The Caretaker of Lorne Field

“Quite a lot, actually. A complete history of Lorne Field, the legend of its monsters and, of course, paintings and sculptures of them, along with portraits and a short biography of each of your ancestors who’ve been Caretaker and, as your wife brilliantly suggested, video monitors so people can watch you at work. You are going to continue weeding the field, right?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I’m just asking.”

“I’ll be weeding the field until my eldest son takes over. As required by my contract.”

“That’s good,” Minter said. He was still smiling broadly, but it was beginning to lose some of its luster. “It will give the whole thing an air of realism. Kind of a Colonial Williamsburg-type vibe. And of course the centerpiece for the museum will be the Caretaker’s Contract and Book of Aukowies under a glass display.”

“How do you know about my book?”

“Your wife told me about it.”

Jack Durkin shifted a suspicious glance towards Lydia, then grunted as he pushed himself away from the table.

“Let me get it for you so you can see it for yourself,” he said. “And the contract, too.”

Durkin left the kitchen, careful to avoid the broken shards of glass littering the floor, and hobbled down the narrow basement steps. He stopped when he found the two loose stones. They weren’t pushed back as deep as they should’ve been. He knew he didn’t make that kind of mistake and guessed that either Lydia or Bert had found his hiding place, knowing that Lester wouldn’t have had the initiative. It was too bad. The hiding place had been used by the eldest Durkin ever since the cabin was built, but he decided it no longer mattered. The whole damn place was going to be made into a freak show soon anyway. But at least it would get Lydia off his back. And with video cameras at Lorne Field, people would see what the Aukowies really were. They’d all learn soon enough that this was no joke.

He took the contract and the Book of Aukowies out of their hiding place and brought them back upstairs. He dropped them in front of the lawyer and told him to feel free to take a look at them. With the cursory glances the lawyer gave them, Durkin knew he had seen them before, which meant Lydia had found his hiding place. He felt better knowing that. He would’ve hated to think Bert would’ve been so sloppy as to leave the stones pushed only three-quarters of the way in.

“Why don’t you read the contract more carefully,” he suggested. “I got some questions for you about it.”

Minter showed him a puzzled smile. “What questions?”

“Let me show you.” Jack Durkin took the contract in his hands and ran a thick index finger down the vellum paper until he found the clause he was looking for. “About what it says here-” Durkin stopped for a moment to squint hard at the paper, then he read out loud: “No person may interfere with the Caretaker from carrying out his sacred duties.”

“Yes?”

“Can that be legally enforced?”

“What do you mean?”

“Jack,” Lydia interrupt, “don’t bother Mr. Minter with this.”

He ignored her and went on. “I think Sheriff Wolcott is planning to arrest me.”

Minter blinked stupidly, but kept smiling. “Why is he planning to do that?”

“He’s claiming I cut off my son’s thumb.”

Minter’s face fell. “What?”

“There was an accident today,” Lydia said. “Jack took our oldest boy, Lester, to that field to teach him how to weed and there was an accident.”

“Is that true, Mr. Durkin? Your son had an accident today?”

“Yep.”

“How-I mean, what happened?”

“My son lost his thumb.”

“Yes I know, that part I heard. How did it happen?”

“An Aukowie chewed it off.”

“What do you mean?”

Durkin shrugged. “Just what I said. Lester put his thumb too close to an Aukowie and it chewed it off.”

Minter looked from Durkin to Lydia hoping to see that this was some kind of joke. All he saw in Lydia’s face was resignation, and in Durkin’s a stubborn earnestness.

“You’re serious?” he said.

“That’s what happened.”

“And this is what you told Sheriff Wolcott?”

“It’s what happened.”

Minter looked back and forth at them. His wide apple-cheeked face pinched in concern. “I’ve put in a lot of time already talking to these investors and the town council. Not only that, but my reputation

…” he started, his words choking off.

“I’m just telling you what happened.”

“Has your son told his side of the story to the authorities yet?”

“No. Sheriff Wolcott told me that the doctors want him to wait until tomorrow to talk to Lester.”

“Have you talked to your son yet?”

“Not yet. He was crying too much after it happened and I was just trying to get him home before he bled to death.”

Durkin wiped a hand across his jaw, then tugged at his grizzled chin as he thought about Lester and what had happened. “I’m planning to go to the hospital after dinner to see how he’s doing.”

“They won’t let you see him,” Lydia said.

Durkin stared at her as if she were crazy.

“Neither of us are allowed to see him,” Lydia repeated dismally. “Not until Child Services finishes their investigation.”

“That’s not right-”