athletic ability.

The mixed gender team, Ginger and Fred, were light on their feet, but slow in

the mid-section. They fell to the ground when he started singing, 'Oh lucky

guy.' The crowd cheering on the participants had started singing as well.

He had nicknamed the most competitive team, the Grumpy Old Men, and made all

kinds of jokes about how seriously they were taking the race. It soon became too

much for the man who was the wheelbarrow and he collapsed on the ground in

laughter. That had been about the time when Harry mentioned that first prize was

a second hand key to the janitor's bathroom in the building across from the one

in which they worked.

Another very serious team he nicknamed, Serious Business. They lost it when he

described them as a stallion and broken down nag in heat. When he wondered how

long it would take the stallion to mount the nag, the race was over for that

pair. The guy holding up the barrow had doubled over in laughter.

The winners of the race were a couple of guys from the computing center. They

had probably been the most out of shape of all the competitors, but after the

first ten yards they had decided to have fun with it. When they crossed the

finish line, Amy shouted out, "And the winners are Bit and Byte!"

A number of the older executives who hadn't participated stopped by to tell

Harry and Amy how much they had enjoyed the events this year. In the past, the

competition had heated up to the point where major arguments had broken out.

They commented on how nice it was to see people having fun for a change.

Amy found herself seated at a picnic table surrounded by the real movers and

shakers within the company. At first, she felt nervous about talking to them and

their wives, but she relaxed after hearing some of the wives talking when the

husbands went off to get some food. She was surprised to learn that one of the

wives had worked in the Emergency Rescue Section of the Fusion Foundation for

ten years before she had meet and married her husband. Most of them were heavily

involved in various charities. She could tell that they really believed in the

organizations with which they worked.

She fielded a lot of questions about Harry. None of them, with the exception of

Mike's wife, had met him. They all knew who he was and wanted to know how she

had met him. She didn't answer that question, but did talk about the kinds of

things that Harry did in the Chicago Area.

When Harry returned to the table, he faced the wives and said, "Ah, I see you

are all getting to know the Chicago Angel."

"Stop calling me that," complained Amy. It embarrassed her every time he said

it, particularly in front of others.

"So you are the Chicago Angel," commented one of the women at the table. She

nodded as she put the pieces together. The braces on the legs, the fact that she

was friends with Harry, and that she knew more about the social services in the

Chicago area than most of the wives around the table identified her without a

doubt. She said, "I've heard about you. There are a lot of men and women who

speak very highly of you. They say that you've been feeding the homeless for

years out of your own pocket and that you hand out coats at the beginning of

winter."

Mike showed up at the table juggling two plates. He set one of the plates in

front of the woman that had just been speaking to Amy. He said, "I see you've

met my wife, Abigail."

She was confused by the idea that people were talking about her in the social

circles in which these women lived. Trying to explain it away, Amy said,

"Chicago Angel is just Harry's nickname for me."

Abigail laughed at the comment and said, "Oh no. Lots of people on the streets

call you that. You can't imagine the impact it has when a woman with braces on

her legs makes the effort to help out others. I really should have recognized

you when you showed up here with Harry."

"How do you know all that?" asked Amy confused by the wealth of information

about her activities conveyed by Abigail.

"I occasionally work at a food kitchen in South Chicago. You hear things,"

replied the woman. She turned to her husband and put her hand on his arm to get

his attention. Once she was sure that she had it, she said, "She's a good one. I

didn't know that any of the younger executives actually took any interest in the

social issues of our time."

"I'm not an executive. I'm just a business analyst," interjected Amy. She looked

over at Harry for help, but he just winked and then pointedly turned to talk

with someone else.

Grins broke out around the table, but no one suggested that her presence at the

picnic meant she was being considered for promotion. Mike smiled as he looked

down at his plate. The silence at the table was finally broken when Abigail

suggested, "Why don't you and I get together some time. I'd like to see the

Homeless Hotel."

"Uh, it's in a rather bad part of town," said Amy. She didn't want the wife of

the CEO of the company that she worked for getting mugged or raped on a visit to

one of the seedier parts of town.

By the time the food had been eaten, Amy had accepted a number of invitations to

attend social events with the wives around the table. It wasn't that she wanted

to do of them, but that she didn't know how to say no. She wasn't sure what half

of the luncheons were about, but she figured that she had to eat.

Amy found herself sitting alone at the table with Abigail. The older woman

looked at her with a smile and then said, "I think I can trust you not to spread

what I'm about to tell you."

"Huh?"

"I run the Wooden Spoon," answered Abigail.

All of the clues had been there for her to see, but she hadn't put them

together. She knew about the Wooden Spoon. It was one of the few places where a

homeless person could get a meal without getting a sermon. It was owned and run

by a woman. Rumor had it that she was some sort of rich woman, but no one was

sure. Putting a hand over her mouth, Amy said, "You're Gail."

"Yes. We run in the same circles and know the same people. I heard about Miss

Amy taking charge of the Homeless Hotel from the California Kid," Abigail

replied.

"A lot of people speculate about you. I'd heard that you were rich, but I didn't

believe the rumors," said Amy.

Abigail looked over at her husband with a soft smile on her face. He was talking

with a couple of the younger men and women who were promotion prospects. The

young men and women were circled around him nodding respectfully to every word

that he said. She faced Amy and said, "I wasn't always rich."

There wasn't anything for Amy to say so she said nothing. The older woman smiled

at her and said, "Let's go play Bocce."

"What's that?" asked Amy.

"It's a lawn game. A very small ball is thrown out on the lawn. Then players of

opposing teams take turns throwing bigger balls at the small ball. You get

points for having your ball closer to the big ball. It's a simple game and

shouldn't be too difficult for you to play," answered Abigail with a gesture to

the arm crutches.

It wasn't long before Amy found herself teamed with one of the guys from the

computing center. Abigail had introduced him as Brian. When Abigail had formed

the team, he had turned to Amy and asked, "Which one was I? Bit or Byte?"

Amy answered, "Byte."

"Oh good," he replied.

"Of course, I'd tell your partner exactly the same thing if he asked," teased

Amy surprising herself.

"Ah, then I'm lucky that I asked first," he replied with a wink. He added, "I'd

hate to walk around feeling inferior."

They played a number of games of Bocce, winning some and losing some. Amy was

disappointed when it was time to leave. The picnic she had dreaded had turned

out to be more fun than she could possibly imagined. Settling in the seat of the

lunch wagon, she said, "Thanks Harry."

"For what?"

"For making me come to this picnic. I haven't had this much fun since I lost my

knees," answered Amy. She still couldn't believe she had participated in a

three-legged race.

"A pretty young lady like yourself will have many more opportunities for fun.

Believe me when I say that."

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