What Looks Like Crazy (19 page)

We both stroked Mike's head and talked softly. Mike finally settled down and went to sleep. Jeff moved beside me, and we leaned against the wall. “Thank you for coming,” I said. “I didn't know I would take it so hard.”

He took my hand and squeezed it. “It bothers me, too,” he said, “and I do this sort of thing for a living. But the little fellow is in puppy heaven now,” he added, “so you don't have to worry about him anymore.”

I looked at him. “You really think there's a heaven for dogs?”

“Of course,” he said. “Animals give so much love. What would a heaven be without them?”

I could certainly see Runt admitted into heaven more quickly than somebody like Bitsy Stout, who could quote scripture word for word but did her best to make people miserable.

“I'm going through some crummy stuff in my personal life right now,” I said. “I guess that's one reason I'm so upset about Runt.”

“I'm sorry you're having a tough go of it. I'm a good listener.”

I hesitated. “I'm going to be divorced Friday at eleven a.m.”

“Oh, boy, that's a tough one. You and your husband can't work things out?”

I shrugged. “We've tried. But the arguments are always the same. Like playing a broken record, but the grooves are pretty worn out and the music is scratchy.”

“That's a unique way to put it.”

“Have you ever been married?”

“No. I don't think it's in the cards for me.”

Again, I was surprised, and I wondered if he'd suffered a broken heart as well. But he didn't elaborate, and I didn't push. He told me about vet school and setting up his practice. He asked me about my own practice, having read on his office form that I was a psychologist. At some point I must've dozed because, when I opened my eyes, I was mortified to find my head on his shoulder.

“It's okay,” he said. “I think I drifted off for a few minutes myself.” He checked his wristwatch. “It's after midnight. I should get home. Are you feeling better?”

“Yes.” I noticed Mike was calm as well. She remained still, even as her pups nursed greedily.

I was yawning as I led Jeff to the front door. He took my hand for the second time that evening and squeezed it. “I'll call you tomorrow and see how Mike and her kiddos are doing,” he said. “Try to get some sleep.”

I thanked him and watched him walk to his car. Despite being sad over losing Runt, I had enjoyed spending time with Jeff. He was easy to talk to, and it was obvious he cared about his little patients. As he pulled from my drive, I wondered if it was his custom to make house calls. I was almost certain he wasn't accustomed to sitting on a woman's laundry room floor while she cried and then fell asleep with her head on his shoulder. I wondered if I was developing a small crush on the handsome veterinarian.

Or, maybe, I was just hoping there was still something left of my heart after its having been so thoroughly shattered.

 

The next morning,
as I waited for Jack and Martha Hix to arrive for their weekly couples counseling session, I told Mona about losing Runt and spending part of the evening with Dr. Henry. “I need to call Mrs. Perez and let her know,” I said.

“I'm sorry you lost the puppy,” Mona said, “but I know you and Mrs. Perez worked hard to keep the little fellow going.” She smiled. “One good thing that came out of it was meeting Dr. Henry. You like him, don't you?”

“I can't help but like him.”

“No, I mean, you
really
like him. Like him as in wanting to see what's under his white lab coat.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Mona, but I haven't even thought of it. He's just a very nice man who happens to be good-looking as well.”

“I guess it's hard to think of a man in that light when you're still in love with your husband, huh?” she said. “Friday will be here before you know it.”

We exchanged looks. The sudden lump in my throat that always showed up when I thought about Jay, along with the loss of Runt, kept me from answering at first. “I used to think love was enough, Mona,” I said. “I used to think if two people loved each other, they could get through anything. But that's not the way it is in real life.”

Mona just looked at me. “That is the saddest thing I've ever heard you say,” she said.

“Sorry.”

She shrugged. “But it brings us back to what we were discussing,” she said. “If your marriage is over, maybe it's
time
to start thinking about what the cute Dr. Henry looks like under his lab coat.”

I saw the
crowd in front of my house as I turned onto my street; at least two dozen people were carrying large signs that read
WIPE OUT PORNOGRAPHY
. I felt like turning around and driving in the opposite direction. Damn that Bitsy Stout; she insisted on making my life miserable.

As I drove closer, I saw her leading the group. Several of my neighbors watched from lawn chairs in their front yards, and cars were parked along the street, passengers staring from the windows. I muttered a four-letter word when I spied a white van bearing the name of our local news station and a reporter talking into a camera.

Just a typical day in my screwed-up life, I thought.

I pulled into my driveway, only to be rushed by the reporter, who banged on my window. I rolled it down.

“Are you Kate Holly?” he asked.

The news camera was directed right at me. “I'm Dr. Holly,” I said, sounding as professional as I could under the circumstances. “May I help you?”

“Are you aware that you have a pornographic statue in your flower bed?”

“I have a statue, but I assure you there is nothing pornographic about it. Actually, it's a religious piece created by my mother and my aunt, who are artists. Would you please step back so I can get out of my car?”

