Luminary (Expanded Edition)

  Chapter 17: Parkland

  Max greeted Emily at the door. His tail thumping happily on the floor as he sat down and watched her quickly put away the groceries. She put the candy bar in one back pocket, her cellphone in the other and grabbed her keys and Max's leash.

  "Ready for a walk boy?"

  "Woof, Woof," he replied dancing around with excitement.

  They walked down the street from the apartment which was off the main square in Marietta, Georgia. She was in a good humor and decided to head to the little park about three miles away. It had a nice jungle gym that kids were always swinging on, sliding off of, or climbing over and a cheery water fountain. The sound of the children playing and the bubbling noise of the water made for a pleasant outing.

  Poo stations were strategically placed around the circumference of the park -- making it easy to clean up after Max. That is, if he could wait until they got there which rarely happened. Thankfully, his leash had an attachment with a roll of plastic baggies.

  Today he seemed like he was in a mood to hold it, trotting as fast as his paws could carry him not indicating that any was causing trouble. Nose high in the air. What scent is he investigating? Was somebody cooking bacon? Emily wondered abstractedly, doing her best to keep up. Maybe she should’ve put on her track shorts. It was certainly a nice enough day for a run.

  One of the things she liked best about living in the south was the lack of snow, even in the winter the area rarely got any. Prospects for building a snowman in the months from October to February were about as good as spotting a UFO, she mused, a wry smile lifting the corners of her lips.

  In Wisconsin, where she was from originally, it snowed five months out of the year. She didn't miss shoveling deep snow or having to use chains. By comparison, in north Georgia if it snowed even half an inch, everything shut down.

  City officials pretty much asked people to stay off the roads which meant classes were canceled and she didn't have to go to work. Here even the adults can get snow days...Pretty sweet, she thought.

  "Can I pet him?" asked a freckle faced little boy, interrupting her ruminations about the weather.

  She had not realized that they’d entered the park.

  "Sure."

  Max sniffed at the little boy's outstretched hand, then danced around in a circle before settling down on his haunches, solemn eyes wide open.

  “You're such a ham," Emily playfully reprimanded Max.

  "What's his name?"

  "Max."

  "He's a terrier, right?" asked the boy squatting down, eagerly scratching Max's back near his tail. The dog's hind leg was shaking with excitement. The kid had found the ideal spot.

  "That's right, you're very smart, you know your dogs."

  "Not really... I don't know all of them... But my grandmother had a terrier that I used to play with," the thought seemed to make the little boy, who Emily judged to be around eight, sad.

  "You don't play with him anymore?"

  "No he ran off a few months ago... after my grandma died," he confessed, his eyes fixed on Max’s backside, sorrow in his tone. "Nobody knows what happened to him."

  Temporarily dazed by the unexpected admission, she fell silent, wool-gathering.

  Emily couldn’t tell if the little boy was more upset by the loss of his grandma or the dog. Perhaps it was both. His hand continued to scratch Max, who was more than appreciative of the attention.

  "Oh I'm so sorry to hear that sweetie," Emily felt compassion for the kid, "Well, we come here everyday and Max likes to make friends... If you see us... you can come over and pet him. Okay?"

  The prospect of seeing Max again seemed to perk him up, "Thanks."

  "Brian, we have to go," a woman's voice called out.

  The boy’s face looked a trifle alarmed.

  Oh, maybe he’s not supposed to be talking to strangers, Emily thought. Not that she was anyone to be afraid of, but still.

  She and the little boy glanced over at the parking lot to see his mother waving at them both. At least Emily assumed she was, as they shared the same rich brown locks.

  The dark haired lady had a plump face and was sizing her up with the astute eye of a parent, assessing whether her son was simply enraptured by the dog or in some kind of danger.

  Smiling back in a companionable manner, Emily hoped to quell any lingering fears, after all she was mostly harmless. In truth, her temper was usually reserved for grown-ups who ticked her off.

