Dave Zeltserman - The Caretaker of Lorne Field

“Big part of the problem’s the size of the honorarium,” Durkin said. “You pay someone so little, how can you respect what they do? But it didn’t used to be so little.” He paused to wipe some beer from his mouth and watch a groundball go up the middle putting runners on first and third. “You know what the president’s salary was when the county added the honorarium?”

Charlie shrugged. “I dunno. Two hundred thousand?”

“Nope. I looked it up once. Twenty-five thousand dollars. That’s all. And you had a whole country to come up with that money. The eight thousand figure was damned good in comparison, especially since you only had a small county to raise it, mostly nothing but farmers back then.”

Charlie joined Durkin in watching the game. The runner on first stole second standing up.

“Pitcher’s delivery’s too slow,” Durkin observed. “Even I could’ve stole that base.”

Charlie nodded in agreement.

The next batter hit a two-hopper down the third base line and over the diving glove of the third baseman, scoring both runners on base. Durkin turned away from the game in disgust.

“He wasn’t positioned right,” he said. “He should’ve been guardin’ the line.”

“Yep.”

“And he shouldn’t’ve dove like that. If he just stayed on his feet he could’ve at least knocked the ball down and saved a run. I don’t know what the hell they teach players today.”

Charlie looked away from the TV, distracted by the sound of muted laughter coming from a corner of the bar. Sitting at a table were the two Hagerty brothers, Jasper and Darryl, both red-faced as they laughed and elbowed each other over a private joke. The Hagerty brothers were in their early thirties and worked construction. Dressed in stained tee shirts and overalls, the long greasy brownish-blond hair on both their heads looked as if it hadn’t been washed in months. Jasper pointed a finger at Jack Durkin’s back and laughed harder, spitting out beer as he did so. He caught Charlie’s eye and elbowed his brother, signaling him with a hushing-type gesture by placing his index finger to his lips. The two Hagerty brothers struggled to keep quiet, but both burst out laughing harder than before. Charlie asked Durkin to excuse him, then walked over to Jasper and Darryl Hagerty.

“You two boys finding something amusing?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Jasper giggled, his cheeks inflated as he tried to control himself. Darryl said, “We were only talking about produce. Heard of a new use for tomatoes.” Both brothers sprayed beer over themselves as they exploded with laughter.

“I think you two had better leave,” Charlie said.

“Aw, come on, Charlie, we’re just having some fun,” Jasper said, his laughter dying down to a sputter. Darryl, grinning widely, wiped tears from his face.

“I mean it. I want you to leave now. And I don’t want you coming back here.”

Charlie took a step towards them, his large hands balled into fists, and the humor left the Hagerty brothers’ faces. The brothers were big men and less than half the age of Charlie Harper, but Charlie was also a big man with large forearms and thick bones and a face that showed scars from dozens of barroom fights. As the Hagerty brothers tried to stare him down, the violence compressing their mouths faded to something more like petulance. Darryl cracked first and shifted his eyes towards the exit. “Plenty of other places to spend my money,” he said. He got up and walked towards the door. Jasper Hagerty followed him out of the Rusty Nail.

Charlie walked back behind the bar and rejoined Durkin. “Hell with them if they can’t show the proper respect,” he said.

Durkin kept his eyes trained on his beer. “That’s what it has come to. Being laughed at by a couple of oafs like them.” He seemed lost in thought for a moment, then smiled reluctantly. “It’s tough enough every day looking out at a field growing full of Aukowies, knowing I got almost four years left before Lester can take over. With the way the town’s acting, I just don’t know, Charlie. I’m getting tired.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I don’t know. Nothing.”

“You’re not going to stop your weeding?”

Durkin didn’t answer him.

“Jesus, Jack, if you are planning that give me some notice.” Charlie forced a nervous smile. “At least give me a chance to get on the first plane I can to Tahiti.”

“It wouldn’t do you any good. Aukowies would be there quick enough. Three or four weeks tops.”

“Jack, come on, you can’t let a couple of dumb asses like the Hagerty brothers get to you.”

“It’s not just them, Charlie. It’s the whole town. Chrissakes, even my wife, my two boys.”

“Your boys don’t believe?”

“Maybe Bert, but Lester can’t keep the smirk off his face.” He smiled weakly and waved a hand in front of him as if he were waving away the last few minutes. “Don’t worry, Charlie. Just feeling sorry for myself, that’s all. I may be tired but I’m not quitting my weeding. Hell, only a couple of months to first frost. I’ll make it. And things are going to change with Lester. I’m taking him with me in a few days. He’ll see firsthand those ain’t no weeds.”

Charlie’s heavy eyelids drooped a bit as he nodded to himself. “Any chance you can take me out there sometime?” he asked.

“I can’t do that. That would be violating the contract.”

“It might help to have other people see those creatures firsthand.”

Durkin thought about it and shook his head. “I’d like to. But I can’t violate the contract. If I start with this, who knows what rule I’d bend next. At some point we’d all be lost.”

Charlie stroked his chin, considering that. “How about taking pictures of them. Anything in the contract against that?”

“Shouldn’t be anything against it. Contract was written before cameras existed. Problem is, from a picture I doubt they’d look much different than a weed.”

“You own a camcorder?”

Durkin shook his head.

“I’ll loan you mine. I use it to take movies of my grand-kids. You film those creatures and I think people around here will change their attitude.”

Durkin sat still for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “I could do that,” he said. “As long as there’s nothing in the contract against it. You think you could teach me how to use one of those things?”

“Sure. They’re easy to learn. I should be able to teach you in a few minutes. I’ll tell you what-I’ll bring it over to your house tomorrow night.”

Durkin sat straighter on his barstool, his shoulders barely stooped, his chest looking less caved-in than usual. It was almost as if some of the invisible weight had been rolled off his shoulders. Not all, but some. “Okay, then,” he said.

The next morning Lydia surprised her husband by having the boys at the table with him for breakfast and by serving fried eggs and bacon with rye bread toast and grape jelly. Jack Durkin eyed the food suspiciously, then asked his wife what got into her and why she was serving real food for a change.

“You don’t like it, I can take it away and give you a bowl of corn flakes,” she snapped back at him.

“No need to do that.” He gave her a wary look and leaned forward, his arms circling the plate as if he were guarding it. “I was just wondering what got into you, that’s all. You hit one of your scratch cards or something?”

“I don’t play them! You want to keep pushing your luck, you ain’t never going to see bacon and eggs again.”