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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Family & Friends
- Subject: Courage / Heroism
- Published: 05/15/2023
Ne-er-do-well
Born 1948, M, from Melbourne Beach, Fl, United StatesThis story was inspired by my novel - Winter Island
Buddy Sinclair stopped shoving Campbell’s baked beans into his mouth for a second and asked his mother, “What does near dough well mean?”
Christine took a sip of coffee. “What?”
“I said, what does near dough well mean? I heard Mr. Sundstrom say this travel court was filled with misfits and near dough wells.”
His mother’s eyes hardened. “Oh, he did, did he? Well, it’s nice to know what he thinks of the people who keep him in business.”
“What does it mean?”
“The word's pronounced ne’er-do-well, and I’ll tell you what it means, but don’t you go thinking Mr. Sundstrom knows what he’s talking about, because he doesn’t. It means a person who’s lazy or irresponsible.” She set her cup down with a bang. “I have a notion to march right over to his office and tell him what I think of his opinion. We’re living here because a drunk driver killed your father, not because we’re lazy. The nerve of that man.”
“Maybe you don’t want to do that. He’d probably toss us outta here. Then where’d we go?”
She took a deep breath. “You’re right. Just because we’re down on our luck right now doesn’t mean—”
Buddy interrupted, “Some new guy moved in the cabin next door when you were cleaning the Ferguson’s house.”
“I saw a car there when I drove in. Have you met him?”
“Kinda. He’s got a girl with him who’s about my age. I tried to say hello, but she didn’t say anything. She just ran into the house.”
“She’s probably shy. Don’t be bothering them. We both know how you like to talk.” A huge German shepherd padded into the kitchen and started whining. "Finish your milk and take King outside. He needs to go.”
Buddy drained his glass. “Come on, King.”
When they got outside, Buddy noticed his new next door neighbor was sitting on the small open porch smoking a cigarette. Buddy gave him a quick wave then followed a narrow sidewalk a few blocks to a small marina. He enjoyed watching the sailboats as they bobbed in the harbor.
After half an hour, he and King ran back to the Lakeside Tourist Cabins, where he and his mother were staying. As he was headed to their porch, the man next door yelled, “Do you always let that dog run free without a leash?”
Buddy stopped. “Um, yeah. He’s friendly. He looks big and mean, but he’d just lick to death anyone who came around.”
The man stood and moved closer to the railing. “That’s good to know, but my daughter’s scared of new dogs. Could I ask you to keep it on a leash for a few days?”
Buddy wrinkled his nose. Did they even have a leash? Oh, yeah. There was one in the back closet. “I guess.” He turned toward his steps and then stopped. “Hey, Mister. I tried to say hello to your daughter when you pulled in, but she just ran in the house.”
Instead of answering, the man came down the steps. As he approached, he held out his hand. “Sam Ashworth.”
Buddy shook it. “I’m Buddy Sinclair.”
Sam bent down on one knee. “Look, son. My little girl’s been through some bad times. Something happened to her about six months ago. She hasn’t spoken since. Not to me, or to anyone. Not a word. So, if you want to be nice, and you think she’s ignoring you, she’s not. Okay?”
“What…what happened?”
The man stood. “Let’s just say her stepdad’s a very bad man who’s going to spend a long time in prison. I really don’t want to say anything more about it.”
Two weeks later, Buddy’s mother sat across from him at the kitchen table. “I do believe you have a crush on that pretty little girl next door.”
Buddy’s neck flushed. “Nah. Why would I have a crush on her? She don’t talk.”
“You’ve sure been spending a lot of time over there.”
“Who else is there to play with? The only other kid here’s Frankie, and you won’t let me go near him.”
“No, I won’t. He’s three years older than you. He smokes cigarettes and has a filthy mouth.”
Buddy nodded. “See. That leaves Molly. It took a whole week before she didn’t run into the house whenever I said something. Today she walked down to the harbor with me. I couldn’t believe it.”