  Widely built with a round torso, the woman was wearing black sweat pants and a white sweat shirt like many of the people in the park, dressed to do laps around its winding trails.

  Emily ran on the same paths herself at least four days a week, trying to do something about her thick thighs and the size of her butt. Despite her best efforts, hundreds of laps and countless diets, the jiggle wouldn’t go away or tone up...it was frustrating that nothing seemed to help.

  On the whole, she wasn't insecure about herself. When it came to her thighs however she was self-conscious. Taunted as a kid for having legs that were bigger than the other girls, she still remembered the chants.

  “Hey thunder thighs!”

  “Look it’s potato butt!”

  Or the worst, ”Here comes chub rub.”

  Mortified by her recollections, her skin became flushed. At the time-- she’d laughed it off but there had been other times in her adolescence when she didn’t. Kids can be cruel. It wasn’t the first time she’d pondered that.

  Almost single handedly she’s tried to make board shorts popular among the fairer sex. As a fashion statement in middle America it didn’t take. Somehow she’d survived. The teens years are supposed to be awkward, that’s why it’s called coming of age, she thought.

  It’s a pity the Kardashians weren’t famous back then. Big butts would have been more popular. She grinned slightly to herself.

  Growing up had naturally given her a more mature perspective, yet she hadn't been able to totally shake the message that part of her was not good enough. And truth be told, still had weak moments when the question, Will I ever be? floated through her mind.

  The little boy stood up, rubbed the terrier's ears a final time, the movement jolting Emily out of her reverie.

  "Bye Max," he said, then stared hesitantly at her for a moment -- color creeping up his throat.

  With remarkable accuracy she understood his sudden bashfulness and smiled warmly. "I'm Emily," she informed him, "And you must be Brian."

  He nodded.

  "Well maybe we'll see you next time."

  A stunning smile broke out over his bony face. Lifting a hand, Brian waved as he bolted with the clumsy grace of a young antelope to the car that his mother stood in front of.

  Emily waved after him. His mother smiled and waved in return, eyes still scrutinizing her, not necessarily in a bad way.

  Another thing she liked about the south -- how friendly the people were.

  "I think you've made a new friend...boy," she told Max, who paid no heed.

  His attention recently diverted by a squirrel that had dared to land on the grass about twenty feet away. He started after it, barking.

  Emily allowed him some freedom on his leash, not enough to catch the animal.

  As she walked around a curve in the sidewalk she saw three little boys, between 9 and 11 years old, holding plastic swords, although one was actually a plastic light saber-- like the kind used in Star Wars. They were facing two other little boys who had plastic rifle-like guns, the big super-soaker types that sprayed water.

  "Hey y'all wanna play war?" called one of the sword-wielding boys.

  "Yeah...okay," answered the boy with the water gun. He glanced at his companion, "That tree by the fence is gonna be our castle." He pointed to the tree with the tip of his plastic rifle.

  "Excellent, our base is that tree," said the first boy as he and his friends scrambled to hide behind it.

  "Yay!"

  The sword-wielding
trio plotted their strategy around the lower branches of a blue spruce by the sidewalk as Emily and Max passed by.

  "We can't let them take our tree," said the taller of the three.

  "I won't let 'em."

  "Here's what we're gonna do..."

  Emily walked out of earshot and didn't hear the rest of their plans, or rather -- had been tugged forward by Max. The dog was eager to explore some new odor.

  Tickled. She believed that kids were natural born writers in the way that they made up stories through their play. She really liked kids and hoped to have a few of her own, some day, after she was finished with school and her career had started to take off. Of course first she had to find a boyfriend -- which was easier said than done, she thought.

  Her reflections strayed to her own grandparents, both of them were still alive and in their eighties. They still held hands, a lot, like everyday.

  Her own parents were ultra conservative and hopelessly boring. Mom had worked in the pediatrics wing of the hospital for as long as Emily could remember. Dad was an insurance adjuster in Madison.

