The Sweet Spot Read online

“You sound like Aunt Leona.”

  “Yeah, well, she’s gettin’ on like me. We wanna go in peace,” he said. “See ya later. I gotta open the dump.”

  “Thanks again.”

  Pop sucked at his teeth, and then he walked to his truck in a bowlegged gait Edie could pick out of a crowd.

  Edie drove to Leona’s. She took her hands from the wheel to see if there was any pull in the steering, but thankfully the car drove straight. She parked in her aunt’s driveway, but Amber was already out the door. After they were done delivering groceries, Edie was taking her to the fair at the Conwell Congregational Church.

  Amber clutched a five-dollar bill.

  “Look what Aunt Leona gave me,” she gushed as she got in the front seat.

  “Does she wanna come?” Edie asked.

  “No. She said lightning would hit her if she went near the church.”

  Edie honked the horn as she backed the car into the road.

  “It just might.”

  “What did she mean?”

  “Aunt Leona likes to pretend she’s a wicked person. But we know different, right kiddo?”

  Amber waved the bill.

  “Uh-huh. She gave me this to spend.”

  Hours later, Edie walked with Amber among the tables of crocheted and sewn stuff the church’s old ladies made to sell. A bored teenaged boy led a pony along a line of maple trees.

  “You wanna go on the pony ride?” Edie asked her daughter, but Amber wrinkled her nose. “No? Maybe you’ll change your mind later.”

  People said hello. Most she saw every day at the store. It was one of the nice things about living in such a small town: just about everybody was good for five minutes of conversation, but if she wanted more, many were happy to oblige.

  They stopped at the cakewalk game. Wooden squares were placed in a circle on the grass for the players. It was like walking on flat stones in a river. Before each round, one of the church ladies in charge made everyone turn around and shut their eyes while she placed a silver dollar beneath a square. She started the record player again, and when the music stopped, whoever was standing on the lucky square got their choice of the homemade cakes on display.

  Winning a cake at the fair was a Sweet family tradition. For years, Pop came before he opened the dump to try his luck at the cakewalk, begging the old ladies to start the game early for him. Sometimes he won on the first or second tries, so he chose the largest cake and went happily to work. He ate most of it in his attendant’s shack, carving off chunks with his jackknife.

  When the game didn’t go his way and Pop was hung over, he wouldn’t give up so easily. He cursed the winners and yelled when they took the cakes he wanted. By time he succeeded, vehicles had formed a long line outside the dump’s gate and people complained. One time, the Conwell Board of Selectmen called Pop into their meeting to reprimand him. Edie went with him. Pop gave his version of the story, acting like a country lawyer in his defense. After he was done, one of the selectman quipped, “All that for cake? Benny, next time I’ll bake you one myself.”

  The problem was solved the following year when the minister banned Pop after he shoved a boy to the ground. Pop said it was an accident. He lost his balance. But Edie got him to admit it wasn’t true. The little cheater was peeking, Pop knew, because he was peeking, too.

  Edie and Amber studied the players as they stepped deliberately from one square to another. They stopped when the old lady picked the needle from the record. A teenaged girl gave a gleeful shout when she saw she won.

  Edie reached into her purse and handed Amber a couple of bills.

  “Go win a big one for Poppy,” she said, and Amber smiled at the happy thought.

  Bob

  Edie heard shouting from inside the house, and when she checked the kitchen window, the road boss and Pop were going at it near the highway department’s idling pickup. The man’s face was red and his fingers punched the air in front of her father. Pop, just home from the dump, had been hauling his booty into his shacks out back. Amber, she was relieved to remember, took off on her bike to Leona’s.

  Edie stepped onto the porch, but the men didn’t notice her until she was beside them. Pop, his overalls caked with dirt, smelled sour and rusty like the inside of a garbage can.

  “I told your old man to keep his hands off the highway equipment.” Spit flew from the road boss’ mouth. “Who in the hell does he think he is?”

