The Enchanted Dollar

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The Enchanted Dollar [2611 words]

Once upon a time a man named Paddy O'Doul lived up beyond Buckley Ridge where he got the idea that he had lost his soul. I supposed most people have experienced the same thought.


A handsome man with an easy smile, who always seemed of another place. He believed that during life each of us would meet some extraordinary people who would change our ways.


He wore a workingman's hat, and boasted about being a potato farmer and that his limp came from a wound during his war. He seemed a good, honest man


One evening Paddy headed south into Prescott to spend time around the Courthouse. He stopped at the monument to veterans of his war. All the men who died were listed here, real heroes. In a nearby tree an albino Raven looking closely seen the veins in his temples pulse and twitch. What a waste, Paddy swore under his breath, his eyes cold, hard, flinty.


He stopped at Hagarty's pushcart for a couple of baked potatoes. "Hey Ed," he yelled, "throw an extra spud in that box. A soldier might be hungry."


"Paddy, you know those homeless spongers soaking up the evening breezes will eat all three of your potatoes if you let 'em."


"Best you be careful with your mouth Ed." Paddy's eyes narrowed as he felt anger rise. With sarcasm he added, "You didn't think them spongers a few years ago when you stood waving the flag and calling them heroes. Now they come back with their spirits broken and you call them spongers. Mi Da would have called them lost souls."


"Have It Your Way, Paddy." He paused, measured his words, then mumbled, "Lost souls to you, spongers to me."


Paddy headed towards the statue of local hero Chuckle O'Dell when he seen a woman standing at the roadside, a basket beside her. A slight and comely woman with a pale white complexion and start of a mustache. He doffed his cap to her with a nod. She greeted him with a smile and slight bow, bent down and with a subtle grunt, lifted the basket and walked in step with him along the road. From the ways she was changing the basket, hand-to-hand, he made out it must be heavy.


"Give me that basket, please," he said. "I'll carry it a bit for you."


She thanked him and gave it over. How surprised he felt that it had no weight at all.


It must be empty he thought. They walked on, but neither said who he or she was. Neither asked the other's name. At the statue they stopped.


"I have some extra food. You care for some?" he asked.


"Most generous of you to share. I'll be grateful to you."


While they ate they got to talking about some matters that Paddy never thought about before. The woman started giving some details about soul, and body too, and about animals having souls. Then she set forth on to losing your soul, or perhaps just misplacing it. Paddy felt like he had more questions than answers.


just then, Freddy McFarland, long a homeless veteran, came by looking his usual unkempt self. He paid no mind to the woman. "Hi Paddy, what's up? - New deal working for you yet?"


"Not yet, just fixing up the widow's place. Here, I've got a Hagarty's spud left over. Might be cold -- want it? "


Taking the box, Freddy glimpsed inside. "Thank you Paddy. Us boys were wondering where supper would come tonight. Got no government relief yet, but this gift just proves there will be enough to eat. Got to take care of both body and soul."


Paddy peeked over the edge of the box and counted three stuffed potatoes. Thinking there should be one, he shook his head and cleared his throat. "Well, you have to thank Ed. He threw a couple of extras in for you -- 'spongers'."


Freddy broke out a smile that lit up his face. "Oh, forgive him Paddy, sometimes Ed bats his gums without thinking, but deep down he's a good old soul. I'll tell the boys his part." Freddy turned and made an easy walk towards a few of his kind sitting idly on the lawn.


Paddy then turned to the woman. "Freddy is a gentle breath of life who's seen happenings in this world that nobody should have to see. Still, he's quick to forgive.


She turned leaning her body slightly toward him. "You both spoke of having souls and forgiveness. I don't hear much of souls and forgiveness nowadays unless I bring it up. Most Souls don't weigh much, yet some are so heavy. I wonder what its like -- not being able to forgive?" Not waiting for an answer, she stood and made brushing motions across her dress.


