The Good Neighbor - Bettes Kimberley A. (книги читать бесплатно без регистрации TXT) 📗

I hated to take my eyes off of Bernie’s house for even a second. But I felt I should walk around Carla’s house, just to be positive he hadn’t broken in through the back. If he’d left by his back door and crossed over to Carla’s back door, I’d never see him. To think that I may have sat on my porch while he sneaked into her house...that thought brought me out of my chair and led me across the street.

I walked all the way around Carla’s house, all the while contemplating walking around Bernie’s. I decided it wasn’t a good idea. I saw no signs of life over there, and didn’t want to invite trouble by sneaking around his house.

On the sidewalk in front of Carla’s house, I took one last glance at Bernie’s before crossing the street.

I noticed a light on in Hazel’s house. Glancing at my watch, I saw it was midnight. I thought that was a little too late for her to still be awake. A shudder went through my body as I wondered whether Bernie would rape an eighty year old woman.

I ran up the steps and hesitated briefly before ringing the doorbell. I kept my hand on the knob, counting the seconds as they passed. If I got to three, I was going in anyway. With a rapist on the loose, I couldn’t take the chance of not checking on her.

Just as I said ‘three’ in my head, the knob turned in my palm.

Hazel stood before me, all four feet seven inches of her. She was white-haired with glasses. She had a small body, but a big heart.

Stepping aside, she said, “Come in, Owen.”

I walked into the living room. It was a warm room, lit by two lamps. On the backs and arms of the furniture were doilies made by Hazel’s own hands. Next to the chair in which she always sat, was a ball of yarn and a crochet needle.

“Have a seat. Are you hungry? I’ve got some meat loaf and mashed potatoes and green beans I could heat up for you.” She followed me into the room.

“No, thanks. I’m not hungry.” I watched as she sat in her chair. It had been her husband’s, where he always sat watching television. After he died, she took over the chair. She never watched television, though. She sat in that chair day after day, sewing.

“What are you doing out so late?” she asked. I noticed her wince as she sat.

“I was checking on some stuff and I noticed a light on in your house. I thought I better check on you. Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine.” Just like Hazel to say everything was fine.

“Now Hazel, don’t fib to me. I saw you wince a second ago.”

She laughed. “Well, my shoulder has been hurting all day. For days, really. I can’t sleep when it hurts this bad. You sure you’re not hungry?”

I laughed now. I’d always liked Hazel. She was the sweetest person I’d ever met.

I stayed with her for quite a while. I ended up having to tell her about Bernie raping Carla. She wanted to know what I’d been checking on at this hour, and I didn’t like keeping things from her, so I told her everything.

Amazingly, she wasn’t surprised.

“This doesn’t surprise you what Bernie did?”

“No. I knew something would happen with him. It’s been a long time coming.”

I couldn’t help but ask, “What do you mean?”

“Bernie hasn’t always been like he is now. He had a great job. He was some sort of executive at a big company or something. He used to wear a suit and tie, if you can believe that.” She laughed and picked up her crochet needle and yarn. She sewed five times faster than she talked. “He worked all the time. He’d leave first thing in the morning and wouldn’t come home until late in the day, and sometimes it was well after dark before I’d see him pull in. I think that’s why his wife took their daughter and left him.”

“Bernie was married?” I couldn’t believe it.

“Oh, yeah. She was a nice woman. Marie was her name. She was pretty, too pretty for Bernie, I thought. She used to come over and visit with me while Bernie was at work.”

“So she didn’t work?”

“No, no. She didn’t have to. Bernie made a lot of money. It was the only good thing to come from him working so much. Marie hated that he was always gone. Used to sit right there where you’re sitting now and cry about it. I’d tell her there wasn’t any sense in crying. That wouldn’t change anything.”

I was still reeling from the fact that someone – someone normal – had been in love with and married to Bernie. I couldn’t imagine him any way other than the way he was now. Nasty. Drunk.

“And they had a daughter?”

“Yes. She looked just like her mother. And she was a well-mannered child. Those are hard to come by these days. She would come over here with Marie. She sat at the table and colored or brought her dolls and played in the floor over there while we talked. I even started teaching her to crochet, but they left before I could teach her much.”

“They left? Where’d they go?”

Still crocheting, Hazel started to shrug her shoulders, but stopped quickly with a wince. “I sure don’t know. I saw her load some luggage into her car and drive away, but I had no idea that she’d never be back. I thought maybe she was going to visit somebody but I never saw her or the little girl again.”

“What was the little girl’s name?” I don’t know why I even cared, but I wanted to know.

“Cassie.”

Still fumbling over the fact that Bernie had a family, I asked, “What did Bernie do then?”

“Oh, he went downhill from there. And it might’ve not all been because Marie left him. There were a lot of things going on in his life at that time. His father died. He had to put his mother into a home, and then had to fight with the home because they were mistreating her. There was a cancer scare with Marie at one point. She didn’t have it, but the doctors thought she did. And then, he came home one night to find his wife and daughter gone. I think she left a note, but I never got to read it.”

I watched Hazel’s little fingers work their magic on the yarn. Hard to believe her slightly crooked fingers with the large knuckles could be so fast and agile.

“You sure you’re not hungry?”

I smiled. “Would you quit trying to feed me? I’m fine. I worry about you, though. I wish you didn’t hurt.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. It’s part of it. I’m eighty years old. I think I’d worry if I didn’t hurt.” She laughed.

“I better get back home. I shouldn’t have stayed this long.” I was suddenly terrified that Bernie had crept into Carla’s while I was here.

“Owen, don’t worry,” Hazel said, reading the look on my face. “We would’ve heard the alarm.”

She was right. I’d forgotten about the alarm for a second. Or I didn’t trust it on a subconscious level. That was the most likely explanation.

“I know, but I’d feel better if I could see what was happening.”

She put down her yarn and stood with me, though it took her far more effort than it did me. She walked with me to the door.

“If you need anything, you let me know. Don’t hesitate,” I told her as she hugged me. I meant it. I hoped she knew I meant it, and wasn’t just being polite.

“Oh, I will, but I don’t see that there’s anything I’ll need. Same goes for you. And don’t worry yourself sick over all this. Everything happens for a reason. You can’t save everybody. And don’t do anything crazy. Let nature take its course.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. What was nature’s course? Who could say? What if it was nature’s course for me to go over there and slit his throat in the night? What if it was nature’s course for him to do the same to me? Or to Carla?

I returned to my porch where I kept watch over the residents of Hewitt Street.

56 Jill

I ate nothing more than a granola bar and a small glass of milk for breakfast. Still keeping it light, taking no chances.