Carmie

Thrift Shop Doll
By Carmie McCook
3/30/12 (861 words)

The sound of whispering awoke Shelly from a light doze. She was the only volunteer running the shelter that Christmas Eve. The umpteenth rerun of “It’s a Wonderful Life” was flickering on the old television in the corner of the room, the volume barely audible. Sharpening her senses, Shelly leaned forward and heard it again.
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Pushing up from the broken recliner, she caught a glimpse of a little hand quickly disappearing from the doorway. She glanced at the wall clock. 2:10 AM. More whispering.
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She smiled tiredly. “Okay, little ones. Come on in here. It’s okay.” A small face poked around the doorway. Slowly seven year old Mattie tiptoed into the shelter’s sitting room with her little sister, Lizzie, in tow. Lizzie held tight to something that looked like a handmade doll in her other hand. “What’s the matter, Mattie? You want something to eat or drink?”
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“No m’am. We couldn’t sleep. Daddy’s snorin’ and Lizzie got scared.” The girls shivered in the chilly room. Shelly grabbed a knitted throw and wrapped it around the girls. Their skinny legs and arms melted into the blanket leaving just two sleepy little faces and tangled hair visible.
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You know,” said Shelly, “I was a little lonely in here by myself. Would you mind sitting with me in the big chair for a while?” She lowered herself back into the Naugahyde Lazy-Boy with duct- taped patches on the arms and seat cushion.
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Mattie and Lizzie coyly smiled and climbed into her lap. Shelly readjusted the knit throw so both girls were covered. The girls curled up and snuggled close to her, laying their heads on her chest, watching the muted George Bailey trying to reason with the evil Mr. Potter.
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“You smell good, Miss Shelly,” said Mattie.
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“Yeah, like the soap Mama used to bath us with,” added Lizzie. “We don’t smell like that anymore but Mama said one day she would buy us some soap that smells like flowers!”
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“And, that’s why we got to leave tomorrow so Daddy can get to a job he’s got waitin’ for ‘em in Indiana,” Mattie chimed in. “Mama said when Daddy gets that job we can have a real house to live in and everything.” The optimism in Mattie’s little voice brought a lump to Shelly’s throat.
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Shelly pulled the girls close and kissed the tops of their heads. “Try to get some sleep, sweethearts.” Mattie and Lizzie buried in even closer to her chest.
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“Will you kiss Lucy good night too?” said Lizzie holding up the straggly, bald doll. “She don’t have no hair, but I don’t care. I found her at the place we stayed last night. I don’t think she has no Mama neither, so I took her.”
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“Of course.” Shelly kissed the bald doll head. “Good night, Miss Lucy. And, good night Miss Mattie and Miss Lizzie.”
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The next day no amount of reasoning on Shelly’s part could convince the girls’ father to wait for Christmas dinner at the shelter before getting back on I-75 and heading north. She packed a bag with sandwiches, water, and other non-perishable food and gave it to the mother. She also gave each parent and the girls wrapped Christmas gifts of socks and gloves that local high school students donated as part of a “Holiday for the Homeless” program.
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A blast of cold wind went right through the sweater Shelly had thrown on to walk the family out to their car. “Drive safely, Mr. Barfield. And I truly wish you all the best with the job in Indiana.”
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“Yes’m. Thank you for puttin’ us up for the night.” He turned the ignition key and the old car hacked and groaned.
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The girls smiled and waved. Shelly stooped over to the back car window. “Mattie, you and Lizzie be sweet. I am so happy I got to meet you. Oh, and Lucy too!”
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Suddenly, Lizzie crawled over her sister and held the scrap of a doll out the car window.
“You keep, Lucy, Miss Shelly. She’ll keep you company tonight in the big chair.”
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“Oh, I couldn’t Lizzie. You’ve taken such good care of her. Wouldn’t you miss her?”
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“Well, I got Mattie to keep me company but you don’t have nobody. Lucy can be your friend.” Lizzie pushed the doll toward Shelly with a sweet, earnest smile. Shelly grinned and took the doll as gently as if it were a piece of fine crystal.
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“Thank you, Lizzie. I will take good care of Lucy. We will always remember you and Mattie.” The father threw the car into gear and the family drove off. Shelly waved and blew kisses to the girls as held-back tears finally ran down her cheeks.
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Shelly’s sudden death, eight years later, was a sad day for her friends. Most of her belongings were sold at auction. Lucy, along with other left over odds and ends, was piled into a box and given to a local thrift shop. The doll, of immeasurable value to Shelly, was now jammed on a dusty shelf in the shop. A five-dollar price tag was affixed to her leg.