SHORT STORY: Mrs. Ethel

Logic said go one way, his car’s GPS said the other. Mike Goodall listened to the GPS ‘ pleasant female voice and now was hopelessly lost in the Mississippi Delta.  He thought he was in Leflore County, although he was actually in Holmes County. It was night, and even his headlights couldn’t burn through the deep, impenetrable Delta darkness. There was no moon. No stars. And now, no gas in his car’s gas tank.

His low fuel light burned ominously on his dashboard.  Mike looked down at this cellphone. It had bricked 20 minutes ago. And of course, his wife had the car charger in her van.

“I’m toast,” Mike thought as he looked. The last gas station he had seen was in Greenwood.  He scanned the horizon — nothing.  Until…

It was faint and barely a pinprick on the horizon. The small light looked like a third-rate star battling to be seen in the dark night sky.  But it was definitely a light. Probably a house. And hopefully a phone.

A song called Faster than Light by Neil Finn played on the car’s stereo. Finn, the front-man for the band Crowded House ,had come out with a fantastic solo album in 1998.  A particular lyric caught Mike’s ear,

“And praise will come to those whose kindness

leaves you without debt 

And bends the shape of things

that haven’t happened yet.”

Mike laughed. It seemed particularly naive. But at this point, he would take any kindness he could find.

He turned right onto a gravel road that led toward the light.  A quarter of a mile later, he discovered the light belonged to an old white house partially obscured by four trees and a handful of rose bushes.

It was 10 p.m.  He hoped someone was awake. Otherwise, he was stranded for the night.

Mike switched off the ignition.  He opened the door slowly and got out, hoping there weren’t any yard dogs.  So far, no barking. So far, so good.

The house’s door open quickly and a shotgun barrel pop out of the door.  The gun discharged over his head, tearing at the branches and causing Mike to pee a little in his suit. “HOLY CRAP!” he screamed.

An older feminine voice said, “WHO GOES THERE? I HAVE A GUN AND AS YOU CAN SEE, I AIN’T AFRAID TO USE IT ON YOU!”

Mike used as much respect as he could muster, “M’am, My name is Mike Goodall and I’m a Vice President of a major company in Jackson. My car is out of gas and I was hoping to use your phone.”

Silence greeted his greeting.  He watched the barrel of the shotgun closely before it slowly lowered.

“You don’t seem like one of those robbers that keeps stealing my stuff.”

“No, m’am.  You mind if I come in to make that phone call?”

“C’mon in boy. My name is Ethel Johnson. And yes, you may use my phone.”

As Mike was heading to house, he looked around the yard. It was dark, but he could see a rusted-out old Camaro and an old Ford pickup truck. A broken down tractor and some rusty farm equipment were sprinkled near a collapsing barn.  Off to the left was a shed. He was sure that the owners of this homestead had once farmed this land heavily by themselves. Now, most of the surrounding land was corporate owned. Ethel probably leased the rest of what she had left to help pay her bills.  By her looks, she was 85.  And, apparently, lived alone.

Mrs. Ethel shuffled held the door open as Mike slipped inside.  A hot blast of wind hit him from the inside. She apparently liked the house to be as hot as a summer afternoon on the planet Mercury. Three space heaters glowed bright as the sun.

“Mah phone is over their, son,” Mrs. Ethel pointed to the rotary phone of the table.  “I hope your number is an 800 number. I ain’t got long distance. I don’t have any family left and there is no one outside of the area I particularly want to talk to. No need to pay Ma Bell any more than I have to.”

“I think it will be OK, m’am.” Mike called the number on the back of his AAA card.

“They said it would be about an hour before they could get the gas here. You ok if I sit in here with you?”

Mrs. Ethel smiled. She appreciated the company. “Haven’t had anyone to really talk to since my cat died last year.”

Mike smiled and sat in the old chair by the door. An old tube television sat glowing in the corner. And the single light that had been his beacon burned warmly overhead. Mrs. Ethel brought two glasses of sweet tea

“You got family, son?”

“A wife and two kids. About to get a divorce, though. Wife and I just can’t get along any more.”

Mrs. Ethel cringed as she set the glasses down. “Mrs. Ethel says you don’t want to do that.  You don’t want to be alone like Mrs. Ethel.”

Mike smirked and than said, ” You don’t understand. She’s impossible to live with.”

Mrs. Ethel smiled and said, “And I’m sure you’re a regular Prince Charming.  You need to love on that woman, Mr. Mike.  Your marriage is like a bank account. I bet you’re completely overdrawn.  Make small deposits — not because you half to, but because you want to. Don’t expect anything in return.  Your two children will appreciate it in the long run.”

Mike nodded. He knew the old woman was right. But his pride was in his way.

Ah his pride. It was why his life was in the mess it was. Mike was a proud man. He had built an impressive career against the odds.  Nothing had come easy for him. He was consistently having to prove others wrong. So therefore he had a huge chip on his shoulder.

A crash outside caused him to turn quickly.

“The thieves are back”

Mrs. Ethel grabbed for her shotgun.  Mike cut her off, “I’ll take care of this. Call the Sheriff.”

He went out the back door and snuck around to the side.  There he saw two kids rifling though Mrs. Ethel’s shed. Then they started heading toward the house.  The only thing standing between them and Mrs. Ethel was him.

He saw kid raise a pistol toward the old lady.  Without thinking, Mike leapt between then and as the gun went off, Mike felt a searing pain in his arm.  He hit the ground, aimed the shotgun and took two quick shots, hitting both thieves.  Both clutched their own arms and ran off into the night.

“That was the most amazing, giving and unselfish act ever. And you’ve only known me for an hour.  Now try that with your wife who you’ve built a life with.  Show that kind of love and caring for her. ”

Mrs. Ethel touched Mike’s wound and like vinegar on baking soda, a white foam began to cleanse the bullet hole. As the pain faded, he looked down and noticed that the wound and blood were completely gone.

“Who are you?”

“A light in the darkness,” Mrs. Ethel smiled.  “And I think your gas is here.”

A truck pulled up with a man with four gallons of gas.

“How can I thank you, Mrs. Ethel?”

“Go home and love on that wife of yours. Put some gas back into what matters in your life.  Work won’t hold your hand when you are dying.”

Mike hugged the old woman and said goodbye. “I’m going to come back and visit you often. I promise.”  Mrs. Ethel smiled and just blew him a kiss.

The next day, Mike and his wife pulled down the gravel driveway. “This is it. This is where she lives.”

But as they got to the end of the drive, all that was there was an unoccupied rundown white house covered with vines.

“I swear, she was here. This is where I got shot. And where I shot two bad guys. I used her phone to call AAA.” They got out and walked around the old, abandoned house.

“I don’t care, Mike. All I know is that you are a changed man.” His wife patted his back like he was completely nuts.

Then as she did, she noticed something bizarre on his jacket sleeve.

There was a bullet hole.

She looked at her husband and just hugged him.  Apparently more than a bullet wound had been healed last night.

And as they got back into the car and headed south, a familiar song played on the radio.

“And praise will come to those whose kindness

leaves you without debt 

And bends the shape of things.

that haven’t happened yet.”