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23
Peggy
AUGUST 1946
Buster trotted along beside me as I walked to the corner store after work to buy a newspaper. We both preferred to walk along the river on the other side of town, but this had become our new routine. I would carry the paper to the nearby park and sit on a bench, circling all the available apartments for rent while Buster sniffed in the bushes and barked at the squirrels. Squealing children climbed on the monkey bars and swung on the creaking swings nearby. If I found any prospects, Buster and I would walk to the pay phone with a roll of coins from the bank and I’d call all the promising ones. Today, there were no new listings.
“It’s beginning to look like you’ll be in a kennel and I’ll be living in Mrs. Jenkins’s guesthouse indefinitely,” I told Buster when he returned to my side. He was bored with the park and eager to be on our way. But I took another moment to scan the news headlines first. I had taken an interest in the plight of the displaced persons in Europe after reading Jimmy’s letters and talking with Art Davis about the camp survivors. Some survivors had begun crowding onto decrepit ships in an attempt to reach Palestine, but the British government refused to allow them sanctuary there. In today’s news, a ship named Mataroa had sailed from Marseille, France, to the port of Haifa with more than 1,200 homeless men, women, and children on board. The British Navy had intercepted it, and the refugees, many of whom had survived Nazi concentration camps, were now being detained in British internment camps on the island of Cyprus. It seemed so cruel and heartless. I hoped Jimmy would never read this news. After working so hard to save the concentration camp survivors, it would break his heart.
I finished reading and refolded the paper. The tragedy of the Mataroa reminded me of the newspaper clippings that Jimmy had saved, telling the story of the homeless refugees aboard the St.Louis before the war. I understood a little about how it felt to be homeless and unwanted, but I didn’t dare feel sorry for myself if I compared my life with theirs.
Buster and I walked to the guesthouse afterwards, and I tied him to Mrs. Jenkins’s clothesline pole while I went inside to eat my supper. “I still haven’t been able to find an apartment for my dog and myself,” I told her. We sat across from each other at the kitchen table, eating fried chicken and mashed potatoes and green beans from her garden. “I’ll need to rent the room for another week, if that’s okay.”
“That’s fine with me, dear,” she replied. I wondered if she was glad to have me for company or if I was a bother. After eating, I walked back to the clinic with Buster to feed him his dinner and lock him inside his kennel for the night.
“I’m so sorry, old friend,” I said as I hugged him good night. “It looks like you’ll have to stay here for another week. But I’ll be back first thing in the morning.”
I was up and dressed shortly after dawn to keep my promise. “You’re here early,” Mr. Barnett said when he saw me releasing Buster. “Have you had breakfast?” I hadn’t, but I hesitated to reply, not wanting to be a bother. He read my hesitation accurately. “Come inside, then. We’re just about to eat. I already have a job for you today.” Mrs. Barnett quickly fried two more eggs, gathered from her coop that morning, and sliced more bread for toast. I sipped her fresh coffee, eager to hear what task Mr. Barnett had for me.
“You remember the new trainer, Paul Dixon, out at Blue Fence Farms? He called and asked if you’d be willing to come out and help with Persephone and her foal.”
“Has something happened to them?”
“Not at all. But they’re both very skittish, and he’d like your help. You can take my truck.”
“I’m not going to drive your brand-new truck,” I said, laughing. “I’ll drive my own car. But thanks for being willing to trust me with it.” It seemed like an enormous gift.
I hurried through my morning chores after breakfast, then went across the street with Buster trotting behind me to fetch my car. I left it parked outside Pop’s garage most of the time and walked everywhere.
Pop saw me and called to me from the open door of his garage. “Where have you been hiding? Donna said you moved out.” I had left a week ago. Was Pop just noticing? “You find a place to rent?”
“Not yet, but I’m looking for one. Listen, I have to get going. Mr. Barnett has a job for me out at Blue Fence Farms. I’ll see you later.” I said the words automatically, even though they weren’t true anymore. Buster leaped into the car the moment I opened the door, so I decided to take him with me. The morning was still cool, and I could park in the shade and roll all the windows down for him.
One of the stable boys directed me to the corral where Persephone and her foal were grazing. Paul was already there, and a friendly grin spread across his tanned face as I approached. “Morning, Peggy. Thanks for coming out.”
“I’m happy to help.” We went into the corral through the gate and watched the two horses for a moment. “She’s such a beautiful mare, isn’t she?” I said. “And Tyche is a little beauty, too.”
“Mmm. I’m not supposed to play favorites, but Persephone is pretty special. So is her filly. I’m hoping you’ll help me win their trust. I’ve trained a lot of horses over the years, but these two have been pretty shy about making friends with me.” I loved the slow, easy way Paul talked and the way he pronounced I’m and I’ve like Ah’m and Ah’ve. It made me smile.
“I would be happy to help,” I said. He had brought along a cut-up apple, and I held out the pieces as I called to Persephone. She ambled over with Tyche at her side. I murmured softly to her as I fed her the apple slices and showed Paul her favorite spots to be scratched and petted. Within half an hour, Paul had made friends with both horses.
“Thanks, Peggy,” he said when we’d run out of apples. “I think she’s gonna trust me from now on.”
“You’re welcome.” He seemed nervous all of a sudden, and that made me nervous, too. “Well, I guess I should get going,” I said.
He walked with me as I headed back to my car. “Say, Peggy, I’ve been wondering... would you like to go on a picnic or something with me on Sunday afternoon?”
I halted in my tracks and stared up at him, my mouth hanging open. I couldn’t believe it! I had never been asked out on a date in my life! If that’s what this really was. “I... I... I...” It was all I could manage to say. The smile went out of his eyes. He’d misunderstood my hesitation. “Yes!” I quickly blurted. “Yes, I would! But I can’t go on Sunday because that’s the only day I can visit my friend in the hospital.”
We had reached my car and Buster was hanging halfway out the window, tongue lolling, tail thumping against the back seat as he greeted Paul and me. I let him out, and Paul crouched beside him. “Who’s this?” he asked, patting Buster’s head.
“My dog, Buster.” I laughed as Buster licked apple juice from Paul’s hand, then swiped his hot tongue across Paul’s cheek in thanks. “I think he likes you.”
“What happened to his leg?”
“He got hit by a car but Mr. Barnett saved his life. That’s how I started working at the clinic—to pay him back for the operation. Listen, about the picnic, if we can find another day for it, I would love to go with you.”
“How about after work on Saturday?”