  They hadn't understood why she wanted to move all the way to Georgia to work part time while she went to school but they loved her and supported her desire to become a writer. She loved them both dearly even if they sometimes made her crazy.

  North Georgia was right there on the map, part of the continental United States, not some third world country. And she surmised that they knew that. That is, until the mail had started coming with all its big, embarrassing, cardboard boxes. Then all bets were off.

  During the summer months after she had first left home, her parents shipped her vegetables from their backyard garden. Every single week.

  "We wanted to make sure you were eating right," her mother had explained when Emily called -- after the mailman surprised her one morning with the first box.

  “Mom there are plenty of fresh vegetables in Georgia!” She had complained with a mixture of annoyance and mirth.

  The next day, she’d sent home a selfie taken at the local farmer's market to prove it.

  Pictorial evidence apparently wasn’t enough.

  The shipments continued for two more months with her mom or dad calling ahead of time, telling her to be on the look out for it. That system had worked fine, until the last shipment.

  Her mother had called Emily the day she dropped it off at the post office. "I've put another package in the mail for you...We got in some cucumbers.... Squash...and---"

  "Mom... I've told you, you don't have to do that," Emily interrupted.

  "You know we'll never be able to eat it all before it goes bad...your dad planted too much... I've already given a bunch to the neighbors and your grandparents," her mom said coaxingly.

  Emily had expected the package to arrive the next day. It didn't. The day after, no package either. A week went by and still nothing.

  Feeling smug, she'd called her parents to let them know that it was missing. Maybe they’ll take the hint and stop mailing her groceries, she’d thought, or rather hoped. When she'd learned that her mother had misplaced the tracking number, she thought the package was lost.

  The following Monday, she'd been surprised when she came home from class. There was a brown cardboard box with a yellow Hazmat sticker on it sitting outside the door of her apartment. The other side had been stamped with this official looking notice that the package had been checked for hazardous bio materials. The package had obviously been opened and resealed.

  Carrying the dubious looking parcel inside, she’d carefully placed it on the counter. It came from her parents alright, noting the sender’s address, surely they wouldn’t send her anything dangerous, she mused.

  Emily opened it and found an assortment of vegetables, all neatly wrapped in plastic bubble wrap. Her mother was a sensible packer.

  She called her mom to tell her it had finally arrived, "Mom, what was in this box you sent me? I got it today and there's a big bio-hazard sticker on it."

  "Bio-hazard? What? There's nothing... Oh dear..."

  "There's a big red stain on the side of it like something leaked all over the cardboard, then dried."

  "Oh no, it must be the tomatoes..." Mom chuckled, "I was worried that they might be too ripe to ship."

  Too ripe indeed. They nearly sparked a postal event, Emily had ludicrously thought, snickering herself.

  Looking back inside she cataloged what was left, "No tomatoes, but there's cucumbers, squash, bell peppers, and green beans."

  Her mother had laughed and laughed for several minutes, finally catching her breath, she calmed down. "It had to be the tomatoes," she chortled, "I'll have to tell your dad the good news...that it finally arrived."

  The good news for Emily had been that afterwards they didn't send any more produce in the mail. Which meant no more surprises on her front stoop, unless her pet brought her a dead squirrel or something.

  "GRRRR," growled Max, "woof... woof...woof."

  The canine outburst bringing her back to the here and now, she glanced down.

  "What is wrong with you... don't be mean to other dogs..." Emily snapped at Max, pressing the button on the handle of his leash, it retracted pulling him back from a very active beagle puppy about twenty feet away.

  "Bad Max...behave yourself."

  The terrier was straining against his shortening leash, barking furiously at the now frightened beagle. The puppy, not on a leash, ran back in the opposite direction to a guy Emily assumed was his owner.

  "Sorry 'bout that... My dog is a little neurotic sometimes...usually he's a lot nicer," she called out, sheepishly, giving her not so nice pet a dirty look.

