The Home Team by Y. M. Roger Story of the Month contest entry |
Standing at the front door in the pouring rain and sleet, Richard fumbled with the two boxes, trying to somehow reach the key in his pocket. The top box became unbalanced and, in an effort to keep it from spilling its contents, he fell against the door. Instead of being something solid against which to catch himself, the door opened wide, allowing Richard and both boxes to fall into the foyer.“Well, hell!” Richard cursed in a whispered voice. “I wonder why the door was unl–” Laughter boomed from somewhere in the house, the echoing sounds coming closer until a pair of booted feet appeared right near his face. “That was the worst entrance since Custer at Little Big Horn!” The deep voice commanded the entire area even though there seemed to be no malice in its volume. “Need a hand there, soldier?” “Nah, I got it.” First Lieutenant Richard Driscoll rolled to his hands and knees and finally to his feet, trying to adjust his prosthetic leg without being too obvious. However, the fall had dislodged something such that the fit didn’t feel right. He’d had it for just a few months now, and it had been more trouble than his previous twenty-three years in the Corps. “Just wasn’t expecting the door to be open.” Trying to position himself without making a scene about his leg, he straightened somewhat painfully to face the owner of the boots. Richard noticed he and the guy shared the same medium build, perhaps muscular by the general shape, but it was hard to tell. His beard and mustache were well-groomed and his matching brown eyes almost twinkled with... intrigue? Mischievousness? Richard couldn’t decide at the moment, but he did note the uniform. So, they weren’t kidding when they said they were the Fastest Service in the South… “I expected your team to cancel in this weather.” Richard offered the guy his hand as he made note of the odd, gray cleaning crew uniform. He certainly wouldn’t want to clean a house in what resembled a military uniform – although, with the money he was paying for their services, he supposed they were one of those hoity-toity companies right down to the uniforms. “I’m Richard Driscoll.” The guy narrowed his gaze at Richard, glanced at Richard’s hand, and seemed to visually examine his left leg – the prosthetic one – as a slow, knowing smile slid across his face. “Weather, huh?” He walked past Richard toward the still-open door. But instead of closing it, he just stood on the threshold looking out with his back to Richard. He held his posture straight and his hands clasped tightly behind his back, fingers moving to some silent rhythm. Richard took the time to adjust his leg until it fit correctly again. Just as he finished and smoothed his rain-dampened pants leg, the guy whistled long and loud. “You’re right, soldier!” He wheeled back around to face Richard. “That’s one helluva thunderstorm out there! Gotta hate those winter ones here in the Smokies!” Feeling more at ease with his own stance, Richard was still caught off-guard by the abrupt about face. But when a smile lit the man’s face, Richard couldn’t help but return it. “Name’s Evans. Corwin Evans.” His hands were still behind him. “But the team” – he clearly emphasized the words as he winked at Richard – “calls me Major.” Perhaps Major was just one of those people that didn’t like to be touched. A couple of the men in his unit had been like that, so no skin off his nose. He returned Major’s smile. “And you can just call me Rich.” Major laughed that booming laugh as he passed him, headed for the adjoining room. “Well, that’s one way to let the help know you’re in charge, eh?” Richard tried to interrupt him. “No! It’s just my na–” But Major just continued away from him through the doorway. “I tell you what though, you sure as hell can’t call me poor, soldier!” He paused, the smile taking on a bit of slyness this time. He even bounced his eyebrows for effect. “Come on, I’ll show you the place.” Richard laughed lightly to himself as he closed and locked the door before taking a few rushed steps to catch up. Major was already in the next room giving a sweeping motion with his arm. Richard heaved a sigh of relief when he saw that the furniture he’d ordered had already been unpacked. Thank goodness for his being so OCD and requesting all the mailing labels have the room name on them. “This here’s the receiving room.” Richard frowned at the term. He’d never heard that word used in any of the descriptions of the house. Major must have picked up on his confusion, that confident smile slipping just a bit. “Or, maybe, the parlor then.” Richard glanced at the furniture. It was the sofa, the wing back chairs, and other things he’d designated for the den/living room when he’d addressed the boxes to Sevierville. “The den, Major.” A young man wearing the same uniform breezed in from behind Major carrying some of the glasses Rich’s mom had packed away for him. “This is the den, sir.” Major cleared his throat. “Yes, of course, Brighton.” Major made the sweeping motion with his arm once again. “This is the den.” The young man, Brighton, snorted to himself as he carefully opened the door to the large china cabinet and placed the glasses, one by one, on the shelves, his attention to detail impressive to Rich. He turned to face Rich. It was at that moment that Richard realized they were looking for some sort of response from him. “Oh, uh…” He took a few moments to look around the room. It was completely cleaned and unpacked. The glassware and china, all of it from Richard’s mom as he had never married, adorned the shelves of the ornate cabinet. Even the pinstripe curtains he had purchased hung on the large picture windows. Well, if there was one thing no marriage and total devotion to the Corps had brought him, it was a nice nest egg to buy this old place and fix it up. And it truly was a nice place – roomy with no stairs. It just needed a little cleaning and sprucing up. He