Charlie chuckled. “Never saw a woman cotton to kids the way she does.”
Nick knew damned good and well where the grocer was heading, so he steered him in anotherdirection. “Dovie tells me you’re quite the fisherman.”
Charlie drew a deep, quivering breath. “That was before I started fading away.”
“Ah, the arthritis.”
“I’m not one to complain, mind you, but I’m so crippled up that I just ain’t the angler I was.”
“Maybe you ought to see a doctor.”
“Shut down my store, drive a hundred miles round trip, and give a doctor fifty hard-earned dollars so he can tell me to take aspirin?” Air hissed agonizingly through the old man’s false teeth as he began bagging Dovie’s groceries. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m already taking so many of ’em now, I rattle when I walk.”
Nick could read pain in Charlie’s words but realized he was too proud to seek free advice. So he followed his nose to the fruit stand, picked up a paper sack, and started filling it with plump, pungent oranges. “If I had arthritis, I’d cut back on my salt intake.”
“You don’t say?” The greengrocer hobbled over, shook open another sack, and dropped some large lemons into it. “Now, why would you want to do a thing like that?”
“Because salt increases the body’s retention of fluids, which can accumulate in the joints and aggravate the arthritis.”
Several shiny green limes joined the lemons in the second sack. “That makes sense.”
It did Dovie’s heart a world of good to watch thetwo men, one all grizzled and the other all gristle. To her knowledge, it was the first time Charlie had ever discussed his condition with a doctor, even though he’d been in misery for years.
“That’s not a cure, of course.” Nick placed a wide brown hand on Charlie’s stooped shoulder, and Dovie understood the gift of dignity he was giving. “You really need to see a doctor, maybe have him prescribe a muscle relaxant and some mild form of exercise for you.”
“I’ll do that, first chance I get.” Charlie laid a gnarled hand on Nick’s hard forearm, pulling the comforting palm more firmly against his shoulder for a moment. “In the meantime, what have I got to lose except a lot of pain?”
They turned then, each of them carrying a bulging grocery bag, and started back to the counter.
“Aunt Granny?” Rachel tugged impatiently at the hem of Dovie’s sweater. “I asked you if this was a good carrot.”
“Oh!” she exclaimed, bending over to examine it from leafy green top to nicely pointed tip. “It’s a wonderful carrot.”
“How about this one?” Rebecca demanded.
“Perfect,” Dovie pronounced. “How many does that make?”
“Eight!” the girls chorused excitedly.
“That’s all we need.”
Rachel and Rebecca raced each other to thecounter, singing “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” at the top of their lungs.
Dovie dug into her change purse as she trailed after her nieces, but Charlie wouldn’t hear of her paying for the carrots. When he also refused to take any money for the rest of her things, she closed the clasp on her purse and promised, “I’ll bring you a bowl of ambrosia, then.”
“Fair enough,” he agreed.
“And salt-free,” Nick added.
That drew another chuckle and another handshake. “Thanks, Doc.”
“Merry Christmas, Charlie!” Dovie herded her nieces out the door, then held it open for Nick, whose arms were full of grocery sacks.
“Will you tell me what I’m supposed to do with all these oranges?” he asked as he loaded everything except the carrots into her station wagon.
Rachel licked her lips. “I
like
oranges.”
Rebecca rubbed her tummy. “Me too.”
“Well, now …” Nick laughed, jubilant and handsome, capturing Dovie’s heart as he managed to reach into a sack and produce two plump oranges.
“Let’s eat them in the park,” Rachel said.
“Oh,
please
,” Rebecca added, her shiny, shoe-button eyes wide with excitement.
Dovie
Nick knew damned good and well where the grocer was heading, so he steered him in anotherdirection. “Dovie tells me you’re quite the fisherman.”
Charlie drew a deep, quivering breath. “That was before I started fading away.”
“Ah, the arthritis.”
“I’m not one to complain, mind you, but I’m so crippled up that I just ain’t the angler I was.”
“Maybe you ought to see a doctor.”
“Shut down my store, drive a hundred miles round trip, and give a doctor fifty hard-earned dollars so he can tell me to take aspirin?” Air hissed agonizingly through the old man’s false teeth as he began bagging Dovie’s groceries. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m already taking so many of ’em now, I rattle when I walk.”
Nick could read pain in Charlie’s words but realized he was too proud to seek free advice. So he followed his nose to the fruit stand, picked up a paper sack, and started filling it with plump, pungent oranges. “If I had arthritis, I’d cut back on my salt intake.”
“You don’t say?” The greengrocer hobbled over, shook open another sack, and dropped some large lemons into it. “Now, why would you want to do a thing like that?”
“Because salt increases the body’s retention of fluids, which can accumulate in the joints and aggravate the arthritis.”
Several shiny green limes joined the lemons in the second sack. “That makes sense.”
It did Dovie’s heart a world of good to watch thetwo men, one all grizzled and the other all gristle. To her knowledge, it was the first time Charlie had ever discussed his condition with a doctor, even though he’d been in misery for years.
“That’s not a cure, of course.” Nick placed a wide brown hand on Charlie’s stooped shoulder, and Dovie understood the gift of dignity he was giving. “You really need to see a doctor, maybe have him prescribe a muscle relaxant and some mild form of exercise for you.”
“I’ll do that, first chance I get.” Charlie laid a gnarled hand on Nick’s hard forearm, pulling the comforting palm more firmly against his shoulder for a moment. “In the meantime, what have I got to lose except a lot of pain?”
They turned then, each of them carrying a bulging grocery bag, and started back to the counter.
“Aunt Granny?” Rachel tugged impatiently at the hem of Dovie’s sweater. “I asked you if this was a good carrot.”
“Oh!” she exclaimed, bending over to examine it from leafy green top to nicely pointed tip. “It’s a wonderful carrot.”
“How about this one?” Rebecca demanded.
“Perfect,” Dovie pronounced. “How many does that make?”
“Eight!” the girls chorused excitedly.
“That’s all we need.”
Rachel and Rebecca raced each other to thecounter, singing “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” at the top of their lungs.
Dovie dug into her change purse as she trailed after her nieces, but Charlie wouldn’t hear of her paying for the carrots. When he also refused to take any money for the rest of her things, she closed the clasp on her purse and promised, “I’ll bring you a bowl of ambrosia, then.”
“Fair enough,” he agreed.
“And salt-free,” Nick added.
That drew another chuckle and another handshake. “Thanks, Doc.”
“Merry Christmas, Charlie!” Dovie herded her nieces out the door, then held it open for Nick, whose arms were full of grocery sacks.
“Will you tell me what I’m supposed to do with all these oranges?” he asked as he loaded everything except the carrots into her station wagon.
Rachel licked her lips. “I
like
oranges.”
Rebecca rubbed her tummy. “Me too.”
“Well, now …” Nick laughed, jubilant and handsome, capturing Dovie’s heart as he managed to reach into a sack and produce two plump oranges.
“Let’s eat them in the park,” Rachel said.
“Oh,
please
,” Rebecca added, her shiny, shoe-button eyes wide with excitement.
Dovie
Similar Books
