A Matter Of Respect Ch.05

Julia and I lie together basking in warm afterglow. It felt good having her close. Pretty amazing, since I barely know her yet. She fell asleep in my arms. I closed my eyes and inhaled the warm scent of her perfume lingering in her hair. I lie there holding her for about two hours. Her skin felt radiant against mine. The delicate draw and glide of her breath was the only sound to be heard. Christine was none too pleased at the presence of a woman in our bed. Julia was lying in her spot, so that of course made her the scourge of the earth. Eventually jealousy got the better of her and Christine hopped in bed with us. She uttered a low meow and snuggled close to me, lying against the small of my back. I was pressed between the two of them. It was almost impossible not to laugh. Girls girls, there's enough old hick to go around.

I realize I may have put myself at risk by letting this happen between Julia and I. Especially since we practically just met. Normally I would never do something like this but something about her put me at ease. Her professional merits can't be denied, and for that I admire her to no end. I love seeing a woman who can stand on her own two feet. Given her impeccable work ethic and her healthy dose of personality, I think I can live with the risk.  

I try to gauge people before I get close. Julia didn't set off any alarms or raise any questions for me. The truth is I have been aching for some company, and she has obliged me in the nicest way possible. I can't help but wander what her reasons are for feeling the same way. Women are complex creatures in their own way. At the same time some of their most vital needs are simple and obvious if you pay attention. That's just about how I feel these days. I love my solitude but I needed some attention. I have learned alot about people and human nature in my time. I have learned to use distrust as a shield to protect me from the unknown and uncaring. I try not to let distrust desensitize me. I just do my best to make it through everyday life and be a good person. I don't believe in heaven or hell. I do believe that being a decent person has to have some rewards when you pass on.

Sometimes I feel my past makes it impossible to live with myself. With Julia lying here sleeping sweetly in my arms I feel like maybe some of my biggest mistakes weren't really that big after all.

Julia stirred. She batted her eyes and yawned. She opened her eyes wide and turned to me. She had a tranquil smile on her face.

"Hey there." She said.

"Hey there yourself. Have a good nap?"

"Yes. I'm sorry about that. How long was I asleep?" Julia replied groggily. 

"No need to apologize hon. You slept for maybe two hours." 

"Wow. I haven't fallen straight to sleep like that in a long time."

She kissed me and gave me a big hug.

"Thank you." She whispered to me.

"My pleasure young lady. So what time do you have to be at work tomorrow?" I asked her.

"I go in at nine. I guess I should be leaving soon."

"Why don't you take a little time to wake up first?" I replied

"Good idea. I would love a cup of coffee." She responded with a big yawn.

She sat upright and stretched.  

"I'll put on some coffee." I told her. I patted Christine's side and she meowed at me scoldingly.

"You two get to know each other."

I kissed Julia then went to make a pot of coffee. The moment I left the room Christine was at my feet. She was meowing away and demanding. I topped off her food dish and changed her drinking water with fresh.

"So much for two getting to know each other, eh?" I said to Christine.

She responded as she often does, ducking her head in her food bowl and ignoring me. I got an old percolator down from the pantry and filled it with water. I put a coffee filter in the metal basket and dumped in a little coffee. The coffee smelled like heaven. Oh well, maybe in a few months I will indulge in a cup here and there. Julia walked into the kitchen. She was dressed.

"Like me to make your bed?" She asked.

"That's ok honey but I will do it. That's sweet of you to offer, though."

"I don't mind. You've been so nice to me. I've really had a wonderful time tonight."

"Me too young lady." I told her. "Me too."

I poured her coffee and made a big mug of cocoa for myself. 

"Care to drink this out on the porch?" I asked her.

"Love to."

We sat out on the porch for a while talking. The sky was growing cloudy, blotting out the crisp moonlight in random places. Insects and animals can sense a change in weather. They were singing and churring busily, as if to make up for lost time if a storm came. Christine came outside to join us. She sat at my feet and lie down. Julia saw her and smiled.

"How long have you had her?" Julia asked.

"Let me see. We got her from the humane shelter in Wetumpka Alabama. I guess she was about six weeks old. That was back in nineteen ninety five."

"Wow. I hope I age that well. She's in great health to be that old." Julia remarked.

"I know. And I'm grateful for that to no end. This old girl has been with me through some bad times."

"You said we got her. I take it things didn't work out between you." She asked, obvious caution in her voice.

"It was a very dark chapter in my life. Things happened I couldn't live with. I decided to move on." I replied.