let an easy smile draw across his lips as he looked at the expectant faces before him. They must have gotten here waaaaay ahead of him. “This is amazing, guys!” Richard exclaimed. Both Brighton and Major visibly relaxed. Brighton nodded and exited, his determined walk telegraphing that he was a man who walked with purpose. “I hardly believe y’all got all this done since –” “This way to the kitchen,” interrupted Major. He turned toward another doorway and hollered in that deep bass voice of his. “It is still called the kitchen, right, Brighton?” From somewhere out of sight yet not sounding too far away, Brighton’s chipper tone responded. “Yes, Major!” Richard chuckled to himself as he followed Major down a small hallway into the main reason he had bought the house – the large, open kitchen. Okay, it was this and the huge master bathroom with the open shower, both necessary to his new life with an artificial limb. He envisioned placing handles strategically on the walls and perhaps the countertops so that he could maneuver without his prosthesis. Sometimes it was just good to give his body some relief from the pressure of the device. When he walked in, he was taken aback. The area shone with all the splendor of a brand new house, and Richard knew that this house was certainly not new! It was, in fact over a hundred and fifty years old. Yet, everything of his and those things which he had purchased was neatly in place. The previously mold-covered cabinets shone like new and the countertops that had been covered with goodness only knew what were as shiny as the clean floors and windows. Oh, Civil Cleaners was worth every penny, and he hadn’t even signed the contract! A young woman dressed in a long skirt and blouse that resembled the pictures he’d seen in history textbooks turned and gifted him with a radiant smile. Her black hair was pulled up loosely in a bun, and she seemed to exude happiness. “Ahhh, Master Driscoll, sir!” She stepped off the small stool on which she had been perched and walked toward the two of them. “It is so good that you finally made it!” Major seemed to place himself strategically so that Richard could not get a good view of the woman. “Chastity! Man’s tired.” The Major’s voice didn’t have that same commanding air although it remained firm. “Sure he could use a brandy, eh?” Chastity pouted for all of two seconds before the delight returned to her face. “Of course, Major.” She turned with a flourish and proceeded to find a proper glass and the bottle of brandy, talking the whole time she busied herself. “So, the Major tells us you’re out for good this time, Master Dris–” “Just Rich, ma’am.” Richard inserted before allowing her to continue. Chastity stopped pouring and speaking and visibly tensed. She glanced at them both, her focus finally falling to Major, eyes pleading. “Oh…uhm…well…uhm…” “Lieutenant.” Major stated gently. “Continue.” Richard frowned at the use of his military title, but before he could object he saw Chastity relax and she had begun speaking again before he could take a breath. “So, you’re out for good, Lieutenant, and you’ll be living here in Shasta with us.” Not wanting to interrupt, Richard just assumed Shasta was the name of this little valley area. Lots of folks, it seemed, had names for their areas of the countryside that weren’t actually incorporated towns. After all, the street address was still Sevierville. “That is such good news. You know, it’s been so long since someone’s moved here. Seems everyone wants the big, new houses they’re building over the ridge.” She opened the bottle and turned and smiled before continuing. “I was a bit worried when you visited last month because the place really was a mess, but I’m so glad, Lieutenant, that you saw our place for what it is: just a wonderful homestead to start a family. These da–” Richard interrupted her as he took a glass off the countertop and sniffed it. “No family, Ms. Chastity.” Seemed like formality was the thing around here, so when in Rome... “Just me for now. My service dog from the V-A should be arriving Friday.” Chastity seemed to freeze in place as she took in Richard’s words. “Just you? You mean, by yourself?” The look of deep thought and then revelation that played across her face was caricaturish. When she pulled herself to full height, excitement ebbing from every movement, Major interrupted her speech. “Chastity!” Major watched Richard finish his drink. “Let well-enough alone, woman.” Again with her adorable pout, but, like last time, it didn’t hold for long. It was obvious Chastity had something on her mind. “Piffle.” She stood directly in front of Major, head tilted slightly upward to meet his gaze. “Alone is not well enough.” Face stern, she poked him solidly in the chest with her pointed finger and continued to poke with each additional syllable. “Is it, Major?” Major’s serious face remained so for only a few more seconds until it finally softened. He grabbed Chastity’s hand in his much larger one. “No, Chastity Dear.” He raised that pointed finger to his lips and kissed it. “It certainly is not.” Chastity’s face lit with another of her radiant smiles as she withdrew her hand. “Let him see the rest of the house, Major, including the shed that Stephen and a few of the others have been working on. I will finish what is necessary and have the den waiting for you.” She turned to Richard and gently curtsied. "It was good to meet you, Lieutenant,” she spoke as she hurried away, “and, again, welcome to Shasta. We’re so very glad you’re here!” Richard had to marvel at this cleaning team. So, it was a husband and wife? Huh. He wondered whether Brighton and Stephen and the others were sons or if they were just a few additional employees. Whoever they were, however, they were going to get the best and most completely detailed five star rating he could give them on the Takl App. This house was like new! When he had been here last month, it was solid construction-wise, but the walls