Chapter 21
Tilda
Setting my mug of coffee down on the arm of the chair, I pull the zipper of my hoodie all the way up to my throat, then I sit.
It’s not early morning. Because why get up early when it’s not necessary? But the sun is still rising, and the air has a distinct nip.
Settling into the chair, I imagine Uncle Jack sitting right here, drinking his coffee just like this.
I take a sip, the steam warming my nose.
Then I spill coffee down the front of my hoodie because the world’s loudest duck lets out the world’s loudest quack from somewhere below the deck.
I hold my mug out with one hand and use the other to brush the liquid off my sweatshirt.
“Crap on a cracker.”
The duck lets out a quieter quack, and I snicker.
“Okay, fine. On a quacker.”
He lets out a double quack.
I stand and walk to the railing, looking over the edge in time to see the same duck butt from before waddle around the side of the house.
Since I need to wash my hands anyway, I turn around and head for the back door, hoping I can catch Quackers in the front yard.
Reaching through the screenless screen door, I use the side of my hand to depress the door handle and push the door open.
I set my mug on the counter and grab a hand towel from next to the sink, then rush the few steps to the front door and yank it open.
The soft thwaps of flat feet on damp earth pull my attention to the edge of the driveway, where the duck is once again making a break for the park.
I only ever crossed the boundary that once, and I didn’t get more than a few yards past the fence, but there must be a lake nearby. Or some form of water. Ducks like that, right?
I’m tempted to chase after him. But I don’t. Because that would be crossing a line.
Of insanity… Animal cruelty… It’s a toss-up.
Back inside, I wash my hands, use the towel to dry off the side and bottom of my mug, then I take my coffee to the front window and stand there in my dirty hoodie, looking out over the front yard.
I hung up the rest of my suncatchers yesterday, put the box away, and parked the truck in the one-car garage—took three tries to back it in, but I eventually got there.
Now with the light shining down on my suncatchers, everything sparkles. And a rare sense of pride fills me.
Quackers seems to like it too since he keeps visiting.
Except he’s not staying.
I hold the mug with both hands and lift it to my lips.
I really need to go back into town so I can use the internet and find out what ducks like to eat. Maybe there’s a type of food I could buy to keep him around.
I can’t say for certain, but I feel like I read somewhere that you aren’t supposed to give ducks bread. Even though every TV show ever always shows ducks swimming around in a pond and people tossing bread at them.
I purse my lips.
Maybe I could set up a bird bath?
Do ducks like bird baths?
They’re birds so…
I take another sip.
I did my best to pay attention to the town, aptly named Lonely, as I drove through it. And if I’m recalling correctly, I believe there’s a hardware store across the street from the nicer gas station. They should have something.
With the ignition off, I unbuckle and push my driver’s door open.
It slams shut, and I jerk my arms back, narrowly avoiding my hand getting smashed.
I huff and pull the strap of my cross-body bag over my head.
Let’s try this again.
I twist on the bench seat and use both hands to shove the door open, keeping one hand braced against the handle this time, so the wind doesn’t smash it shut on me again.
My red skirt whips around my ankles, the maxi length saving me from flashing my goods to the whole town.
Okay, whole town is probably an exaggeration since there are a few other vehicles in the parking lot but no people. But the main road is right beside me, and, like I remembered, there’s a gas station directly across the two-lane highway.
Halfway to the front door of Lonely Hardware, I wonder if I should’ve brought the paper bags from my grocery trip with me. But they’re back home under my kitchen sink, so it’s not like I can get them now.
While I was paying for my groceries last night, I noticed the reusable bags for sale at the register. I was too busy holding my composure together to buy any, and I didn’t want to give away the fact that I have none, but I bet they have some here.
Mind made up, I push the stress away from my shoulders and walk into the hardware store.
Duck food and shopping bags. I can do this.