  “Leave Edie outta this,” Pop growled.

  Edie didn’t like the look on the road boss’ face. She had seen enough bar fights, and her father, although a scrapper, was no match for a man his size or age.

  “Take it easy,” she said. “Pop took care of the trimmer. He didn’t mean any harm.”

  “That’s not the point,” the road boss said. “It don’t belong to him. All of this is town property.”

  “I’m a taxpayer and a town employee, ain’t I?” Pop said.

  Edie cringed.

  “It don’t give you the right, you stupid little fuck,” the road boss said. “Stick to the dump where you belong. I don’t go taking your crap.”

  The road boss’ belly jiggled beneath his chambray work shirt as he stepped onto the porch to get the trimmer. He cursed loudly when he noticed a gas can and tools belonging to the Conwell Highway Department. Pop cussed back while the man loaded the stuff into the back of the pickup. Her father trailed him, making certain he didn’t take anything of his, and in his agitation, he tripped. The road boss sniggered as Pop fell to the ground.

  “You fucker,” Pop growled.

  Edie bent over her father. Pop was too angry to take her hand although he managed to scramble to his feet when the pickup’s tires spun away. Pop jogged after the truck, and Edie relaxed. She knew he’d only run a few yards before he’d be out of breath. This episode would be over until Pop was brazen enough to borrow something else from the highway garage. The board of selectmen would never fire Pop because no one else wanted his job. Besides, he was popular with the townspeople, especially the newcomers who thought he was a colorful and helpful character.

  Edie waited for Pop to give up when she heard the squeal of locking brakes, the stutter of tires over the road’s hard ridges, and a thud as metal hit something soft and large. The loud, pained howl of an animal followed.

  She ran past Pop to the road where Leona’s dog, Bob, lay near the wheel of the highway department pickup. The poor animal thrashed and moaned on the dirt. The road boss got out of the truck, and Pop hurried.

  “You stupid fuck, you ran over my sister’s dog,” he yelled.

  “What in the hell was it doing in the middle of the road?” the man yelled back.

  “Hell, if you graded it, you would’ve been able to stop in time.”

  The dog was going to die, suffering to the end if nothing was done. The two men were too locked in a rage to care, so Edie ran to the house. Pop’s twenty-two was where he normally stowed it, in back of his bedroom closet, and she checked to see if it was loaded.

  When Edie returned, the highway department pickup and Pop’s truck were gone. The dust they made lingered over the road. She didn’t have time to be angry because the dog panted and made sharp, sad cries. His eyes circled in pain.

  She aimed the twenty-two at the dog’s head. Tears came to her eyes. She held a deep breath.

  “Edie, let me do it.”

  Startled by the voice, she almost pulled the trigger. She didn’t hear Harlan arrive, and she was grateful when his hands took the rifle. He held it steadily, firing one shot close-range at the dog, whose body jumped as if it were charged, and then it did nothing more. His head had one red hole.

  “It looked as if you couldn’t do it,” Harlan told her.

  “I would’ve if I had to. Poor Bob.”

  Edie knelt before the dog and touched his fur. His body didn’t res
ist when she stroked it. Edie’s eyes swept toward the side of the road, where she saw Harlan’s idling truck. She squinted at the man.

  “How bad is that leg of yours?” she asked.

  “My leg?”

  “Think you can help me move him?” She fingered the dog’s smooth ear. “There’s a soft place out back where we could bury him. I don’t want Amber to see him, and I don’t know when Pop will be back. Do you mind helping me?”

  “Of course, not. Why don’t you take this rifle back? I’ll shut the truck’s engine.”

  They rolled the dog onto an old cotton spread Edie got from the house and dragged him slowly over the road then the uneven grass. Edie kept checking Harlan to see how he handled the work. She stopped once, but he waved her on.

  “How much farther?” he asked.

  “We’re almost there.”

  Harlan waited while she got two shovels from one of the shacks. A gray cat sat in the sunlight, blinking at them.