Then Paddy said he planned to go a few miles about near Buckley Ridge and maybe that was not the way she was going. "Oh, it is! I am going north to Jimmy Jack's house, there's something he's done with I have to collect. And if necessary, I'll be staying till morning."


Paddy's features softened, He felt calm and pleased to hear this as he felt a sense of peacefulness about the woman. Further, he felt a need to understand her.


Now Paddy didn't care much for Jimmy Jack. Seems they thought differently about Paddy's war. Just hearing the name Jimmy Jack, he felt heat flushing through his body. His pulse sped up. His heart pounded. Avoiding eye contact, drawing in a slow, steady breath and speaking with a carefully controlled tone to the white-woman, he told her of his difficulty in even recognizing Jimmy Jack as a human being.


She stopped, leaned inwards and nudged her elbow into his ribs shoving him a bit off-balance and saying in a high voice, "So, where is all the soul food that comes from forgiveness?" Then as if she had made a witty comment, she added a little laughter and with a twinkle of mischief in her eye, she repeated her thought, "Forgiveness, food for the soul it is." Chuckling, she started down the road. She stopped again three steps ahead, turned and said, "How much of that part that you don't like of yourself are you seeing in Jimmy Jack?" He frowned and silently fell in beside her.


Step-by-step she walked with Paddy. The house she was making for was next to Paddy's own, a mile on the east. As if time did not exist, sooner than he had wished for, he found himself at the gate of his own house with her and bade her farewell. When he handed the basket to her, she asked if he drank.


"Well," said he, "When I'm partying to be sure I will drink a glass." Then smiling, "It's good for the soul."


She put her hand in her pocket and handed him a silver dollar. "Now," she said, "next time you are in a tavern, drink to my health and trust that there'll always be enough money!" Then she went toward Jimmy Jack's house. He saw her no more.


That night Paddy slept uneasily thinking he heard the banshees howl. His Da had told him that when a man's soul gets ready to leave his body, the banshees will wail.


Next morning he lay in bed with his eyes closed, nightclothes drenched in sweat, and his head tipped back. He tried to capture bits of the last night's conversation. Thinking he would find out who the unknown woman was, Paddy took a deep, satisfied breath. Now Paddy was not into prying or snooping, so he reluctantly went to Jimmy Jack's to ask who was this woman that came to them last night.


Paddy chose to spend time with positive or like-minded people, having an impatience with meanness. Since he thought of Jimmy Jack as dishonorable, he had wanted nothing to do with his neighbor.


Jimmy Jack met Paddy at the door with a flat look, narrowed eyes. Through a pinched mouth he asked "What be you up to neighbor?" The word neighbor emerged as if his jaw hurt. So Paddy told him about the white-woman. All the while Jimmy stood there, arms crossed over his chest, seemingly mean-spirited.


Said Jimmy, "I not saw any woman at all!"


"Well, that is strange," said Paddy. He told Jimmy just what I have told you about this woman who had come all the way from Prescott with him, and who had told him she planned to stop there overnight.


Jimmy Jack looked Paddy over, "Ya never been inside my house, all this time and ya never come in to set like a neighbor. Come in now. Sip some morning tea."


Like I said, Paddy didn't think too much of this man, but he carried a curiosity over the woman. "I'll thank you for that." And he followed Jimmy Jack into the house.


Sitting across from Jimmy, Paddy felt the tension of his anger towards him then, leaning across his cup of tea Jimmy Jack spoke. "I know in my bones you've hated me because I didn't share your views on war. And you're right: I didn't then and I don't now. It was an unjust war. I feel you judged me without knowing the whole truth."


"And what would that truth be?"


"I don't think my truth would be the same as your truth. I was frightened, afraid of never seeing my wife and family again. When you and the men marched off and the town was so proud of you, I felt guilty. While you were gone and I remained, my children and wife died of consumption. I lost them all."


Pounding his fist on the table, "By God Paddy I was here with them when they died. For that I am not sorry or guilty."


