Just Being Friendly

*******

Casey looked on her first foray into my garage as a watershed moment and came by more often when she either saw me working outside or heard me moving things around in the garage. I stocked up on cherry soda, her favorite it seems. Hannah, the screaming banshee, was able to get a part time job at Ernie's Hardware store, which just happened to be across the road from the Sheriff's Office. I did offer her a lift into town one day, just to test the water so to speak. The words, "I'd rather walk," told me those waters were still a little frigid.

A month later I got a reminder that Hannah still felt the need to remind me who lived where.

I was working on my truck out on the edge of my garage, half the truck was still in the cool of the garage while I made sure the messy end was out on the drive. The spanner wasn't on properly and cleared the nut, I swapped skin off my knuckles with oil from under my truck. The instinct to swear was only held in check when I heard Casey. She sure was a sweet kid, but light on her feet she wasn't.

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Oil change."

"Oh."

She squatted down and looked under the truck as I held my hand tightly against me and dropped the spanner rather than act on the urge to throw it back into the garage.

In an effort not to think about my now-skinned knuckles I looked at Casey and said, "I thought you were going shopping?"

Casey smiled and looked over her shoulder before looking back at me and whispering, "We was, but momma locked herself out of the house and now she's on the phone to any locksmith that will answer the phone on a Sunday morning."

We both shared a giggle.

"Casey, go tell your momma to shake the rock next to the ornamental frog on the left-hand side of the front door."

She shrugged but stood, saying, "ok," as she walked away.

I went back to work on the sump plug. Ten minutes later a woman's foot positioned itself either side of my legs. I was so wrapped up getting this damn plug off I just didn't notice her until she said. "How many more keys are there out there to my house?"

Being caught by surprise I instinctively sat up and smacked my head on the underside of my truck. I slid out from under and rested against the body of my truck while holding my head at the same time.

"Only that set. Barney was always locking himself out of his house so I bought the hidden key rock as a gag gift for him for his birthday. Two days later he put a spare set in the rock and it's lived outside ever since."

"So you don't have a spare set?"

This time a touch of venom got added to my answer. "Which part of 'only one set' didn't you hear?"

Her reply was something I've been hearing a lot from her lately. "It's MY house."

My only thought as I pulled myself back under my truck was that, in my eyes, it still felt like Cheryl and Barney's. Hannah had done nothing to the place. I even offered to continue to mow the lawn and that alone got me a snort along with a threat to phone the police again if I did.

*******

The status quo lasted another three weeks; it was a knock on my front door that heralded the end of hostilities.

Hannah stood watching me, the anger no longer a fixture on her face. "The 'screaming banshee' would like to talk to you." Her voice was calm, almost melancholy in tone. This was a different Hannah than I was used to.

Being polite was easy; hiding the smirk from my face as she used her own nickname on herself was close to overwhelmingly difficult, I could only imagine my little munchkin friend rated me out about her nickname. I took a step back and gave her room to come in. She just stood there.

As if having second thoughts, she took a half pace back and said, "Can we talk out here please?"

I'm sure she got the message when I pushed the door to, left it open by about six inches and then went back to washing up. The front door opened and shut a minute or two later, while I still had my back to it. Although I continued with my own chores, my senses sought her out. Hannah was standing in the middle of the day room, and the almost inaudible rhythmic creaking of the floorboard gave me the impression of her body moving from side to side, perhaps contemplating what to do next,

"I know I deserved that. It still makes you an insufferable pig though." She then continued through the house and out the back door. I heard, "Iced tea for me, please," as she walked out and onto the back porch.

The drinks and I came out to the porch ten minutes later. She was leaning against one of the support rails, looking out at the lawn.

"Casey said your lawn was beautiful. I can agree with her now." She looked at me. Her lips held a smile. Her eyes still held onto anger. "I caught her sneaking out of here last night; she told me how long you two have been talking."

Once again, she turned to look out at the back lawn.

"Have you ever had the riot act read to you by a ten-year-old, Mitch?" She gave out a giggle, when she realized what she was asking of me.

