Note: We've had so much fun with serialized stories that I'm trying my hand at one again! Here's the next installment of a new adventure for Cara Mia Delgatto and her friends. To read Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, and 16 scroll to the bottom of the blog where it says OLDER POSTS.
Before he took off, Salazar made one last attempt to save his bacon. "Mr. Boehner, I was only trying to--"
"To squash the human spirit? To make sure that a woman who took initiative was punished for her ingenuity? For her concern for our customers? Or maybe you were trying to set up your nephew in Ms. Morgan's job? Whatever you were trying to do, I'm not interested in you doing it on my dime. Now please leave, Jose. I don't want to have to tell you again." With that, Jay Boehner put a hand on Freddie's shoulder and asked, "Are you ready to get back to fixing that palm tree? We have a lot more to do before the sun goes down."
At five, a food truck showed up. It was white with lettering that announced, "TACOS," and a zesty, colorful image on one side that beckoned our hungry crew. Later I would learn that Boehner had mysteriously located the owner and asked him to come and serve all the volunteers dinner. Mr. Boehner picked up the tag, but we didn't know that until we got ready to pay. The fragrant mixture of cumin, peppers, and onions made my mouth water. The tacos and burritos proved themselves as good as their smell had promised. Greta and Freddie made a drinks run and came back with cold cans of soda, lemonade, and bottles of water.
When the sun finally started sinking around seven-thirty, there wasn't much left to finish. Where once mud stretched on and on, the residents now looked out at a gazebo. In the far right hand corner sat tiny marked rows of a vegetable garden. Fig trees formed a backdrop, as did a few lime, lemon, and orange trees. To the left trickled a water feature that emptied into a shallow basin. If you traced a triangle around the gazebo, you could pinpoint the locations of three huge bird cages. Flight cages, I think they're called. Kookie's cage was snuggled up against the window of Helen's room. Once or twice during the long work day, I saw a pale face rise and stare out at us, as Helen took notice of our efforts. Kookie had been surprisingly quiet throughout the hustle and bustle. Skye went to his cage several times, offering him grapes and tidbits. He took them and promptly dropped them to the floor of his home.
I had to hand it to Cooper, because he'd worked with his landscaping buddies to insure that the majority of the plants were heat, fungus, white fly,and mold resistant. Although a sprinkler system had been installed, most of the plants would be fine without help once they'd put down roots. Cooper had also worked with his people to keep the walkways accessible for those whose mobility was impaired. He'd thoughtfully installed lights along the edges so the space could be enjoyed in the evening.
Our customers had played their part, too. Because Sid had checked with Cooper early on, we'd asked that they bring plants that would flourish such as penta, periwinkles, hibiscus, Mexican heather, and bougainvillea. While I'd given out a healthy number of discount vouchers, I figured that I'd break even because a lot of people were introduced to my store because of our good works.
James "Jay" Boehner walked up to people, shook their hands, and personally thanked them for their help. He was deep in conversation with Cooper when my employees and I decided we'd had enough for one day. I went to find Greta to tell her we were leaving. She was ready to go home, too. The assistant administrator promised to make sure the grounds were vacated, and all the volunteers were thanked and sent home. Since he'd come in at three, he was still energetic. Greta looked as exhausted as I felt.
Freddie had proved himself to be a charming young man. He was lavish with his affection for his mother. By the time we were ready to call it a day, he'd worked his backside off--as had we all. "I'm going to drive him back to his residence," said Greta, giving me a hug. "I can't thank you and your friends enough for all you've done. I'd like to have a public open house next month so I can properly honor you and all the volunteers. Will you promise to attend?"
"Of course. But we want you and Freddie to stand over here, please." After I arranged them next to us and grabbed a passer-by, we all posed for a photo. Once the mother and son left, MJ, Skye, Poppy, Sid, Honora, EveLynn, and I posed for a selfie that I planned to add to our website. I was sending the picture to my email account when Greta came trotting back. "I forgot to tell you that Helen seems better. It can't possibly last, but I think her spirits were much cheered by the activity."
While I was grateful to hear the good news, I was so tired I could barely stand up. So I gave Greta another filthy hug. My friends and I fairly wobbled to our cars.