  “We have to dig a hole at least three feet down. I don’t want coyotes getting to Bob.”

  “Okay.”

  She pushed the shovel’s point into the ground.

  “My mother had a garden here years ago.” She threw a shovelful of grass and dirt to the side. “Pop and I tried one ourselves, but the weeds took over. We might’ve gotten a couple of tomatoes out of it. Pop’s not much of a farmer. I guess neither am I. Ever have a garden?”

  “No, but I might want to make one here.”

  Harlan grimaced.

  “Is this digging too hard for you?” she asked. “I can take care of this myself if it is.”

  “I can manage all right, Edie.”

  “Sorry, I just don’t know you well enough.”

  Her eyes bounced up, checking for Amber.

  “Where’d your father go?” Harlan asked.

  She pressed the shovel’s point into the dirt.

  “My guess is he and the road boss are either killing each other at the highway garage, or they patched things up and are having a drink at the Do.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really.” She kept her head down, watching where she dug. “I don’t usually get so drunk by the way. I’m talking about last night.”

  “You should’ve let me give you a ride home.”

  Edie bent to throw a large stone to the side. She stood straight and wiped the dirt from her hands.

  “You and me leave together? That would’ve got everybody talking.” She smiled when Harlan’s face reddened. “I didn’t mean anything by that. My car’s okay, I’m okay, so everything ended up okay. Too bad about Aunt Leona’s dog though.”

  “If there’s a next time, ask.”

  When the hole was deep enough, she took the spread’s corners and tied Bob inside. Harlan helped her push the dog’s body and cover it with dirt. Edie stood over the spot when they were done.

  “Bob was a good, old dog,” she said finally. “We’re gonna miss him.”

  Harlan’s eyes were kind on Edie.

  “What are you going to say?”

  She tipped her head.

  “That he got hit by the road boss’ truck but died right away. I believe a lie would be nicer, don’t you?”

  Harlan made a humming sound through his nose.

  “You’re probably right.”

  Her lips set into a smile.

  “This will be our secret, okay?”

  “What about your father and the man?”

  “I’ll handle those two,” she said firmly before she smiled again. “Tell me, Harlan. Do you always do this sort of thing? Be in the right place at the right time to do the right thing?”

  “Truth is hardly ever.”

  “Is your leg bothering you? I saw you rubbing it. Come sit down for a while. We’ll kick the cats off the porch, and I’ll get you a drink. Is cold water, okay?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Minutes later, the door hinges creaked, and Edie came out with two large glasses of water and a plate of brownies. She handed a glass to Harlan, who sat on a rocker, moving it slowly.

  “It’s all we have in the house, but we got some brownies from the church fair. With real walnuts,” she said before she set the plate on a table between the two rockers.

  Harlan took a long drink.

  “That’s good-tasting water,” he said.

  “There’s more where it came from. I let the tap run.” Edie watched him grin as he reached for a brownie. “Did Pop tell you about my Gil? Yeah? He’s the one who gave Bob to Aunt Leona. He was only a puppy, just a teeny, yellow thing. My aunt was feeling blue, and Gil thought the dog would be good company. He was right. You should’ve heard Aunt Leona when he put Bob in her lap. She squealed like a little girl.” She paused. “My aunt made fun of the dog, but it’s just her way. She’s gonna miss him a lot. I will, too, probably cause of Gil.”

  “Your father said Gil was a great guy.”

  “He was.”

  “I’m sorry he died in Vietnam.”

  “Me, too.” Edie’s eyes studied him over the glass. “Harlan, why’d you come here?”

  “I was supposed to meet your father. He has a washing machine he wants to sell me.”

  Her right cheek dimpled.

  “Oh, that. I mean why’d you move here?” She took another drink. “There’re two kinds of people living in Conwell, and I don’t mean the summer people. I’m talking about folks like me who were born here and don’t leave cause they don’t want to or they don’t know how. Then there are those who move here cause they expect things will be better. What’s your story?”