Hannah never turned to face me. Her own words hurt her too deeply I suppose. A woman of pride simply couldn't show it. When she saw Casey coming through my back yard and into her own, Hannah waited for her. Casey was caught and, like any cornered animal that had nowhere to go but forward, she attacked. She told her mother that she wanted a normal life, with friends and to be able to talk to her neighbor without a screaming banshee destroying any hope of her ever having any friends.

"I can't even ground her Mitch, because every word she spoke resonated in my head. Last night she spoke the truth as she sees it and I can't dispute that. What I thought I was doing was protecting her. What she made me realize I was doing, was hiding us."

Hannah hugged the post that she was leaning against and burst into tears. We had met in the most unusual of circumstances and instantly gotten off on the wrong foot. She flinched when she felt my arms go around her. Sensing something was still way off, I instinctively backed away again and gave her the one thing she needed just then, space.

It took her a moment before she turned from the post and look at me. She hadn't heard me sit down on the porch seat. When she realized I had, her own ass rose and perched itself on the handrail. The sun was starting to go down behind her; it didn't stop me seeing so much pain in Hannah's eyes.

"I protected Casey as best I could Mitch, but we're both still so desperately damaged."

This time there was no hesitation. The emotions being tightly held inside her burst forth and I just knew that I could do nothing about it. Hannah's pain was something she carried for a reason. Only that woman perched on my back rail could tell me why. My own body was fighting every instinct within me. I just hated to see this woman in so much pain, and yet I knew if I tried to comfort her, it would destroy the reason she came here.

Finally, her hand went into a pocket; I thought it was to get a tissue that women always seem to carry. Instead her hand held a crumpled envelope within it. Even from here that envelope looked like it had done some miles.

Her hand came towards me and she said, "This is for you. Please let me explain first. It's important you let me explain, ok?"

Still feeling confused I held out my hand and the envelope dropped into it. Whatever was inside caused the crumpled envelope to open out slightly and there, looking back at me, was one word in a handwriting I knew all too well. My own name looked back at me in Barney's own stylish handwriting.

"I need to tell you all this but I'm just so unsure where to start."

She paused for a moment and seemed to look at a spot just to the right of me. When I looked, there wasn't anything there.

Her voice started off at a whisper. It grew in strength as her own thoughts made sense and brought order. "I was three when my father went to war, the Vietnam War. He met many people there and some he called friends. He wrote to momma and, amongst other things, he talked about one man in particular, Mitch, this man he called brother. You would know him as Barney Thomson."

Hearing that name made me pay real close attention. She could only describe things from her mother's point of view since Hannah was only four years old at the time, of course. Barney brought her father's body back to be buried in the town's cemetery. He went on to explain how her father had saved his life, but at the cost to his own. Barney stayed a couple of days before his leave was up and he had to return to his unit.

Barney turned to her mother and told her of the debt he owed her husband and now owed her. He emphasized that if ever she needed anything she was to get in touch and he would move heaven and earth to fulfill his promise to his friend. Over time, of course, the owed debt was forgotten about and even contact numbers went missing and eventually passed into the deep recesses of forgotten thoughts. Hannah's mother never called on the debt and simply got on with her life and, eventually, even re-married.

Hannah paused once again. A smile even came to her lips and her face seemed to soften as her memories took hold and calmed her. "He was such a sweet man. Every year I watched the love between them grow. He truly did love my mom."

Hannah grew up and went on to college, even meeting her husband there.

"Momma didn't want me to marry Tony. She said he creeped her out. But love is blind, Mitch; I can attest to that."

Her mother and stepfather died in a car crash a month before the wedding. There was an investigation, but it was inconclusive.

"So we had a funeral and a wedding all within a month. I loved my husband, Mitch. After all he gave me Casey."

Her whole body shuddered, so much so that Hannah had to hold onto the rail to stop herself from falling off.

"And in the space of nine years he also gave me four broken ribs, two concussions, a broken right arm and countless bruises."