“That’s good, Buddy. I’ve talked with her father a few times. Sounds like she could really use a friend.”
“I guess, but it’s kinda hard to be friends with someone when I’m the only one who’s doing all the talking.”
Christine smiled. “You’ve never had a problem with that before.”
Buddy pretended he didn’t hear her. “Hey, Ma. Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure. What is it?”
“Why do you think she stopped talking? Mr. Ashworth said it was something to do with her stepdad.”
His mother took a moment and smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress. “I really don’t know what happened, but I’ve heard that, in very rare occasions, if someone’s put through a traumatic situation, they can react by going mute.”
Buddy looked up from his Dinty Moore beef stew. “How long don’t they speak?”
She shrugged. “I suppose it’s different for every situation.”
“So, if something comes along and scares me, I might lose my voice?”
She reached over and tousled his hair. “I should be so lucky.” She looked over at the dog. “It’s that time again. Go take King out while I do the dishes.”
Buddy grabbed the leash that was hanging next to the door. “Come on, King. Time to go.”
He led the dog over to a tree behind the cabin. As the dog was doing his business, Buddy bent down and examined a clump of red mushrooms that had sprouted up the night before. There was a loud bark behind him. Buddy flew into the air and spun around. His eyes were wide. King was pulling on the leash and staring at a big, gray rabbit.
Buddy reached for his throat. Oh, no. Could he speak? He opened his mouth and tried to whisper. “Hello…hello. Mr. Rabbit, can you hear me?”
The rabbit turned and disappeared into the underbrush. Buddy spoke louder. “Can you hear me now?”
Something rustled behind him. Molly was staring at him with a puzzled look. He cleared his throat. “Um, hi. Rabbit.” He pointed toward the bushes. “King spotted a rabbit.”
She smiled.
“Hey, I’m going over to the harbor. Want to come with me?”
Molly nodded.
As they walked next to each other on the narrow sidewalk, Buddy told her how his dad always wanted to get a sailboat. How they had gone looking for one the weekend before he died.
When they arrived at the marina, Buddy said, “Watch where you step. Some of these planks are old and rotten.”
She pointed to a sailboat that had a pirate flag flying from one of the masts.
“I know. Isn’t that cool? That’s Mr. Jackobsen’s—” As he was talking, Molly ran toward the boat. Her shoe caught the curled up end of an old board, and she tumbled into the water.
Buddy ran to the edge of the dock. Molly’s arms were flailing. It was clear she didn’t know how to swim. He watched in horror as she started to sink. “Molly! Molly!” He kicked off his shoes, pulled his T-shirt off, and jumped in the water. It took him several minutes to find her. She was wedged halfway underneath a fishing trawler.
Buddy swam to the surface, gulped a lungful of air, and kicked his way down again. He reached for her hand and pushed himself off the sandy bottom. After what seemed like forever, they reached the surface.
Two men ran up. One jumped into the water and lifted the limp girl to the dock. He called to his friend, “Start CPR. She’s not moving.”
Buddy climbed up a railing. He coughed a few times and gasped for breath.
By this time, a small crowd had gathered. Someone asked Buddy, “Are you okay?”
King was licking his face. Buddy took a few more breaths. “I’m…I’m okay.”
As the faint wail of a siren sounded in the distance, his mother ran up. “Buddy, what happened? Are you all right?”
The next afternoon Christine came home from work early. “Wash up and put on your Sunday shirt. We’re going over to the hospital and pay Mr. Ashworth a visit.”
Buddy looked up from his comic book. “We are? How’s Molly doing?”
A tear formed in his mother’s eye. She struggled to keep her composure. “Not so well, I’m afraid. She’s still in a coma.”
As they walked up the steps to the hospital, Buddy lagged behind. His mother stopped. “What’s wrong?”
He wiped his face. “I feel bad. I should have been able to get her out of the water sooner.”