  Much to her surprise, the man scooped the puppy up in his arms and approached her.

  Aw, crap, she thought, feeling a growing sense of panic. Her racing heart increasing the level of her nervousness. She wasn’t good at talking to strange men. At least not up close.

  “Now see what you’ve done,” she scolded the yapping canine in front of her.

  The closer the man got, the cuter he looked. He had sandy blond hair, a slim build and an easy smile. Stopping about three feet away, close enough for Emily to see that he had brown eyes.

  Max wouldn't cease barking.

  She retracted his leash until he was right by her side.

  "Cool it," she hissed with a forceful tug on his leash that showed she meant business.

  He finally quieted down. But he was still jumpy.

  "Sorry...he's..." Floundering as she looked into the stranger's kind brown eyes and felt her face grow warm. Not needing a mirror to know that she was blushing. Her ears got hot.

  "Kinda neurotic..." the stranger finished for her, " Yeah, so I heard... Did you say his name was Max?"

  Emily nodded.

  "Hey Max...it’s okay... calm down. It’s okay...good boy... That's a good boy," the stranger had a honey sweet tone to his voice and a country-boy accent as he addressed the nervous canine.

  Max responded to it.

  So did Emily.

  Max sat down on the sidewalk.

  Emily thought she might have to join him because for some reason her knees had turned to jelly.

  "You're good with... good with dogs..." she uttered, feeling quite foolish. Her face was burning.

  "I guess... I've never really thought about it," he admitted, "my name's John...and you are?"

  "Emily... "

  "Nice to meet you Emily."

  “Likewise,” she mumbled, suddenly self-conscious of the heat radiating across her face and found herself staring at her shoes.

  An awkward silence lengthened between them.

  "What do you do Emily...when you're not taking Max for a walk in the park?"

  Surprised by the question, she looked up, he was smiling, not broadly, but still and there was something else, was that interest in his eyes? she wondered.

  "I go to school and I work mostly."

  "Where do you work?"
br />   "The Marietta Gazette... I." She shook her head, why couldn't she remember what she did for a living? "I write for the gazette."

  "The gazette huh...Are you a reporter?"

  "No... mostly I write content for the website about city council." Why was her mind so fuzzy?

  "Wow... that really sounds... boring," he smiled, it didn't take the sting out his comments.

  "Ouch... aren't you a charmer," she said sarcastically. Well truthfully he had been up until five seconds ago, she thought, embarrassed, temper flaring. "It isn't all that glamorous but it pays the bills. You have a nice day," she finished in a tone indicating she hoped he had anything but.

  Tugging on Max's leash and leading him away, she was definitely clear headed now. Not to mention red faced.

  "Hey...don't go...I didn't mean to piss you off!" He called.

  Too late jerk, you should’ve thought about that sooner-- like before you opened your stupid mouth, she fumed.

  * * * * * *

  From the other side of the portal Wicus chuckled.

  Emily and Max were heading out of the park, passing people strolling on the sidewalk with marked impatience.

  Waxine turned to Wicus, "That's a good sign." Both having witnessed the entire encounter.

  "What?"

  "She's got a healthy temper... she's not afraid to speak up for herself... I like that."

  "I already knew that," Wicus replied, not following Waxine's meaning.

  "Good…we can use that when it’s time for her to meet her new soul mate... she can't be shy and angry at the same time."

  He nodded. There was logic in what Waxine said.

  Wicus was still worried. This John in the park could be a sign of brewing trouble. He didn't want Emily falling for some barren. Getting the souls of her primary and secondary retrofitted was already complicated enough, he thought. He can’t mess this up. The girl will have a proper soul mate.

  Wicus decided that he needed to get back to work.

  Josh Taylor required rest. Perhaps he should focus more attention on Charlie Anderson just now. Wondering idly how the adjustments were affecting him.

  Wicus had been too busy with his other duties lately to check in on the teaching assistant during his waking hours.