My fingers gripped the arms of the chair I sat on. I had promised to hear her out. My word was the only reason she said as much as she did. My own body was finding it more and more difficult to live by my word.

After the last trip to the hospital and the continued promise that it would never happen again, she filed charges against him. Every past "incident" came to light and Tony was sent to jail. There he actually thrived. He became an enforcer for one of the gangs, helped no doubt by the sadistic streak within him. It also got him access to the outside world, were he once again turned his attention to the person responsible for putting him in jail.

"Two things happened within the space of a day that changed everything: Tony broke out of jail and I read an interview in the local paper about a member of our city and a Vietnam vet called Barney Thomson. My memories came flooding back to me, everything my mom said about Mr. Thomson and the debt he felt he owed."

Hannah had no money and nowhere left to go. In desperation she looked up Barney, in the hope that he could indeed help the daughter of the man that saved his own life, even after all these years.

It seems Barney was a man of his word. Within a few hours he stood knocking on Hannah's door. She, in turn, sat him down and explained the unsolved mystery of her mother's car accident, the beatings at the hands of her husband and the fear she had for the health of Casey, more so now that her husband had broken out of jail.

Barney made them both pack. He gave Hannah the key to his house and told her it was hers from now on. He even spoke to the realtor while they packed and took the house off the market. He followed them to the gas station to fill her car and then out of town to make sure she wasn't being followed and sent them on their way. He went to take care of the legal stuff with his son, who was now his lawyer.

"I'm sorry, but I opened and read it. I know I shouldn't have, but I was just plain scared."

I was confused by her statement until I noticed what she was looking at. Her eyes were locked on the envelope in my hand.

Her saying that much reminded me what I did have within my grasp and I gently opened it. It truly was Barney's handwriting; I recognized it instantly.

It read:

'My friend.

We all have debts that we can never pay back. You told me of some of yours on those evenings out on the back porch as we blustered our way through some alcohol and life.

I have to pay this debt back and I so desperately need you to help me. Protect these two people. You have the skills and a gun and I fear that it will take both to do it.

I'm sorry my friend, truly I am. I can no longer do what needs to be done, I pray with all my heart that you can.

An ever grateful, Barney.'

After reading it a couple of times I looked up at Hannah.

She looked really uncomfortable when she said, "All I had to go on was your first name and you were a neighbor. Even when I read the letter in the hope of finding any clue about you, it still didn't help. Until Bernadette told me you were the sheriff, that is."

We sat for another hour on the porch as Hannah went through her life with her ex, the immense weight that lifted off her shoulders when the judge passed sentence and, finally, the total terror of finding out he had escaped from jail. Coming to me was made harder when she figured out who the letter belong to, our relationship was poison and looked like it could get worse. In her eyes, just how do you ask someone like me for help given our own history.

I noticed that Hannah was looking at her watch more often. Casey would be home soon, so I let her out the front door and went back to sit on my back porch. I had a lot to think about. Hannah came with baggage, she admitted it, but quite frankly, didn't we all?

*******

My thoughts about the last few days kept me on the porch seat. It was dark by the time my own instincts alerted me. I had been on the porch so long that my own house lights weren't even on. The sounds of nature put my jumbled thoughts at ease, and then it all went quiet.

Fighting my first instinct of standing and looking out over the lawn, I stayed motionless watching everything that my night vision could bring to me. Sounds traveled farther now that the birds and insects had ceased their calls; the sound of breaking glass was almost missed since it was that faint. I turned my head and listened harder: the sounds were coming from Hannah's house.

That same instinct screamed at me to move. The gun locker was out of the question, it was down in the basement and my guts were telling me, I simply didn't have time. My hunting knife in the garage was the only thing available. I simply shoved it into the small of my back and picked up the phone.

"Maple Grove Police station, how may I help you?"

"Grace, its Mitch. Who's out there that's the closest to my house?"

I'm sure she noticed the tension in my voice and refrained from the usual banter between us.

