We passed through the kitchen. The dishes had been washed and were set on a wire rack next to the sink. On a table in the small dining nook lay a hardcover book, opened and turned over to mark her place. I cringe whenever I see a book bent in such a fashion. I was sorely tempted to reach down and close it. This was a personal peeve of mine. I could see no reason to break a book's spine when a bookmark would serve just as well.
Looking out the window, Macy announced, "Harvey's out back, sitting in his chair. He spends far too much time doing that. He never used to." Worry tinged her voice. "I have a feeling he's had another bad day."
Even now I wasn't sure what she expected me to do. I'd talk to Harvey and determine what I could, but I had no promises to give her.
She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the back door. "Let me introduce you."
"Okay, only--"
I wasn't allowed to finish before she half dragged me outside. "Harvey," she called. "I'd like you to meet Michael, the man I was telling you about." Then she turned to me and whispered, "This is just for show." With that, she looped her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek. Turning back to Harvey, she said, "You were right all along. I was besotted from the moment we met."
Besotted? Who used a word like besotted?
Harvey regarded me for a minute or so before he revealed any expression. It could have been a smile or a scowl, but frankly it was hard to distinguish which. "I can only imagine what she did to con you into coming by," he muttered.
"You're better off not knowing," I said.
He gave a snort of laughter, then gestured toward the house. "There's another chair over there. Help yourself." He looked at Macy next. "I've got a couple of beers in the fridge. Why don't you get them for us?"
She seemed more than eager to comply, even though he hadn't offered her one. "Coming right up."
We both climbed over the low fence, and Sammy jumped after us. She bounced into the house with the mutt close on her heels. The three cats had decided to stay at her place.
I carried the folding lawn chair next to Harvey and sat down. Macy was back with the two beers, which she handed us. Then she disappeared again, leaping over the fence as if she'd done it a thousand times, which undoubtedly she had.
"So you're that doctor fellow she's been talking about," Harvey said. He took a swallow of beer and closed his eyes, either to savor the taste or allow a moment of pain to pass.
I took a sip of my own beer and had to admit it hit the spot.
"Before you start asking a lot of discreet questions, I should tell you I'm not going to make an appointment with any friends of yours. Nor am I willing to undergo any medical tests. I know what's wrong with me."
This was a relief. "So tell me and save me the bother of answering Macy's questions later."
"I'm dying," the old man said matter-of-factly. "It doesn't get much simpler than that."
"Of what?" I asked. Given his age, that seemed possible, and if he wasn't willing to have any tests or submit to a physical, I had no choice but to accept his self-diagnosis-- at least until I saw firm evidence to the contrary.
"Can't say for sure. Cancer maybe, but it could be my heart."
"What are your symptoms?"
"Different ones. I get weak when I didn't used to. At first I thought it was my age, but now I know it's more than that. Used to be I could work in my yard all day and not get tired. Lately it's all I can do to water the garden. I have pains in my chest. No fever, though, which means it's not malaria."
"I suggest--"
"In case you didn't understand me before, I'll repeat myself. I'm not interested in anything you have to suggest that will lengthen my life. I've lived a lot of years. Like everyone else, I have a few regrets, but I'm ready to die."
"Macy--"
"It's time Macy learned she needs to let go of me." "She loves you," I told him.
Harvey exhaled loudly as though burdened by her love. "She loves those cats of hers, too. Never met anyone quite like her. She collects animals and people the way someone else might collect baseball cards or ceramic frogs. I tried to discourage her when she moved in after her grandmother died. I think Lotty must've asked her to keep an eye on me. That would be just like the old bat. The last thing I need is Macy constantly fussing over me."
"I hear you."
The old man eyed me closely.
"My wife--"
"You're married?" Harvey interrupted. His gaze narrowed menacingly.
"Was. I'm a widower," I corrected. "Hannah, in the end, didn't want any more medical intervention. No heroic measures."
"I remember--" he nodded in the direction of Macy's house "--she told me about your wife. I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thank you," I murmured. "I just wanted to let you know I understand how you feel."
"It's a matter of dignity. I prefer to face death on my own terms."
I remembered those had been Hannah's words, too. "Is there anything I can do to help with the pain?" I asked. The current drugs would ease his final months.
Harvey shook his head. "No, thanks."
Macy reappeared, carrying a platter with cheese and crackers. I watched as she popped a cracker in her mouth. "I brought you a few munchies," she said.
"What for?" Harvey demanded.
"I thought you might be hungry," she said, smiling down at him, obviously accustomed to his gruff manner. She sat on the grass beside me.
"I'm not interested."