LouElla was an enigma. Just when you thought she was making sense, she’d fly off into never-never land.
Virginia floated a halfhearted attempt to get rid of her neighbor. “Are you in a hurry?” Her eyebrows shot up hopefully.
LouElla beamed. “Goodness, no. I’ve got all the time in the world.”
Virginia caved. “Would you like some tea, then?”
LouElla bobbed in her seat and clasped her narrow hands together. “Oh, tea would be delightful!”
From a glass canister, Virginia selected a tea bag at random and dropped it into a ceramic mug, tag and all. I noted that LouElla wasn’t getting a bone china cup, and I wondered if Virginia had picked a disgusting flavor like chamomile or licorice in hopes of discouraging a long visit, but when she brought LouElla’s mug over I could tell from the scent that the tea was one of my favorites, Lemon Lift.
LouElla had already helped herself to a cookie; several crumbs clung to her frosted plum lipstick. “I left the party around twelve-thirty,” she announced, unasked, “and the only people left were your dad, Darlene, and her children.” She raised a painted eyebrow. “Are you staying in town, dear?”
“I’m going home in the morning.”
LouElla touched my hand where it rested on the tabletop. “He’s a good man, your father. A good man.”
A tear rolled unbidden down my cheek. “I know, and he means well, but he doesn’t always show good judgment.”
“He’s still grieving for your mother, isn’t he?”
“We all are. It hasn’t even been a year. After the funeral I prayed he’d find something to interest him, but I had something in mind like woodworking or stamp collecting! Not a girlfriend. Not so soon.”
LouElla perched next to me like a 1970’s talk-show host: ultragroomed, wearing a three-piece double-knit pantsuit in pink and tangerine. I couldn’t believe she’d just spent hours working in her garden. If it’d been me, I’d have grass stains on my knees, streaks of dust on my face, and black dirt under my fingernails. No doubt LouElla had worn gloves. “That often happens with widowers,” LouElla continued in a Doctor Ruth sort of voice, “coming out of a longtime, happy marriage.” She wagged her head. “They jump at the first woman who comes along, hoping to recapture their happiness.”
“Daddy took off with the first thing that sat next to him on a barstool,” I complained.
LouElla stared at me, silently nodding. In demeanor she was so much like Doctor Ruth or Dr. Joyce Brothers that I just couldn’t help confessing to her.
“Has he always drunk heavily?” she asked.
“No, not until after Mom died. Up until then, he’d been a social drinker. After the Navy, he worked as a consultant to the aerospace industry. There was a lot of entertaining with his job, so drinking kind of went with the territory.” I ran my fingers through my hair, separating strands that were damp with the sweat beading up on my brow. “Lately we were beginning to worry that it was getting out of hand.” I accepted a tissue from Virginia and used it to blow my nose. “When Daddy went into the hospital after his accident, they ran some tests to see if he was an alcoholic. He must have been fine, though, because the doctor let him go.”
LouElla shot a quick glance at Virginia, who jumped right into the conversation. “I hate to tell you this, Hannah, but the doctor didn’t check your father out of the hospital. He checked himself out.”
I couldn’t believe that this woman who was practically a stranger knew more about my father than I did. “How do you know that?”
Virginia chewed on her lips, then said, “Darlene told me. She said the doctor wanted to keep him for a while, but that it was an unnecessary expense and he was perfectly fine so she was going to take him home.”
I thought back to that day in the hospital, to the bottle of vodka in Darlene’s hand, and to Daddy’s remarkable “recovery.” I realized that if Darlene weren’t already dead I would have killed her myself.
“If you want my opinion, he should have stayed there a few more days.” LouElla gave me a knowing look. “And not just for the head injury, if you know what I mean.” I felt my face flush with embarrassment. It was one thing to suspect your father of being an alcoholic, and quite another to realize that everyone in town must be talking and tut-tutting over it, too. I shoved my teacup toward the center of the table, suddenly certain that I’d never want to eat or drink anything again. “I’d better go.”
LouElla clapped both hands to her cheeks. “Oh! I nearly forgot why I came!”
Virginia had taken my empty cup and was heading toward the sink with it. She glanced back at LouElla. “What might that be?”
LouElla rose and ambled to the center of the kitchen where a shaft of sunlight settled on her for a moment, highlighting her hair and giving it a reddish cast. I wondered if she colored it herself-a packet of “midnight blue,” perhaps, followed by a “summer berry” rinse. “Look, Virginia,” she said. “I know you’re not a dog person, but I am. I would love to take Speedo off your hands for the time being.”
Virginia’s eyes widened in surprise. “You would?”
“I really, really would.” LouElla knelt in front of the dog. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Speedo, old boy.” But Speedo was sound asleep, his back legs twitching as if chasing squirrels in his dreams. “If you’re worried about it,” she addressed Virginia, “I have experience. Who did they call on when the CIA station chief in Athens was murdered in a drive-by shooting?”
I thought I could guess, but why spoil LouElla’s pleasure. Virginia simply stared.
LouElla stood tall. “Me. Why, me, of course.”
“How did you help?” I asked, sublimely naïve. “Did you bring the terrorists to justice?”
LouElla’s eyes sparkled. “No, I adopted his dog, a German shepherd named Bonzo.”
Virginia smiled as if everything were normal and her whole kitchen hadn’t slipped into some parallel world where grass is red and the sky is green and fish are plucked out of the clouds. The woman actually looked grateful. “I’d like you to take the dog, LouElla. Thank you.”
LouElla clapped her hands together. “There! Then it’s settled.” She reached for the leash which Virginia had draped over the kitchen doorknob. “C’mon, Speedo.”
Speedo opened one eye, rose to his feet, and shook himself with extravagant pleasure. LouElla clipped the leash to the dog’s collar and led him toward the door. “We’ll come visit you, Virginia. Won’t we, Speedo?” Speedo’s whole body wagged. “Well, bye,” she caroled.
When the door had closed behind LouElla and her new charge, I turned to Virginia. “Why did you let Speedo go home with LouElla?” I couldn’t believe it had escaped her notice that LouElla was a bit… eccentric.
Virginia waved me back toward the table, a steaming kettle of water in her hand. After I sat down, she poured hot water over the cold, soggy tea bag in my cup. “Let me tell you about LouElla.” She set the teakettle down on a braided mat. “LouElla’s right, I’m not a dog person. I much prefer cats.”
“You have cats?” I hadn’t seen any around.
“They’ve been hiding out since Speedo came to stay. Jennyanydots is cowering under my bed upstairs, and the last time I saw Bustopher, he was in the basement curled up on top of a heating duct.”
“I’m a cat person, too,” I admitted, “although I’m between cats right now. I’m just waiting for the right one to adopt me.” I dunked my tea bag up and down thoughtfully. “But you were going to tell me about LouElla.”
“Yes, well, LouElla might have been married at one time, because she had a son. But no one ever saw her husband and she never talks about him. When she came to live in Chestertown, her son was six. They were very close, as close as a mother and son could be. But, just before high school, Sammy got sick.” She rested her elbows on the table. “Two years ago, just about the time I moved here, he was diagnosed with a brain tumor. They tried chemotherapy, radiation, surgery… everything. Eventually, there was nothing more they could do, so the doctors sent him home to die.”