"Give me a moment, Mitch." I heard her keyboard go frantic. "I have Ernie ten minutes out from you. Bernadette looks like she's grabbing something to eat, but ten to fifteen minutes out."

I wrestled with what to do but those time restraints just wouldn't budge.

"Grace, get both to Barney's old place. There is a breaking and entering in progress and I know for a fact that both women are in the house." I paused for a second and inwardly made a decision to keep them outside. "Grace, order them to run silent. When they get here, they're to watch the house but do nothing else. Tell them that's an order, Grace."

I'm sure ending the call pissed Grace off no end; she would have wanted to warn me against doing anything stupid, which of course was exactly what I was in the process of doing.

Whoever it was went in the back way; it was the only reason I heard the glass breaking. I followed whoever it was in the same way. The sound of a man shouting came from upstairs. There was still too much distance between us to make out the words; his anger was self evident though. As I passed the closet, I heard crying and knew it was Casey. I tapped on the door and whispered that it was me and that I was going to open the door.

The last thing I needed was Casey inadvertently warning whomever the intruder was of my presence. The door to the closet was just unlocked when Casey came barging out and tried to make a dash for the stairs. I pulled her back and held her tightly to me. She resisted for a moment before heart wrenching sobs took her from me.

"Daddy's here. He's gunna kill us both. We have to get momma out of here and run again."

My own instincts were torn on what to do. The human part of me won out and I hugged her for a moment before telling her that I would get her momma.

"Casey, I need you to get out of the house."

In that instant she went from my best friend to a she-cat and for a ten-year-old she had the strength of despair, fear and anger on her side. Casey's father started shouting more loudly at her momma and it camouflaged the fight I was having in keeping Casey from running full tilt up the stairs.

Out of sheer preservation, I held her tightly and shook her while I whispered as loudly as I dared, "Casey, stop it and you better damn well stop it right now."

At this moment in time, I'm not sure who she was scared of the most, her daddy or me. She just froze in my arms and I in return pulled her to me and held her close so I could talk to her rather than whisper.

"I'm taking you to the front door and you will stay on my front porch until the two police cars turn up in a minute or two. I will bring your momma out once I've dealt with your father. You have to believe that Casey because I can't have you in the house."

What she saw in my eyes with the limited light available to us I will never know, but it stopped her in her tracks and forced her to listen. "I'm bringing your momma out of here, Casey, even if it's only to hear her say thank you."

For a moment she smiled and I relaxed my grip on her, we tiptoed to the front door and when I opened it, Casey looked once more at me for reassurance. I nodded at her and she then ran across the lawn and onto my front porch. I watched her hide under the swing amongst the darkest shadows in the corner.

*******

I had to become that man again, the knife stayed tight to the small of my back as I tiptoed up the stairs. My body willed itself to breathe softly, even more so as I inched towards the bedroom door. It was ajar by about six inches and the ex walked past the gap a couple of times as I got closer. Fortunately for me he was spending so much time running his mouth off that a herd of buffalo could have charged that hallway at the moment and he wouldn't have heard them.

The sight that greeted me when I fully opened that door both tore at my heart and angered me more than anything I had seen in this lifetime. Hannah was all but naked on the bed; her hands and feet were tied to each corner with electric cord and rope. The remnants of her clothes hung loosely on her body-so much, they may as well have not been there. One eye was already closed and the bruising around it was already extensive. Some cuts and more bruising worked like a bad route map across her body.

I thought I was prepared for anything. That thought still laughing at me when the mountain that was her ex came charging at me. He came in low and I folded into him, quickly realizing that if I didn't match his aggression, then I was dead and Hannah wouldn't be that far behind.

My hand came out in one motion and with my knife in hand I sliced right through what looked like the cord from a bathrobe holding her left wrist to one of the four posts, my knife got caught in the wood as I tried to retrieve it, seeing her ex charge once again meant I had to leave it there. It was all my instinct allowed me to do for her. Hannah had to figure out the rest while her ex and I got acquainted.