Page 37 of SEAL'S Baby Surprise
“I don’t want to be by myself,” she says. “Let me come with you.”
“All right,” I say. I shine the light on the ground and walk up toward the trash bins. We look around, but there’s really nothing to see. The dry, sandy soil doesn’t take good footprints. Lee sticks to one side of me, Ark to the other.
“See anything?” one of the neighbors calls out. I recognize the voice as belonging to Pops McKinney, who describes himself as a retired hobo.
I shake my head. “Just some guy up around the dumpsters. But if he was dumpster diving in these parts, he’s going to have slim pickings.”
“That’s for sure,” Pops says, “Folks around here don’t throw away nothin’ if it’s got a scrap of good in it. If they don’t got no use for it, they take it to the Goodwill or give it to somebody.”
I know that to be true, so the only explanation for the lurking figure is that he is trying to find someone.
“It’s me,” Lee whispers. “He’s trying to find me. I knew he would.”
“Well, whoever he is, he can’t have you,” I whisper back. Then I add a little louder, “Come on. I want to check on Mrs. Turner and the kids.”
“I’ll walk with you,” Pops says.
And I don’t turn him down. He’s about a million years older than dirt. He lives in a teardrop trailer and keeps a squeaky-clean lot. I get the feeling he’s got some kind of military background, although I’ve never asked. If he’s old enough to have survived the hobo jungles, then I figure he’s a good man to have around.
When we get to the Turners’ tiny house, we can hear Squeegee yipping at the top of her little voice. I knock “shave and a haircut” on the door, and Mrs. Turner taps back, “six bits.”
But she doesn’t open up right away. She slides open the privacy eye, and a little sign that says, “Smile, you’re on candid camera, being recorded,” lights up.
Only after it winks off does she open the door. “Oh, Austin! It’s you. I was scared. After Ark started barking, Squeegee started up and wouldn’t hush.”
“Are you and the kids okay?” I ask.
She nods. “All accounted for, although I doubt if they are asleep now.”
Three tousled heads poke out around Mrs. Turner indicating that the kids are definitely awake.
“Do I have to go home, Daddy?” Julia asks.
“You okay?” I ask Mrs. Turner.
“We’re fine,” she says. “There’s no reason for Julia not to stay, unless you are worried.”
“I’m okay with her staying here,” I say. “The trouble was up near the sign. Ark can patrol, and I’ll stay up and about for a while, too.”
Mrs. Turner and the kids go back in, and I wait until I hear the locks click and see the little sign that indicates the Turner security system is recording.
Pops walks back with Lee and me. “What in tarnation,” he says. “It’s usually quiet around here. No drugs, no drink except an occasional beer or wine. It’s why I like it here.”
“It’s why we all like it,” I say. “I’ll do some more looking around in the morning. I didn’t see anything tonight, not even so much as a conveniently dropped cigarette butt.”
“Heh, heh,” Pops cackles. “I’ll say that’s a good thing. We don’t need no dumpster fire. Them things is nasty.”
We drop him off at his little trailer.
Back at the van, I fill up the water reservoir. Then we each take turns rinsing off before curling up together in my bed.
Lee trembles against me. “I just want a little bit of happiness,” she whispers when I ask her if she’s okay. “Is that really too much to ask?”
I don’t have any real answers for that, so I gather her in my arms, and kiss the top of her fuzzy little head. Those blond curls are darned cute. Why in the world did she ever color them pink?
18
LEE
