*****
Colonel Lester was reclining in the bathtub wearing his boxer shorts which had the words World's Sexiest Grandpa printed on the backside. His wife Barbara gave them to him as a Christmas present many years earlier.
His face was still bright red from embarrassment because Phyllis Remlap had helped him into the bath after Josey left. He stared miserably at his wrinkled prune-like looking toes and couldn’t think of anything but his grandson. He’s not dead. He’s a tough kid. Josey will find him. Oh, Dear God, please let Billy be okay.
Phyllis tapped on the door and came inside, as she had every few minutes, to make sure he was okay and on her third visit he finally said, “Damn it, Phyllis, either stay in or out. I'm feeling much better, but your coming in and out is getting a little annoying.”
It was true. His complexion had lost the grayish pallor it had when he first discovered Billy was gone.
She walked in and glanced out the small window before asking, “Would you like to talk?” Without waiting for an answer, she closed the toilet seat lid and sat down.
“I'd like that. I just wish I could go out there and find that boy myself. If anything happens to him I'll die, I just know it,” he said staring blankly at the shampoo bottles along the edge of the tub.
“I know you're worried, Bill. But aside from looking like a fashion model from Hell, that Josey seems like the kind of young man that can get things done... including finding that reckless grandson of yours.” She looked out the bathroom window again and muttered something more.
“What was that?” he asked, looking up at her.
“I said I feel like shit, okay? That sweet girl fixed my car and I drove off like a bat out of Hell. I just left her there. Oh, God, what was I thinking?” She reached for a guest towel and cried softly into it. “Who knows if she’s dead, alive, or something in between?” she asked, gesturing to the grunting noises outside.
“The way you described the situation earlier, it appears to me you didn't plan on leaving her. And Maria seemed pretty smart to me. I think she could handle herself in a pinch. Besides didn't you say you left the shotgun in the garage?” He asked, gripping the support safety bar and pulling himself up and out of the tepid bath water.
Holding his other arm, she draped a towel around his neck. “I hope you're right. And I hope she can forgive me for leaving her there.”