The reporter did as I asked, even though the cameraman continued to film. Once I climbed from my car, the reporter wasted no time grilling me. I was thankful I was wearing my best black-and-white pinstriped suit.

“We understand the entire congregation from a local church is demanding that you remove the statue,” he said.

“Yes,” I said squarely into the camera. “Not only have some of the members trespassed onto my property, they've defaced it and made threatening phone calls to my office.” I had to pause to catch my breath. “I think your viewers would be better served if you investigated the validity of the so-called church.” I smiled pleasantly. I'll have to admit that even I was impressed with my handling of the situation. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to call my attorney.”

The reporter looked into the camera, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he gave an overview to those just tuning in. It amazed me that Bitsy Stout and her nutso church group had managed to get live coverage. It wasn't as though Atlanta lacked for news.

I held my head high and walked calmly to my front door, but I was so mad I felt I could have torn it open with my teeth. I could tell Bitsy was having the time of her life parading about with her buddies. I wondered which of the men in her group had threatened me.

I heard Mike barking from inside as I unlocked my door. I had to grab her collar to keep her from darting out when she caught sight of all the people. I let her out the back door and called Mona.

“I need a lawyer,” I said and gave her a quick rundown of what was happening.

“I hope you were holding in your stomach,” Mona said. “I hear TV makes you look ten pounds heavier.”

As always, Mona had her priorities in order, but at the moment I was too angry to care what my stomach looked like on TV. “I don't even like that statue,” I said. “I'd dig it up myself if I weren't afraid I'd hurt Mom and Trixie's feelings.”

“I don't remember seeing it,” Mona said.

“You've seen my living room, if that tells you anything. I'm surprised they haven't stuck pink flamingos in my yard as well.”

“Poor Kate,” she said. “You might have to move into a trailer park so you'll blend. I'll call my attorney right away.”

I checked on the puppies and felt a stab of sorrow in my heart that Runt was no longer among them. I tried to imagine him playing and tumbling about with other puppies in doggie heaven. Mrs. Perez had been sorry to hear that Runt hadn't made it, but she was convinced he was in a better place. She'd watched a TV psychic tell a woman that her deceased mother, as well as her mother's beloved but long-deceased shih tzu, were together in the afterlife.

I was surprised to discover that Jeff Henry had called, as promised, to make sure I was okay and to remind me to contact him, night or day, if I needed him. I knew Mona would read more into it, but I told myself I'd lucked out and found a really nice vet. In all honesty, I wasn't sure I would recognize the difference between a man who was simply being nice to me and one who was showing interest.

I let Mike in, gave her a treat, and freshened her food and water. I could tell she was antsy over the sounds coming from my front yard. “I should have told you about my crazy neighbor before you moved in,” I said. “In the meantime, you're going to have to stay in your room.” I put her in the laundry room and closed the door.

Mona called back from her cell phone. “I'm on my way over,” she said. “My attorney advised you to call the police. Bitsy and her church people have no legal right to picket without a permit, and if they set one foot in your yard, they're trespassing.”

“Of course they're trespassing,” I said, peeking out my living room window. “They're all over my front yard. Fortunately the news van is gone. Damn, I hate getting the police involved. Especially since they have it on record that I threatened Bitsy and gave her the finger,” I added.

“What are you going to do?”

“Ignore them. That will spoil Bitsy's fun, because she hates being ignored.”

“I have an idea,” Mona said. “It might just solve your problems. I'll see you shortly.”

I went upstairs to change. I was hungry, but I didn't feel like cooking. My doorbell rang, and I hurried to let Mona in. Instead I found my mother and Aunt Trixie standing on the other side.

“We saw you on TV,” my mother said. “Where's that dog of yours?”

“I put her in the laundry room,” I said and stepped back to let them in.

“You looked really nice talking to that newsman,” my aunt said, “and you came across so well.”

“Did I look fat?”

“Oh, no,” she said.

“You could have improved your posture,” my mother said, “but I'm probably the only one who noticed.”

I looked at her. “You think?”

My mother stood at the window, peering through the curtains. “Just so you know, I gave Bitsy a piece of my mind,” she said. “I told her she and her church group were nothing but a bunch of crazy Holy Rollers.”

“What did she say?”

“She said God was on their side.”

“Oh, great,” I said. “I'll probably be swarmed by locusts.” I barely got the words out of my mouth before I heard a couple of loud thunks outside my door.

“You are
not
going to believe what they're doing!” my mother all but shouted. “That idiot woman is throwing rocks at the statue. That's it! I'm going out there to kick some butt!”

“No!” I said, racing toward the door and flattening myself against it to block her. My mother tried to get past me, and we did a little dance. “You are
not
going out there!” I looked at my aunt. “Call nine-one-one.” I figured it would be easier facing the cops than pulling my mother off Bitsy.

