Chapter Seven

The computer program was settling into a very pleasing rhythm, Jessie thought. She loved the order of numbers. Their unchanging logic comforted her with assurances that the universe was a safe place, with laws she could depend on. Her programs were based on that principle, and they flowed clearly, aesthetically pleasing to programmer and user alike.

This job was so different than Jessie had imagined it would be, and so far from where she thought she had been headed. As an undergrad she had been an art major, specializing in sculpture. Never in a million years did she think she’d end up here, spending her days in a 9 by 9 cubicle, in front of a computer. Yet somehow, even programming called out the artist in her, and she was good at it. The routine of long hours indoors staring into a monitor wore on her, but it was safe.

Ben Edmunds stuck his head around the partition, interrupting her reverie.

“Can I interest you in lunch, or are you chained?”

“No, I need a break. Lunch would be great. Where’re we going?”

“How ‘bout the Noodle Ranch?” They could walk there, and since it was well past the lunch hour, the wait was brief.

Jessie and Ben had been dating for the past two years. It was an easy, no commitments sort of relationship that kept them both comfortable. Ben reminded Jessie of her brother Mark, with his boyish good looks and playful ways. At 30, it looked like Ben was a confirmed bachelor, and happy to be one. They got along fine as long as Jessie didn’t rely on him to get somewhere on time. She was compulsively early, whereas he was always late.

During lunch Jessie found herself telling Ben about Hattie. “I see her every day near the corner of 2nd and Union, right by my bus stop. She’s a real sweetheart. I worry about her. Every day I try to convince her to go to the shelter, but she won’t go.”

“I’ve seen her too. You really have to wonder how she ended up on the street. She probably drinks. Most of them do.”

“You’d drink too if you were sleeping on the streets. It’s cold and wet out there!”

“Hey, I’m not the enemy. I just said…”

“Forget it. I’m sorry. It’s weird ‘cause sometimes she calls me Hannah. I think Hannah must be her daughter.” Jessie debated whether to mention the angel. Ben might think she’d flipped. He was watching a ballgame on the bar TV, unaware that she’d fallen silent. Best keep the angel to herself.

Walking back to the office, they ran straight in to Hattie, her floppy brimmed begging cup extended. “Spare change for a cup’o?” Her usually litany showed no memory of the night before. Jessie stuck a dollar in the hat in exchange for a beatific smile, their routine unchanged.

“It’s no mystery why she remembers you, Jessie. You’re pretty much supporting her.”

“A dollar hardly supports anyone, Ben.”

“Still, I wonder if you aren’t just encouraging her?”

Jessie didn’t bother answering him. Ben would never understand. She hesitated at the door to their building, resisting returning indoors. The smell of the ocean was in the wind, and it called her, tempting her to run away and play.

“Ben, you go on. I’ll be up in a bit. I need to run an errand” Ben shrugged and headed off. Jessie felt a shiver of excitement. This wasn’t like her, but she couldn’t face the cubicle any more today. She fingered the door knob in her pocket, and headed south.

Almost immediately she heard Hattie calling her.“Hannah! Hannah! Did you see ‘em? I never would of thought I’d see the day, but there he was, big as life. You saw him, didn’t you?” Hattie was moving faster than Jessie’d ever seen her, waving her begging hat like a flag.

Jessie went to her. “Hattie, slow down. Take a breath. What’s the matter, dear?” Hattie leaned against Jessie, winded from chasing her.

“Hannah, did you see the little man? Right over there by the doorway he was. No bigger than my knee.” Jessie looked perplexed. “You walked right past him! He almost tripped you. I think he was a brownie, like in the old country.”

Jessie didn’t want to frighten Hattie, but she couldn’t help feeling the old woman was hallucinating. “Hattie, let’s sit down. I’ll get you some water.”

Hattie pulled away from her. “You think I’m crazy!”

“No, Hattie, I just think maybe you’re over heated. Let me get you some water.” Jessie reached for her arm, but Hattie shrugged her off indignantly.

“Me own girl!” With that she turned and stomped away, clearly offended. Jessie watched her go with concern.

“Hattie is getting so fragile,” she thought. “I wish I could help. She watched as Hattie made her way down the block until she turned the corner. Sighing, she turned back to her own thoughts.

Tonight was her date with Rowan. She should probably head home early, but she was thinking about the junkyard by the wharf. She’d noticed a piece of lattice work there, a rusted piece, but laced with curlicues and curves. That coupled with the brass doorknob Rowan had given her, and some stained glass, probably in the purples and golds of a sunset over the bay, would make a sculptured bell. As though she’d never left her art, the ideas poured in.

In the junkyard Jessie found just the piece she was looking for. She held the rusty metal in the sun, enjoying the play of shadows it created. While she held it, planning how to best use it, she realized she was being watched from the shadow by the wall. Very casually she turned so she could see better, but all she saw was the junkyard dog, curled boneless on a pile of burlap bags. No wait, there was someone – or something – there. Could it be a child? Whoever it was stayed just out of her sight, until finally she gave up.