Nick had been one of Grady’s high school friends. Instead of going off to college, he got his mechanics certificate. That kid could fix anything. He was as handy as a pocket on a shirt when it came to farm equipment breaking down.
If I fed him a good meal, he’d fix just about anything.
Now that he’s grown up, like all these boys seemed to have done, he co-owned the local mechanics shop where he rented garage space just a couple of blocks from downtown, which just so happened to be on the border of my third loop, making them not on my route.
“Mrs. Butler.” He went to hug me but pulled back. He showed me his hands. “I’m all dirty, and you look so clean in your mail outfit.”
“Are you kidding me?” I put my arms out. “I don’t care, and I could use a hug this morning.”
Nick smiled and wrapped me up in a big grizzly bear hug like he did when he was a kid.
“How’s your mama and them? I’ve not seen them in a long time, now that you kids are all grown up.” I looked up at him.
Another thing. These little boys had all grown taller than me too.
“They are good. In fact, my mom bought Clara a present and said she was going to drop it off once Julia got back on her feet.” He smiled, and the dimples in his cheeks deepened. He shook his head, pulling the towel out from the mechanic’s overalls to wipe his hands. “I still can’t believe Grady Butler is a dad.”
“He did good, kiddo.” I had that stupid happy grin on my face that I’d seen so many other grandmothers have. “How ’bout you? You seeing anyone?”
“Nah.” By the way he said it, I could tell he was lying. “No one serious. Not yet. But when I do, I’ll let you know. But that means you have to stop by the garage more than once a month.”
“Now that I live in town, I walk everywhere and these”—I looked down and wiggled my feet—“do not require gas or service.”
Service was a stretch, but he didn’t need to know how they ached.
“You were always so fun. Clara is going to be one lucky grandkid.” He pointed to the old mail trucks. “The government isn’t paying me to stand around and gab this early. I’ve got to get some of these vehicles running.”
“Yep.” I looked at the old things. “The government won’t replace them. That’s why they’re called lifelong vehicles.” I nodded and waved him off. “Tell your parents to stop by and see me.”
“Mama would love that. Have a good day. It’s supposed to be gorgeous.” He plunged back into the guts of one of the little cars as I headed inside to get my first loop of mail.
The Sugar Creek Gap Nursing Home and Senior Living Facility.
The facility was located behind the post office which made it super easy as my first loop of the day. After I filled the residents’ mailboxes there, I would stop back by the post office to grab the mail for my second loop, which included all the downtown shops and my street of a few houses.
Today, the nursing home went by much quicker than usual. My dear friend who was always waiting on me, Vince Caldwell, had taken a month-long vacation to visit his son out west. Vince wasn’t in the care facility department; he was in the condos located on the property. In fact, my parents had moved out there after they were built.
It was perfect for independent living, and there was very little yard to maintain, though my mom about threw a duck fit when the community didn’t allow her to plant whatever flowers she wanted in the front yard, even though her backyard was a flowering oasis.
Filling the communal mailboxes was easy and I was on my way in no time. Especially since no one was even awake at this hour.
Plus, without the distraction, I would get my mail route delivered earlier so I could meet Julia at the doctor’s office to babysit Clara while she went in for her health check. This was going to be a big one too. The doctor was supposed to clear her to go back to work. I couldn’t help but worry what that meant for Clara. I’d tried six ways from Sunday to work my finances so I could retire and keep her myself when Julia went back to work. But Richard didn’t leave me in any shape financially, and I’d given the only real thing I owned to Grady, which was the farm. And I’d not been at the post office long enough to draw any sort of good retirement, so my worries would have to stay until Julia figured out what she was going to do.
The thought of that precious baby getting her hair pulled by some mean child or even the thought of one of them giving her a running nose just hurt me to my core.
I shook it off and grabbed the next loop of mail, sticking it into my mail carrier bag and off I went on the rest of my morning route. The downtown businesses were on the left side of Main Street as I walked toward Short Street. The old mill was located at the far end across from Short Street, which still had a flowing creek that ran along the right side of the street, making the area a historic sight and unavailable for anyone to build on. But on the other side of the old mill wheel was the courthouse, fire and sheriff’s department, as well as the town’s library and funeral home. After those shops’ mail were delivered, I would head down Short Street to Little Creek Road, where I’d deliver my neighbor’s mail.
I always gave a little extra time for my street because I knew the Front Porch Ladies—the few houses between my house and Mac Tabor’s house, where the widows of the community loved to gather on each other’s porches, or even just holler between porches. But they always loved to chitchat and try to quiz me on various pieces of mail others had gotten. Plus, they were big in the Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes, and they knew exactly what time of the month their manila envelope came.
Bless their hearts, I’d tried to tell them a million times how half the other residents of Sugar Creek Gap were also holding their breaths for the sweepstakes van, balloons, flowers, and the big check to show up at their house, and how they were wasting their money on the various magazine subscriptions and whatever else they had to buy in order to enter, as well.
They’d roll their eyes and believed one of them was gonna be the big winner. I’d learned to keep my mouth shut.
After I finished my second loop, I’d sometimes grab Buster and take him on my third loop, which was my biggest. There was a large neighborhood that was located behind the old mill wheel and the courthouse. It was one of those neighborhoods where there was one house after the other. Not cheap houses either. It was a sought-out neighborhood because it was convenient to downtown and the high school, not to mention the fancy country club attached to the subdivision.
There were so many dirty little secrets back there that I felt like I was walking into a soap opera on my third loop. People didn’t realize just how much your mail carrier can tell about you by delivering your mail.
Since the subdivision was right behind the post office as well, it was easiest to make it my final destination, drop off any mail that wasn’t able to be delivered at the post office, cross Main Street, slip over one of the few bridges that connected Little Creek Road to Main Street, and I was home.
Briefly, I stopped to listen to the sound of the babbling brook swimming across the rocks as the old mill pushed the water down the creek. It was a daily ritual that I loved. I think it was more soothing to my aching muscles than the yoga class. I hoisted my bag up on my shoulder and crossed the street.