Swept Away (11 page)

She breathed slowly and quietly, enjoying the incredible experience of being amid these creatures she couldn't remember ever seeing before, even in a zoo.

“They don't smell all that great, do they?” she whispered.

She felt his body shake in silent laughter.

It was a long while—a good thirty minutes—when one large matted male sauntered out of the park toward the road. A second followed and a third. It was as though he had called “time” and all the animals were to leave. They formed a perfect thin line of rams and ewes as they walked down the road a few blocks to the mountain. She noticed a trail snake its way up the hillside to the very top. She watched in fascination as they made their way slowly toward home.

Her legs were getting stiff and sore, and her knees were numb, but she didn't want this to end. She wanted to stay in this little pocket forever. Alex seemed in no hurry to move, either.

When the animals had left the park and the air cleared somewhat, she realized that Alex wore a very alluring cologne. She lay her cheek against the tree and closed her eyes, inhaling the attractive scent.

He could have gotten up and moved away. There was no danger from the sheep—if there ever had been—as they were starting up the hill. It wasn't until they could hear the engine of the bus start up that Alex scooted back and stood up, as did she. He grinned a very handsome grin. “Have you ever seen anything like that in your life?”

“Never,” she said, a little breathless. “I'm still seeing it,” she said, looking around the tree at the sight of the sheep moving up the mountain to the top. “I thought I was having a dream about the ocean—it was their hooves all around me, I bet.”

“Probably.”

“How did you find me?”

“I didn't. They've been grazing in this park for years. I was on my bike and I like to see them come down. There you were,” he said with a shrug.

He turned toward the condos and waved. There were several people sitting on their front patios just to watch the sheep, and probably more were looking from inside.

“The sheep don't mind people being here?”

“I don't think they really noticed you. They're used to a human scent around here, it being a park and all. And you were asleep,” he said, bending to pick up her forgotten book. “If there had been people using the park, they'd have gone back over the hill. I don't think they'd attack unless threatened or provoked. But during mating season, they're pretty oblivious to everything but getting their girl, and you don't want to get in the middle of that. Believe me.”

“And there will be babies soon,” she said dreamily.

“You might want to give them a little space when they have the lambs. You just never know.”

“Oh, sure,” she said, leaning back against the tree. “I'm nothing if not polite.”

“Did you walk here?”

“I like to think I hiked,” she said, and forgetting herself completely, she smiled. “There are the greatest trails and parks around here.”

“Want a ride home?”

“On your bike?”

“I'm afraid that's the only option I have.”

“That's okay. I'll go ahead and walk.”

“You sure? When was the last time somebody bucked you home?” He grinned boyishly, full of trouble. This was a whole new Alex.

“Bucked?” she asked with a laugh.

“Isn't that what you called it as a kid? That's what I called it. You jump up on the handlebars and I do all the work....”

“We used to do it the other way—one sitting on the bicycle seat and the other one standing to pedal.”

“Girl stuff. We did it the
dangerous
way. Come on,” he said, taking her hand. “You don't weigh hardly anything. But those legs...” He looked down the length of them. “Spoke material. You'll have to keep them out of the way.”

“I don't think this is a good idea....”

“What the hell, Doris. From what little I know of you, I thought you were the fun-loving type.” She blushed despite herself. How was it, she wondered, with her level of experience with men, that this simple guy on a bike could make her
blush?
He dropped her book in a leather pouch fastened on the back of the bike. “Come on—live a little dangerously.”

Little did he know... “I'm heavier than I look.”

“You're actually pretty skinny. But another month of eating Adolfo's food should get you right. Come on. Jump on.”

“Really. There's a hill and everything—”

“Nothing I can't handle,” he said, puffing up a little. At least he didn't flex his muscles.

She struggled onto the handlebars, gripping the bars on each side and tucking her feet back out of the way. “This is so nuts,” she said.

His voice was that of an excited kid. “I haven't done this in
years.
” He pushed down on one pedal and the bike went a little off balance. Jennifer flipped right off the handlebars and tumbled onto the dust. She rolled over and looked up at him from a sitting position on the ground. “Whoops,” he said.

“Whoops?”

“That was a bad start. I've got it now.”

“Oh,
puleese,
” she returned. But she got up and situated herself on the handlebars again, giving him a second chance. This time when he put his weight on the pedal he kept the bike from going off balance, but it did twist and turn and cause her to laugh and scream and giggle until he got it under way.

After a little while he was in balance and she was comfortable. But there was a hill to climb and she could hear him start to breathe hard. She said, “You're right, this is very nice.”

“Yeah,” he said breathlessly. “Great.”

“Want me to get off and walk a bit, until you're up the hill?”

“No. I...got...it.”

“You sure? I know I'm heavy.”

“Got...it...”

“So, how long have you been going to the park to watch the sheep? And by the way, when do you work?”

“Talk...later...”

She smiled. She knew that. It was just a little of the devil in her. After all, he'd seen her in her underwear, she'd like to see him at least struggling up the hill.

But damned if he didn't make it, impressing her, knowing it was a difficult thing to do. Once he was on flat ground he sat back on the seat and began to whistle. She didn't know the song at first, then she recognized, “I've got the world on a string, sitting on a rainbow,” and she squealed with laughter wilder and louder than she'd indulged in for ages.

“I knew it—you're a cad!”

He began to sing the song. Before long she was singing along. This somehow caused him to swing wide in an
S
pattern down the middle of the street. She had to grip extra hard in the turns. Down the road they went, laughing and singing and almost toppling at each turn, looking more like teenagers than their actual ages. Then they got to Louise's house.

She jumped off. “Thanks, Alex. That was actually fun.”

“You are heavier than you look,” he agreed.