  She kicked off her sneakers and pulled up her legs, so her feet rested on the rocker’s rung. She tipped the chair in a steady back and forth.

  “Better. That would be nice.” He paused. “If you really want to know, my wife left me, and things got worse after that.”

  “Before or after your accident?”

  “Before.”

  “You wanna tell me about it?”

  Edie’s rocker tilted back and forth.

  “I was in Mexico,” he began.

  “What were you doing there?”

  “It was the end of a terrible year between my wife, Susan, and me.”

  “Your wife?”

  “Ex-wife. She stopped being in love with me. We were married eight years.” He shrugged. “Let’s just say I didn’t take it well.”

  “Really? In what way?”

  “I got pretty desperate. I did things. I got drunk a lot. Did drugs. I kept bothering her. I’m not proud of that.” He paused. “I decided to leave it all behind. I shut my shop and drove as far south as I could in Mexico. I learned enough Spanish to get around. I eventually got used to the idea my wife didn’t love me, but I’d be okay. I had my accident on the way back.”

  “How’d it happen?”

  “All I remember was walking across the street late at night. I didn’t see the truck coming, but it hit me when it was going fast. The doctors said it was a miracle I survived. Maybe so, but I do wish they fixed me better.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He took a drink of water.

  “Me, too. Susan came to see me in Mexico. She helped bring me back to Seattle, where we used to live. She stayed with me a short while to help me recover.” He touched the longest scar on his face. “I made a mistake. I thought she was in love with me still. One night I kissed her, but she shrank away. She told me she loved another man. She was having his baby.” His finger rubbed the scar. “After I asked her to leave, my parents came to visit. I didn’t tell them how bad off I was from the accident. My mother cried when she saw me.” He dropped his hand. “I eventually went back to work. I stayed clear of my friends who were hers, too. I heard she got married and had a boy. Anyways, my parents told me about my grandmother’s
house. They said I could have it if I wanted. They thought it might help me get over all of this. You know, a fresh start and all that.”

  Edie stopped rocking. Her bare feet were flat on the floorboards.

  “So, how are you now?” she asked.

  He raised the glass.

  “Much better. Thank you for asking.”

  A Matter Of Time

  Edie helped Amber carry her bike onto the porch. Harlan went home minutes before.

  “Aunt Leona wants me to ask if you’ve seen Bob,” she said. “I can’t find him anywhere.”

  Edie took her hand.

  “Sweetie, I’ve got something to tell you. Shoot, there’s no easy way to say this, and you’re old enough. Bob got run over, and he died. It was an accident. The man from the highway department didn’t mean to, but Bob was in the middle of the road, and he didn’t see him.”

  “Bob!” Her daughter burst into tears. “Bob died?”

  “Uh-huh. It was a highway truck, and Poppy was here,” she said, picking what was useful from the story. “Our neighbor, Harlan, came by just in time to help me bury him.”

  “Where is he?”

  “In the back yard. I’ll show you.”

  They went to the spot, and Amber, weeping, squatted to run her fingers over the freshly broken soil. Bob was playful with Amber when he was younger, and in his last years, a steady companion who didn’t ask too much.

  Edie crouched beside her.

  “We’ll miss the old guy, won’t we?” she said, feeling teary. “It was Daddy who gave him to Aunt Leona. He was still in high school. Daddy and I just started seeing each other. Shoot, now we have to go tell her.”

  They walked to Aunt Leona’s, swapping stories about Bob, like how he used to sleep on the couch on Pop’s side of the porch. He chased rabbits, hated cats, and no food unguarded was safe from him.

  Leona napped in an easy chair, but she snorted awake when Edie said her name.

  “You two,” she said gruffly. “Who died? Was it Alban?”

  “No, it wasn’t Pop,” Edie said. “But I do have sad news, Aunt Leona. It’s Bob who died. He got hit by a truck.”

  Her aunt frowned.