asked.
“Because they don’t have their own legs and it’s the only way to get them out of there.”
“I don’t have to do this, you know.”
I knew he wasn’t mad. His backside appeared at the top of the ladder, several photo albums in his right hand and his left and reaching down to steady himself as he climbed down the ladder. Dust stuck to the cuff of his jeans and what I could see of the palm of his left hand was darkened with dirt.
“Where do you want these?” he asked as he neared the bottom of the ladder.
“My car, I guess. I’ll look through them a little so I can tell Gracie what they are.”
“Why don’t we go get a drink and come back?” I started to say we’d never get done if we took a break every hour, and then Scoobie sneezed again. I realized he probably wanted a break from the dusty attic and agreed.
We went to Java Jolt where Joe looked less than thrilled to see Scoobie until, while Scoobie was in the men’s room cleaning up a bit, I explained what we were doing. “That’s nice of you,” he said as he poured Scoobie’s requested large hot tea. “I was worried his red nose might mean he was drinking again.”
“Not that I know of.”
Joe gave me a look that seemed to say “Right,” and handed me Scoobie’s tea. I put it on a table, filled my coffee cup from the thermos on the counter, and dug in my purse for money to put in the sugar bowl next to the thermos. Joe puts us all on the honor system during the off-season.
As I sat on my foam donut, Scoobie came back in and bought two muffins, one chocolate chip and one blueberry. He grinned as I groaned.
“I don’t need the calories. By the time I can move around well I’ll have gained five pounds.”
He shrugged as he took a bite of the blueberry muffin. “Skip dinner.”
Since I can never resist chocolate, I took a bite of that muffin. “Did you look at any of the photos in those albums?”
“Nope. I figure you’ll spend 10 hours on it, so why should I?” He took a sip of tea. “Speaking of skipping dinner, what did you tell Reverend Jamison about the food pantry?”
“I’m avoiding it. Don’t you think he’ll get the hint?
“Nope. He told me I’m supposed to help you. I think he scheduled some kind of meeting on it in a few days.”
“Damn it.” I stared into my coffee cup for a moment. I certainly could do it, but I definitely didn’t want to. I knew I would be uncomfortable around people who are grateful for food, something I have always been able to assume will be available.
“How much?” I asked. When Scoobie only looked at me I added, “help. How much help will you give me?”
He shrugged. “I can tell you what I don’t like about the way it’s been done.”
“What’s not to like?”
“You can get a box of stuff six times a year. It’s.…”
“Why only six times?” I interrupted him.
“Because that’s all the food they have to give.” His look told me not to interrupt again. “I’d rather be able to go once a month and get smaller boxes. So would a lot of other people.”
“There’s got to be a reason they do it that way,” I mused.
When I glanced back at him his look was unreadable, but I sensed he hadn’t liked my comment. “What?” I asked.
“The people running things always like schedules the way they are. At the treatment center I went to in Newark there’s hardly any staff there on weekends because they don’t like to work weekends.” He gestured with the remaining half of his muffin. “We didn’t need any less counseling on Saturday and Sunday.”
I nodded slowly. “I get your point. If I do it, I’ll look at all of it. Just don’t expect,” I paused, not wanting to offend him, “Don’t expect a lot of changes all at once. It’ll take me some time to figure out how everything works.”
He stood and began pulling on his jacket.
“Does this mean you’re through with ideas?” I asked.
“Nope.” He finished shrugging into his jacket. “But
“Because they don’t have their own legs and it’s the only way to get them out of there.”
“I don’t have to do this, you know.”
I knew he wasn’t mad. His backside appeared at the top of the ladder, several photo albums in his right hand and his left and reaching down to steady himself as he climbed down the ladder. Dust stuck to the cuff of his jeans and what I could see of the palm of his left hand was darkened with dirt.
“Where do you want these?” he asked as he neared the bottom of the ladder.
“My car, I guess. I’ll look through them a little so I can tell Gracie what they are.”
“Why don’t we go get a drink and come back?” I started to say we’d never get done if we took a break every hour, and then Scoobie sneezed again. I realized he probably wanted a break from the dusty attic and agreed.
We went to Java Jolt where Joe looked less than thrilled to see Scoobie until, while Scoobie was in the men’s room cleaning up a bit, I explained what we were doing. “That’s nice of you,” he said as he poured Scoobie’s requested large hot tea. “I was worried his red nose might mean he was drinking again.”
“Not that I know of.”
Joe gave me a look that seemed to say “Right,” and handed me Scoobie’s tea. I put it on a table, filled my coffee cup from the thermos on the counter, and dug in my purse for money to put in the sugar bowl next to the thermos. Joe puts us all on the honor system during the off-season.
As I sat on my foam donut, Scoobie came back in and bought two muffins, one chocolate chip and one blueberry. He grinned as I groaned.
“I don’t need the calories. By the time I can move around well I’ll have gained five pounds.”
He shrugged as he took a bite of the blueberry muffin. “Skip dinner.”
Since I can never resist chocolate, I took a bite of that muffin. “Did you look at any of the photos in those albums?”
“Nope. I figure you’ll spend 10 hours on it, so why should I?” He took a sip of tea. “Speaking of skipping dinner, what did you tell Reverend Jamison about the food pantry?”
“I’m avoiding it. Don’t you think he’ll get the hint?
“Nope. He told me I’m supposed to help you. I think he scheduled some kind of meeting on it in a few days.”
“Damn it.” I stared into my coffee cup for a moment. I certainly could do it, but I definitely didn’t want to. I knew I would be uncomfortable around people who are grateful for food, something I have always been able to assume will be available.
“How much?” I asked. When Scoobie only looked at me I added, “help. How much help will you give me?”
He shrugged. “I can tell you what I don’t like about the way it’s been done.”
“What’s not to like?”
“You can get a box of stuff six times a year. It’s.…”
“Why only six times?” I interrupted him.
“Because that’s all the food they have to give.” His look told me not to interrupt again. “I’d rather be able to go once a month and get smaller boxes. So would a lot of other people.”
“There’s got to be a reason they do it that way,” I mused.
When I glanced back at him his look was unreadable, but I sensed he hadn’t liked my comment. “What?” I asked.
“The people running things always like schedules the way they are. At the treatment center I went to in Newark there’s hardly any staff there on weekends because they don’t like to work weekends.” He gestured with the remaining half of his muffin. “We didn’t need any less counseling on Saturday and Sunday.”
I nodded slowly. “I get your point. If I do it, I’ll look at all of it. Just don’t expect,” I paused, not wanting to offend him, “Don’t expect a lot of changes all at once. It’ll take me some time to figure out how everything works.”
He stood and began pulling on his jacket.
“Does this mean you’re through with ideas?” I asked.
“Nope.” He finished shrugging into his jacket. “But
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