“Yes! Absolutely.” I was pleased with his answer and wondered how many of those already troubled boys would have the same desire for self-determination. “I think there’s still some rocky road ice cream if you want it.”
—
Still feeling the effects of all the walking I’d done that day, I closed up the house and went upstairs. To forestall stiff muscles, I took a long, soaking shower—I’d given up long, soaking baths because once in the tub, I couldn’t get back out. I think I’ve already mentioned some of the hazards of aging, and that’s another one.
And to forestall another such hazard—old-age body odor—I put at strategic places dabs of Chanel No. 5 perfume—or parfum, if you will—from the sizable bottle that was one of Sam’s gifts to me every Christmas. The bottle was getting low, but Christmas was getting near.
Lying in bed and missing Sam, I suddenly thought again of Thurlow’s dog. Where had Ronnie been? It didn’t surprise me that Helen would not have wanted him in the house, but he’d been Thurlow’s constant companion for so long that I couldn’t help but wonder what she’d done with him. Surely she hadn’t had him put down—a euphemism that covered a cold-blooded desire to be rid of an unwanted animal.
Having never become attached to either a dog or a cat, I could understand Helen’s aversion to having Ronnie underfoot all day every day. He was a lot to have to step around, as Lillian well knew. Still, it seemed to me that Thurlow’s emotional condition could improve only by having his longtime companion with him. I mean, Thurlow was having to come to terms with so much that he was unaccustomed to—like a clean house and healthy meals, to say nothing of enforced physical exercises—that to do without his closest friend seemed an unwonted burden.
I didn’t get to sleep until I’d decided to learn Ronnie’s whereabouts, for I had convinced myself that if Ronnie was gone, Thurlow would not be long behind.
Chapter 10
“Lillian,” I said the next morning after seeing Lloyd off to school, “I’d like to take a walk this morning. Why don’t you come with me?”
Her eyebrows went up as she turned to look at me. Then she frowned. “Where to?”
“Oh, around the block or so. I walked so much yesterday that I’m feeling a little stiff today, but a nice, leisurely walk this morning should loosen up the muscles.” And, because I wasn’t above playing on her pity, I added, “But until they loosen up, I don’t want to take a chance on stumbling. And maybe falling.”
“Well, we don’t want that. One stove-up like Mr. Thurlow is more’n enough. Do we need a coat?”
“Maybe a sweater. It’s supposed to be in the seventies later today.”
It wasn’t there yet, for there was a definite nip in the air as we set out down the sidewalk. I knew exactly where I was going, but I wanted Lillian to think I had no particular plan in mind. Lillian was not what you would call a natural animal lover. In fact, she avoided all animals—especially dogs—when she could. I thought it likely that she’d been frightened by one when she was a child. We walked the three blocks to Thurlow’s house, but instead of turning toward the gate, I continued along the side of the lot.
“You wouldn’t believe the changes that Helen has made,” I told Lillian as we sauntered along. “The interior is just beautiful—as much as I saw. And the exterior has been completely updated with repairs and paint and yard care.”
“Well, Law,” Lillian said, “it sure could use some help. I never seen such a mess as Mr. Thurlow lived in. But that’s a bachelor for you. He need a good cleanin’ lady, an’ look like he got one in Miss Helen.”
“She is that, and more,” I said, although I knew that Helen would not appreciate the terminology. “Remember when you and I visited Thurlow to entice him into supporting the poker run? And remember how Ronnie smelled to high heaven? Although, to tell the truth, I sometimes wondered if it wasn’t Thurlow himself that smelled.”
We laughed at the memory, and Lillian said, “Remember that night you and me was crawlin’ ’round tryin’ to see what was goin’ on, an’ that Ronnie, he come sneakin’ up on us an’ wouldn’t leave us alone.”
“Yes, and he followed us all the way home, and we had to let him in.” I refrained from telling her that Ronnie had found his way into my bed that night and that, in my sleep-dazed mind, I had thought he was Sam. There are some things that one should keep to oneself.
As we came to the end of Thurlow’s block, I said, “Let’s turn here and gradually head back. I want to see if Helen has done anything to the back of the house—if we can see through the hedge.”
We could, because the hedge wasn’t quite as thick as it was along the front and the sides—too much shade. We strolled along behind the three-car garage that for as long as I had been in town had never held more than Thurlow’s one old car, and that, not very often.
“Aw-w, look at that,” Lillian said. She was holding two bars of the iron fence and staring through them and the thin hedge.
“What is it?”
“It’s that ole Ronnie, an’ we jus’ been talkin’ ’bout him.”
I poked my face between two bars and saw an enclosure behind the garage, fenced in by a tall mesh fence. There was a sizable doghouse up against the garage, several empty bowls on the straw-covered ground, and Ronnie curled up in a ball over in a corner. Hearing us, his eyes flicked up toward us, but he didn’t move.
“Oh, my, he’s been exiled,” I said. “I knew it. I just had
