Lonesome Lawmen

Six-2

Dani was glad she had taken time for church, not just because she had a surfeit of time on her hands, but because she so desperately needed an infusion of peace. Lead Kindly Light, the closing hymn had been her favorite since Richard’s wife, Liz, sang it at Meggie’s funeral. Now the music lingered, a balm for her bruised heart.

Lead kindly light amid the encircling gloom.

Lead thou me on.

The night is cold and I am far from home.

Lead thou, me on.

Keep thou my feet.

I do not ask to see, the distant scene.

One step enough for me.

She dug a hand into the peanut sack and tossed it to the waiting elephant. She hadn’t meant to go to the zoo when she made her offhand remark to Caro, but she had finished her business at the flea market early. It wasn’t like she had a lot of options. She had too much time to kill—pass –time to pass.

She needed to work on her word choice if she was going to get through this reasonably sane. With his leathery, flexible trunk, the elephant reached for more. She dug into the nearly empty bag and tossed him a handful. I should be depressed, she thought, with a sigh, but how could she be? The sun hung high in a sky too blue to be real. The air she inhaled so crisply clear she felt a guilty euphoria.

Must be John Denver’s Rocky Mountain High. Apparently a modest dose of altitude could be beneficial, even to those with acrophobia. Or maybe she was just tired of being down and out.

She tossed the last handful to the begging pachyderm, then tipped the empty bag to show him she really was out. To escape the gentle reproach in his eyes, she stood to leave.

A small girl darted around the corner of a side path, trailing an irate echo of her mother’s voice. Before Dani could brace body or heart, she wrapped herself around Dani’s legs.

Even as Dani knelt to hold the small escapee, an older version of her appeared, followed in short order by the harried mother, holding another small, struggling boy body.

The young mother’s face lightened into a smile when she saw Dani holding the truant.

“Thanks.”

The little girl smelled of powder and baby lotion. Her tiny body was soft and strong, and determined to impose her will on the big people in her life. So like Meggie.

Her arms full, her heart empty, Dani said carefully, “Sometimes you need another hand.”

“Not just sometimes,” the young mother said, ruefully. “I don’t know what made me think I could handle them all, but it was such a lovely day, anything seemed possible.”

Maybe it was this echo of her own thoughts that prompted her next words. She usually avoided the painful pleasure of getting too close to other people’s children. “I was just heading the same way and I’ve got two free hands—“

The woman hesitated, her eyes assessing Dani’s worthiness. Dani’s “grandma” get up, purchased at the flea market, helped tip the scales and the woman said with real gratitude, “Thanks.”

Dani turned with them, the little ones held firmly between the two adults. The older girl, Jenny, walked by Dani, sharing the family secrets in breathless bursts. Her mother looked embarrassed and apologetic. Dani found she could chuckle.

At the lion cage, Jenny told Dani she was ten years old. The age Meggie would be, Dani realized. Looking at Jenny’s face, Meggie’s baby face blurred, then turned older. Would she have been like Jenny? Dark hair instead of light bouncing with each skipped step? So eager to see the world, not afraid to meet it head on?

Not still and alabaster white in a coffin in the ground.

In a haze of painful pleasure, Dani did the zoo with them, but her soul did it with Meggie. When it was over, hugs were offered and gratefully accepted. The sweet, baby smells of the little ones, their wet, sugar-laced kisses smeared against her cheek, were manna in Dani’s wilderness.

Dani fought back the urge to cling, to hold on tight and not let go when Jenny wrapped her thin arms around her neck and squeezed. Holding on didn’t work. You had to let go, even when your heart left, too.

Resolutely solitary in the golden light of a lowering sun, she watched the little family make a meandering path across the parking lot, board a minivan, and drive away.

Leaving her alone again.

Her path stretch long and empty toward night. Her shoulders slumped, weary from the weight of returning fear.

I do not ask to see, the distant scene,

One step enough for me.

One step. That would be a place to stay tonight. Okay. Then finish those chapters. Oh yeah, and don’t forget to respond to Matt, the oh-so-opinionated, Kirby.