LatinosUSA

Dustin Withers sat drinking at the neighborhood bar. He stunk of booze, cigarettes, and sweat. It had been two days since he’d taken a shower or even brushed his teeth. A failure. His wife had tossed him out once again. But this time, it seemed for good.

“Fred! How about another round?” shouted Dustin.

The old-timer behind the worn-out bar flicked Dustin an index finger. Dustin’s shoulders drooped as he waited for the old man. “Dustin…look…you don’t need another drink,” he said while wiping the bar with a dirty rag.

“How do you know what I need, old man?” asked Dustin. He smacked his palm down. “Just give me a drink.”

The two other gents at the other end looked in Dustin’s direction. “Hey, pops! Is that guy giving you problems?” asked the taller, more muscular of the two. He stood up off the stool.

Fred shook his head. “Nah…it’s okay, fellas. I got this. He’s my son,” exclaimed Fred, with a crooked smile.

“Why do you insist on telling people I’m your son? Don’t act like you’re proud of the fact your son is a failure,” muttered Dustin.

“Dang, boy…get yourself out of the gutter and do something with your life. Quit blaming others for your mistakes. Put your big boy pants on and pony up—to life!” Fred swiped the shot glass from in front of Dustin and placed it in the warm, soapy water behind the bar. “Come work for me. I’ll make an honest man of you yet,” said Fred as he moved on to the new customer who’d just walked in the door.

Dustin couldn’t remember the meaning of the word honest. Since he married his third wife, twenty years his junior, all she wanted from him were things. Things he couldn’t afford and, in actuality, didn’t want or need. But his job at the factory didn’t allow for such extra luxuries. In fact, his job barely paid the bills. Jessie was young and vibrant. He thought he’d finally found the one.

“Why don’t you go home, son, back to…” Fred stopped mid-sentence.

“Jessie, Dad…her name is Jessie. And besides, she threw me out. Probably changed the locks already,” said Dustin.

“Well, she can’t do that, Dustin. You’re married. Half-and-half.” Fred watched as the older woman, whose boots, too big for her tiny feet, flopped across the floor as she made her way to the bar. In her right hand, she toted a small suitcase.

“May I help you, ma’am?” asked Fred with a wide smile.

Grace Wellington held her age well. Well into her 70s, her beauty continued. Short, white hair was cropped around her pleasant yet wrinkled face, which featured radiating dark brown eyes. Her petite stature gave an illusion of a fit body under her bulky, worn, torn coat.

Fred studied the attractive yet mysterious woman. Even though his deep blue eyes had faded from age, they held a twinkle of interest. His red flannel shirt hung loose, along with the blue jeans held up by a leather belt. Still blessed with hair, the gray strands were neatly combed to the side. An oversized pair of bifocals rested on his long, thin nose.

“Hello. I was wondering if maybe I could trouble you for a cup of coffee? The weather outside is a bit brisk, making it difficult for me to do my job,” she said. 

Fred couldn’t get over the beauty of this mysterious woman. He’d never seen her before in or around his bar, Barney’s Pub.

“Trouble? No trouble at all. In fact, I’ll put on a fresh pot. Wouldn’t mind some myself.” Fred turned around and started to brew a fresh batch.

“Why, thank you, kind sir. And whom do I have the pleasure of meeting?” asked Grace as she batted the few eyelashes she had left.

Fred’s face felt on fire. He hadn’t felt like this in years. This woman stirred all kinds of forgotten emotions.

“Welcome to Barney’s Pub. I’m Fred. Fred Withers. The proprietor of this fine establishment,” he said, gesturing with his arm. “And sitting two seats down is my son, Dustin.” His chest swelled with pride.

Dustin rolled his tired, grainy eyes. His dad acted like a teenager with a crush. But he wouldn’t embarrass his dad in front of this woman, who seemed to take a fancy to him.

“Howdy, ma’am. I’m Dustin.” He stood up and leaned toward Grace, with an outstretched hand.

