out of all the ladder rungs while trying not to give the old trunk new wounds. About six or eight inches of wood still surrounded each railroad spike. If asked, he would explain that to take the spikes out would be not only difficult, but would shock the tree. But with the greater portion of each rung missing, it would take a rock climber to get to the tree house, and then they couldn't get in.
Step 4. Check.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jamison drove the pickup to the Recovery Center and asked if he might take his granddad for a ride. A short while later, and with an IV hanging from an old rifle rack, the two struck out for parts unknown. The nurses had tried to dissuade them, but once Jamison had suggested it, Granddad's mind was set.
Only the large grumpy nurse, whose bark was much worse than her bite, had the balls to dress down the Scotsman all the way to the truck. Right before they'd driven away, however, she'd winked at Jamison with a teary eye, then threatened to call the police if he didn't have the old coot back in an hour or so.
His granddad waved the woman closer, digging in his pocket. “I’ve got something for you, Madame.” When he pulled out his hand, his middle finger was raised and he waved it at her.
Jamison sped away before the silly Scot could come up with another insult, and in the rear view mirror he watched the big woman bend over, laughing.
Granddad cleared his throat. “That's no way to treat a woman, me boy.”
“Then why did you do it?”
“Nurse Harmon is no woman. She's my auld drill sergeant, painted wi’ lipstick and dressed in his sister's knickers.”
Granddad’s laughter was loud and rude, as if it, too, had been saved in that shirt pocket for a chance at some air.
A few minutes later, after the man caught his breath, they settled into a comfortable silence and listened to the sound of the old engine.
“I spent many a year of me life in this trook. ‘Twas a grand idea, goin' for a ride.” Granddad rolled down the window. He struggled, and it took him a good minute, but it looked like he didn’t want help. When the old clouded glass was finally down, he leaned out to face the breeze, smiling into the sunlight that felt anything but warm to his driver.
“I'm taking a load of wood over to the school,” Jamison hollered, “for the Homecoming Bonfire.”
The old man pulled his head back in, looked into the truck bed and laughed. “That the wood from the auld pig shed?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, that will make for a fair pungent fire, laddie, if'n the rain and snow from last season didn’t wash the away the stink.”
It didn’t take long to get to the school. Granddad grinned and waited patiently while the ominous wood was unloaded. Next, they rolled around town, talking about townspeople Jamison barely remembered, or pretended to remember. At last, the talk turned to Grandma and what the couple had planned to do when they’d retired.
“What seriously pissed her off was dying just before the retirement checks were to start. If someone could stay alive out of spite, she'd have done it.”
It seemed as if thoughts of Grandma drained his energy faster than anything else and Jamison turned back toward the Recovery Center. The big woman was standing there with her hands on her hips, as if she hadn’t taken a step while they’d been gone. She whistled and two men came outside, one pushing a wheelchair.
“Drive around the car park once, me boy, just to piss in her tea.”
Jamie did what he was told. His grandfather giggled the whole time.
“Thank ye for the adventure, Jamie lad.”
“You're welcome, Granddad.” Jamison grabbed the man’s arm before he could open the door. “I'm sorry we haven't had a chance to do it a hundred times.”
Granddad looked at him for a long minute, then his eyes got wet. “Sometimes, son, one good ride is worth a hundred others.”
All the way to the mall, Jamison fought to swallow the boulder in his throat. This was no day for
Step 4. Check.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jamison drove the pickup to the Recovery Center and asked if he might take his granddad for a ride. A short while later, and with an IV hanging from an old rifle rack, the two struck out for parts unknown. The nurses had tried to dissuade them, but once Jamison had suggested it, Granddad's mind was set.
Only the large grumpy nurse, whose bark was much worse than her bite, had the balls to dress down the Scotsman all the way to the truck. Right before they'd driven away, however, she'd winked at Jamison with a teary eye, then threatened to call the police if he didn't have the old coot back in an hour or so.
His granddad waved the woman closer, digging in his pocket. “I’ve got something for you, Madame.” When he pulled out his hand, his middle finger was raised and he waved it at her.
Jamison sped away before the silly Scot could come up with another insult, and in the rear view mirror he watched the big woman bend over, laughing.
Granddad cleared his throat. “That's no way to treat a woman, me boy.”
“Then why did you do it?”
“Nurse Harmon is no woman. She's my auld drill sergeant, painted wi’ lipstick and dressed in his sister's knickers.”
Granddad’s laughter was loud and rude, as if it, too, had been saved in that shirt pocket for a chance at some air.
A few minutes later, after the man caught his breath, they settled into a comfortable silence and listened to the sound of the old engine.
“I spent many a year of me life in this trook. ‘Twas a grand idea, goin' for a ride.” Granddad rolled down the window. He struggled, and it took him a good minute, but it looked like he didn’t want help. When the old clouded glass was finally down, he leaned out to face the breeze, smiling into the sunlight that felt anything but warm to his driver.
“I'm taking a load of wood over to the school,” Jamison hollered, “for the Homecoming Bonfire.”
The old man pulled his head back in, looked into the truck bed and laughed. “That the wood from the auld pig shed?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, that will make for a fair pungent fire, laddie, if'n the rain and snow from last season didn’t wash the away the stink.”
It didn’t take long to get to the school. Granddad grinned and waited patiently while the ominous wood was unloaded. Next, they rolled around town, talking about townspeople Jamison barely remembered, or pretended to remember. At last, the talk turned to Grandma and what the couple had planned to do when they’d retired.
“What seriously pissed her off was dying just before the retirement checks were to start. If someone could stay alive out of spite, she'd have done it.”
It seemed as if thoughts of Grandma drained his energy faster than anything else and Jamison turned back toward the Recovery Center. The big woman was standing there with her hands on her hips, as if she hadn’t taken a step while they’d been gone. She whistled and two men came outside, one pushing a wheelchair.
“Drive around the car park once, me boy, just to piss in her tea.”
Jamie did what he was told. His grandfather giggled the whole time.
“Thank ye for the adventure, Jamie lad.”
“You're welcome, Granddad.” Jamison grabbed the man’s arm before he could open the door. “I'm sorry we haven't had a chance to do it a hundred times.”
Granddad looked at him for a long minute, then his eyes got wet. “Sometimes, son, one good ride is worth a hundred others.”
All the way to the mall, Jamison fought to swallow the boulder in his throat. This was no day for
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