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Chapter or Story
Chapter 21
Aunt Bee’s homemade strawberry ice cream was just about worth dying for. Everyone agreed on that. Andy noticed that Miss Parker steadily worked her way through a bowlful and did not refuse the seconds he offered her. He sure wished he could put a smile on her face, a real smile. Maybe he’d just have to settle for the brief—very brief—serenity that had appeared on her features when he played that beautiful old hymn, His Sheep Am I.
“Wa’al, folks,” he said when the ice cream was completely gone, down to Opie tipping up the bucket to get the last melted drops, “I’m sorry to break up this party, but I’ve got to get these folks back where they belong.”
“That’s alright, Andy,” Helen smiled. “It’s been lovely, hasn’t it, Thelma Lou?”
“It sure has. Thank you, Andy, Aunt Bee. Barney, would you walk me home?”
“Well—” He glanced at Andy.
“Go ‘long, Barney. I’ll take care of our guests.”
“Thanks, And. Thanks, Aunt Bee. It sure was great!”
“You’re welcome, Barney!”
“Andy, walk me to the end of your driveway.”
“Oh, sure, Helen. Glad to.”
He tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow, and they walked slowly down the short driveway.
“What is it, Helen? You look worried.”
“It’s these ‘guests’ of yours, Andy. There’s something very strange about them. Between their vague explanations of their jobs, the way Miss Parker talks about Jarod, and the way Sydney worries that he’s ruined Jarod’s life, there seems to be something not quite right about them. What are they here for? And why is Miss Parker in jail?”
“Speeding,” Andy said. When Helen gave him a startled look, he added, “And pullin’ a gun on an officer and resistin’ arrest.”
“A gun? Andy—!”
“Now, don’t you worry about it, Helen. There is something strange about them, and I know all about it, and I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? But, Andy—”
“Tomorrow, Helen. You’re just going to have to trust me.”
“I know.” He bent and kissed her cheek gently. “See ya, Helen.”
“Bye, Andy.”
Andy returned to the house. “Well, now, folks, let’s get back to the station.”
Sydney turned to Aunt Bee. “Thank you for your hospitality. It has been delightful.”
“You’re welcome,” she smiled at him. “I’m always happy to feed Andy’s friends.”
“Bye!” Opie called as they got in the squad car. Broots waved at him.
“You sure have a nice son, Andy,” he said.
“Why, thanks, Broots! I think he’s nice myself.”
At the jail house, Miss Parker went quietly toward her cell, just as obedient as Otis on a Friday night, Andy noticed with an internal grin.
“Where ya goin’, Miss Parker?”
“Well, I—” She gestured toward the cell.
“Doncha want to get out of her? Far as I remember, you want to catch up with Jarod whiles he’s still in New York City.”
She wheeled on him. “Yes, I want to get out of here, but I thought—”
“Wa’al, you’ve been so well behaved I’ve decided to commute the rest of your sentence. Matter of fact, I filled out the paperwork this mornin’ before church. You coulda signed it then and been gone, but Aunt Bee woulda killed me if’n I hadn’t had you over for Sunday dinner.”
“Oh, you have been taking lessons from Jarod, haven’t you?” Miss Parker said between her teeth.
“Now, what kind of people would you think us if we hadn’t shown you a little down home hospitality?” His eyes met Sydney’s, and he saw that the psychiatrist was heroically keeping back a grin just as mischievous as his own. “If you’ll sign this paperwork, I’ll give you back your gun, and you can be on your way.”
With a glare that could kill a full-grown man at a dozen paces, Miss Parker snatched up the pen and signed the paperwork with an angry, illegible scrawl. The only bits he could make out for sure were the P and K of Parker. So much for learning her first name. Andy took her gun out of his desk drawer.
“Here's your gun. Sure is a beauty.”
She took it and tucked it where he had first found it, in her back waistband.
“I had John at the hotel sign you out and put all your luggage in your car, and Gomer down to the fillin’ station topped up your gas and oil, so you’re all ready for the trip. It’s a good dozen hours to New York City from Mayberry. Oh, and Aunt Bee made y’all a nice supper to take along.”
Miss Parker stared at him with her mouth half open. “Why would you do that?”
“I bin takin’ lessons form Jarod,” he said innocently. “Really, we only did what the Good Book says, givin’ the hungry food and the thirsty drink, welcomin’ the strangers, takin’ care of the sick, and visitin’ those in prison.”
Still staring, Miss Parker murmured, “We weren’t sick.”
“Oh. Musta bin someone else.”
She drew herself up. “Andy Taylor, next to Jarod you are the most infuriating, know-it-all, annoying man I have ever met. You are also the kindest. My mother would have liked you.” Before he could answer, she wheeled on her heel and marched out, snarling at Sydney and Broots, “Come on!”
Broots gave Andy a grin and hurried after her. Sydney paused to give Andy his hand and thanks and followed. Andy sauntered outside and leaned against the doorpost.
“No speedin’ now!” he called as Miss Parker slammed her car door. “Y’all come back, now, y’hear?”
“Don’t count on it,” she said through her open window and pulled away with a squeal of tires.
Down the street, Otis was walking along, going to and from who knew where. As the big, black car sped past him, he raised his hand in a wave. Did he have flowers in his other hand? Was it possible he was taking them to his wife? Wa’al, if that didn’t beat all! Andy grinned to himself, locked up the jail, and went home. Tomorrow he’d have to buy himself a chess set. Maybe Helen would like to learn to play.