I was hoping she wouldn't ask more, and she did not. She's such a smart young lady. We cuddled together listening to the myriad night sounds. The broken rays of moonlight played along the lawn. It caught in every surface and texture, casting a steely blue light. The tall pecans trees looked liked phantom sentinels watching over the property. I saw a shadow dart between two of the trees. It was long and low to the ground. I recognized the profile in a heartbeat.

"Julia." I whispered, pointing to the shadow.

"What is it?" She asked quietly.

"On the right. The fifth tree back. Look near the base of the tree."

"I see it, I think. What is it?" She said, straining her eyes to see. 

"Wait..."

The shadow bolted across a row and stopped behind a tree. Julia jumped a little. Christine jumped up in my lap. 

"What is it?" She asked again.

"Coyote, and a big one too." I told her.

"Coyotes carry rabies don't they?"

"No more than any other wild animal." I said. "They are pretty harmless, unless you're a chicken farmer." 

Christine didn't seem to be so impressed by that answer. She left my lap and went back inside through her pet door. We watched the shadow play along the pecan trees until it faded into the darkness. Black thunderheads were piling up in the sky. Our cups were empty.

"I really need to go now, as much as I hate to." Julia said.

"I know." I replied. "But before you do I want to give you something."

"Really?"

"Yes. Wait here." I told her. "And don't worry about the coyote. He's more afraid of you than you are of him."

"I doubt that." She quipped.

I left her there and returned a couple of minutes later. I handed her a small plastic object. She looked at it questioningly. 

"I know what it looks like, but it's not." I said.

"It's a garage door opener, right?"

"It used to be. It's not any more." I replied.

"Well what is it now, and what do I do with it?" She asked.

"A friend of mine back home makes these. It's called a screamer."

"A screamer? If I push the buttons do I get an orgasm?" She responded smiling.

"No. If it did that I would own ten of them. Just tell me this. Do you like the fact that Finch records people with his little cassette recorder when they don't know about it?"

"Not at all. It's underhanded and irritating as hell." She replied immediately.

"Then keep this in your purse. Don't hit the buttons until I say so." I said.

She gave me a baffled look.

"Yes sir." She answered.

"Good then. Trust me, you will learn to like it." 

We went back inside and put our cups in the kitchen sink. We shared a long hug and a kiss. We held each other for long seconds and parted slowly. 

"I'm relieved I can trust you not to bring this to work. I like my privacy." Julia said to.

"I feel precisely the same way Julia. I am glad you could come."

I walked her to her car. She drives a vintage Jaguar. It suits her perfectly. The paint is a dark green color that looks black at night. The image of a panting jungle cat certainly fits her well. We kissed again and said our goodbyes. I watched her tail lights fade into the gloom as she drove down my long driveway. 

What a night. Life ain't so bad after all kiddo. 

I went back inside and spent a few minutes with Christine. I brushed her then played tag with her paws. I love those rare moments where she reminds me of the kitten she was so long ago. She's still got alot of life left in her. I decided I should get to bed soon. I haven't been sleeping at all lately, so I need to get all the rest I can.

I lie down but I couldn't rest for a second. I kept rolling the events of the day over in my head. I could hear thunder rumbling in the distance, and a few hours later came a downpour. It stormed for hours, which I enjoyed thoroughly. I hoped Julia made it home before the rain came. I opened my bedroom window and instantly felt a soft breeze of cool air. I could feel the moisture in the air and hear the low hissing sound of the rain outside my window. I closed my eyes and lie perfectly still. Christine took her spot on the bed and we listened while the thunderstorm sang to us. Normally the sound of rain makes it easier to rest, but this night my brain just wouldn't shut down. One of the most placid memories I have from back home is the sound of rain on our tin roof. Memories like that are embedded in the collective love for the culture of the old south. The thunder slowly grew quiet and the storm crawled away into the night. 

Christine stirred and hopped out of bed. Something had her worked up. She ran out of the bedroom in a hurry. I got out of bed and followed her. She went to the back door and stuck her head through the pet door. I had a new back door installed soon after moving here. I didn't want to cut a hole in the existing door, that would be like rape. Every nail and board in this place is dripping with history. I installed the pet door and then hung the new door in the the old one's place. It is now safely tucked away in the barn. 

Christine pulled back out of the small door and looked up at me, meowing. Some people claim cats are dumb compared to dogs. I think not myself. She doesn't only communicate, she demands for a response. I swear someday I'm going to teach that cat to play chess. 

