Read The Hollow Tree at Dead Mule Swamp for Free Online Page B

give me any
money," she whispered.
    "Not at all?" I asked,
looking around.
    She saw my eyes roving over the
knick-knacks. "These things are mine from before. Bert leaves them alone
if I'm good." I wondered what that meant.
    "What about things Jimmie
needs?" I insisted.
    "Bert doesn't like Jimmie. He
makes him stay out back in a cabin he built for him. Jimmie says it's
nice." There was a desperate note in her voice. She wanted to believe it
very much.
    I closed my eyes for a minute, then
said, "Have you seen his room?"
    "I can't get out,
really."
    I thought I saw my opening. I asked
gently, "Would you like to see where Jimmie lives?"
    "Can you help me down the
steps?"
    "Of course."
    It was not a simple project. The
truth was, even though she had to be ten years younger than I am, Dee could hardly walk. But she sent me to a closet where I found a cane, placed on a high
shelf, out of her reach. That seemed particularly cruel.
    Getting to Jimmie's room took
almost an hour. Dee could only take a few steps before she had to rest. I
brought out a kitchen chair and she perched on it for several minutes after
walking each five or six feet. She was so large, her behind rolled off the
sides of the chair and she seemed to have trouble balancing on the seat. When
we finally worked our way around to the back of the trailer, she looked around,
confusion showing on her face.
    "Where is his cabin?" she
asked.
    "Right here," I said,
pointing at the low lean-to made of scraps of wood with the blue tarp battened
over the top. I thought for a minute she was going to fall off the chair, but she
took a deep breath, and struggled to her feet again. We continued the slow
march. I wasn't sure I was going to be able to find the door, the shed was such
a patchwork of different surfaces. But when we got close enough, I found one
board with hinges on the edge, actually a cupboard door, and an old-fashioned
latch obviously salvaged from Jimmie's scavenging. I pressed the thumb button
and the bar lifted out of the hook. I pulled the door open and bent over to
look in. The roof was only four feet high, not tall enough even for Jimmie to
stand up.
    "Sit down and wait a
minute," I suggested to Dee. I crawled inside the cave-like space.
    An electric drop cord was tacked
across the ceiling and hung near the door. I reached out and pushed the button;
the small room flooded with harsh light. The walls and ceiling were lined with
odds and ends of pink and blue foam insulation board, cut and fitted together
like a crazy quilt. The floor consisted of a couple of pieces of plywood laid
directly on the dirt. A scrap of torn, stained carpet led from the door to the
opposite wall. To my right, under the low end of the shed, I saw a bare
mattress with a neatly arranged, but odd set of coverings, including a sleeping
bag, a blanket, and a torn canvas tarp. Wooden potato crates were stacked along
the walls for shelving.
    I backed out of the doorway, and
said, "You need to see this. Let me put the chair by the door."
    Dee stood up and waited till I got
the chair placed beside the opening so that she should be able to see in if she
leaned forward. She got settled and began to examine Jimmie's
"cabin." I couldn't see her face, as it was turned into the small
door, and I wondered how she was reacting. However, her body language began to
send me signals. I saw her heavy shoulders rise and fall once, then again. Her
knuckles tightened on the handle of the cane, which she held with both arms
extended as a prop.
    After almost five minutes, she
pushed on the cane and sat upright. She still didn't speak, but seemed to be
fumbling with her clothes. I wondered if she'd been bitten by a spider or
something. But in another few seconds I realized she was simply lifting her
sweatshirt. She turned her face to me and said bitterly, "Look at
this."
    All around her ribs and across her
stomach were bruises both new and old. Some were purple; others had faded to
yellow and green. I raised my