General Fiction posted June 4, 2024 Chapters:  ...31 32 -33- 34... 


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Heddy checks on Artie.
A chapter in the book Saltwater Ghosts

Checking On Artie

by GWHARGIS



Background
Eleven-year-old Heddy can communicate with her deceased grandmother, Nonni.
So far, Heddy has discovered a German man hiding out in Dr. Monroe's abandoned house just down the beach. A new boy, Lester, has come to stay with the Collettes. They become friends and share a kiss. Heddy's brother, Willis, has come home from the war and has changed. Now, Lester has found out that his father, who was on a ship in the Pacific, has been killed and his aunt purposely kept the news from him. Now, Heddy and the rest of the island are cleaning up from the hurricane.

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The pile of branches that Lester and I collect ends up being taller than either of us. Daddy instructs us to push them up against the dunes. Once the sand builds up against it, it will protect the dunes. The water is still running high on the beach and despite it not being as choppy as the days before the storm, I know better than to get into it. The under tow is probably really strong.

Momma finds a couple jars of Brunswick stew and she manages to salvage a few vegetables from the chaos that was the garden. It's mid-afternoon when she calls all of us to the back porch. "Come on, lunch is ready."

I race Lester back to the house and easily win, but I'm guessing his heart isn't into it. He eats quietly and speaks only when someone asks him something. After we eat, Willis and Daddy walk him home. I don't ask to join them. I hate to say it, but Lester is just too sad for me. He seems to like being around Willis and my daddy more than me sometimes.

Momma doesn't give me any more jobs after they leave, just says she needs to rest her eyes for a few minutes.

"You can play on the beach, just stay out of the water, okay?" She gently cups my chin and kisses the top of my head. "I'm glad Lester felt safe enough to come here after finding out about his poor daddy. He must really like you a lot."

"He's my friend. Of course, he likes me. He likes all of us."

"I think you may be right." She smiles and pulls the ribbon out of her hair, letting it fall down free on her shoulders.

I see thin strands of silver that seem to play peek-a-boo with the sunlight that streams through the kitchen window. She looks like a princess. "Daddy's gonna like you even more with your hair down like that."

Momma blushes and presses her lips together as she tries not to smile too brightly.

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The beach is cluttered with items that the ocean has stolen and tossed up on the sand to display. I pull upright a set of steps that once went to a house and check for nails that might be sticking up, then climb them and jump off. There are lots of dead fish along the high tide line. A broken chair is half buried in the sand. There are ropes that are tangled in the dark seaweed and a leather shoe is sitting right on top of the shell beds. I walk up from the tide line and watch every step. My daddy said he stepped on a broken bottle once after walking the beach the day after a hurricane. He showed me the scar and told me about how his granny stitched his foot up with her sewing needle.

I come to the dune that leads up to Dr. Monroe's house and look around. I see a piece of driftwood come sailing over my head. "Mr. Artie, don't throw anything else. It's me, Heddy."

Artie comes to the edge and grimaces. "You almost got it, young lady." He reaches his big hand out and pulls me to the top of the sand with ease. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you helping your family clean up?"

"Oh, Lester and I already did that. We got a pile of branches that is as tall as you."

He raises his eyebrows, duly impressed. "I have lots to clean here. A window on the other side was broken. I will have to put wood across it, I suppose."

"Were you scared?" I ask.

"Just a little. Were you?"

I shake my head. "No. I like storms."

"But this was more than a little storm. You were not scared even once?" He bends down to grab a big branch that fell from a pine tree and drags it to the dune line. "You truly are Heddy the brave."

I wander over and grab some bigger sticks. "You want these for your fireplace?"

He shakes his head. "Too wet and pine wood makes a smoky fire."

"Lester found out his daddy died."

He pauses and looks over. "Oh, I am sorry to hear this. Poor boy."

"His aunt hid the letter from him. He just found out even though it happened a few weeks ago."

"Wretched woman," Artie snarls.

"I kind of wish she was dead," I say. I wait for Artie to tell me I should pray for my soul but he shrugs.

"People who are ugly and evil are always replaced with people who turn out uglier and more evil. Does no good to wish them dead. All you can do is hope you are strong enough and good enough to combat their darkness."

I nod, even though I don't really understand exactly what he is saying. "I'm not gonna pray for her."

He nods and heaves another limb over the edge. "I wouldn't either."

"I will pray for Lester and maybe for her husband. He isn't so bad."

Artie grins, "Maybe put in an extra prayer for her poor husband."

I spend the rest of the next hour helping him pick up sticks and then he says he needs to go inside to read.

I jump down to the beach and start walking back. Artie survived the storm, Lester and my family survived it. I'm sure in the coming days I'll hear about those who need our help.

I sit down on the sand just a few feet from where our house is. Nonni comes up from the waters edge and sits next to me. "That was quite a storm, wasn't it?"

I draw my knees up to my chest and drape my arms around them. "Sure was."

"You know, your friend was right, you can say a prayer for Lester and Mister Collette. But you can also ask God to help that woman see there is nothing to be gained by being so mean."

"I really don't want to pray for her. Prayers are for good people."

"Well, I guess its up to you, who you pray for," she says.

"Do you think less of me?" I ask. "You know, for not wanting to pray for her?"

"No. You're honest, Heddy. Honest as the day is long. Can't fault someone for telling the truth."

Even though I hear Nonni say that, I still feel a pang of guilt for how I feel.



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