Paddy stared down at his own hands. "I did not know and it is true I judged you unfairly and I'm sorry - - forgive me!"


Shadows fell across Jimmy Jack's face. He appeared damned to Paddy as he pushed away from the table. His chair leg scraping against the floor echoed ominously like chalk-on-a-blackboard.


"Sorry are ya! Forgive ya? You judged me wrongly Paddy and there is not enough time in eternity for me to forgive ya."


Paddy found himself unable to respond. With a need to escape this sadness, he turned and left.


Between then and nightfall Paddy had a taste for some white mule and so went a short ways down Buckley Ridge Road for some rye whiskey. As the shopkeeper gave it to him, Paddy threw over the silver dollar and got change out of it. Afoot along the road home to the west, he put his hand into his pocket and felt money. His eyes started to sparkle and gleam. He had both the change and the silver dollar. The white-lady's words, about never feeling the need for money again, came back. Forgetting about Jimmy Jack and feeling like his insides were vibrating, he stretched out his legs in a wide stance and let loose with a laugh of glee.


Paddy went on like that for a longtime. No matter what tavern he would go into he would be a comrade to others, and getting change for anything he would buy. When he put his hands into his pocket the silver dollar would be back in there. Before this time he never felt the need for worldly goods. Now Paddy would spend his idle time imagining he had great wealth.


He lived in this way for a couple of months, when he had an intense feeling of having lost something of his life. Feeling in his bones that events were moving too quickly to think, he needed to share the feeling. He found Freddy McFarland, looping thumbs in his front pockets, standing in the shadow of Chuckle O'Dell's statue. Freddy was a friend. He told Paddy how it was when he misplaced his soul in the war. Through half-closed eyes, with a lidded look of satisfaction Freddy grinned, then took a deep, contented breath, confessing how he felt like the prodigal son. He smiled then and with a playful wink said that he found his peace when he distanced himself from politicians.


Paddy felt connected to life; and for a long time he had not heard the sound of wind in the trees. He had no wish to be anywhere else; and just enjoyed listening to Freddy who seemed to be living in the moment, not recognizing past or future. Paddy's voice raised and for a moment he appeared angry, speaking of his impatience with Jimmy Jack and politicians. Unhurriedly, Freddy said, "Let it go - - forgive them."


On a tree limb behind Freddy's shoulder Paddy saw the albino Raven. Instantly then, his voice turned to a warm, caring tone. "The white-woman told me I spend too much time judging a world I cannot change." "Like you," said Freddy, "all I have to do is change my idea about how I see the world."


Freddy told him that unless he was careful the silver dollar might lead to some unknown calamity. Now some of that had been true. Paddy found himself making more stops in the many beer halls found on Whiskey Row. Too, he found less need to seek out those small jobs which allowed him some pleasures in life. He began to think - - that was perhaps why the silver dollar had been put in his way. Maybe he was being tested on how he handled it. He had found himself more judgmental of other people and recalled some of what the woman said about losing a soul. Something had changed within, Paddy thought. He had become quick to judge differences among people.


Thinking of the silver dollar as not all for the best, he went to the Prescott priest to report what had happened,. Father Joe looped a stole around his neck and made the sign of the cross over the silver dollar. It vanished as if a drop of water.


From that day on Paddy changed. Some said he became more thoughtful, inside himself. Over time the boys on Whiskey Row asked less about him. Sometimes a strong, hot wind would blow in from the south; people with knowledge of strange events said they had come upon a man limping around a potato field north of town. The man would stop, seemingly looking for something, then move on. Could it be Paddy? they wondered.


Before long people stopped talking about or even remembering Paddy altogether. Then a strange event occurred that most people didn't notice, except me. All them homeless veterans disappeared from the square as if what they had to do was done -- and they moved on. Well like I said near the start of this tale, "During life each of us will meet extra-ordinary people who will change our ways."


I wonder if Paddy ever found what he misplaced. Like I said, Paddy was not one to tell wild tales. So I guess most of this may be true.
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