Acre Under a Green Sky

Guess what? Old Lady Eagle's real name was Eva Willingdo. My father had arranged to interview her early the next morning at her home, and I asked if I could come along. We walked across the street together and found them on the front porch; Old Lady Eagle in her wheelchair flanked by Mrs. Eagle and Rod standing like guard dogs. My father greeted Old Lady Eagle warmly; calling her "Eva", and it appeared he had known her all his life. She called him "Joshua", and mussed his hair. He wasn't the least bit embarrassed by the gesture; but rather, smiled in a way I'd never seen before. It wasn't a smile from his usual catalog of smiles. This was the real thing erupting from deep in his heart and past. He genuinely loved Eva Willingdo, or perhaps he was remembering the love of a little boy for a kind and beautiful woman.

Mrs. Eagle stood with her arms crossed belligerently, and nodded when my father addressed her as 'Flo'. Rod extended his hand to my father for a good shaking, then stuffed it deep into the pants pocket of that same black suit. Maybe he has three of them. Yes, of course, they all knew me, and I was as good as dismissed. They offered my father the only other chair on the porch, and I wondered what happened to the other chairs and the little wicker settee that matched. Why would they intentionally strip this big porch for this meeting? It was strange, but I didn't mind sitting on the floor next to my father's chair.

"Just a few questions, Eva, then I'll leave you in peace."

"Don't be shy, Joshua," Old Lady Eagle said, "I know your position here, and I hope you know mine. All I can do is tell the truth as I remember it."

"Exactly what I would expect of you. Now, the police report says that you heard screams on or about 2AM."

"Scream. One scream at exactly 2AM. It woke me. Of course, it doesn't take much to wake me these days. The cat stomping across the carpet will do it. But that night, it was one scream."

"What time did you go to bed that night?"

"Ten o'clock. Every night; ten o'clock."

"So you must have been pretty deeply asleep by 2AM."

"If only it were so. My sleep never gets deep, son. It's too, too shallow."

Old Lady Eagle was enjoying this company and attention. She listened intently and couldn't wait to answer the next question. She was on the edge of her chair. Mrs. Eagle was coiled like a cobra; head back, glaring at my father, ready to strike at his first misstep. Rod appeared bored and embarrassed by his participation in all this.

"Then it wasn't the third scream that woke you? Or the fifth?"

"No. It was one scream."

"And no more after that?"

"Just the one."

"How would you describe that scream?"

"It was really more like a shriek. A shriek that was choked off at the end."

"Choked off?"

"As if someone had grabbed her throat."

"Then it was a woman's cry?"

"Oh, yes."

"Not a child's?"

"Oh, no. It was a grown woman."

"Could you possibly say which woman made that cry?"

"Of course not, no."

"And that was the end of it?"

"Yes. I stayed up for some time listening, but that was it."

"Why didn't you call the police?"

"I saw no need. Perhaps if I had . . . but it's not uncommon to hear screams coming from that house."

"Which house?"

"Why, Luka's, of course."

"How could you be so sure it was coming from Luka's house?"

"It was so close. My windows are right here on this side, and they were open. It was so close, it had to be Luka's house."

"Might it have been another house? My house, say?"

For the first time, Old Lady Eagle looked concerned; rather than entertained by the question.

Mrs. Eagle moved in like a prizefighter with a series of jabs: "I told you this would happen. He's trying to get you all mixed up. They're all alike. . . "

"Mother," Rod said, and the effect was dazzling. One word from Rod and her temper was dispelled as if on a sigh. It was amazing. My father looked up in wonder at this homely, gaunt man with the power to tame with a word.

Mrs. Eagle appeared almost subdued as she finished her thought, "I was just saying it had to be Luka's house 'cause that's where four murders happened that night. Unless, you had some murders going on in your house nobody knows about, which wouldn't surprise me with your wife living there."

"That's enough, Florence," Old Lady Eagle said, "Now let the young man speak."

"Might it have been another house? Or perhaps not a house at all. Maybe someone stepped on a nail in the yard?"

"I would swear it came from Luka's house. I can't see where else it could have come from."

"Would it be fair to say that you're not absolutely positive?"

"Of course, she's positive," Mrs. Eagle piped in again; almost under her breath.

"Not "absolutely"; but damned sure."

"Fine. Now, you say it was exactly 2AM. How can you be sure of that?"

"I looked at my clock."

"And where was it?"

Old Lady Eagle began waving her hand in front of her, "Right there. There! On the bureau at the foot of my bed."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to get a look inside your room before I go. Perhaps take a few measurements. It'll save us a lot of questions."

"Of course. It's been ages since I've had a handsome man in my bedroom."