Mona and the police pulled up within seconds of each other. I gave my mother a stern look. “I'm going outside to take care of this, and I except you to stay put,” I said. “If you start any trouble, you can forget grandchildren.”

My mother shrank back.

Outside, most of Bitsy's followers were scattering; the sight of the police car had obviously scared them away. Bitsy stood her ground, but I could see her resolve and bravery fading as I listed my complaints.

The officers looked at Bitsy. “Is this true?” one of them asked her.

She squirmed. “Yes. But I don't know anything about threatening phone calls. I think she's making it up.”

The officer turned to me. “Do you wish to press charges against Miss Stout?”

I looked at Bitsy. “It depends.”

“I won't do it again,” Bitsy promised. “I'll stop being a pesky neighbor.”

“Not good enough,” I said. “I want your sour cream coffee cake recipe.” She gasped and clutched her heart. “You have twenty-four hours to hand it over. I want every single ingredient listed, and I want it printed out neatly so I can read it.”

Her eyes hardened. “I hope you know you're going to hell.”

I smiled. “The question is, do
you
want to go to jail?”

A black Mercedes pulled into my driveway as Bitsy stalked from my yard and the police drove away. My mother and aunt joined me. A well-dressed man approached. “Am I to understand you are the owner of that stunning sculpture I saw on TV?” he asked in an English accent.

“Yes,” I said. “Who are you?”

He handed me his card. “I'm the curator of our art museum, and I would love to have that piece as part of our religious art. I'm willing to pay handsomely for it.”

My mother's and Trixie's mouths dropped open at the same time. I glanced at Mona, who winked. I knew Mona's late husband had supported the arts when he'd been alive. “Gee, I don't know,” I said. “It was a gift from my beloved mother and aunt. I couldn't possibly part with it.”

My mother yanked me aside. “Are you crazy?” she hissed. “Think of the money. Think what it will mean for Trixie and me to have one of our sculptures in the High Museum of Art! Trixie and I will make you another one just like it. It's only junk,” she added with a hiss.

“No, Mom,” I said firmly. “I don't want a replacement. There are some things in this world that are simply irreplaceable.”

“Okay, whatever it takes,” she said.

I turned to the curator. “This is one of the hardest decisions I've ever made, but the statue is yours. But I can't, in good conscience, accept money. I would like to donate it to the museum.”

“You are too kind,” the curator said.

“It'll probably take a jackhammer to get it out of the ground.”

“Not to worry,” the man said, shaking my hand to firm up the deal. He winked.

An hour later, my mother and Aunt Trixie were sitting across the table from Mona and me at a nearby pizza parlor. We'd ordered beer to celebrate the fact that the Junk Sisters would have their work on display at the art museum.

“You should have taken the money,” my mother said. “I caught a look at your kitchen. It needs serious work.”

“Actually, I'm in the process of redecorating,” I told her.

We had almost finished eating our pizza when Jeff Henry walked through the door, followed by another man close to his age. They stepped up to the counter and began studying the menu.

I nudged Mona. “It's the vet,” I whispered.

“That's Dr. Henry?” she said, her eyes combing him appreciatively. “Nice. Who's the good-looking guy beside him?”

I shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“You should call him over.”

I was just about to wave to him when the man standing beside Jeff at the counter reached over and stroked his hand lightly. The two shared a private look, then inched apart as a young girl stepped behind the register to take their order.

Mona and I exchanged looks. “Maybe you shouldn't call him over after all,” she said.

I excused myself and headed for the ladies' room, where I decided to hide out. Mona joined me a few minutes later. “They're gone. They just picked up a to-go order. Your mother asked me to check on you.”

“I feel like an idiot,” I said. “I thought he liked me.”

“I'd say he liked you very much, to sit in your laundry room with you half the night after you lost Runt. I'd say you have a nice new friend who just happens to be a great vet. And who doesn't need more friends?”

I didn't respond.

“Besides, you're not
really
interested in a new relationship,” she said. “You're still in love with your husband. If you can't see that, then, yes, you're an idiot.” She opened the bathroom door and motioned me out. “After you.”

Mona drove me home, and the sisters headed back to Little Five Points. “We need to finalize plans for the mental health fair,” Mona said as she drove. “It's this Friday.”

“You want to discuss it
now
?” I asked. The mere thought made me want to bail out of the car even though we were traveling at fifty miles per hour. I sighed. “Just tell me what I need to do,” I said with dread in my voice.

“You'll need to mingle with reporters.”

I looked at her. “Reporters?”

“I've sent out press releases, so you should have plenty of coverage. You'll want to act real compassionate. Also, it will give you a chance to discuss the importance of good mental health. Oh, and don't forget to mention our open house the first Monday of each month.”

Mona dropped me off at my house. After letting Mike out, I decided to take a drive. Driving helped me think, and I had a lot to think about. And the truth was, I felt lonely.