I knew something was bothering her so I went to a window and drew the shade back. Broken rays of moonlight were poking through the scattering thunderheads. The wet ground reflected the moonlight in flashes of blue light. I scanned the yard and didn't see anything at first, then something moved to my right. I shadow darted across the lawn to the end of the clothes line. It was the coyote. I went to my bedroom closet and got my good field glasses. I expected the coyote to be gone when I returned to the window, but he was still there. He was lying down. He was gnawing something, both paws wrapped around it. Probably a big deer bone. 

I could see his ribs through his rusty gray colored coat. The coyote looked rail thin. I could see his chest heave to when he breathed. He looked pretty sickly. I assumed he had wandered onto the property recently then decided to take up residence here. This place has enough small vermin and rabbits to feed an army of coyotes. The coyote stood with the bone in his mouth and started loping away. He was favoring his right haunch as he walked, limping badly. In the blue moonlight I could see a blackish mark smeared down his hindquarters. That's alot of blood. He must have got whipped by a bigger dog and rambled until he found this place. A hungry and injured animal can be dangerous, so I made it a point to figure something out before I leave for work today.

I decided since I was up I would make an early breakfast and get a few things done around the property. One of the fish ponds is a big one, and I wanted to see if there were any fish left in it. I also wanted to walk the perimeter of the entire property. Might take me a while, but knowing what lies where is worth alot. You can guarantee once word gets around that this place has a new owner, the local vultures will be circling overhead soon to see what they can pick off. It's amazing what people will steal when they think no one can see them. People will take all kinds of liberties with your belongings under the guise of  'I didn't know anybody wanted it.'  The realtor suggested putting a chain link fence around the property. I don't want to do that, but I can put up a different kind of fence. I'll work on that today, too. 

I showered and got dressed then cooked a quick breakfast. Two eggs, toast and a big mug of cocoa. I miss my two cups of coffee every morning, so I keep some of that coffee flavored chocolate powder around just in case the craving gets the better of me. I went to the barn and gathered some tackle and a big cooler. No good catching a mess of fish if I can't carry them back home. I got a spade out of the loft to dig up some bait. The sun was just starting to rise. As I walked down the worn footpath to the pond Christine followed me. She stayed closer to me than she usually does. She takes advantage of my wandering about here to do some exploring of her own. She always keeps me safely in sight. Today she was under my feet every other step of the way. I couldn't get mad at her, I knew the coyote was fresh in her mind. We came across a patch of matted leaves and pine needles at the trunk of a ragged old pine. I brushed the deadfall away and scraped the top of the ground with the spade. Earthworms wriggled in the damp black soil. I dug down about three inches and collected several fat worms for fish bait. I put them in a plastic tub and packed in a couple of handfuls of earth. Thirty minutes or so later we reached the pond. 

There was a line of ducks at the edge of the water. There were about thirty adults and maybe half that many ducklings. A solitary duck was wading a few yards off shore. Christine stopped and hunkered down close to the ground. Her tail was swishing back and forth. Her eyes were trained on the flock of ducks. The ducks saw us and made a beeline in our direction. It was comical watching the ducks approach. They walk and waddle at the same time. Christine stood and took a few steps back. I wasn't going to let them swarm her, but I didn't want to shoo them away if I could avoid it. A big male was in front of the line of ducks, then the females and the gaggle of ducklings in the rear. Behind them the solitary duck was following, walking out of the water. I sat my tackle down and got the tub of worms out. The ducks got about five feet away and stopped. They gathered together in a group. Most of them were wagging their tail feathers.

I opened the tub and fished around until I got hold of a worm. I pulled the long brown worm out, knelt down and held my hand out. The ducklings charged me in a peeping chirping swarm. I dropped the worm into the mass and they leapt on the poor thing. The adult ducks didn't want to be left out. Soon I was surrounded. I looked behind me to see Christine standing a few yards away. 'You make me sick' the expression on her face said. The ducks jumped and honked as I held a worm out, pecking at each other and fighting over the food. 

The solitary duck waddled its way into the mass of ducks. It pushed and pecked its way through the crowd. It bullied past the big male and hissed and snapped at the babies. It was an old female. I could tell by the red mass above its beak and the yellow feet. Her feathers were a brownish gray color. She stood at my feet looking expectingly up at me.  

"Well hello meanie." I told the boisterous duck.

She honked at me like she was scolding a misbehaving child. I pulled another worm from the tub and held it out for her. None of the other ducks tried to snag the worm. She carefully took the worm from my hand. She chomped it down then gave me another suspicious look. She turned and waddled back toward the pond, the other ducks parting as she walked by. I think I just met the mafioso grandmother of the duck mafia. Marlon Brando eat your heart out. 