Grace graciously reciprocated. But when she touched his hand, a slight shiver ran up her arm, causing her to release his grip quickly.

“I’m Grace…Grace Wellington.” She gave a slight nod and sat down on the hard stool.

“Grace…what a unique and beautiful name,” said Fred. As the brew finished, he carefully poured Grace a large cup of hot coffee. “Would you like cream and/or sugar?”

Grace wrapped her arthritic fingers around the hot cup. It felt good on her crippled joints. She sipped the hot liquid. “Oh, no, thank you. I drink it black.” She sipped at the steaming coffee.

“If you don’t mind me asking, did you just get into town? I noticed your suitcase,” said Dustin. He glanced at the odd piece of luggage next to Grace.

“Yes…you could say that. My suitcase is my livelihood. It contains my job. But when the weather is bad, it hinders my capabilities. You see, I sell needful things.” Grace sipped again at her hot java.

“Needful things? I don’t understand,” said Dustin.

“Now, Dustin, don’t be so nosy,” insisted Fred.

“Oh, no, that’s quite all right. You see, I stand on the street corners, selling my special and unique wares for extra income. Social Security…well, it’s hardly enough to live on. You are quite lucky, Fred, to have this fine establishment,” explained Grace.

Fred gave a slight nod. “It was one of the reasons I kept it. I know it isn’t much, but it’s helped me survive. I want to pass it on to my son eventually—if he wants it, that is.” He shrugged his shoulders.

By now, the few remaining customers inside had left, leaving the threesome alone. Dustin remained silent.

“Ms. Grace…what kinds of things do you sell? I might be interested,” said Fred. “What do you think I need?”

Grace finished her cup of coffee and slowly bent down and lifted the battered case, then placed it on the counter.

“Is it all right if I open it right here?” asked Grace.

“Of course,” replied Fred. “Business is slow this time of day.”

“Business is slow every day,” muttered Dustin.

Fred glared at his son.

Grace ignored the sarcastic line from Dustin as she snapped open the locks on the worn brown case. Inside sat a mixture of various strange items, with no specific purpose in mind.

“Whatcha’ got in there for me?” asked Fred as he peered at the hodgepodge variety of things.

Grace slowly touched the needful things until she stopped on a set of lock picks. For a brief moment, she held them in her hand, then turned to face Dustin, not Fred.

“This is what you need, Mr. Withers.” Grace handed Dustin the small set of lock picks.

He gave a quick chuckle. “What in heaven’s name am I supposed to do with these? Rob someone’s house?” he said, with a laugh.

Fred glared again at his son. “Mind your manners, Dustin, I taught you better,” he muttered.

“No disrespect, Ms. Wellington, but I can’t imagine why I would need a set of lock picks.” He started to hand them back to Grace.

Grace shook her head from side to side. “Once taken, they cannot be given back. They are yours, Mr. Withers, regardless of your refusal.”

“Thanks…I guess.” Dustin shoved them in his pocket.

“Grace…may I call you Grace? Is there something in there I need?” asked Fred, straining to see inside.

“Fred…as for what you truly need…” Grace lifted several of the strange items, then gently placed them back down. She tilted her head, and it was then she saw it under the collection of odds and ends. The small square.

“Just for you, Fred.” Grace placed it into Fred’s wrinkled palm.

He looked down. “An old stamp?” asked Fred. He looked at his son.

“Well, Dad, I’m not sure what to say. I think I’ll take my lock picks over your stamp!” Dustin said, with a chuckle.

“Are you sure, Grace, this is what I truly need?” asked Fred. His brows scrunched together.

“Oh, I’m quite sure, Fred. You may not realize it now, but you will later. Keep it safe.” Grace winked.

Fred’s eyes widened. “Okay, then. If Grace here thinks I need this stamp…well, then I need this stamp. How long are you in town for?” Fred pulled out his wallet, and with a shaky hand, placed the stamp inside.

“Well, I never can tell. Can you recommend a place to bunker down?” Grace closed the case and snapped its locks in place.