“You're stronger than you look,” she said, but she said it with a very big smile. She grabbed her book out of his bike pouch. “See you around, pardner,” she said, jogging toward her front door. She turned once she got there and added, “Oh, by the way. Would you mind letting me know when you're going to be doing the yard? Just a knock on the door would help.”

“Awww...”

“Now, be mature. Although I know it's hard for you.”

“All right.”

“And...you know...thanks.”

“Anytime.”

She went inside, gave Alice some love and a trip out back, and got right on the computer.

Dear Louise,

I had the most magical afternoon of my life. I had decided on a park for an afternoon of reading and...

* * *

Alex put away his bike and closed the garage door. He opened the window over the kitchen sink and heard, from the house next door, the soft strains of “I've Got the World on a String...” He smiled to himself. He went to the desk in the bedroom he used as an office, opened the drawer and looked at the face on the flyer.

He had been coming out of the barber shop a couple of weeks ago when he ran into a man who was showing the flyers to passersby. Alex asked if he could have one. On first glance, the resemblance wasn't obvious, but a couple more breakfasts at the diner assured him. It was her. It didn't take him long to decide what he'd do—he was very good at playing his cards close to his chest. He'd watch her, maybe check her out, but no way was he going to tip someone off about her whereabouts. If she was in hiding, there was probably a good reason.

“Jeez, Doris—it must have been pretty scary to drive you to such lengths....”

And then he gently closed the drawer on her face.

The way she behaved around him, especially today, he suspected she didn't yet know what he did for a living. Louise must not have told her. The old girl was pretty good at keeping her hand to herself, as well.

But it was going to come out pretty soon.

* * *

At the end of Jennifer's shift, as she was getting ready to leave, Buzz looked up at her from where he sat at the counter, his checkbook, calculator, canceled checks and bank statement spread out in front of him. The expression on his face indicated he faced sheer chaos.

“Doris,” he said, frustration drawing out the name. “I have to figure this out. Do me a favor? On your way home, drop off a take-out order? It's for Mrs. Van Der Haff. It's only a block out of your way.”

“Sure, boss.”

“Adolfo's getting it ready.” He grabbed a napkin out of the dispenser and wrote the address on it. “Just go left instead of right at the corner.”

“Do I know her? Has she been in here to eat?”

“No. She doesn't get out.”

Very soon she realized she had been by this house before, on one of her many walks. It was one of those that seemed to be falling apart. The front porch, obviously added on many years earlier, sagged dangerously. A cyclone fence bordered the yard, which was nothing but dirt and dead weeds, and there was an old red metal sign on the gate that read Beware of Dog. The windows were too grimy to allow even the faintest light within.

“Yoo-hoo,” she called into the yard. Nothing. She had never seen a dog in the yard that she remembered. At least not a scary one. Surely Buzz would have mentioned if there were something to be concerned about. She looked around for a sign—anyone who let a yard go to such ruin was obviously ill-disposed to pick up droppings.

Still, she entered cautiously. She tested each step onto the porch and tried to step lightly; it looked as if it might give way. Once she was on the porch, she found it was firm enough. It didn't even squeak—it just listed.

She knocked on the screen door and waited. And waited. And waited. She couldn't find a doorbell. She pressed her ear to the door, knocking again, and finally she heard some stirring inside. Very, very slowly.

“Who is it?” came the feeble female voice from within.

“Doris. From the diner. I have your takeout.”

The door creaked open and there stood the tiniest woman with very sparse, kinky white hair on her head. She wore a flowered cotton dress that hung on her bony frame and it had a couple of tassels on the zipper pull. “Takeout?” she asked faintly.

“Buzz asked me to bring it by.” Jennifer smiled at the woman.

“You're not Buzz,” she said.

“No. I'm Doris. I'm one of the waitresses.”

“Oh,” she said, making no effort to open the door.

“Can I bring it in?” she finally asked.

“Oh. I suppose.” She moved away from the door very slowly.

When Doris got inside she found the place was barely furnished, but full of newspapers, magazines and books, stacked on the floor, in corners, filling the hallway. There were a couple of trash bags, full of either trash or something else. In the little living room there was but one chair, a recliner that seemed to be losing its stuffing and its will to live, and an ancient metal TV tray, bent and rusted at the kinks. There wasn't another chair or sofa in sight. The whole place was musty, dirty, cluttered and falling apart.

“Why don't you sit down and let me put it out for you. I can set it on the tray here.”

“Oh,” she said. Head down, she shuffled back to her chair, which took her some time, and finally began to lower herself. After just a short trip downward, she let herself drop with an
oomph.
“All right,” she said. Then she looked up at Jennifer with sad, rheumy eyes and smiled, showing slippery dentures.

Jennifer put the bag on the tray. “Now, let's see what we have. “ She pulled out the napkin, shook it out with a flourish and draped it across Mrs. Van Der Haff's lap. She pulled the cardboard container out of the bag and opened it up. “Ah, the house special, I see. Meat loaf, mashed potatoes, lima beans. Mmm. It looks like you're going to need some utensils. In the kitchen?” she asked.

“I suppose,” the old woman said.

The kitchen was in a pretty bleak state. There was a kettle on the stove, a cup with an old, wilted tea bag in it, dishes in the sink, an open cracker box on the counter. Even though she knew it would be intrusive, she opened the refrigerator. There was a brown banana, a small carton of milk, an opened can of green beans and, staring out at her, several cardboard containers from the diner. She closed it gently, so as not to be heard.

There was a can opener lying on the counter and Jennifer opened the cupboard door above it, afraid she was going to see cat food. She sighed in relief to see four cans of tuna, thank goodness!

In the drawer she found a few utensils, and she chose a spoon and fork, then returned to the living room. “Now, I think you're set. Would you like me to take the food out of the carton and put it on a plate for you?”