Day 119
(This is Part VIII of the story, The Scent of Lilacs. The post day for Part I was on Day 108. The story segments may be found on Days 109, 110, 111, 115, 116 and 118.)
Ol’ Jed would be a good dog to have. I remember Ol’ Jed from, what now seems like, so long ago. Mama would say, “Stay clear of that dog, you hear? Somethin’s not quite right with him. He’s mean. If you get bit, don’t come cryin’ to me.” I don’t know why she and so many others thought he was mean. I guessed no one had ever looked into the eyes of that old coon dog ’cause one look would have told you he was noisy and not quite bright, but he wasn’t mean. He was about as mean as a daisy. He certainly didn’t smell like any daisy I ever smelled, but if you looked at him long enough, you could feel a connection with his soul. I figured he was just lonely. So, whenever I passed by his house I’d talk to him.
It was obvious people must have thought I was crazy, talkin’ away at that ol’ dog all the time. Mama told me at supper one night that Miss Violet, from church, had seen me “jabbering away” one afternoon while I was walking past Ol’ Jed’s. Apparently Miss Violet thought I was daft. Mama tried to explain that I liked talking to that old dog but she didn’t think she convinced Miss Violet that I wasn’t somehow “touched” in the head. Miss Violet just walked away giving Mama a look of pity. Daddy had a good laugh over it, but I could tell it somehow bothered Mama. Daddy said if I had that much love to give an old dog, then so be it.
Ol’ Jed’s master, old Mr. Beecham, was mean and crotchety. He’s the kind of man who’d chase you off his lawn with a rake if he saw you. I never walked on his lawn, so I don’t know for sure. I don’t know why he had Jed, ’cause he never paid much mind to him. The only one that I knew of, besides me, that paid Ol’ Jed much mind was Mr. Walter. Mr. Walter was the man who lived right next to Ol’ Jed, and he was nice. Real nice. He never minded that Ol’ Jed came over and sunned himself on his porch or sat in his garden; I think he was grateful for the company. Mr. Walter’s wife died in a fishing accident on their honeymoon (all sorts of stories came up about her – the worst was a horrible ordeal as a ‘gator supposedly got her). But I never asked him myself. Some things you just don’t ever mention.
Mr. Walter was so heartbroken that he never married again. I don’t know why he never got a dog of his own; he was so nice to dogs and people. He was the best gardener in town, and despite that heavy brace he wore on his leg (afflicted by polio as a teenager) he got around just fine. His yard was the most beautiful place. I’d walk out of my way, home from school, just to see it (and Ol’ Jed). It was just like Paradise … peonies, hydrangea, wisteria and some lilacs; mums and hollyhocks, bluebells and lilies and roses and things I didn’t even know what they were … and in the middle of it all sat Ol’ Jed. Mr. Walter’s roses were known all over our county. He always beat out Miss Ashbury’s roses at the County Fair. Mama said it was a good thing, too, as “that woman needn’t be winning anymore blue ribbons in these parts, anyways.” I guessed Mama had a thing against Miss Ashbury winning all the time as she had prizes for pies and jams, pickles and quilts. I figured it was only fair that someone else should be able to win once in a while, and I was glad it was Mr. Walter. I wondered what happened to Ol’ Jed and all those people I used to know.
I know with the gathering darkness that this is going to be some storm and that Aunt Hattie will be collecting her dried and drying laundry and that she will not be coming by here today. My heart sinks a little … at times I am so lonely.
I wonder about Daddy – where is he? Is he all right? Is he even still alive? No one’s heard from him in so long. A while back Preacher Young told Aunt Grace that Daddy’s probably dead and that he’d say a prayer for him. I think he must be, too, ’cause my heart feels heavy and if he were alive – surely he’d come back for me; or visit or at least send a letter.
“Sometimes grief is too much to bear.”, Aunt Hattie told me that. Aunt Hattie told me she was a beauty when younger (much younger, I think). And while young, she met and married a man who ended up liking the bottle more than anything. She shook her head when she told me, “He was plain no good.” After a few years she couldn’t take it anymore and she ran away from him and that life. She’d heard he was killed sometime after in some deal gone wrong. She’d been on her own her whole life. She was left on the doorstep of a church when she was about three and raised by the pastor and his wife. As a teenager she buried them, ten days apart. One died of pneumonia and the other from grief.
Sometimes grief is too much to bear. Miss Hattie knew.
(Watch for the final post of The Scent of Lilacs – Part IX.)