“Coincidentally, I just happen to have an extra room upstairs. If you don’t mind the fact that the bar is below. It’s not much. A decent-sized living area, one bedroom, bathroom, and a small kitchenette. Even has a two-seater with a round kitchen table. A working stove and fridge, too. Sound to your liking?” Fred leaned forward and placed his elbows on the bar.

“Sounds delightful! I’ll take it.” Grace swung her short legs back to the floor. “Oh, wait! I forgot to ask the price of this extraordinary rental.”

For Fred, it had been many years since he enjoyed himself being around the opposite sex. And Grace Wellington not only intrigued him, she was also easy on his diminishing sight. “Well, how about a hundred dollars a month? Is that to your liking?” replied Fred.

Dustin almost fell off the barstool. “Hey, pops! Wait a second…you know I don’t have a place to stay. Remember, I told you Jessie tossed me out?” He placed his hands on his hips.

“And I told you, go home and get what’s due to you. Even if you divorce Jessie, which I’m sure that’s what’s going to happen, you get half! Once you do that, we’ll talk.” Fred’s eyes never strayed from Grace’s angelic face.

“I can’t take your son’s room. It wouldn’t be right. I’ll just move along until I find somewhere else to settle for a bit.” Grace buttoned her coat.

“It’s not Dustin’s room! It’s my room, and I’ll do with it as I please. And it would please me if you would stay, Grace.” Fred started to move from behind the bar. “In fact, I can show it to you right now. Dustin, can you watch the place for a few minutes? I’d like to escort Grace to her newly rented apartment.” Before Dustin could open his mouth, the two older folks headed to the back of the bar.

“Great,” mumbled Dustin.

Twenty minutes later, Fred returned. The bar remained empty.

“Grace settling in?” asked Dustin.

His dad was humming. “Yes, indeed.” Fred suddenly stopped and looked at his son. “Time to go get what’s yours, Dustin, before that floozy robs you blind.”

Dustin’s head dropped. “I know, Dad. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

With that said, Dustin left Barney’s Pub and headed home.

~~

Dustin tried once more with his set of keys to enter their home on East Boulevard. The door remained locked. Jessie had made good on her threat. She’d changed the locks and purposefully didn’t give him a key.

“Damn!” he yelled at the empty house. “You can’t do this!”

The wind was bitter. He shivered in his thin coat. His hands felt frozen. He stuffed them inside his pockets. The small case rubbed his palm. Immediately, he pulled it out.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” he mumbled.

Quickly, he tried the picks until one of them finally jimmied the lock. A solid click. Once inside, his body thawed. Much to his surprise, the living room area had been emptied.

“What in heaven’s name?”

Dustin rushed around his expensive home. Each room had been emptied of furniture. When he got to his office, he was astonished by the fact that his desk and laptop were still there. He was pretty sure Jessie had hightailed it out, not planning on returning anytime soon. 

Slowly, he opened the top desk drawer. The checkbook was intact. Hurriedly, he called the bank to verify the amount.

“…and that’s the total balance in the checking account?” Dustin waited. “I see. How late are you open?” He smiled. “Thank you again for all your help.”

He disconnected the call. It would seem Jessie hadn’t gotten to the bank yet. So, now it was Dustin’s turn to empty his failed marriage.

***

Two weeks had passed before Dustin returned to Barney’s Pub. His father was behind the counter, waiting on a couple of regulars. A round covered table was set up in the corner of the room, with an open case. Next to it was Grace. She was talking to a young, disheveled woman who looked lost.

“….and this is what you need, dear.” Grace handed the distraught woman a ballpoint pen.

“I…I need this? For what? My whole life is going down the toilet, and you say I need a pen? I don’t understand!” The young woman sobbed.

Grace gently placed her arm around the crying woman’s shoulders. “My dear, I can guarantee you need this pen. Now, stop your crying. Get yourself together and face your problems. This pen is all you will need.”

The woman whimpered and held the pen to her chest. “Okay. How much do I owe you?” she said, sniffling.