"That's not true, Gram! I changed a light bulb in there just this morning," Rod said, and we all marveled at something approaching a sense of humor coming from Rod. He turned scarlet, and dug his hands even deeper into his pockets. He really could be quite charming.

I think it was then Angel appeared at the bottom of the porch steps with Austin by his side.

"Oh damn!" Mrs. Eagle said, "Please get them away."

Rod hadn't noticed them, but when he looked in their direction, his very look was a welcome and they climbed the steps in an instant. Angel looked up at his cousin so adoringly and said something only Rod understood.

My father watched as Rod answered Angel's questions. He had seen Rod at the bank. In fact, he had often requested Rod when he had a tricky transaction. Rod was well known for his efficiency and tact; and of course, there was that tranquilizing voice if you were particularly on edge. He had already been made head teller, and my father was sure he would go far at the bank if he wanted to; perhaps to the top. But now here he was turning his back on an important interview to give his full attention to Angel. In that moment, we were the intruders. And yet; without objection, we waited while Rod administered to Angel and then to Austin in his turn. When at last he had satisfied their needs and they were on their way, the smile he turned on us could only be described as beatific.

Sadly, Rod felt the need to erase that smile. It was a holdover from his encounter with Angel and Austin; and facing us, it struck him as an embarrassment. He apologized and took his post next to his grandmother.

From my vantage point on the floor, I looked over the arm of my father's chair and watched as he wrote on his legal pad: "Rod is special."

As a child, I never questioned Rod's mysterious effect on people. I couldn't understand why he made some people uncomfortable; and others, serene. I saw nothing fraudulent or suspect about his ability to touch hearts. Perhaps there really are saintly people among us. Perhaps he was simply a sweet, caring young man. I only know that he was gifted in a way that felt exceptional, but had no apparent currency in the world.

Mrs. Eagle had been glaring at my father the whole time; paying special attention to his response to Rod with Angel and Austin. She craned her neck to see what he had written, but she was too far away. Her eyes lit on mine, and I couldn't help gloating over my position so close to the written word. She huffed and she puffed, but only I could read my father's innermost thoughts.

"If there's nothing else," Mrs. Eagle said, "We all have work to do."

"But I'm not finished," my father said.

"Of course not," Old Lady Eagle said, "Go on. You were asking about the clock."

"Yes. You were awakened by this scream, and . . . "

"She said, 'shriek'," Mrs. Eagle said, "Didn't you write that down? My mother said, 'shriek', and we will swear to that in any court in the land."

"Eva, do you suppose we could talk alone?" my father said.

"Not on your Nellie!" Mrs. Eagle said, "How do we know what you're writing down there. What she really says or what you want her to say. No sir, we're witnesses!"

"Then I'll have to ask you not to interrupt or we'll be here all day. This is not a trial, for Christ's sake."

Both Rod and Old Lady Eagle smiled their approval, and Mrs. Eagle didn't say another uninvited word.

"Do you sleep with a light on, Eva?"

"No. It was dark. But my clock has a light in it and the hands glow. It was 2AM."

"Do you sleep with your glasses on?"

"No. I had to get them from my bed stand to read the clock."

"Is there a lamp on your bed stand?"

"Yes. Molly Peters made the shade for me. Wait till you see it. It's beautiful."

"Did you turn the lamp on to get a better look at the clock?"

"No need. I could see as clear as day. It was 2AM."

"So on that score, you're absolutely positive?"

"Absolutely!"

"Feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yes. It does."

"You say you've heard screams coming from that house before?"

"They're always carrying on. It's a party or a brawl most everyday and night. You know Luka. He's a hell raiser. Always has been."

"Did you ever imagine anything violent might be going on over there?"

"No. Just high spirits. Or high on spirits; is more like it."

"Is that why you didn't call the police? Because you figured it was just high spirits?"

"I suppose so. And it stopped almost before it began. Had it gone on like that, I would have called the police."

"Do you think Luka killed his family?"

"He must have done."

"What about you, Rod? Do you think Luka did it?"

Rod was startled by the question.

"Me?! What do I think? I think Luka's a very unhappy man."

"What about you, Flo?"

"Of course, he killed them. And nothing you say or do is going to change that."

"Now, if you don't mind, Eva, I'd like to see your room."

"There won't be room for all of us and this chair, too. Florence, why don't you take him in."

"Is there room for my helper here?"

My father put his hand on my shoulder and handed me his pad. I was so grateful.

Mrs. Eagle led us to the front door and into the entry hall. Immediately to the right were two huge sliding doors. We entered into Old Lady Eagle's sitting room. It was perfectly clean and neat and sissified with doilies and frills and little picture pillows and flowering plants and dishes on the walls. We could see Old Lady Eagle outside through one of the two windows facing the porch. On the opposite wall were two doors; one, a closet; and the other, leading to her bedroom.

