Page 13 of Grounded
“Beulah, did you hear about Bob and Christine Gooch?” Betty’s round face was anxious to tell the news she and Evelyn had obviously been talking about.
“No, what happened?”
“Well, they were sittin’ in their recliners this afternoon watching that antique show, and a fellow walked right in the front door and demanded money. Bob didn’t have time to get his gun, barely had time to lower the recliner when he heard the door open,” Betty said.
“What happened?” Beulah asked.
“He gave him everything in his wallet, and that was near five hundred dollars.”
“Land sakes,” said Evelyn.
“Feller went right back out the front door, like he came in. His car was parked out on the road, so they didn’t get the license plate number.”
“I swan,” Beulah said.
“Police said it was probably for drugs. You know that ox cotton and meth are gettin’ awful around here.” Betty shook her head.
“News people call them ‘home invasions.’ I believe that’s the third one I’ve heard about this month. Do they think it’s the same person?” Evelyn asked.
“Police don’t know. The descriptions are different, but it might be a gang working together.”
“Girls, you better keep your guns loaded and handy,” Joe said.
Later, Joe’s words echoed in Beulah’s mind as she was getting ready for bed. It sounded like something Fred would have said, had he lived to hear about such things. If she’d heard it once, she’d heard it a thousand times: “Every woman needs to know how to load, shoot and clean a gun. You might need it for food, or you might need it to protect yourself.”
In her nightgown, she got down on the floor, wincing at the pain in her left knee, while her hand searched for the shotgun that stayed under her bed. Pulling it out and blowing off the dust, she loaded it with shells from her nightstand drawer, then placed it right under the edge of the bed where it would be handy. It was nearly ten, past her bedtime, and when she finally did get to bed, she slept easier knowing the shotgun was loaded.
Thunder woke Beulah well after midnight. She listened to the storm at its worst and stayed awake as it abated, leaving only the patter of rain. Her knee might be going out, but her hearing was still crackerjack, she thought, hearing the refrigerator kick on from the kitchen. And above the gentle rain, she heard what distinctly sounded like a car door. Sitting up on the side of the bed, she listened intently. Another sound she couldn’t quite make out. On alert now, Beulah reached for the gun.
She tiptoed into the second floor hallway, barely daring to breathe. Loud thumps sounded beyond the front door, as if someone was dropping something on the front porch.
From the top of the stairs, the full length of the front door came into view, thanks to the dim light of the downstairs lamp she had taken to leaving on at night after Fred died. Then there was another thump, followed by the sound of metal on metal as if a key were sliding in the lock.
Lifting the gun to her shoulder, Beulah spread her feet apart and steadied the barrel, drawing a bead just above the doorknob. Her mouth was dry as cotton batting.
The door cracked open. Beulah sucked in her breath, hearing Fred’s words echo in her head: “Steady now, steady does it.” A shadowy figure slid into the opening. The gun clicked as she cocked it, ready to fire.
“Hold it right there,” she said.
The figure jerked, sending the vase perched on the hall table crashing to the floor. Two hands rose in surrender.
“Grandma, it’s me!”
“Who?”
“Annie, your granddaughter!”
Beulah dropped the shotgun to her side, her arms suddenly feeling like Jell-O, and flipped on the light. “Law have mercy, child! What in the world are you doing sneaking around like a thief in the night? You like to have scared me to death.”
“Well you scared me too!”
Beulah eased the hammer down and laid the shotgun next to the steps, barrel pointing away. Her heart was pounding so hard, she was afraid it might explode.For heaven’s sake, what was that child thinking?
As Beulah made her way down the steps, she saw Annie’s white face and knew her granddaughter had learned her lesson. But just to be sure, she said, “You should have called. What else was I to think when I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of you for months.”
“I did call, but no one answered,” Annie said.
“Didn’t I tell you the area code changed? I thought I wrote it in my last letter.”
