Part I

On the road seven hours, trying to make it home so we could check on our horses, and we took the desperation exit because we saw the McDonald’s sign. It might not be good, but we knew it would be drinkable and hot and cheap. We pulled into the lot over to the side and got out and switched off. My husband had been driving the entire stretch and he was hitting that wall, so we figured the coffee stop would be a good place to let me spot him. I slid into the driver’s seat, adjusted the things that needed adjusting, and pulled into the drive-thru lane. Friday nights are busy nights at these places, especially just off the interstate, and there were several cars in front of us.

We were staring at the cars ahead as they glided up to the window, watching the exchange of bills and bags, aware of our aches, of our backs, of our legs, of the gas gauge, when Austin sat straight up. “What am I seeing?” he asked.

I followed his gaze and saw movement in the darkness beyond the pools of light spilled by the restaurant’s signs. Just past the drive-thru window, the lane turned sharply to the left and led around to the front of the building. Just at the sharp turn sat a series of dumpsters enclosed by a fence. And just past the dumpsters, outside the parking lot, was a small house, tidy and alien in its proximity to the fast-food joint. Something was moving in the yard of the house.  Something was on the ground. Austin and I kept watching it as one by one the cars ahead of us got their food and departed.

As soon as the last car in front of us pulled around to the left to leave the parking lot, I drove up to the window and stopped, and I hit the hi-beams. The dumpster enclosure intercepted most of the light from our headlights, but enough reached the grassy area on the other side to show us that what we’d seen was a man — an older man with a silvery head of hair. He was on his side and struggling to arise.

The girl at the window handed me my change while Austin kept up a commentary on the man’s progress. The instant she gave me the two cups, I shoved them at Austin and stomped the gas. Following the curve around the building, as soon as the lane widened into regular parking spaces, I pulled diagonally across a couple of them. Austin tried to get the cups into the holders but in his haste he missed. The cups tumbled to the floorboard, one on each side of the console. I felt hot coffee splash across my calf but Austin was out and sprinting across the parking lot before I could get the car in Park. I felt around for the cups but couldn’t find them. I shouldered the door open and ran after my husband, around behind the dumpster fence.

When we reached the man on the ground, he was sitting up but panting like an exhausted dog. My husband knelt and put his hands on the man’s shoulders. “Sir? What happened? Are you all right?” I went around to the other side and squatted next to the man. His shoulders were heaving and he held up one hand in the universal “Gimme a minute” signal. “Take your time,” said Austin. “Just catch your breath.”

While we were waiting, I studied the man’s face in the faint residual glow of the parking lot lights. I made him to be seventy, maybe eighty. Good strong features, clear eyes behind thick lenses in old-fashioned steel frames. He was wearing a white shirt, which is probably why his movement on the ground caught our attention. He smelled like my father used to smell, something sturdy and easy to find in the store. English Leather? British Sterling? After a minute, he nodded slightly and then started to chuckle. Austin looked over the man’s head at me and raised his eyebrows.

The man spoke in a clear tenor voice with just a hint of the warble of old age. “Didn’t mean to frighten you folks. I lost my balance in the grass, and once I’m down, it’s hard to get up if I don’t have something to hold to. I oughta’ve had my cane. Jamie’ll be mad when she finds out I went outside without it in the dark.” He stopped and looked closely at Austin, then turned and looked at me with a friendly expression. “Where’re my manners? Thank you both for running over to see about me. I think I can stand up if you can help me, son.”

I steadied him while Austin took his hands and pulled him with a careful, slow movement up onto his feet. Once he was standing, Austin let go of his hands. I kept mine on his shoulders, though. Just in case.

“Is this your house?” asked Austin, pointing.

“Sure is.”

“It must be hard to sleep, especially on weekends, with the traffic from McDonald’s so close by.”

The man shrugged. “We’ve gotten used to it. For the most part. Every once in a while, a carload of them kids will come through with those speakers turned up so loud it makes me feel like my heart’s out of rhythm. But usually we just tune it out.”

“Your wife and you, you mean?” I said.

“Jamie and me. Jamie’s my daughter. She lives with me. Wife’s been gone seven years.” He paused and shifted his stance slightly so that he could see both Austin and me without turning his head. “I’d better get back inside before she gets worried.”

“Are you going to be all right?” I asked. “Did you hurt yourself when you fell?” I tried to assess him for torn clothes or obvious injuries, but couldn’t see very well in the light.

“I’m fine. Thank you so much, the both of you. You’re very kind. But don’t let me hold you up. Your food’s getting cold.” He nodded in the direction of our car.”

“Well, that’s alright. It was just coffee –”

“Coffee that I dumped all over the car,” interjected Austin. I smiled at him.

“Spilled your coffee? Because of me!” The old man shook his head. Then he brightened. “How about I make it up to you? How about I make you some coffee? I make a pretty good pot.”

I saw Austin look at his watch and glance at me with We need to get going in his eyes. “Well, that’s very kind of you, Mister –?” I began.

“Greene, with three e’s. And it’s the least I can do. If you two hadn’t come along, I’d probably still be thrashing around in the dark over here, and Jamie would be in a high panic.”

I looked over at Austin, my mind-reading husband. He looked at Mr. Greene, then at me. Nodded, smiled.

“If you’re sure it’s no trouble, Mr. –?” Austin was always terrible at remembering names.

“Greene, with three e’s. No trouble at all. I’d be proud to have you folks in.”

“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Greene. Thank you,” I said. “I’m Beth and this is my husband, Austin.”

“Very pleased to meet you both,” said Mr. Greene. He smiled at me and gestured for us to follow him.

We walked slowly through the small, dark yard, one of us on either side of the old man in case he needed support. When we reached the front steps, a motion-detector light came on and shone down on us. I can see that the house was brick, and that there were louvered glass panels on either side of the door, like old-fashioned sun porches used to have. Then I saw something else. A large white chicken was standing on the top step, watching us and moving its head in tight jerks.

“Monte Crispo, I forgot you were out here. You come on in the house with us.” Mr. Greene reached and opened the door, then gestured for us to enter. The chicken hopped up on the threshold and disappeared into the house.

“The chicken’s name is Monte Cristo?” asked Austin.

“That’s Monte Crispo,” said Mr. Greene. “Sounds like a male’s name, but Monte’s a hen. Thinks she owns the place. You folks go on in.”

I glanced at Austin, who was beaming at Mr. Greene and grinning his completely charmed grin. I walked up the steps and into the house.”

To be continued…

~ S.K. Orr