An old black bear stood at the edge of the forest, alert, scanning. Grady rode by slowly in his truck. His eyes met those of the animal’s, just before it scampered back into underbrush. There was a soft feeling in the air, almost like a dream. Somewhere in the forest, a lightning bug blinked. As soon as Grady got back to his place, he popped a Natural Light Ice. It felt strange in his throat, all pungent and bubbly.
He lived in a metal shed, which had been converted into a small apartment, on his acre of land, way up in the woods. His property was covered in slash pine, scrub oak, and palmettos. A couple of young magnolias and a large sweet bay stood by his front door. It wasn’t much, but he enjoyed the sound of wind in the pines and the pleasant smell of sweet bay in bloom.
He was a gnarled, sunburned stump of a man. Short, stocky, but not fat. His sarcastic and sometimes rude personality kept most of his acquaintances away. His mouth was twisted into a kind of snarl and his wild, black, curly hair stood out every which way from his large head, giving him the appearance of an enraged madman. If it weren’t for Sweety Pie, his big orange tomcat and Randall, the feral chicken, he would be alone most of the time.
There was no accounting for, or rationale for his sour disposition. He had been an only child and was deeply loved by his parents. Other than them, he had an aunt and a younger cousin who lived somewhere in Georgia, but no other relatives. When his parents passed away, he sold their house and bought this isolated acre up in the woods, a commercial fishing boat, a truck and trailer to haul it, and became the hermit he was today.
After finishing up his six pack of tall boys, he became sleepy. A hammock he had hung earlier that year and never used, looked inviting. He took a paperback book he had found somewhere, and settled back in the hammock. In no time at all, he fell asleep.
A honk woke him.
He looked around, rubbing his eyes and yawning. A half moon had begun to rise and the first fireflies of the year filled the yard with an eerie display. “Cousin Grady!” called a girl standing by his front door. She began to knock loudly. This brought Randall, the rooster, flying across the yard. Sweety Pie growled from somewhere in the darkness and Grady fell heavily from the hammock trying to get out of it.
“What?” Grady managed through his grogginess.
“Remember me?” the girl chirped.
“Who?” he questioned in confusion.
“Your Cousin Beth from Georgia!” she announced gleefully. He groaned as he began to remember her. She was a child who had visited a few times in the past with her aunt, his mother’s sister. She was a loud, giggly thing, who annoyed Grady to no end. She would sneak up on him and dig her bony fingeres into his ribs, trying to make him laugh. She would follow him around with her knock knock jokes and squirt him with her water pistol. He grimaced at the memory.
Remembering his manners, he managed to get up and invite her into the shed. “Wow! You’ve really fixed the place up! It looks just like a real efficiency apartment,” she gushed.
Despite himself, he felt proud. ”But how did you find me way out here?” he asked.
“The boys down at the gas station told me how to get here. They said don’t come here because you were mean and crazy!” she went on.
He burst out laughing, something he hadn’t done in a long time, at the thought of those burly young fellows warning her like that. “Got any beer?” she asked.
“I drank it,” he stated.
“Don’t worry - I’ve got plenty in my cooler!” she grinned. He felt himself grin back.
Pretty soon, she had talked him into firing up his unused grill for some sweet corn and fish she had brought. She chattered on with silly stories that made him smile and called him Cousin Grady with great affection. Meanwhile, Randall settled back down and Sweety Pie curled up in her lap, purring loudly. The fireflies danced, night birds sang, and Grady felt better than he had in years.
