A Short Story by John Daly

Copyright © 2009 by John Daly
This revised version was originally published in The Fiction Writer and Other Short Stories, which is copyright © 2007 by John Daly. No part of this story may be used without permission of the Author.

And so Magic came to live with them and their lives began immediately to change. The change was so gradual, and so unobtrusive, that at first it went unnoticed by the Mason family.

David was still not successful in obtaining a job. Every day he went out on the job interviews that he read about in the “help wanted” section of the paper. He was either over-qualified or under-qualified No one ever said directly that he was too old. That would have been against the law. Nevertheless, since most of the job application screeners were about half David’s age, he wondered if his date of birth was not always a factor in their decisions. How could it not be?

When he was not job hunting, he kept busy doing odd jobs around the house that he had been putting off doing for years. He loved doing this kind of work and he was very talented in all phases of home maintenance and repair. When he was working at the factory full time, he just never had the time to do those things.

His father had had the same talent. He taught David everything he knew, beginning when David was still a boy. David had been very close to his father, especially after his mother died. His father had died unexpectedly, soon after his mother. His father’s death resulted in David losing both parents in three years. David’s father had used all his assets paying for his mother’s prolonged hospital and nursing care in her final days.

After his mother died, his father moved into a rented house. His father’s total assets were a small pension and a tool collection. David was convinced that his father’s premature death was simply caused by grief from losing his beloved wife of 50 years. When he died, his father’s estate consisted primarily of his collection of elaborate tools.

“What in the world are you going to do with all these tools?,” asked Janet, when David stated bringing them home from his father’s house “Where are we going to store them?” When will you ever use them? You have tools of your own. Do you really need more?”

“I’ll store them in the basement for now. Some of these tools are different from mine. Dad had a great collection. I’ll sort them out later.”

One by one, David had found use for his father’s tools. He was glad he had saved them. His home repair projects, using his father’s tools, brought back fond memories of his father, and also kept him from thinking about his own financial condition.

At first David did not notice that his morning paper was opened to the “Help Wanted Handyman” section, instead of the section that contained the jobs that he was applying for. He assumed that someone in his family had opened the paper before he did. On the third day he became curious and read the advertisement. It was for a franchise that one could purchase to provide “handyman” services.

“That would be something I could do and enjoy,” thought David. “I wouldn’t need to pay a franchise fee to do that though. I would only need a truck, a business license and some customers. What am I thinking? I don’t have any of those. Still, it would be better than the constant rejections from all the applications I’ve been submitting. Dream on David, dream on.”

One day, David was on the bus ride back home from another job rejection. He happened to look out the window of the bus and saw a commercial van parked in a driveway with a “FOR SALE” sign displayed in its windshield. For some reason, he could not later explain, he got off the bus at the next stop and walked back two blocks to inspect the truck.

“What am I doing?,” he thought. “I don’t need a truck. I don’t have any money to buy a truck. That advertisement in the paper must have stimulated my sub-conscious about being a handyman. Still, it is a beauty. I wonder how much the owner is asking? It would be perfect for my use. That is if I were to become a handyman. Which I’m not. But if I were—-. It can’t hurt to go up to the house and ask. Then I’ll get this crazy idea out of my head before I do something stupid.”

So again, for some reason he could not later explain, David went up to the house and rang the front door bell. A very pleasant looking woman that David estimated to be in her early 60s opened the door and said pleasantly,

“Good afternoon. Can I help you?”

“It’s about the truck in your driveway,” said David.

“Would you like to buy it?”

“It depends on the price,” said David, wondering what in the world he was doing here.

“What do you want to do with the truck if I sell it to you?,” asked the lady in a very friendly manner. Her manner was so friendly that David could not help blurting out,

“I got laid off at the plant after working there for 30 years. I can’t find a job anywhere, although I have been trying everyday for months. I think my age is against me. My son may not be able to go to college now. My wife deserves better, though she never complains. I am handy with my hands. I can repair anything. I think maybe I could be self-employed as a handyman.” Then he paused and said,

“I can’t believe I just said all that to you.”

“What’s your name?”

“David Mason.”

“Please to meet you David. I’m Florence Haley. Come inside and let’s talk,” she said opening the door for him.

David entered the house and followed Florence into her living room. It was as pleasant, and as welcoming as she was. It reflected her personality completely. David became immediately relaxed, and very chatty.

“Why am I running my mouth so much?,” he thought. “I never saw this woman before in my life and I’m telling her my life’s story.”

Then without thinking further about it he again blurted out,

“Before we go any further Ms. Haley, I do not have any money to buy your truck. I don’t know why I was even looking at it, or even why I came up to your door. I’m sorry to have wasted so much of your time.”

As he started to leave Florence said,

“Sit down David. You’ve already indirectly told me that you don’t have any money. That’s a minor problem. I want to talk to you about something more important. And please call me Florence. That’s what my friends call me.”

“All right Florence, what do you want to talk about?,” asked David, softening the tone of his voice, as he sat down in a big chair.

“David, do you believe in luck, or divine intervention, or unexplained events?”

“I certainly do!,” said David, thinking about the big yellow dog that was now living with him.

“So do I!,” said Florence, with excitement in her voice.

“You don’t happen to own, or to have you seen, a big yellow dog recently?,” asked David suspiciously, as he looked around.

“What a strange question. No, I do not own a dog. I did have a cat once, but she passed away years ago. Why do you ask?”

“It’s a long story—-

“That’s odd, I did see a beautiful large yellow dog around here a few weeks ago,” she said, interrupting David. “He was down by the truck in my driveway. He kept walking around it, looking it over. He was so beautiful that I went out in the driveway and called to him. He just looked at me and sort of smiled like dogs do, and then he just walked away. One moment he was there, and the next moment he was gone. I haven’t thought about him since then, until you mentioned ‘a big yellow dog’.”

David almost fell out of his chair when he heard about the yellow dog in the driveway around the truck.

“Does that dog live around here?,” he asked quietly.

“I don’t think so. I hadn’t seen him before that day, and I haven’t seen him since. Why is that dog so important to you anyway?”

“As I started to say before, it’s a long story that I may tell you someday. Now what did you want to talk to me about?”

(To be continued…)