Mrs. Eagle led us into the bedroom like an ornery landlady showing an apartment, but half-hoping we wouldn't like it. She even commented on its being smaller than the sitting room as if we couldn't see that for ourselves. Old Lady Eagle's bed was like a little girl's bed; short and narrow, but very high with a tall arched headboard painted a creamy ivory with flowering vines painted around the border and a farm scene in the center. Next to her bed was a round table with a tablecloth down to the floor and the most ornate lamp you ever saw with red tassels hanging nearly down to the table top. The headboard of the bed fit neatly between two windows facing Luka's house. On the opposite wall from the bed was a bureau with a radio and a small electric clock on top.

Mrs. Eagle crossed her arms and leaned one shoulder on the door frame.

"She sets that clock by the radio every night, so you know it was right."

When I looked her way, she added, "You know that friend of yours nearly blinded my dog."

"Yes, ma'am,"I said.

"Can you imagine somebody pissing in a squirt gun and nearly blinding a poor, defenseless little dog. Can you imagine that, Mr. Wiley? A person could sue somebody for doing a thing like that, couldn't they, Mr. Wiley?"

"Why don't you come down to the office later, and we'll discuss it."

"Won't you be busy sticking your nose in everybody's business? I guess you'll just go from house to house all the way up to the cemetery asking questions and writing things down."

"Give me a hand here, will you, partner?"

My father was unhinging his zigzag extension rule to measure the distance between the pillow on the bed and the clock. He needed me to hold one end at the clock.

"Ten feet," he said, "Would you mind if we closed these curtains for a minute? I'd like to darken the room as much as possible."

"Can I stop you?" Mrs. Eagle said.

My father lowered his head, and dropped both arms to his side. I had seen this a million times before. Mrs. Eagle was in for a shaming.

"Flo, I thought we were friends. If I was wrong, I'm genuinely sorry, because I value our friendship."

"Tell your wife that!"

"I understand that you and Nora have differences, but that's between the two of you and doesn't involve me or my boy here. Have I been the least bit unkind to you or to your boy?"

"No."

"I wish you and Nora could iron this thing out; but like I say, that's between the two of you. Now, can we shake and be the good neighbors and friends we were before?"

My father extended his hand, but took not one step toward Mrs. Eagle who was half way across the room. Begrudgingly, she took two giant steps, slapped my father's hand, then turned her back on him.

"There! I know I feel better," he said, sneaking a wink at me. "Now, about these curtains."

Long heavy curtains hung open to one side on wooden poles. Underneath were sheer, frilly, white curtains. With one powerful swish of her arm, Mrs. Eagle closed each of the heavy curtains and plunged the room into near total darkness.

My father called me over by the head of the bed.

"Can you read what time it is?"

The clock had an oval face that was dimly illuminated and radium hands that glowed waveringly. The numbers were black and clear. The clock made a lovely night light.

"It's 9:30."

"Suppose I told you it was really a quarter to six."

"It couldn't be."

"Why not?"

"'Cause we were fast asleep at a quarter to six this morning. And if it was 6 at night, we'd be having supper."

"So you had some vague idea about what time it was before you looked?"

"I guess so."

Mrs. Eagle was growing impatient.

"And what's all this got to do with the price of coffee?"

"Just a little exercise in observation. Very often we see what we expect to see. Or what makes the most sense at the moment."

"Are you saying my mother can't see?"

"No, not at all. Tell me, Flo, what caused the rift between you and the Luka's over there?"

"None of your damned business! That Estelle was a foolish old woman and she got what she deserved if you ask my opinion."

"That's rather harsh, isn't it?"

Mrs. Eagle opened the curtains again; punctuating her points with each violent sweep of her arm.

"She was a vicious little liar and she's better off dead. That's my honest opinion! And I'm not going to change it!"

Mrs. Eagle stormed out of the room leaving us to find our way back outside. When we got out on the porch, Rod had gone off to work. We wished Old Lady Eagle a good day and thanked her for her help.

Halfway across the street, I remembered something I had been meaning to ask.

"Oh! You never said what was hidden in Marilyn's baton?"

My father stopped right in the middle of Ledge Avenue.

"I forgot all about it."

"Daaaaad!!!"

"Okay, you're right. I deserve it. Let's call Will and see if he can come over and open up the house for us."

"And what was all that business about the clock, anyway?"

"That was me warning Eva Willingdo that I'm going to have to challenge her in court. She didn't know if it was a scream of pain or a scream of delight. She didn't know where it came from. And I don't think she knew what time it was."

"But she couldn't hear you from way out on the porch."

"Flo Eagle will tell her every word that was said."