Baileys Besieged

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Chapter 8

Georgia spends a day off with KC. The good book longs for its own attention—as well. When the prophetess pulls the tome out and opens its cover, the old text inhales her perfume. She opens to a different place in the relic, only to discover a flattened and preserved Maple Leaf laying between two stained pages. The object looks as fragile as anything Georgia ever had a chance to hold. Old and beautiful, the large leaf holds a majestic, lumpy vein, ancient hold on the bible. The woman is afraid to put the flattened leaf between the wrong pages or force it where it can break into millions of little pieces. The little girl inside her can imagine a gust of wind sweeping the sails of the leaf along—before it had been pressed flat, or running across the expanse of a yard and belly flopping into a dusty pile and cushion of noisy leaves—and totally enjoying it. Georgia is amazed at the power one leaf holds over her emotions.

How old are you? Who placed you in the bible?

It proves easy for a reader of the bible to sit enthralled knowing the leaf had survived, still quite fragile, when so many less fragile human beings over the years passed on. Georgia finds some relief forthcoming, when the leaf returns as a place marker and the pages secure tightly—around fall’s frail, discarded body. Dust and wonder are resealed for all thin time between the large family tome. The leaf, itself, appears to have lost its crackle; its appendages are as delicate as a thin Payne of glass. Ironically...The leaf looks better to the eye than the cover of the bible, which has missing chunks out of its cover here and there.

KC brings Georgia his pull rope, abundant with energy.

“KC, you’re ornery…You want to play with mommy?”

KC growls a playful response.

“You little runt!”

Georgia grabs the plastic handle of the pull-toy and lets the dog tug on the other end. The little dog’s claws grip the shag carpet like they own it. The little dog pulls and pulls, then thrashes his head in defiance.

“You need to take out some aggression, don’t you?”

The bible lays at rest on a low coffee table. As if the object comes to life, KC runs over to the edge where the relic sits, barks at it, circles, paces, and then resumes barking in the relic’s general direction.

Georgia tries to comfort the dog with re-assuring words. “KC…It’s ok!”

His master really doesn’t know KC hears the bible calling, whenever it takes a whim. Words flow from the relic and catch the dog’s ears, like the pitch of a dog training whistle.

The phone rings. And like a completed circuit, the dog’s barking ceases. Georgia knows before she even picks up the receiver, Lucky comes to call. It takes several minutes for her to figure out the old geezer is drunk.

“Fin me pla…ying card, ye…t?”

“What playing card?”

“The kin of di…m…onds…s.”

“Is it in the bible?”

“Do bers sit I…n the w…oooo…ds?”

Georgia chuckles. She pictures Yogi Bear sitting on a stump, adjusting a napkin bib, and saying, “This is the life…Eh Boo Boo?”

“Are you a Beaumont?”

“How els so y…o…u thin I know ab…out t…he bibul?”

“Whose side you on, Lucky?”


“Are you good or evil?”

“No..t one thout the o…th…er.”

“What do you want from me?”

“To h…ep me ge Cledu ba…ck home.”


Cled…us Beam…n.”

“What’s going on, here? Isn’t that Jeremiah’s distant grandfather, who died over a hundred years ago?”

She chews at her fingernails. Georgia is frustrated, beyond belief, when the phone line goes dead—again. She swoons, her blood pumps harder, and she wants to discover more. Eventually…The stress of not really knowing her caller, along with being with child, brings her to utter exhaustion. As Georgia’s head hits the pillow, her resolve to know the truth dissolves. Her lucid dreaming mind takes over, her eyes behind the lids flutter, and her face relaxes.

KC stands and watches his master for a half-an-hour, before he finally lies down. The pup is comforted the bible no longer teases him. In fact, the house turns incredibly quiet. The Sammy Moore which enters Georgia’s dreams smiles in vivid color, before the icon offers up a calloused hand.

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