DISCOVERIES
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He
ducked behind a tree, but Shever saw him. "Sorry,"
said Tim with a wince. Old
Man Shever opened the gate, waving Tim inside. "Pick
it up, Tim. But don't break off any flowers." Reaching
gingerly into the flowerbed, Tim managed to retrieve the can without
damaging anything. He turned around to find Old Man Shever staring
intently at him. Before
he could move, a gnarled hand had reached out and lifted his chin. To
Tim's dismay, tears spilled from his eyes. "Whole
world's comin' apart for you, eh?" asked Shever. "What's ailin'
you?" A
bony arm went around Tim's shoulders and he was propelled toward the
front door of the house. Old Man Shever
They
located the turn-off without difficulty and followed the road that wound
toward the green-grey foothills. Hedge sparrows and meadowlarks flew up
on either side. A red-tailed hawk sailed in tightening circles over the
land, intent on lunch, or at least a snack. A most handsome pair of
loudly scolding magpies escorted them as far as the next indiscreet
grasshopper delicacy. The
road soon narrowed to one lane and Marge hoped out loud they wouldn’t
meet anyone coming downhill. “Not
half as much as I do,” assured Dan. “They’ll be on my side.” A
small, battle-scarred road sign stuck out its thumb as they passed by.
Marge read what she could of the bullet-riddled letters. End of . . . end of something or other. She shrugged. In the
boondocks, what could they be nearing the end of? Once Upon a Weekend On
his ritual morning walk, Barney tramped through the autumn leaves being
briskly piled and recycled by the wind along the sloping shoulder of
the lane. Even if it had
stopped drizzling, he would not dare walk on the narrow road itself. The
countryside and the sleepy village were changing. Some young maniac, the
first of the week, would soon hurtle around a curve. One
day, Barney reasoned, he would hear the squeal of tires, the screech of
brakes applied too late, and his bloodied, battered body would be tossed
up over the hedge like Old Harvey's scarecrow that he'd been dreaming
about for weeks. The heartless motorist would speed on his way, cursing
the expense of having to fix the front fender of his shiny murder
machine. He'd be just like the hit-and-run motorist who had fatally
injured Old Harvey. And Barney shuddered at the nightmare he'd been
having over and over. Interrupting
his thoughts, a horn brayed and Dopplered past. He barely glimpsed the
red sports car, as he fell to his knees from the draft. "Oh,
God." He pressed his hand against his heart, then cautiously patted
his arms and legs, finding nothing that hurt worse than usual. Barney Jessica
gave him a look that would have curdled his mother's milk. Right then he
felt like kicking her butt out into the street. He had heard the office
grapevine version of what she thought of him. Jessica,
it was said, considered Dave supremely egotistical. Just because he had
come in on the new College Hire Speedy Training Program, he acted like
some kind of anointed prince. Temperamental
older supervisors had left no doubt about what they thought of such boy
wonders, too—whipped through four accounting sections in less than
twelve months, they stayed just long enough in each to disrupt the
entire flow of work. Old-liners
complained bitterly that they would have to put things back together
after Dave moved on. He often felt as welcome at the company as a toad
at a family picnic. Early Morning Encounter
"Why
did you come back now, Jim? What can you do?" Last
night's questions from his sister Elizabeth echoed in his mind as he
paced nervously. Only dimly aware of the books and guns and Mexican
artifacts in the study, he was totally unaware of breaking into tiny
pieces the long stems of dry grass absently carried back from the
summer-brown hills. His morning ride had provided neither answers nor
inspiration, only questions. Worse,
now he was bewildered by a vision. His ten-year-old gelding had seen
something, someone, that should not have been there, could not have been
there, yet was. And Jim had seen her, too, though she was three years
dead. "I'm
not crazy! Oro felt what I felt, saw what I saw," he assured
himself. "But it's impossible.” As
Jim rode along the pathway near the flower garden, placid, imperturbable
Oro had shied away. Something more than the mewing tabby cat had spooked
the palomino; at a walk, Oro often allowed a cat to ride in front of the
saddle, sometimes clinging to his white mane. No,
it was Jim's mother—his dead mother—who had startled Oro; she was
there by the fountain. Jim had seen only her shimmer that time, but had
he put out his hand, he would have touched her. Of that, he was sure.
Her presence radiated a powerful aura there in her favorite place. The Figure at the Fountain
© 1999, 2001 Shirley Ann Parker. All rights reserved. If you would like to purchase the complete paperback collection -- DISCOVERIES: A JOURNEY THROUGH LIFE -- please contact Infinity Publishing.com by clicking on the following link: www.buybooksontheweb.com. Please note that if you order 5 copies, Infinity will give you a discount of 40% on the entire order! An order for 20 copies will also receive free shipping. Thank you.
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