I bent down and let the old girl, who is almost totally blind, snuffle her big black nose all over my son. Little Jacob, who was wide awake, gurgled with apparent glee. Although I love animals of all kinds-I once carried a pussy in my bra-I draw the line at slobber. Just as a string of drool was about to detach from the ancient pooch, I yanked up the car seat.
“Well, what’s for lunch?”
“Not so fast,” Doc said. “I want to get a gander at your son.” He peered at Little Jacob almost as intently as Old Blue had sniffed him. But since Doc is nearsighted, it seemed to be a bit much. My son, however, seemed rather pleased by the intense scrutiny and smiled broadly.
“Everything is still there,” I said. “So far there’ve been no recalls-knock on wood.”
“I was trying to determine whom he looks like. I’m betting that he’ll grow up to be the spitting image of his daddy.”
Half of me was elated, the other half disappointed. “Why do you say that?”
“His eyes have already turned a nice rich brown, and what little hair he has is coming in dark as well. But I can see that he has your personality; the kid’s got moxie. I have a special feeling about this one, Magdalena. Take it from an old geezer like me: your son is going places.”
“Is this, like, a prophecy?”
“Let’s call it a feeling. Hey, what do you think of Susannah running off with a bus full of nuns?”
“They aren’t really nuns, and they ran off with her.”
“The Eternal Sisters of Pariah-sheesh, what a name.”
“It’s the Sisters of Perpetual Apathy,” I said, “and by the way, your ex-sweetie has joined them.”
“Which one?”
It was a fair question. Doc remained celibate for the first fifteen years following the death of his wife. In the last five years, however, he has courted just about every single female in Bedford County between the ages of eighteen and 108. The latter literally died on him when he foolishly (they could have been arrested for jumping there!) took her tandem bungee jumping off the New River Gorge Bridge.
“I’m talking about Ida Rosen,” I said. “My mother-in-law.”
“No kidding!”
“I don’t have an imagination, Doc. I couldn’t possibly have made this up.”
“Do they have to take a vow of celibacy?”
“Think about it, Doc. My sister, Susannah, is in charge.”
“Oh, yeah. Shoot, I should have asked to go along-maybe as the bus driver.”
“Doc, remember that these are women who’ve dedicated themselves to apathy. Seducing them wouldn’t be nearly as fun as you think.”
“I could handle that; I’ve slept with Englishwomen before.”
“TMI!”
“What’s that mean again?”
“Too much information. Doc, how’s your head?” Doc had been critically brutalized about the time I found out I was pregnant. His assailant was Melvin Stoltzfus, who once was our former chief of police but now is an escaped murderer. It was at Doc’s house that I confronted the menacing mantis (he really does resemble one), and that I also learned that the despicable man was my biological brother. This, of course, makes him the uncle of the world’s sweetest, most attractive baby boy.
“I’m doing just fine, girl. It’s Old Blue you should be worrying about. This morning a chipmunk ran within six inches of her nose and she kept on sleeping.”
“Maybe her dreams were too good for her to want to wake up. I’ve had that happen to me.”
“Let’s hope. I don’t know what I’ll do when the time comes-” His voice cracked.
“I’ll be there, Doc; we’ll get through it.”
“You’re a good friend, Magdalena.”
“Tell that to my enemies, will you?”
“Well, you know what they say.”
“No, what do they say, Doc?”
“That a life lived without accruing any enemies was not a life worth living.”
“Really? I haven’t heard that one before. Speaking of enemies, Doc, I’d like to ask you a question, but it’s kind of sensitive.”
“Don’t listen to those women’s libbers, Magdalena; Viagra is really your friend.”
“Doc! It isn’t about sex! It’s about Melvin. As far as the authorities know-well, they don’t seem to know anything about his whereabouts. Nada. Zip. Not one thing. He could still be in Hernia, hiding out in someone’s barn, or he could be in Timbuktu. Aren’t you afraid living out here on the edge of town all alone?”
“I’m not alone; I’ve got Old Blue, remember?”
“No offense, Doc, but she’s a senior citizen as well.”
“And so was Moses when he led the Exodus. And Abraham when he became the father of a great nation. What’s your point?”
“Nothing, I guess.”
“I’ve always said you were a reasonable woman, Magdalena.”
We continued to walk in companionable silence to the house. Sure enough, the table was set for two, but since I know that he still sets it for his deceased wife, Belinda, I didn’t put too much truck in Old Blue’s ability to predict the arrival of guests. Still, there was enough food to feed two Mennonites-or two buckeyes of any faith-or four cradle Episcopalians from New England.
I lunched on a hot roast beef sandwich with mashed potatoes and homemade gravy. On the side Doc served some green beans he’d canned the previous summer, as well as a carrot and raisin slaw, and pickled beets. For dessert he cut me a slab of the world’s densest butter pound cake, over which he spooned fresh strawberries, which he claimed had been flown into Pittsburgh all the way up from Chile.
When I was stuffed to the gills he told me to belch, which I did, and then he served me a cup of hot chocolate with ladyfingers on the side. “Now, tell me why you’re here,” he said.
“What do you mean? To see how you are, of course. You’re my friend.”
“Yes, but I’m also a dirty old man who hits on you every time you set foot on my property. Plus, I know a story when I hear it.”
“Okay.” I slurped loudly with forced languidness and then settled back in my chair, my left hand resting on Little Jacob’s chest. The dear baby had fallen asleep again; I’d fed him lunch just before I sat down to eat my own meal. “It’s this: the Babester has left me, and I’m having one St. Louis Airport-Concourse A-of a time trying to figure out who killed Minerva J. Jay.”
Doc shook his head. “I see you’ve been there as well.”
“Not me; one of the Zug wives. Anyway, Doc, I’m at the end of my rope, and it’s about to break.”
“First things first. What’s this about that rich young doctor of yours leaving the most desirable woman in all of Hernia? When did that happen?”
“This morning! His mother’s conversion into a devotee of apathy was apparently the last straw. That-and he thinks I’m being controlling when it comes to you-know-who.”
“He’s right on that score,” Doc said sternly. “A man should be in charge of his own genitalia.”
“What?”
He shook his head again. “And really, don’t you think that now you’re a married woman you should move past cute names like you-know-who? Belinda and I-”
“TMI to the max!” I cried, clamping my hands over my ears. “And anyway, I was referring to Little Jacob; that’s who the Babester thinks I have control over.”
“Hmm, he may be right on that score too. Some folks, I hear, can’t even agree on how to change a diaper. Here, let me give you a little test.” Doc reached over and tossed my napkin back into my lap. “Let’s pretend for a moment that that’s a diaper. Show me how you’d fold that.”
I stared at the square of white cotton-poly cloth. “To be honest, Doc, I wouldn’t, because I use disposables.”
“Well, how would you fold them?”
“You don’t fold them, Doc. They come preshaped with little tucks all around the leg holes for a snug fit so that nothing seeps out. And one doesn’t use pins anymore; the diapers self-fasten.”
Doc rubbed the snow-white stubble on his chin. “Dang, I guess I’m further behind the times than I thought. And since I’m obviously not the genius I’d like to think I am at relationships, perhaps we should move on to the subject of Miss Jay. Now, there was a woman who could make a train jump its tracks.”