Free Dorothy Garlock by More Than Memory Page B

felt a small tingle of fear course down her spine.
    By the end of the day, the Ford was crowded into the building that had never before housed a car; her grandpa’s pickup had been too long to fit.
    When Ervin Olsen pulled into the lane for one of his brief visits the following morning, he found
Nelda tinkering with an old power mower she had pulled out of the garage. She asked him how to start the machine. He took one look and shook his head.
    “That machine is old as the hills and has been sittin’ there longer’n that. It ain’t never goin’ to start.”
    “Oh, shoot. The yard needs mowing. Grandpa never let it get this high.”
    “Tell ya what. Cliff Peterson, down at the farm store, has mowers. Hop in and we’ll go take a look.”
    Before noon, Nelda, wearing an old pair of pedal pushers and a scarf around her head, was happily walking behind a new power mower with Ervin looking on and grinning broadly.
    “Don’t that beat all—old Eli’s city granddaughter out mowing like an old hand. ’Course I’ll have to take some of the credit.” He chuckled. After loading her old mower to take back to Cliff to use for parts, he climbed into his pickup and announced that he was off to spread the news.
    Gary stopped by several times to check on Kelly. The Irish setter was still stiff and sore and moved cautiously from the house to his favorite spot under a lilac bush. Nelda fretted and tried to cater to his every whim, constantly reminding herself of Gary’s brisk announcement that in a few weeks Kelly would be “right as a London rain.”
    “I think you’ve decided that city life isn’t so bad after all, haven’t you?” Nelda patiently held the screen door open so the dog could painfully climb the three steps necessary to reach the porch. “Just as soon as you’re able, we’ll go for a long walk, and you’ll begin to like it here again.”
    The veterinarian’s visits had cheered up several mornings. He dropped by to check Kelly when he was in the area. The Englishman had a genuine interest in her work. Nelda enjoyed explaining to him about the specimens she was pressing and the groups of wildflowers she had hanging upside down on the porch.
    “Did Rhetta see this? She’ll ring you in to teach an arts and crafts class for one of her clubs.”
    “Oh, no. That’s out of my line. I’m not a teacher.”
    When the phone rang the next morning, Nelda expected it to be the vet’s wife.
    “Nelda, this is Linda.”
    “Linda. How are you?”
    “Fine. I have the car today. If you’re not busy, I thought I would come out this afternoon while Eric’s in school.”
    “I’m not that busy. Come for lunch.”
    “You don’t have to feed me.”
    “I want to. It’ll not be anything fancy.”
    “Then I’ll be there about twelve-thirty.”
    She was glad Linda was coming out. She opened a can of chicken and made salad for sandwiches, then a can of peaches to eat with cottage cheese. After making a pitcher of tea, she put a cloth on the round kitchen table and set it with her grandma’s colorful Fiesta pottery.
    Lute came by shortly before Linda was due to arrive. Nelda heard the rumble of a pickup approaching the house. Ervin Olsen had already made one of his “driveway visits,” as Nelda had dubbed them, early that morning. She went to the porch and
saw the pickup parked at the gate leading to the corncrib. Her heart hammered in anticipation when Lute swung down from the pickup and strode toward her.
    “Hi there,” she sang out cheerfully.
    “How’s the patient?” Lute asked, his blue eyes looking not at her but at the level of her knees.
    “Fine. He’s out to lunch right now. I’m sure he’d like for you to join him. This way,” she concluded, trying to keep the conversation light as she led the way through the porch to the kitchen.
    Lute looked at her with a curious mix of amusement and exasperation before he knelt beside the dog.
    “Hey there, fella.” Kelly’s ears pricked up, and he