~ To Be Continued ~
Well, dear hearts. We're almost done. But wait...I know you want to hear what happens next. And I want to know too, so there's ONE more installment. I'm saving it for Mother's Day! Hugs and kisses-- j
Showing posts with label good works. Show all posts
Showing posts with label good works. Show all posts
Saturday, May 9, 2015
Tuesday, May 5, 2015
Cara Mia Delgatto and the Bye-Bye Birdie, Part 13
Note: We've had so much fun with serialized stories that I'm trying my hand at one again! Here's the next installment of a new adventure for Cara Mia Delgatto and her friends. To read Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 1, and 12 scroll to the bottom of the blog where it says OLDER POSTS.
It took us a week to get everything organized. Knowing that the pieces wouldn't come together quickly, Poppy volunteered to handle getting Kookie's cage in place so that he and Helen wouldn't be separated. I brought him lunch the first day. His ability to think through the steps amazed me. He'd paced off where the walkways would go, and he'd measured how much room to leave on all sizes of the cage. Before pouring a concrete pad, he'd figured out how to attach the legs so that the cage could be replaced, if and when it disintegrated, as does a lot of metal so near the ocean.
On the second day, I stopped by bright and early to find him constructing a Tiki Hut sort of roof that would fit over the cage.
"Gotta give the bird a way to get out of the hot sun. Mother Nature's materials are best. The roofs are made from Florida palms. See? The heat goes right through them, but they keep it cool because the air circulates underneath." My grandfather lectured me as he stapled the thatching on to the frame. "This here'll last for years and years."
Meanwhile, my old boyfriend Cooper Rivers had been working magic. He went to all his current clients and asked that each of them contribute a small portion of supplies toward the landscaping job. While he did that, MJ and Skye set up a sale. Sid wrote the ads, made posters and fliers, and called the news outlets. Each customer who brought in a plant or shrub could draw a discount from a fishbowl. While I wondered how effective the sale would be, I figured it couldn't hurt and it might work.
Meanwhile, I talked to our friend Detective Lou Murray. Lou spoke to his pals on the police force. There were scads of people scheduled to do community service, so Lou suggested that they all show up on Saturday, once week hence, to pitch in.
Not surprisingly, MJ had a landscaper she's been dating. With a bit of arm twisting, she managed to get him on board. He sent a crew out to prep the grounds. "If I can take off a week to go on a cruise with him, he'll oversee the whole job at no cost to us."
I was happy enough to agree, but Skye stopped me. "Don't you think we should do something for all these area businesses that are chipping in?"
"What did you have in mind?" I chewed my lip. If she was proposing that we pay them, I didn't know where I'd find the money.
"I figured I could paint signs on driftwood. I can put names on them. They can go on a fingerpost, you know. That's one of those--"
"Those signposts with all the small pieces pointing in a variety of directions," Honora finished for her. "That sounds positively splendid!"
I concurred. Seeing all this happy industry made me proud. But it also made me worried. I'd stayed in close contact with Greta Morgan, the administrator at Martin Gardens. From her daily reports, I'd learned that Helen Berger was failing rapidly. "Her will to live is strong, but her body systems are struggling. The cancer has spread. We're giving her morphine. As you might imagine, she's sleeping more and more. It's common for people who are actively dying to turn away from their loved ones and pets. There's a different focus. Rather than looking to the outside world, they turn inward. It's a very natural process. She isn't eating. That's her body's way of shutting down."
Would our project be done in time for Helen to enjoy it? To see it? To know that her love was the spark that light our fires?
I wondered.
~ To Be Continued ~
Author's Note: Obviously this short story has gotten out of hand! That happens sometimes. A story will be as long as it needs to be, and that's my "story" and I'm sticking to it! So show me some love, peeps! If you haven't "liked" my Facebook page, please do. If you haven't told a friend about this serialized (not so short) story, please do. If you haven't written a review of one of my books, please do. All those activities mean so much to me--and they keep me writing. But what means the MOST is knowing that what I do matters. So email me or "talk" to me on Facebook. Sometimes this is a lonely business. I rely on you to keep me going. Much love--j
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