Christine bent down and grabbed him by both shoulders. “Buddy, you saved her. If you hadn’t done what you did, she’d be gone by now. No matter what happens, you’re a hero.” She didn’t mention that several organizations had already contacted her about putting together a college fund so he could attend the community college when he was old enough.
“Why are we going if she’s in a coma? She won’t even know we’re there.”
His mother stood. “You don’t know that. Besides, we’re doing this for her father. We want Mr. Ashworth to know we’re thinking of him.”
As Christine pushed open the main entrance door, several of the nurses stopped. They stepped to the side and started clapping. “Good job, Buddy.” “Way to go, Buddy.” “Thank you for jumping in and saving her, Buddy.”
Buddy’s face flushed. His mother took his hand. She whispered, “Not bad for a ne’er-do-well.”
They took the elevator to the third floor and found room 9-C. When they entered, Sam was sitting in a chair next to his daughter’s bed. Medical equipment and tubes of all sizes surrounded her.
He turned. When he saw who it was, he came over and gave Buddy a big hug.
“How is she?” Christine asked.
“Unfortunately nothing’s changed.” Sam motioned toward the door. “Let’s talk outside.”
Buddy stepped next to the bed and watched as the blankets moved up and down in time with one of the machines. She looked so peaceful lying there. So pretty. He brushed tears from his eyes. “Hi, Molly. It’s me, Buddy.”
The machines continued to wheeze and click. As he stood there, he noticed something. Had she moved? No. That couldn’t be. She was in a coma. Wait. There it was again. His heart beat faster. Her eyes.
He turned toward the door. Should he tell them? Something touched his hand. He jumped. It was her. She had taken his hand. Her eyes fluttered. She slowly turned her head and said, “Thank you.”
She talked! He turned to call out to his mother. He opened his mouth. Nothing came out. Not even one sound. Not a word.
Ne-er-do-well(James Nelson)
This story was inspired by my novel - Winter Island
Buddy Sinclair stopped shoving Campbell’s baked beans into his mouth for a second and asked his mother, “What does near dough well mean?”
Christine took a sip of coffee. “What?”
“I said, what does near dough well mean? I heard Mr. Sundstrom say this travel court was filled with misfits and near dough wells.”
His mother’s eyes hardened. “Oh, he did, did he? Well, it’s nice to know what he thinks of the people who keep him in business.”
“What does it mean?”
“The word's pronounced ne’er-do-well, and I’ll tell you what it means, but don’t you go thinking Mr. Sundstrom knows what he’s talking about, because he doesn’t. It means a person who’s lazy or irresponsible.” She set her cup down with a bang. “I have a notion to march right over to his office and tell him what I think of his opinion. We’re living here because a drunk driver killed your father, not because we’re lazy. The nerve of that man.”
“Maybe you don’t want to do that. He’d probably toss us outta here. Then where’d we go?”
She took a deep breath. “You’re right. Just because we’re down on our luck right now doesn’t mean—”
Buddy interrupted, “Some new guy moved in the cabin next door when you were cleaning the Ferguson’s house.”
“I saw a car there when I drove in. Have you met him?”
“Kinda. He’s got a girl with him who’s about my age. I tried to say hello, but she didn’t say anything. She just ran into the house.”
“She’s probably shy. Don’t be bothering them. We both know how you like to talk.” A huge German shepherd padded into the kitchen and started whining. "Finish your milk and take King outside. He needs to go.”
Buddy drained his glass. “Come on, King.”
When they got outside, Buddy noticed his new next door neighbor was sitting on the small open porch smoking a cigarette. Buddy gave him a quick wave then followed a narrow sidewalk a few blocks to a small marina. He enjoyed watching the sailboats as they bobbed in the harbor.
After half an hour, he and King ran back to the Lakeside Tourist Cabins, where he and his mother were staying. As he was headed to their porch, the man next door yelled, “Do you always let that dog run free without a leash?”