Grace smiled. “Nothing, my dear. It is an item you need. Take it.”

The upset woman slowly walked out of the bar, then stopped. She peered through the window. Grace waved goodbye. Seconds later, the woman was gone.

“How did you know?” asked Dustin.

Grace straightened the trinkets inside the case.

“How did you know?” repeated Dustin.

Grace stopped what she was doing and looked up at Dustin. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Try,” insisted Dustin.

Just then, Fred waddled over to the two of them. “Dustin…good to see you, son.” He put a hand on Dustin’s shoulder.

“How did she know, Dad?” he asked, facing his father.

Fred removed his hand and shrugged.

“It’s complicated,” said Grace. “When I was little, I realized I was different from the other kids. My pappy said it was passed down to me from my mama and her mama and so on. A gift, he called it—a special gift.”

“But how did you know I needed the picks?  Of all the things inside your case.” He looked from Grace to his father. “Jessie changed the locks. I used the picks to get inside. She took everything—everything except the money from the bank. I’m sure it was her next stop. But I beat her to it. Of course, I never would have known if I hadn’t gotten into the house that day. I went immediately to the bank and took every last penny out. I figured she’d get a lawyer and want half. But much to my surprise, she left town. I have no clue where she went. I filed for divorce. My lawyer said I won’t have a problem since Jessie took off.”

“I’m glad I could be of help. And the lock picks served you well,” said Grace.

Dustin took out the tiny case and held it out to Grace.

“Oh, no. I can’t take it back. It was something only you needed, and now that you’ve used it…well, it won’t help anyone else,” explained Grace.

“Dad, did you use the stamp?” asked Dustin.

Fred tilted his head. “Not yet, son. I have no use for it right now. But I’m glad you’re going to be fine and didn’t lose your shirt to that gold digger,” said Fred.

“No, Dad. With any luck, I won’t ever have to lay eyes on Jessie again.” He turned to Grace once again. “I don’t understand…but I guess it doesn’t matter. Thank you, Grace.”

The old woman smiled.

The heavy bar door opened. Several regulars entered the dim lit bar. Fred looked their way.

“Back to work,” he said as he meandered behind the bar. “What can I get for you folks?” he asked them.

Dustin went to help his father with the drinks. Minutes later, the small group was laughing and enjoying themselves.

After a few hours of serving customers, Dustin glanced over at his father. Why hadn’t he noticed how exhausted his father had become?

“Dad, I got this. Go on. I’ll even close up shop for you. Enjoy your evening…with Grace.” Dustin winked.

Fred’s eyes widened. “Well, we did want to see a movie at the cinema. Maybe grab a bite to eat first. What do you say, Grace? Would you care to join an old man for a night on the town?” He shuffled to the table where Grace sat.

“Why, Mr. Withers…are you asking me out on a date?” said Grace, rapidly blinking her eyes.

            “Ms. Wellington…I would be honored by your presence this evening,” Fred replied while holding out his arm.

Grace closed her case and slid her arm through Fred’s. They grabbed their coats off the hook and left Dustin to handle affairs.

~~

Dustin studied the blueprints. The renovations would be a welcome and much-needed improvement. Since becoming the new owner of Barney’s Pub, he decided to keep the name since it was named after his great-great-grandfather.

A cool breeze filtered in, fluttering the papers on the table. Dustin looked up at the customer. The young woman looked vaguely familiar.

“May I help you?” he asked as he rolled up the remodeling plans.

The nervous woman glanced about the bar as if searching for someone. Her eyes locked on his.

“An old woman…a while back…she sat at that table.” The young lady gestured to the round table near the back.

Dustin’s eyebrows scrunched together as his gaze locked onto the scratched table. And then it hit him.

“Are you talking about a woman named Grace Withers?” he asked as he took a step closer.

The young lady shrugged. “I didn’t know her name. She gave me a pen. And told me I needed it. My life was in shambles…and she gave me a pen. Insisted that’s all I would need. I thought…I thought…she was crazy.” Tears filled her eyes.

