Michael Langlois - Bad Radio

“What about? Who are you?”

“My name is Abraham Griffin. I’m named for my grandfather, who knew your late husband.” The lie rolled off my tongue effortlessly, but I couldn’t help but glance at Anne as I said it. She gave me a little nod, like she was absolving me.

The door buzzed and opened, revealing Georgia Eaton in a pink sweater and house slippers, looking like everyone’s great aunt. The smell of baking cookies and cinnamon washed over us.

“Why, if you aren’t the spitting image of your grandfather! I knew him very well, you know. Him and your grandmother both. Come in, come in!”

She ushered us through a small living room, and into an even smaller kitchen. Anne and I were seated around a tiny table that could just fit four if they were very friendly. There was a window over the sink that was draped with lace curtains that let in the light, but still provided privacy. The refrigerator and stove were ancient, with the art deco rounded corners and oversized handles that characterized appliances in the fifties. The plastic countertops were off-white with little gold stars sprinkled across them.

The cinnamon smell was coming from a couple of small candles in the center of the table. The combined smell of the candles and the baking was strong in the small kitchen, but not offensively so. I glanced at Anne and touched my nose, and she shook her head. I hoped that meant that we beat the bags here. “Thanks for inviting us in, Mrs. Eaton.” I gave her my best smile.

“Well of course. I was just about to make some coffee, would you care for some?”

“Yes, thank you.”

She busied herself at the stove and talked over her shoulder. “Your grandfather and my Frank were great friends. How is he, by the way?”

“He passed on a few years ago.”

“I’m so sorry, dear. He was a good man. I saw him at Frank’s funeral. But that was a long time ago. You’re just as handsome as he was. Sugar?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Would you care for some sugar in your coffee?”

“Oh, no thank you. Black is fine.”

She ferried cups one at a time to the table, setting them down carefully before returning with another. At last she sat down with her own cup and blinked at me with rheumy eyes. “So, what brings you here?”

“Did Frank ever talk about the war?”

“Oh, yes. All the time. I swear that man had a story for every occasion. He had quite a few about your grandfather, as I recall. Would you like to hear one?”

“Well, I don’t know that we have time …”

Anne interrupted me with a smile. “We’d love to, Mrs. Eaton.”

Georgia leaned forward conspiratorially over her coffee cup. “The first thing you need to know is that during the war, none of those boys were married. They were young, and they were away from home. Now, before they went off to Achnacarry in Scotland to become Army Rangers, they were all fresh out of boot camp and waiting for orders to go overseas. They had been trained at Camp Gruber, and not too far away was Star Lake.”

I stifled a groan. This would have been one of Frank’s favorite stories, the bastard.

“It so happened that one night, the boys arranged to meet some young women at the lake. You’ll notice I did not say ‘ladies.’ This would have been your grandfather Abe, my Frank, Shadroe, and Don.”

“Not Patrick?” asked Anne.

“This was before Achnacarry, dear, so the boys hadn’t yet met Patrick or Henry. No, it was just the four of them. That night, they snuck out of camp and went down to the lake. It was about three or four miles away, and they didn’t have a car, but being strong young soldiers, a four-mile run wasn’t going to get in the way of the evening that they had planned.

“So, they went to the lake, and sure enough, the girls were there waiting for them. They walked around the lake a bit, away from the road for more privacy. The girls had brought blankets and wine, you can imagine what for, and pretty soon each couple was moving off into the trees.

“Well, the way Frank tells it, he and his girl had decided to have their wine and watch the moon, unlike everyone else, and while they were engaged in this innocent pastime, they heard a commotion from the trees. He didn’t think much of it, until he heard Abe start screaming and yelling in terror.

“Just then, Abe’s date ran past them with her clothes clutched to her chest, making straight for the girls’ car. Frank ran back into the trees and found Abe, stark naked, up in a tree. Down below were two black bears, angry as can be.” Georgia laughed and fanned herself with one hand.

Anne laughed out loud with her. “That must have been some sight.”

“Oh, that’s not the half of it. The boys started yelling about bears, and the girls all jumped in their car and took off. Abe couldn’t get down because the bears wouldn’t leave, and the others were too scared to get close to them. So Frank, Shadroe, and Don had to run all the way back to camp to get help. Shadroe and Don were immediately confined to the barracks, but the MP’s took Frank with them back to the lake to show them where to find Abe.

“When they got back, they found Abe, still up in the tree, still naked. They scared the bears off with their guns and got him down. On the way back to the base, Abe tried to explain how he came to be treed by bears while naked, and the senior MP stopped him. He said, ‘Son, I don’t know what you had planned for tonight, but maybe next time you should bring the bears flowers first.’“

Laughter rang out in the kitchen, mine included. God, I missed those boys. “You know that Frank sent … my grandfather a birthday card every year, and every year it had a bear on it.”

She smiled and nodded. “Oh, yes, I used to help him pick them out.”

“He kept them all, every one.” I realized as I said it that those cards were all gone now, lost in the fire. It hurt. “He didn’t hang on to much else, just letters from his friends, and some souvenirs from the war. Did Frank keep any of that stuff?”

“I gave most of it away, after he died. I kept a few little things to remember him by. Are you looking for something in particular? I have his old medals, and the letters he sent to me from overseas, but that’s all. I’m going to get some more coffee, would you like some?” She got up from her seat and went to the counter with her cup.

“No thank you, I’m fine. We’re looking for something he brought back from Europe, a piece of metal.”

She put her cup down on the counter with a sharp click, but she didn’t turn around to face us. “I’m sorry, I don’t recall anything like that. I wish I could help you. I’m afraid I’m not as young as I used to be, so I’m feeling a little tired. I think I’m going to lie down for a while. Thank you for stopping by.”

Anne and I looked at each other across the table. “Are you sure, Georgia? It’s a very distinctive piece of metal. It’s like a long curve with two points on the back.”

She spun around and glared at us. Her eyes were wild in her face and her lips were drawn back. “I said I was sure, now get out!” The woman that let us into her home and offered us coffee was gone. I didn’t know what had replaced her.

I stood up and showed her my palms. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. But it’s very important that I get that piece. You could be in danger.”

She snatched a butcher knife out of the sink and screamed, “No! It’s mine! You’re not taking it away from me!”

She slashed at me wildly with the knife. Knives scare me. We don’t really have instincts for guns, but we know knives down to our bones. It’s a fear that never needs to circulate through the logical mind to make us cringe. The butcher knife’s blade was heavy and gray and sharp as hell.