Page 41 of Easton Island

The elderly woman eased onto the picnic table bench, a stunned look on her face. “It might be longer than a couple of months. I can’t be sure. I hope to be home sooner, but you know how these things go.”

“Take all the time you need. You’ll want to jot down some instructions about how to care for and feed him.”

“Y-yes, of course,” she stammered. “Bless your heart, Morgan Easton. I don’t know what to say.”

“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself. You don’t have to worry about your bunny. In fact, we can come and visit you to see how you’re doing. From a distance, of course, seeing how your sister is allergic.”

Tears streamed down Beatrice’s cheeks. “I asked God not to take Mr. Pickles from me,” she whispered. “You have no idea how much this means.”

Morgan placed her arm around her neighbor’s frail shoulders. “I would hope someone would do the same for me. I can’t imagine losing Chester. Let’s exchange cell phone numbers. I’ll send you pictures of Mr. Pickles to let you know he’s okay. I’ll admit I don’t know anything about taking care of a rabbit, but I’m sure I’ll muddle through.”

“Honestly, there’s not much to it.” Beatrice rambled on, assuring Morgan he wouldn’t give her any trouble. “You’ll need to take him today.”

“No worries. We can pack up everything I’ll need, go over some instructions and then I’ll bring him home with me to get settled.”

Moving at a painstakingly slow pace, the women walked to Beatrice’s back door. Morgan followed her inside, noticing the faint aroma of Pledge furniture polish and bleach, not unpleasant but more of a clean smell, at least in her mind.

The kitchen counters were spotless. A well-loved teakettle sat on top of the stove. Santa and Mrs. Claus salt and pepper shakers sat next to it.

A checkered dishtowel hung from the oven handle while the refrigerator was covered with magnetic photos of Beatrice’s bunny.

She said the first thing that came to mind. “Your house is spotless.”

“It’s easy to keep clean when you’re the only person living here.” The way she said it made Morgan think the woman was lonely.

She removed a notepad and pen from a drawer and eased into a chair, a pained sigh escaping her lips. “The most important thing to keep in mind about bunnies is that they munch constantly. Mr. Pickles likes his hay. I also feed him leafy vegetables, mainly lettuce.”

The bunny wiggled over to his food dish and nibbled on what looked like pellets.

“What are those?”

“Food to supplement the hay and leafy greens. He’s only allowed to have a few. Too many will upset his tummy.” The woman finished jotting down the instructions and handed the paper to Morgan. “If you have any questions, give me a call. I put my number at the bottom.”

“I’ll give you mine.” Morgan promptly entered Beatrice’s cell phone number into her phone and texted the woman. “I sent you a text.”

“Got it.” Beatrice tapped the screen. “You offering to keep Mr. Pickles is an enormous weight off my shoulders, and as I mentioned before, he shouldn’t be any trouble.”

“We’ll be fine.” Morgan folded the sheet and tucked it into her pocket. “Can I help you pack up his things?”

“I was on my way to the shelter, so I already have his stuff ready to go.” Beatrice motioned to a cardboard box sitting next to the fridge. “The only things left are his food and water dishes.”

The bunny nibbled on a piece of lettuce and hopped over to where Chester sat watching.

Morgan promptly emptied the water and placed the leftover food in a plastic bag. “Are you ready to check out your temporary home, Mr. Pickles?”

The bunny’s black button nose wiggled and twitched while his left ear turned.

“He’s listening to you,” Beatrice said. “Would you like me to go with you to help get him settled?”

“It isn’t necessary…unless you want to.”

A flit of sadness flickered across her face, quickly replaced by a look of relief. “Maybe it’s best if I don’t. He might get confused.”

“Let me take his stuff to the house. I’ll be back to get him and Chester in a jiffy.” Morgan carried the box across the backyard and placed it on the porch. She returned to find Chester and the bunny sitting by the door with Beatrice standing behind them, leaning on her cane, her face pale and drawn.

“Are you okay?”

“I may have overdone it. I was thinking about going to lie down.”