and everything else had been extremely dirty. There had even been signs of animal droppings throughout the place. This team had cleaned all that up – no exceptions could he find as he followed Major on his walk-through of the house and the property. The most amazing thing to Richard, though, was the fact that they had unpacked all of the furniture – both brand new and his few pieces that had been shipped. The ordeal of unpacking had been a task for which he was prepared, but he had also known it would be quite an undertaking. He had breathed a sigh of relief when they looked through the master bedroom because even the bed was made with all the linens – he wouldn’t be sleeping on the floor for the next few nights. “Major, I can’t tell you what an awesome job your team has done,” Richard said as they re-entered the den, “This whole house is almost like new!” Major chuckled. “Well, the woman runs a tight ship, Rich.” He walked toward the large fireplace with the blazing fire inside, motioning for Richard to follow him. “She keeps our whole team” – that emphasis and wink again – “in line, you know?” Richard realized that the furniture in the den had been rearranged. The two large wing back chairs no longer faced the sofa but, instead, faced the fireplace with a small round table between them. On the small table was a bottle of wine and two of his mom’s wine glasses from her collection. Before he could comment on the arrangement, Major burst out laughing again, that hearty sound rolling around the room as he indicated the furniture change that Richard had just noticed. “Well, it looks as though the woman in question has been busy while we looked around.” Richard frowned. Wine with the hired help seemed a bit out of bounds for him. He looked at the wine bottle and up at Major. “She doesn’t mean for you and I t–” Major laughed again, perhaps not so loudly this time, before his entire expression became serious. “I cannot remember the last time I tasted wine, Rich.” Major got a faraway look in his eye as he momentarily lost focus, his thoughts traveling elsewhere. Almost as quickly as he had zoned out, however, he shook his head to bring himself back to the present. “Besides, I wouldn’t dare touch this layout – Chastity would see me to the woodshed!” “But then who –” There was a knock on the front door. “That would most likely be for you, Rich.” Major rocked on his feet – hands in uniform pockets – as he grinned like the Cheshire Cat. Richard frowned, again confused. “But nobody kno–” Major put up his hand to interrupt. “Let me give you some poor man’s advice, Rich,” Major was still smiling and obviously enjoying himself. “Chastity’s never wrong. We’ve been together now over two centuries and she’s never missed a match yet.” Richard felt his mouth fall open, and he forced it closed. Surely Major had meant decades or something else… Another knock on the door. This time, a little more insistent accompanied by a female voice. “Mr. Driscoll? Mr. Driscoll, are you in there?” Suddenly, Chastity appeared beside Major, his one arm cradling her tightly to his side. Brighton, Stephen, and about five or six others he had not yet met – all wearing the same gray almost military-like uniform – appeared on either side of them. Richard was speechless. “Think you’d better answer that, Rich man.” Major indicated the front door with a forward nod of his head. Richard could only manage a nod in return as Major laughed again. Rich turned to open the door, seriously questioning his own sanity at this point. There stood a beautiful woman, shivering slightly, in her ‘Civil Cleaners’ sweatshirt. Her focus was initially looking up, just above the door, but her face lit with relief when she saw him standing there. She pointed at the top of the doorframe. “That’s so cool! I just love the way so many of these old places have their own name.” Richard looked at her in surprise but had to step outside to see of what she spoke. There, above the door, on an aged piece of driftwood, was carved and painted the word SHASTA. Richard chortled to himself and shook his head. “Yeah.” He glanced back inside just in time to see everyone but Major walk away in different directions, some disappearing right through the den and the foyer walls. “Yeah, it is pretty cool.” Major saluted Richard and spoke as Richard ushered the woman in out of the cold. “We’ll be here should you or the little lady need anything, ya hear, Rich man?” “Thank you.” Richard smiled as he watched Major turn and walk through the side of the fireplace. “For what?” she asked as Richard shut the door. “Oh, nothing. I’m sorry.” He offered her his hand as he watched her mesmerizing eyes take in the living space. “I’m Richard Driscoll, the owner of” – he paused, thinking over the last few hours – “the owner of Shasta.” Her face became engulfed in the most beautiful smile Richard had ever seen. She took his hand and gave a firm handshake. Her hands were freezing cold. “I’m Natalie Coleman, Mr. Driscoll, owner of Civil Cleaners.” She looked at the walls and toward the warm fireplace in the den. “I’m here to give you an estimate for cleeeeaning buuuut…” She trailed off, and Richard had the good sense to look a little sheepish. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously as she assessed him with a narrowing gaze. “Yeah, about that.” He turned and walked toward the two chairs. “Could I interest you in some warmth, Ms. Coleman, while we discuss a more permanent contract?” Still shivering, Natalie looked around one more time and seemed to come to some sort of settlement with herself. She nodded to no one in particular, it seemed. “Sure.” She smiled warmly and squared her shoulders. “But it has to be for one year minimum to make up for the money we were promised to clean this place.” Richard just smiled. “Sounds like a great start of negotiations.”
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Y. M. Roger
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