Dave Zeltserman - The Caretaker of Lorne Field

Durkin didn’t say anything. He was too choked up at that moment to say anything. He dusted dirt off the Caretakers contract and handed it to Hank.

“This is the contract?” Hank asked. The attorney held it at arm’s length to take a look at it but it was too dark to read it.

Durkin nodded.

“I’ll go over this carefully tonight,” Hank said. “With your family occupying this house for several hundred years this contract could amount to a land grant. It amazes me they thought they could get away with this. But then again, with some of the newer town residents on the council they probably didn’t believe that this contract even existed. Don’t worry, Jack, I’m going to get you back in that house.”

Durkin nodded dully as he examined the Book of Aukowies. Tears welled in his eyes.

Hank put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s the book?” he asked.

“Yep. It’s been in my family over three hundred years. The binding split open when I fell.”

Hank took the book from Durkin and looked through the pages. In the dusk he could still make out the drawings of the Aukowies.

“This is what they look like fully grown?”

“Yep.”

Hank’s face grew even more gaunt as he stared at the pictures. He closed the book.

“Jack, the binding can be replaced. Leave the book with me and I’ll get it fixed.”

“Thanks. I’d appreciate it.”

“Least I can do, Jack. I’ll get it done right away.”

The attorney picked himself off the ground and gave Durkin a hand to help him to his feet. He looked at Durkin with concern.

“I should take you to the emergency room,” he said.

“Nope. It’s probably just a sprain. Anyway, I got too much to do.”

The two men started towards the front of the house, Durkin in a badly hobbled gait and Hank walking slowly to keep pace with him. The concern on the attorney’s face deepened as he watched the way Durkin moved.

“You need to get that ankle looked at.”

“Not tonight,” Durkin grunted.

Hank offered to put Durkin up at his home when they reached his car. “You can stay with me until we get this mess resolved, or if you’d like, tomorrow I can find you an apartment.”

“How far away is your new home?”

“It’s only the next town over. I’d say no more than fifteen miles from here.”

“I can’t do that.” Durkin shook his head, his jaw locked in a determined scowl. “I need to stay close to the field.”

“Jack, I can drive you back here anytime you’d like.”

“Nope. Wouldn’t want to put you out that way. Besides, I got other plans.”

“Jack, really, it’s no bother…” Hank Thompson stopped as he stepped back on his heels. He froze for a moment, then tapped his chest. “Indigestion,” he told Durkin. “I shouldn’t have had that extra helping of stuffed cabbage.” He smiled weakly as he took out his wallet and peered inside it. He counted what he had and handed the money to Durkin.

“Forty-three dollars,” Hank said. “All I have on me. If I knew those bastards lifted the two hundred dollars from you, I would’ve stopped off at an ATM before coming here. You’re sure you’re going to be okay?”

Durkin nodded without much conviction.

“Call me tomorrow,” Hank said. “I’m going to fix this, Jack, I promise. I’ll be filing an emergency injunction tomorrow morning to get you reinstated as Caretaker and back in your house. Don’t worry about a thing, Jack, we’ve got a valid contract on our side.” The attorney sighed as he gazed at the boxes and furniture scattered across the front yard. “It might take a few days to get all this worked out, so I’ll arrange to have your belongings put in storage. I don’t want to give our good sheriff an excuse to throw your property away.”

“I appreciate all this, Hank.”

The attorney fixed Durkin a careful look. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” he asked.

“Yep. I’ll be fine.”

The attorney took Durkin’s hand. His face grew a shade grayer as he stared more intently at Durkin. “You’re sure you’re going to be able to weed that field tomorrow?”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Okay, Jack.” Hank lowered himself into his Cadillac. “If you need anything you call me, understand?”

The attorney showed a comforting smile as he held up the Book of Aukowies and promised Durkin he’d get it repaired. As he pulled away, he honked his horn and waved out the window. Durkin watched until the car disappeared around the bend. Then he found his flashlight and hobbled painfully to where he’d left Lester’s mountain bike.

In retrospect, Jack Durkin could’ve planned better. Not that he had much choice in the matter. The idea of staying with Hank Thompson gave him the willies. While he liked Hank and felt comfortable around him, Hank’s wife was another matter. Jeanette Thompson was a tall willowy woman, about the same height as her husband and with the same thick cigar-ash colored hair. Originally from Manhattan, she had gone to the same ivy league college as Hank, and the few times she met Durkin, she had looked at him as if he was nothing but a specimen in a jar. Even more importantly, he had spent every night of his life at the Caretaker’s cabin, and the thought of being an overnight guest in anyone else’s house was strongly distasteful to him. But it was more than that. He couldn’t be dependent on anyone to get him to Lorne Field in the morning. Still, after spending three hours in the dark, first riding Lester’s mountain bike back to Lorne Field and then pushing a wheelbarrow from the shed to the Caretaker’s cabin, hobbling every step of the way on an injured ankle, he wished he had come up with a different plan. He also wished he had found the aspirin before he left.

He pushed the wheelbarrow over to the boxes and nearly fell over when something large crawled out of one of them. He turned his flashlight on it and saw four raccoons digging into the box.

“Git out of there!” he yelled.

The raccoon nearest to him arched its back and hissed. The others ignored him.

“I said git!”

This time all the raccoons ignored him.

Durkin picked up a stone and threw a fast ball hitting the nearest raccoon in the ribs. It let out a loud hiss, turned towards Durkin, then changed its mind and scampered off. Durkin zipped a couple of more stones at the other raccoons and they followed, disappearing into the nearby woods.

He hobbled over and saw the box they were digging into was one of the ones with perishable food packed into it. He pushed it away and found the boxes with the canned goods, then loaded the cans into the wheelbarrow.

“Almost forgot the can opener,” he muttered to himself. “A lot of good those cans would do me without it.”

Durkin searched through more boxes until he found the can opener. The same box had the family silverware, and he grabbed a fork and spoon. He went through the rest of the boxes and loaded blankets, sheets and a pillow into the wheelbarrow, along with a small suitcase that he packed most of his clothes into.

In one of the boxes he came across a plaque naming him the state’s most valuable baseball player his freshman year of high school. He had forgotten about the plaque. He probably hadn’t seen it since the night he was awarded it at the celebration dinner. He lingered for a moment looking at it, and then dropped it back in the box.

He was pushing the wheelbarrow away from the cabin and onto the path to Lorne Field when he saw flashing lights approach the house. He checked his watch and saw it was a couple of minutes to midnight. The idea of Dan Wolcott checking his garage and house to make sure he wasn’t there infuriated him, but he was too damn tired to do anything but trudge forward.