Dustin’s heart skipped a beat. He rushed to her side. “Please sit down.” He guided her to a stool by the bar.

Her shiny black hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Deep blue eyes and a petite nose only enhanced her lovely face. Dustin was instantly drawn to her.

“May I ask how the pen saved your life?” asked Dustin in a low voice.

“I was going through a difficult time in my life. My husband—ex-husband now—tried to…tried to strangle me in one of his violent rages. As I struggled to breathe, my hand went into my pocket. The pen. I carried it everywhere. You see, I needed to believe. I stabbed him with the pen. It freed me enough to get away. The pen…saved my life.” She looked down at her shaky hands.

Dustin drew back. This woman had been in an abusive relationship and must have lived in a continuous nightmare. Most of the time, the abused victim does not make it out alive.

He wanted to hold the attractive woman, but kept his distance. “He deserved it—and more.” His jaw clenched.

She held out her trembling hand. “I’m Stacie Wilson.”

Instantly, Dustin reciprocated. “Dustin Withers—owner of this fine establishment.” The two smiled at one another.

~~

The aged seniors sipped their tiny umbrella drinks. Fred gazed into the lovely eyes of his new bride. Grace embraced the warm ocean breeze. It had been a miracle the two of them had found each other. And now they were on their honeymoon, enjoying the coastal shores of the Sunshine State.  The sounds of the never-ending surf called out for a stroll on the beach. The married couple held hands as the silky sands surrounded their toes.

“What a beautiful beach,” commented Grace.

Fred was smiling at his new bride. He loved her deeply. “It’s beautiful because of you. I thought I could never find happiness again…but now, here with you…” He let out a sigh.

Grace giggled like a schoolgirl. “I love you, Fred Withers.”

“And I, you, Mrs. Grace Withers.” They both burst out laughing. He pulled her close and dropped a kiss on her warm lips.

“Come on…let’s take a look in those cute shops on the boardwalk,” commented Grace. She pulled at his hand.

St. Augustine’s shops were designed for tourists. Grace’s eyes widened at all the different trinkets. Instantly, her thoughts rushed to her case of needful things. She’d gathered several unusual objects to purchase. Fred eyed the bright and bold Hawaiian-styled shirts.

Away from the register, he waited for Grace as the cashier bagged the items. He nonchalantly looked at the rack containing postcards.

“Fred, why don’t you send Dustin a postcard? I’m sure he’d like to hear from you. He needs to know that you are doing well.”

Fred picked out one with a wooden pier and the setting sun. “It was a relief when he agreed to take over ownership of Barney’s Pub. He’ll make a good businessman and owner!” he said. “And he has a lot of new ideas for the place, to bring in the younger crowd.”

“Yes, Dustin indeed has a good head on his shoulders. He’ll make you proud, Fred.” Grace stood next to her husband as they waited in line.

After purchasing the postcard, the two made their way to their honeymoon suite further down the beach. Grace immediately headed to the balcony to take in the beautiful view of the view of blue sky and endless ocean.

Fred looked at the postcard. “I need a stamp,” he murmured to himself.

Grace sat back in the Adirondack blue chair and smiled.

“Your wallet!” called Grace from the balcony.

And then it dawned on Fred. He opened the worn leather bill holder. He’d forgotten all about it. Inside was the stamp given to him by Grace when she first came into his bar and unknowingly changed his life forever.

Fred chuckled. “Well, I’ll be…” not bothering to finish his sentence. For a brief moment, he looked at the tiny square stamp, then stuck it on the postcard. He never questioned Grace about her unique and special ability. It was hers and hers alone.

Suddenly, Grace was by his side. Startled, he blinked his tired eyes.

“How…how did you know?” whispered Fred. 

Grace let out a huge sigh and studied her husband’s wrinkled face. “Does it really matter, Fred? Let’s go watch the sunset.” She gave a slight tug on his large calloused hand.

The old couple moved slowly to the balcony as they faced together whatever the future may hold.