The Lock

The Gardener

"Run into some trouble?"

Gabriel awoke with a start. Light streamed into the dark shed, flooding his still-sensitive eyes. He brought a hand up to shield them as he took in the face of the person who had just addressed him.

It was a wrinkly face, belonging to a withered old woman who looked to be in her eighties, if not older. Her skin was dark, her hair thick and white. She wore a wide-brimmed straw hat and a pair of clunky, sepia-tinted sunglasses - the kind designed to fit over a pair of prescription eyeglasses.

Confusion overwhelmed him momentarily, until memories of the previous night trickled into his brain, which, incidentally, was suffering a terrible headache on account of his hangover. He tried to bring his hands out in front of him but couldn't - he'd forgotten about the handcuffs.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am," he said, hoping he could defuse the situation with a little old-fashioned charm and politeness. "I ... I did, indeed, run into some trouble, but I will gladly leave, just ... please don't call the police."

She raised an eyebrow and nodded toward his restrained arms. "Seems to me you won't get very far with your hands tied behind your back like that." She placed a hand on her chin. "Now, I think I've got a pair of bolt cutters in the garage. Would you like some help getting those things off?"

Gabriel was amazed. This woman wasn't going to call the police? Wasn't going to have him hauled off? There had to be some kind of catch, but for he life of him, he couldn't figure out what it was.

"That would be awesome, ma'am. Thank you."

"Well, come on then. Follow me." She turned around matter-of-factly and shuffled away from him toward her garage. Gabriel followed after her.

They entered through a side door. The woman flipped a switch and the garage filled with light. A car took up most of the space, but Gabriel couldn't tell exactly what kind of car it was because it was wrapped in a black protective cover.

"Let's see," the woman said, walking around the car and making her way to the far side of the garage, "I know they're around here somewhere." She rummaged through a cardboard box, then emerged victoriously. "Here they are!"

She walked back to Gabriel and motioned for him to turn around. He did so, but as she lowered the tool to the cuffs, he wondered if she'd have the strength to cut through them.

"Hey, I don't want you to get hurt or anything. Do you have a grandson or something we can call, or ...?"

A loud crack reverberated throughout the garage and the woman took a step back. "All done, sweetie. What were you saying?"

"Uh ... nothing." He brought his arms up in front of his face. It felt good to move them again. He rubbed his shoulders, which had grown sore from the uncomfortable position the handcuffs had forced him into. "Thank you so much for helping me. Now ... any idea how to get these things off?" He raised his hands to show the cut cuffs still wrapped around each of his wrists.

"I might be able to pick 'em," she said. "Should be easier to do now that your hands're free. Follow me. I'll put on some tea."

She led him to a door against the far wall of the garage that led into the house. He followed her to the kitchen and she directed him to take a seat at the table as she filled a kettle with water and placed it on the stove.

"Do you take your tea with sugar?"

"I don't know. I've never had tea before."

She shot him a raised eyebrow over her shoulder. "You've never had tea? Bless your heart. We'll start you off without for now; we can always add sugar later if you want it."

Gabriel watched her work with fascination. He had never known any of his grandparents and he was amused by the introduction of this grandmotherly figure in his life. He'd lucked out by wandering into her garden shed and not one belonging to a crazed NRA member with something to prove. He realized he didn't even know her name, and he asked her for it.

"Dorothy," she said. She placed two teacups on the table, then returned a moment later with a teapot. She poured them each a cup, then took a seat beside him. "What's yours?"

"Gabriel."

She took a long, slow sip, then turned to him. "All right, then, Gabriel," she said, removing a bobby pin from her hair, "let's see what we can do about getting you out of these cuffs." She took his left hand in hers and set to work picking the cuff.

"How do you know how to do this?" Gabriel asked.

She chuckled to herself. "I haven't always been an old woman, and I haven't always been as scrupulous as I am now. I haven't done this in a long, long while, but it's kind of like riding a bike." As if on cue, the handcuff popped open.

"Amazing! Thank you so much."

"Don't thank me until I get the other one off." She set to work picking the right-hand cuff. "So how did you get these things on you, anyway?"

"It was a ... misunderstanding."

She smiled. "Isn't it always?" The right cuff clicked open and Gabriel rubbed his wrist.

"I can't thank you enough," he said. "Not just for your help, but your hospitality also." He stood and took a step toward the front door. "I'll get out of your hair now."

She stared at him, face unmoving. "Sit your ass back down."

"I - I'm sorry, what-"

"You haven't even touched your tea. Now, that's perfectly good tea and I'm not going to let it go to waste. Would you like something to eat with it?"

Gabriel, shocked, sat back down. "Uh ... yeah. Food would be great."

"I'll get you something, then. Silly boy. No need to hurry on out of here."

Thanks for reading! Check back next week to see what transpires between Dorothy and Gabriel. If you enjoyed this week's installment, please remember to vote for it!