Emily knew that she was not any man’s dream girl. She was used to it, but that did not mean that she was happy about it. Very few of the people who knew Emily would combine the word happy with a statement about her.
Although, like everyone else, she desperately wanted love and companionship, her paramours could be counted on the fingers of one hand, and, of those, the ones that had been any semblance of satisfactory were zero. Her two failed marriages to men who did not measure up, and her disappointment of a daughter were additional aggravations in her miserable existence.
She did not think that she was an attractive woman at 43 years old and never had been. Her 135 lbs. was distributed over her pear shaped 5’2” frame in a distinctly matronly way. It was not her physical appearance which held her back in relationships, but her attitude. Emily rarely made a comment that was not negative about something. If you told her anything, she would invariably respond with the most negative aspect of the topic.
Occasionally, she would have nagging thoughts about doing something to improve her lot, when Messenger Malcolm would whisper in her ear, but these moments were rare and did not last long. Malcolm was an invisible, ethereal being, who tried endlessly to make Emily’s existence better. Although his success rate was abysmal, he never failed to try.
This day had started out like so many others. A lackluster breakfast of yoghurt topped with blueberry granola was followed by a long morning of not much of anything. Then, a bologna sandwich for lunch broke up the monotony for a few moments followed by more hours of not much.
Finally, Emily decided that she would get out of the house. There was a new buffet down the street, about which she had seen a commercial on the TV. The endless fried shrimp were calling her name.
Walking to the carport, she opened the door to her little Hyundai. Something seemed off, but she could not put her finger on it. She discovered what it was when she turned the key in the ignition and nothing happened. The light had not come on when she opened the door. That had been what had nagged at her, and now the car was not trying to start at all. It was clear that the battery was dead.
Fortunately, her Scottish neighbor, Samuel, who was just Sam to everyone who knew him, was getting ready to go get some groceries at the same time and noticed her difficulty. His close-cropped hair was starting to grey, and his middle was just starting to get soft, but his eyesight and heart still seemed to be maintaining. Not bad for an almost old guy, he usually thought to himself.
Coming up to the driver’s side of the car, he tapped lightly on the window and said, “Got a problem with the battery? I’ve got cables.”
At first, Emily was annoyed and grimaced but then thought better of it. At least she had not wasted her money on those fancy electric windows. Just another thing to break and suck her hard-earned money away.
With these sour thoughts, she cranked down the window and said, “Yep, looks like the bastard gave it up!”
That was not quite the response he had been expecting, but Sam just let that go. He continued, “Pop the hood and let me have a look.”
After Emily pushed the button to release the hood, Sam moved the safety catch over and propped the hood on the little stick used to keep it up. He leaned into the grimy space which smelled of old oil and gasoline and spent a few moments looking and touching and doing whatever it is that guys do in these situations. Coming back to the window to update Emily, he said, “Yup, probably just needs a jump. Let me bring the car over.”
Fitting actions to words, he went to his nearby Ford, started it up and moved the nose of the Bronco near the front of Emily’s car. He quickly and efficiently opened the hood of the Bronco, got some cables from the rear section, and had the two batteries connected in no time.
With the Bronco idling, he went to Emily and said, “Okay, try it.” The little Hyundai purred to life.
Sam disconnected his cables and stowed them once again in the back of his vehicle, then stepped back over to Emily. “Just be sure to drive it a bit to charge the battery and you should be fine.”
“I’ll do that,” Emily replied, and then turning the steering sharply to avoid the Bronco, pressed on the accelerator. and headed for the buffet.
It was not the first time that Sam had performed a kindness for the crotchety woman, so he was not surprised by her terseness. Still, he could not help himself from thinking, ‘What a piece of work!’
Messenger Doohan MacDonald, once of clan Donald of the Isle of Islay, was not visible, of course, but if he had been, his splendid great kilt in vibrant greens and blues with red overchecks, and the formal Prince Charlie jacket, along with the jaunty black Glengarry cap topped with its red ball, would have been quite the sight. He whispered to Sam, ‘Steady, lad. Ye be knowing her like.’
Sam had to smile, thinking that he was not expecting anything different from his neighbor, when this thought occurred to him.
Doohan and Sam both watched the car drive away, but only Doohan could see Messenger Malcolm in the back seat turning to look out the rear window to shrug his shoulders in a what-can-I-do gesture.
* * *
The following morning, Sam was sitting on the bench in the small park in front of the apartments where both he and Emily lived. There was a pair of cardinals happily discussing the prospect of getting some seeds from the nearby feeder once that human left.
Sam was amused by the antics of a squirrel who did not want to patiently wait. The squirrel could find no way up to where the feeder hung with a large tin dome covering it, specifically intended to thwart him and his friends.
Reaching into the Dunkin’ Donuts bag that rested on the bench beside him, Sam retrieved one of his favorite chocolate glazed ones. After he finished the donut in only a few bites, he took pity on the frustrated rodent. He rose, and stepping over to the feeder, extracted a small amount of the black oil sunflower seeds. He tossed those in the general direction of the squirrel, who flinched back at first, but quickly determining that the missiles were no threat, scampered up to where they lay. The squirrel stuffed the seeds in his cheeks and made off for his nest to enjoy this newfound bounty.
At that moment, Emily walked up the sidewalk, apparently on her way back from the market, a pair of plastic bags dangling from each hand.
‘Get ye wits about ye, me bucko,’ Doohan whispered to Sam. ‘Here be coming the grand lady herself.’
“Morning Emily,” Sam greeted her, looking up from the departing squirrel. “Do you need any help getting those bags home?”
“Nope. Got this!” She replied.
Nonplussed, Sam continued, “Then would you care for a chocolate donut? Fresh and still warm.”
Emily paused for a moment, considering the offer a little longer than one might expect, and then answered, “Don’t mind if I do.”
She shifted the two bags from her left hand to add to those in her right. They must not have been heavy at all, because she handled four in her right hand as easily as she had managed the two. Taking the preferred donut with her freed hand, she scanned it quickly, then took a nibble. As she moved on, she said, “Doesn’t look like you got any birdseed on it.”
Sam smiled his wry smile, consoling himself that Emily was not meaning to be unkind, but was just being Emily.
‘That be the way of it, me laddie.’ Doohan whispered in Sam’s ear. ‘Ye will not be changing that leopard’s spots, I be thinking.’
It did seem that it was time for him to set his sights on another companion to share his remaining years with Sam thought to himself as he turned and walked away.
