Nobody

Crooked Mary-Beth

The knock on the door woke me up, bleery eyed, from where I'd gone to sleep on the couch after Doc Rutheford removed the IV and fed me a couple pills. From the sun, I'd say I'd slept till around noon.

I tried to get up but my muscles were screaming, cramped up, and I fell back on the couch. A shirt fell off the back and next to me.

"It's open!" I called out, pulling on the shirt.

The door opened and a huge battleship in a black dress printed with colorful flowers swung her hips to get inside. She had on a black box hat with flowers around the brim, and wore high heels and black legging.

"Lord God Almighty, Mister English, what in the name of the Holy Ghost did you do up here?" Miss Mary-Beth Brubaker asked, stopping just inside the door and staring around her at the new carpet, fresh paint on the walls, and new counters.

"You said it needed fixed up," I said lamely, grabbing at the blanket the nurse had spread over me and used it to cover my crotch. I was only dressed in my boxers, the nurse having stripped my denim pants off of me.

"Is there anything left of the original?" She asked, shutting the door carefully behind her.

The heat pump kicked on, cool air blowing out of the vents. Doc Rutheford and the nurse had shifted the couch so it was next to one.

"The siding and the frame," I told her honestly.

"The boys been talking about town how you've been up here working, and I've seen the checks you've been writing come in," She said, shaking her head. She sat down on the loveseat across from me. "Charles Lee Slater, he came in talking about how you replaced the pump, had the septic cleaned, and redid the plumbing. Swore by Baby Jesus you did."

"Wanted it to look good," I told her. I didn't feel like telling her I'd tried to run away from Pru's ghost by throwing myself into work with the hope that it killed me.

"That it does, Mister English," She said. She fanned herself with her hat, even though it wasn't hot in the house. "Puts me in a bind, by Jesus."

I frowned. "How so, Miss Brubaker."

"Call me Mary-Beth, hon, everyone does," She said. She looked at me. "People are going to go around town behind my back, saying I took advantage of you."

I gave her a grin and she made a shooing motion at me. "Mister English, that's entirely inappropriate!" she blushed. She stood up. "May I use the bathroom?"

"Take a tour of the house, Mary-Beth," I smiled, waving. "Back bedroom's mine, might not want to go back there, someone might drive up, see you back there, get the wrong idea."

She shooed her hat at me, turning redder, and headed into the kitchen. "By Jesus, you seem like such a nice boy at the bank."

I leaned back on the couch, making sure I was covered, and looked around. Apparently I'd bought pictures and everything to decorate. Ol' Pete had been right, the place looked like a showroom.

She opened the doors on the appliances, checked the freezer, went down the hallway opening doors and looking inside the closets, going inside the rooms. I could hear her opening the closets and dresser drawers. Finally she came back and sat down after examining the digital control for the heat pump.

"I walked about. The good Lord knows I don't think it's looked this good since the 1960's," she said. Her face was a more normal color now. She put her hands in her lap for a moment, looking down. "You put me in an awful spot, Mister English."

"How so, Mary-Beth?" I asked her, wondering again where she was going.

"Place was only worth the land only a month ago, by God," she said. I noticed that her praising the Lord seemed more like a verbal tic than actual piety. "Now, well, people are gonna say you did all this work and by God ol' crooked Mary-Beth is charging you rent like one of the Devil's minions."