Buddy stopped. “Um, yeah. He’s friendly. He looks big and mean, but he’d just lick to death anyone who came around.”
The man stood and moved closer to the railing. “That’s good to know, but my daughter’s scared of new dogs. Could I ask you to keep it on a leash for a few days?”
Buddy wrinkled his nose. Did they even have a leash? Oh, yeah. There was one in the back closet. “I guess.” He turned toward his steps and then stopped. “Hey, Mister. I tried to say hello to your daughter when you pulled in, but she just ran in the house.”
Instead of answering, the man came down the steps. As he approached, he held out his hand. “Sam Ashworth.”
Buddy shook it. “I’m Buddy Sinclair.”
Sam bent down on one knee. “Look, son. My little girl’s been through some bad times. Something happened to her about six months ago. She hasn’t spoken since. Not to me, or to anyone. Not a word. So, if you want to be nice, and you think she’s ignoring you, she’s not. Okay?”
“What…what happened?”
The man stood. “Let’s just say her stepdad’s a very bad man who’s going to spend a long time in prison. I really don’t want to say anything more about it.”
Two weeks later, Buddy’s mother sat across from him at the kitchen table. “I do believe you have a crush on that pretty little girl next door.”
Buddy’s neck flushed. “Nah. Why would I have a crush on her? She don’t talk.”
“You’ve sure been spending a lot of time over there.”
“Who else is there to play with? The only other kid here’s Frankie, and you won’t let me go near him.”
“No, I won’t. He’s three years older than you. He smokes cigarettes and has a filthy mouth.”
Buddy nodded. “See. That leaves Molly. It took a whole week before she didn’t run into the house whenever I said something. Today she walked down to the harbor with me. I couldn’t believe it.”
“That’s good, Buddy. I’ve talked with her father a few times. Sounds like she could really use a friend.”
“I guess, but it’s kinda hard to be friends with someone when I’m the only one who’s doing all the talking.”
Christine smiled. “You’ve never had a problem with that before.”
Buddy pretended he didn’t hear her. “Hey, Ma. Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure. What is it?”
“Why do you think she stopped talking? Mr. Ashworth said it was something to do with her stepdad.”
His mother took a moment and smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress. “I really don’t know what happened, but I’ve heard that, in very rare occasions, if someone’s put through a traumatic situation, they can react by going mute.”
Buddy looked up from his Dinty Moore beef stew. “How long don’t they speak?”
She shrugged. “I suppose it’s different for every situation.”
“So, if something comes along and scares me, I might lose my voice?”
She reached over and tousled his hair. “I should be so lucky.” She looked over at the dog. “It’s that time again. Go take King out while I do the dishes.”
Buddy grabbed the leash that was hanging next to the door. “Come on, King. Time to go.”
He led the dog over to a tree behind the cabin. As the dog was doing his business, Buddy bent down and examined a clump of red mushrooms that had sprouted up the night before. There was a loud bark behind him. Buddy flew into the air and spun around. His eyes were wide. King was pulling on the leash and staring at a big, gray rabbit.
Buddy reached for his throat. Oh, no. Could he speak? He opened his mouth and tried to whisper. “Hello…hello. Mr. Rabbit, can you hear me?”
The rabbit turned and disappeared into the underbrush. Buddy spoke louder. “Can you hear me now?”
Something rustled behind him. Molly was staring at him with a puzzled look. He cleared his throat. “Um, hi. Rabbit.” He pointed toward the bushes. “King spotted a rabbit.”
She smiled.
“Hey, I’m going over to the harbor. Want to come with me?”
Molly nodded.
As they walked next to each other on the narrow sidewalk, Buddy told her how his dad always wanted to get a sailboat. How they had gone looking for one the weekend before he died.
When they arrived at the marina, Buddy said, “Watch where you step. Some of these planks are old and rotten.”
