What Happened to Mr. Simmons?

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From "Light of the World" Chapter Three: "Mr. Simmons"—

 

            "Is Dad going to stop by Grandma's on his way home from work today, Mom?" Danielle wondered as they walked along their neighborhood's already-hot sidewalk.

            "I think so," Mom said.  "He said he wants to see if there are any branches that need to be cleared from her yard after the storm."

            "Too bad I didn't go with him on his courier route today," said Brian.  "I could have helped at Grandma's house afterward."

            "Me too," Collin commented from the stroller.  "Gwamma!" he said lovingly.

            "He looks like the captain of a ship or something," Andy said, noticing the commanding way Collin rode in the stroller.  The rest had to agree it did look like he might be surveying the ocean waves before him.

            "Uh, oh," said the little boy, pointing to a garbage can lying sideways at the end of an empty driveway.

            "Oh," said Chris, looking at the house, "I think that family is on vacation.  They weren't here to pick up their garbage can when the storm knocked it over."  He paused; then said to Mom, "Can we pick it up for them?"

            "Sure, son," she replied with a smile.  "That is very kind of you."  In a moment, Brian had helped Chris right the can and drag it to the top of the driveway.

            "I wonder if anyone else needs help," said Brian, wiping the palms of his hands on his jeans.  He looked around.  Most of the mesquite trees in the neighborhood had already been firmly tied upright after previous storms had flattened them, and there was very little damage to be seen.

            Mom checked her watch and turned the stroller around.  "9 o'clock," she said, "let's head back to our house now."  The children were only too glad since the sun was already baking the neighborhood. 

            Brian was still looking for anyone who needed help repairing storm damage.  "Mom," he said, "it looks like Mr. Simmons' mesquite tree wasn't tied up; it's fallen over."  They were standing before a small house two doors down from their own.

            Chris looked around a little apprehensively, remembering the frowning elderly man who lived there.  One time when Dad had been teaching Chris and Andy to ride their bicycles, Andy had taken a pretty bad dive and landed right in the middle of the small grassed area of Mr. Simmons' front yard.  Although no real damage had been done to either the boy or the grass, the man had frowned grumpily and warned him to 'keep off' before turning his back and going inside.  Then there was the time they had gone Christmas caroling.  Most of the other neighbors had come out onto their porches to listen and say "Merry Christmas," but Mr. Simmons had only opened his door a tiny crack.  When they finished "Silent Night," he had grunted, "Hmm.  Very nice," in a disinterested, growling voice and closed the door.

            Now the Edwards children stood looking at one another and at the mesquite tree.  "Well," said Brian, drawing the word out, "Mom, can we see if Mr. Simmons would like us to tie up his tree?  We still have some stakes and rope."

            "Yes, we can only try to be friendly to him," she replied.  "Dad wants our family to get to know him, especially because he doesn't seem to have family of his own nearby."

            They all stood looking around for another moment until Brian finally said, "Well, to the door, then.  I'll knock."

            There was silence for a few long moments after Brian knocked.  They almost decided he was not at home.  Then they heard someone fumbling with the lock.  The door opened a small way, and they saw Mr. Simmons peering out at them from the darkness of his house.  He looked unusually old and exhausted.  He was trembling and hunched into a worn blue bathrobe.

            "Hello," Mom began.

            "You don't want to be here," the man said in a panting, trembling voice, shaking his head.  "I'm very sick.  All the youngsters will catch it."  His hand went to his stomach as he spoke.

            "Oh," said Mom.  "Is there anything we can do to help y—" 

            Mr. Simmons, clapping a hand over his mouth, retreated hastily into his house leaving his door creaking open behind him.  "Do you think he has the flu, Mom?" Danielle asked, her eyes wide.

            "I don't know," Mom replied, her hazel eyes looking worried.  The family stood, facing the open door, looking at one another.  This was one of the strangest things that had ever happened to them.  "Perhaps we'd better go now; we'll let Daddy know and maybe we can check on him later," Mom decided.  They turned the stroller and began to walk down the path leading from his porch. 

            Behind them they heard Mr. Simmons muttering, "Got to shut the door."  Then there was a groan, a strange thump, and silence…

 

Did something happen to Mr. Simmons?  Find out in "Light of the World," an exciting living science book about light, only $8.95 plus shipping and handling.

 

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