Skip Rock Shallows by Jan Watson

bill tucked under the rim of a saucer. It must be for Myrtie’s money jar. She wondered if her landlady was getting close to her goal. Probably not if Mr. James gave her only one dollar at a time. Of course, he might not want to move; maybe that was just Myrtie’s dream.
    “How’s Darrell holding up?” Mr. James asked.
    “He’s doing very well. I’ll send him home to finish his recuperation soon, barring complications.”
    “I heard his mother pitched a fit on you,” Myrtie said as she packed bacon and leftover pancakes into Mr. James’s lunch bucket.
    “You wouldn’t be fishing for gossip, now would you, Myrtie?”
    “I’m just asking, Stanley, not telling. Gossip’s like jam; it don’t bear fruit if you don’t spread it.”
    Lilly sipped her coffee. She felt caught in the middle by the couple’s teasing. “Darrell’s family has been quite helpful. They bring meals for both him and Ned, and his mother keeps a kettle boiling doing up the wash.”
    “Good cook is she?” Myrtie asked.
    “Give it up, Myrtie,” Mr. James said as he pushed back his chair and bent to tie his shoes. “Where are you off to?” he asked.
    Lilly wiped a drip of sticky syrup from her chin. “I’m going to call on Orie Eldridge. Her niece is coming to show me the way.”
    “Orie Eldridge, you say?”
    “Yes, I met Armina yesterday when she came by to say I’d missed a visit. She was quite insistent.” Lilly placed her knife and fork across the top of her plate and tucked her folded napkin under its edge. “I’ll visit in her home this time, but next week her family will need to bring her by the clinic.”
    Mr. James exchanged a look with Myrtie. “That ain’t likely to happen.”
    Standing, Lilly bit back the question that sprang to the tip of her tongue. Mr. James would have to learn that she was in charge of her patients and she would decide how to deal with them.
    As she left, she heard Myrtie scold from behind the screen door, “You should have told her, Stanley.”
    “Gal seems bent on doing ever little thing by her lonesome,” he said. “She’ll find out soon enough.”

Chapter 7
    The hound dog was waiting for her at the edge of his yard. Lilly tossed the half pancake she had saved from breakfast to the ground. He slurped it up, stood still for her to scratch behind his ears, and then trotted up the street toward the clinic, as fine an escort as she had ever had.
    Though it was not yet full light, Ned was outside, slapping something on the door with a wide brush.
    Lilly’s eyes watered from the sting of gypsum. “What in the world are you doing, Ned?”
    Startled, he jumped, nearly dropping the bucket, before he opened the door as wide as it would go. “Just sprucing things up.”
    “At six in the morning?”
    “Darrell’s sleeping. I had a little time on my hands.”
    “You’re acting guilty as a fox in the chicken coop, Ned. Please close the door.”
    Ned’s chin dropped to his chest. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t think you needed to see this.”
    The door swung shut. A leering skull shone faintly through the wash, and black crossbones still marred the door.
    “It’ll need several coats of whitewash,” Ned said. “I mixed some plaster of Paris from the back storeroom—hope you don’t mind. I didn’t have any paint.”
    “Why would someone do this? Is it supposed to be a warning?”
    “It’s my fault. I reckon I fell asleep. I didn’t hear a thing.”
    “I think covering this up is a good idea, Ned. Let’s keep this to ourselves, shall we?”
    Lilly reached for the knob, but Ned beat her to it. “I’ll let you get back to work,” she said. “And, Ned, thank you for caring.”
    “You’re more than welcome,” he said, dipping the brush into the bucket. “I’d best hurry before this sets up on me.”
    Lilly had barely finished Darrell’s a.m. routine before Armina rapped on the doorframe.
    “You ready?” she said when Lilly stepped around the privacy screen Ned had pulled in