I fed the ducks for a little longer. When I ran out of worms I gathered my stuff and started my way back home. The ducklings followed me a few yards as I was leaving, hoping for another scrap of food. When the ducks were a safe distance behind Christine rejoined me. The expressions on her face were so obvious. 'I cannot believe you just did that. You didn't even catch any fish' she was saying to me. 

Oh well, I didn't do any fishing but I enjoyed myself just the same. Christine walks a little slower every trip we make out on the property. I hate to think of it, but the girl is starting to show her age. I've lost pets before, but Christine is different. She has been with me through some dark chapters in my life. She has also been with me longer than anyone else. Ever. 

We walked back to the barn and I put all the tackle away. I got an old rail back chair out of the stables. I think it was used by stable hands when they would groom horses. There is an old pig bristle brush hanging from the chair back by a lanyard. I sat under the eaves of the barn with Christine in my lap for a while. Her fur is the most unique marbled color. Stripes of slate gray and caramel brown with thin accents of lighter gray. She purred aloud while I pet her. She made a bed in my lap then settled down for a nap. I decided my walk around the perimeter would have to wait. Time like this is priceless. I leaned back and rested my head against the cool boards and closed my eyes. 

I like the plantation. I like it very much in fact. If things in my life ever stabilize I would want to live out the rest of my time in a place like this. I have felt this way about places before, and I have had to let go of places I loved, too. I have an obligation, see. One that drives me. I travel from time to time, and more than once I have said goodbye to home when my heart told me I should stay.

I lived on the east coast of Florida for a stretch. I rented a house in a small town named Palm Coast, in Flagler county. It's a small bedroom community mostly full of retired rich folks. Two miles or so from my neighborhood was the big blue beast. The Atlantic Ocean. I could strike a trot from home and in twenty minutes be standing with my toes in the sand. I fell in love with the town and the east coast. 

I could go into town and shoot the breeze with the good ol' boys while I got a haircut. None of that sissy stuff where you get a copy of some trendy new wave softcore skin magazine and read it while the overly fashionable hairdressers fuss between them about who's social life is the worst. Just four old fellas with scissors, clippers, and straight razors. There is always the obligatory Normal Rockwell print of a barbershop quartet hanging somewhere in plain site. An acoustic guitar sits in a corner next to a copy of grassroots folk music propped in a reading stand. The smell of Barbasol and Vitalis. A round table sitting between a few chairs with lots of car magazines. 

When I was a small boy, going to a backwoods southern barber shop was an adventure for me. I could sit and listen to the grown men talk grown men business. Best of all, when the barber was finished cutting my hair, he trimmed me up with a straight razor. I could feel the blade glide across my skin with a shink noise. It felt like living dangerously. I never blinked when the barber would take the blade out of the glass jar of sterilizing solution. He would towel the blade off and lather up the back of my neck with warm shaving cream. Other kids would squirm and cry and their mothers would insist the barber get as close as he could with the electric trimmers. Not me, I wanted the blade brother. I wanted the adults to see I wasn't afraid. Hell, I enjoyed it. 

That's where I first developed a love for musclecars. I remember a magazine Bill Riley kept in his barbershop back home. I forget which magazine it was, but I can still see the cover perfectly clear. Carrol Shelby was standing next to a blue Shelby Cobra. He was wearing a cowboy hat, blue jeans and boots. The caption under the picture read 'Corvettes for breakfast Porsches for lunch and Ferraris for dinner'. It wouldn't surprise me if that magazine was still in a dust covered rack somewhere in Bill's barber shop. Last time I saw Bill he was seventy three years old, and that old boy was fiery as can be. I swear he would tie up and fight with a chain saw. That was twelve years ago, and I doubt he has changed a bit. 

Christine rustled in my lap and jumped down. I opened my eyes and saw the coyote standing not ten feet away from me. Christine was under the chair staring out at the big gray animal. She wasn't hissing. Her ears were upright and her ass was squat to the ground.

The coyote stood there gauging us. My hand slowly crept to my right boot. I was watching his mouth very closely. I didn't see any signs of slobbering or foaming around the teeth. He wasn't twitching or lurching. His head wasn't jerking in small spasms here and there. He didn't look the least bit rabid, but I wasn't about to take that chance. Rabies can run right through an animal, or it can take its sweet time driving the poor thing crazy from the inside out. He was slender and long. His tail was bushy and heavy looking. He hung his head a bit then took an apprehensive step forward. I pulled the straight razor from my boot and palmed it. One wrong move Mr. Coyote and I'm going to have to put you under. 