She pointed to a sailboat that had a pirate flag flying from one of the masts.
“I know. Isn’t that cool? That’s Mr. Jackobsen’s—” As he was talking, Molly ran toward the boat. Her shoe caught the curled up end of an old board, and she tumbled into the water.
Buddy ran to the edge of the dock. Molly’s arms were flailing. It was clear she didn’t know how to swim. He watched in horror as she started to sink. “Molly! Molly!” He kicked off his shoes, pulled his T-shirt off, and jumped in the water. It took him several minutes to find her. She was wedged halfway underneath a fishing trawler.
Buddy swam to the surface, gulped a lungful of air, and kicked his way down again. He reached for her hand and pushed himself off the sandy bottom. After what seemed like forever, they reached the surface.
Two men ran up. One jumped into the water and lifted the limp girl to the dock. He called to his friend, “Start CPR. She’s not moving.”
Buddy climbed up a railing. He coughed a few times and gasped for breath.
By this time, a small crowd had gathered. Someone asked Buddy, “Are you okay?”
King was licking his face. Buddy took a few more breaths. “I’m…I’m okay.”
As the faint wail of a siren sounded in the distance, his mother ran up. “Buddy, what happened? Are you all right?”
The next afternoon Christine came home from work early. “Wash up and put on your Sunday shirt. We’re going over to the hospital and pay Mr. Ashworth a visit.”
Buddy looked up from his comic book. “We are? How’s Molly doing?”
A tear formed in his mother’s eye. She struggled to keep her composure. “Not so well, I’m afraid. She’s still in a coma.”
As they walked up the steps to the hospital, Buddy lagged behind. His mother stopped. “What’s wrong?”
He wiped his face. “I feel bad. I should have been able to get her out of the water sooner.”
Christine bent down and grabbed him by both shoulders. “Buddy, you saved her. If you hadn’t done what you did, she’d be gone by now. No matter what happens, you’re a hero.” She didn’t mention that several organizations had already contacted her about putting together a college fund so he could attend the community college when he was old enough.
“Why are we going if she’s in a coma? She won’t even know we’re there.”
His mother stood. “You don’t know that. Besides, we’re doing this for her father. We want Mr. Ashworth to know we’re thinking of him.”
As Christine pushed open the main entrance door, several of the nurses stopped. They stepped to the side and started clapping. “Good job, Buddy.” “Way to go, Buddy.” “Thank you for jumping in and saving her, Buddy.”
Buddy’s face flushed. His mother took his hand. She whispered, “Not bad for a ne’er-do-well.”
They took the elevator to the third floor and found room 9-C. When they entered, Sam was sitting in a chair next to his daughter’s bed. Medical equipment and tubes of all sizes surrounded her.
He turned. When he saw who it was, he came over and gave Buddy a big hug.
“How is she?” Christine asked.
“Unfortunately nothing’s changed.” Sam motioned toward the door. “Let’s talk outside.”
Buddy stepped next to the bed and watched as the blankets moved up and down in time with one of the machines. She looked so peaceful lying there. So pretty. He brushed tears from his eyes. “Hi, Molly. It’s me, Buddy.”
The machines continued to wheeze and click. As he stood there, he noticed something. Had she moved? No. That couldn’t be. She was in a coma. Wait. There it was again. His heart beat faster. Her eyes.
He turned toward the door. Should he tell them? Something touched his hand. He jumped. It was her. She had taken his hand. Her eyes fluttered. She slowly turned her head and said, “Thank you.”
She talked! He turned to call out to his mother. He opened his mouth. Nothing came out. Not even one sound. Not a word.
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Valerie Allen
05/19/2023Jim ~
Great read! Dialogue really brought out the characters. Congrats on StoryStar of the Day.
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Lillian Kazmierczak
05/19/2023What a terrific story! A testament to finding happiness in any situation! So nicely written. I will be looking for more of your stories!
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