“God gave me a second chance, and I don’t want to mess it up!”
He recalled Wally’s startling words, and the way his voice sounded all polite and proud at the same time. What did Wally know about religion? They both used to laugh at the good citizens filing out of church on Sunday mornings. Then they’d discuss what might be in the offering plate and how to latch onto it. The only chances you got in life were the ones you took. It was like everything else—you had to take what you wanted or someone else bolder than you would!
He frowned up into the darkening sky where one lone star winked at him in a kind of mocking way. Yet, his eye was drawn to it, and it made him sad somehow. Wally had a job, a family and the respect of friends. What did he have? At nearly forty he was alone—still on the outside—wondering where he could get a clean shirt and a new pair of slacks. Worse yet, he needed a meal.
How could he spend that hundred-dollar bill in the small village of Petersgrove without raising eyebrows? Everyone around there thought he was a rich tourist spending a few weeks of holiday. Still, it shouldn’t be difficult. He just had to think!
“Jem, come back with me!” Wally’s words echoed in his mind. He imagined him as an awkward little boy holding a tie rope in his hands. Once when they’d been fourteen and eleven they’d found a fishing boat drifting in the bay. Jem knew it belonged to the Butlers, but he’d rubbed out the fleet number and planned to hide it in the brush behind their house. As they approached shore, he saw the old dockhand waiting, a scowl on his face. Jem jumped into the water and swam away before they reached shore. He’d left Wally—holding the tie rope—left him to face the music alone.
Good little Wally, who’d always stood by him. Even though he suspected his brother was a fraud and a thief, Wally was still reaching out to him, inviting him to his home for dinner. Something in Jem folded inward, threatening to crush him.
No! He jerked his head up. Had he said it out loud? He straightened his shoulders and tucked his shirttail inside his pants. No—he didn’t need Wally’s charity! He didn’t need handouts from a two-bit village like Stony Point, and he didn’t need Tara. They’d all pushed him out.
Outsider. Outsider. Nothing had changed. He’d handle things on his own … just as he always had. Wally wasn’t going to help him; no God was going to come down from heaven to bail him out. He was alone. And the winking star seemed to follow him, laughing—if stars could laugh.
15
Alice hopped out of her Mustang, wearing white capris and an aqua blouse sprinkled with tiny white flowers. As she approached Annie, she shut her cellphone—a constant appendage on her ear—and climbed up onto the porch. “Your message said that Carla Calloway was taken to the hospital. What happened?” She’d been gone all day to a Divine Décor convention in Wiscasset and was catching up.
She flopped down on a chair and laid her sunglasses on the table. Her turquoise and silver bracelets clinked together as she leaned forward and peered at Annie questioningly.
“You look better in person than on the phone,” Annie said, gesturing to a chair. “Sit down,” she offered expansively. “Oh, you are down. Well, never mind.”
“Never mind the humorous banter! Tell me what’s been going on. I leave town for a day or two, and everything falls apart!”
Annie had brought two coffees out onto the porch. She pushed one toward Alice. “Well, it seems that when Tara arrived at the shelter yesterday, she found Carla nearly unconscious in her bed. Apparently, she’d been fighting a cough over the weekend that turned into pneumonia—or something like it.”
“What do you mean? Something like it?”
“She got it from an owl. I never heard of it before. Ornithosis or something like that.”
Alice frowned; she made no move to touch her coffee. “An owl?”
“Carla rescued it out on the property somewhere. It had a broken tibia and crushed toes. The authorities quarantined it, of course. She kept it in a cage in the hallway, named it Gopher or Gomer or something like that. The doctors said these wild birds can carry diseases that can be transmitted to humans. They call them zoonotic diseases. Good thing Carla kept the owl out of the waiting or examining rooms, so the other animals should be OK.”
“I never heard of such a thing!” Alice said.
Annie shrugged. “Well, I guess the bird bit her. Carla said it was nothing, but she was a pretty sick puppy. She had a high fever and was nearly delirious when Tara got there. It’s a good thing she came when she did. She called 911, and then she called me.”