The big dog lie down and rested his head on his crossed forepaws. Animals can speak with their eyes like we can. His eyes were tired and hungry. I reached under the chair and swatted Christine's butt. She shot from under the chair and ran up onto the porch. She stopped there and watched us. I held my hand out in front of me and scooted out of the chair onto my knees. The coyote didn't move. His teeth weren't bared and his hackles weren't up, so I decided to get a bit closer. I was within three feet of the coyote by now. He whined a bit and lolled his tongue out. If he made a jump I was going to split him with the razor then run like hell to the house. Instead he just sat there looking up at me with big hungry eyes. 

"C'mere boy. Be nice and I'll find something for you to eat." I whispered to the coyote. 

His body language suggested he was familiar with people. When I moved he would start a little, then settle back down. I eased my hand a bit closer. He nosed forward and sniffed at my hand. I pushed my hand forward and he licked it. He lie his head down and looked up at me. 

"Are you hungry boy?" I asked him.

The coyote whined. Well now, I guess he was. I slowly stood and walked back to the house. The coyote stood and followed me. He was limping worse now. Christine darted around the porch, heading for her pet door. I went to the kitchen and got a big Tupperware bowl out of the refrigerator. I was going to give him some leftover fried chicken, then I thought of the ducks. I don't want him to develop a taste for bird. After all I have a family of ducks to support now. I put the bowl back and got a package of hamburger meat instead. If he wants to tackle a cow he can have at it. I put the hamburger meat on a styrofoam plate and took it outside. The coyote was standing at the foot of the steps. He took a cautious step back as I walked down the steps. I led him out into the yard. He must have caught a whiff of the food. His eyes widened a bit and his pace picked up. He was following about ten feet behind me. I wanted to get a look at his leg after I fed him. 

I sat the plate down near the end of the clothesline and stood a few feet away from it. He devoured the food in a space of seconds. When all the hamburger meat was gone he sat on his haunches. I waited til  he looked settled then walked over to him with my hand out. He looked at me pensively, and I pet him on top of his head. His tongue came lolling out again and I ruffled the fur between his ears. One thing you never do, never pet an unfamiliar animal while it eats. Don't pester him at all, let him be until he's done. Instincts go a hell of alot farther than all that warm fuzzy ol' yeller bullshit. A hungry animal will bite you in a split second if he thinks you are going to take his food away.

I sat down next to him and inspected his injured leg. He had a deep gash about four inches long running right to left. The cut was in a perfect straight line. The edges were scabbed and burned. Somebody took a shot at him and the bullet grazed his leg. He was lucky, too. The bullet dug a furrow in his hide. It wouldn't be much to doctor it up. It was just a matter of him letting me do it without relieving me of a few fingers in the process. The skin around the wound was swollen and red. 

I noted the time on my watch. It was nine thirty. I had to take another shower and get suited for work by ten. I would have to deal with the injured coyote tonight. I needed to make sure of something first. I stood and led the coyote back to the house. I stopped at the bottom step leading up to the porch. The coyote limped over to me. I stepped back a few paces and the coyote walked forward to me. He put one foot on the bottom step. I clapped my hands together and the coyote instantly leapt back. I walked down from the steps and gave him a pet and some consoling words. I repeated this twice more. Leading him to the steps then clapping and shooing him away when he reached the steps. I stood on the steps and spoke to him soothingly.

"C'mere here boy. You're a smart fella. You stay off my porch and I'll feed you. Deal?"

The coyote didn't move. I held my hand out to him and he stayed his ground. I walked out onto the yard and he came right up to me. He licked my hand and gave me a happy dog smile. 

"Good boy. Now, I have to cut and run. You get outta here, and stay away from my cat."

I patted his side and went inside to get ready for work. My driveway runs through the center of a long stand of pecan trees. As I was leaving for work I saw the coyote slinking about the trees. He will hole up somewhere and lick his wound for a while. Good for him. Everybody deserves some recovery time. 

My cell phone rang. I saw the office number on the caller id. I answered and heard a male voice on the end. The voice belonged to Mr. Interviewer, the man who hired me. His name is Jacob Graham. I got the immediate impression that Mr. Graham was a no nonsense kind of guy. That pleases me to no end. 

"There has been an incident. Please meet Mr. Finch at the parking deck as soon as possible."  He said with obvious distress in his voice.

"Heard." I responded and terminated the call. 

Fade To Black