Jobmobbers

Later That Evening

The full moon peers through passing clouds on the dark and cold October evening. The tires of my car crunch the gravel as I come to a stop in the driveway. I step out, take a breath of pine-scented air, and listen to the silence. I feel a quickening of my heart as I push the skeleton key into the keyhole and reach for the doorknob. I wrestle with the knob until the door finally creaks open. A floorboard moans. Stillness for half a minute. Then another moan. I flick a switch, and lights flood the small foyer.

I'm becoming skittish as a cat. It's just a creaky, old house. It's just sighing with age.

I look out the front window and catch movement between the trees. The full moon shines down, silhouetting the coyote. He turns, and the silver-tipped hairs of his coat seem to fl oat behind the trees as he disappears into the darkened forest.

A knock at the door startles me. I look at the clock on the mantle. Nine thirty? Who can be coming here at this time of night? As quietly as I can, I walk to the door and peek through the peephole. I see the face of the woman who lives next door. I hardly know her. We've only chatted a couple of times when I raked leaves and did other outside chores. Her silky gray hair rolls over her shoulders, and a few strands are tied on the top of her head. A puffy light blue robe is wrapped around her, tightened at her waist, and gray moccasins protect her feet.

"Sorry to bother you, Dawn. I know it's late," she says without taking a breath. "But a couple hours ago, a car turned onto our road and parked just up from your house. Over there. Someone got out and walked behind the bush on the far side of your house. I saw him from my upstairs window. I knew you weren't home yet. Our little road is so quiet, especially at this time of night.

"He was acting suspicious. I think it was a man. He was wearing a fedora. I called the police, just in case. It didn't take the police too long, but by the time they got here, he'd come around to this side of your house." She points to the garage. "He hurried back to his car and sped off. When the police got here, they tramped around your yard and checked all your windows and doors. ¬ They said there was no sign of anyone entering. I hope everything's all right."

"Thank you, Marie. Why are we talking here? You must be cold. Come in." I could use some company.

"It's late. I really shouldn't bother you. You just got home."

"No, come in please. Have a cup of tea with me."

"Now that might be exactly what I need after all this excitement."

"Come on back here to my kitchen, and we'll brew something nice." I fill my blue teapot and plug it in. "While that pot boils, I'm going to quickly check the rooms to make sure all's in order."

"Let me come along. I've got my cell phone ready… just in case."

We walk slowly through the house, investigating all four bedrooms, two bathrooms, the living room, and the back sitting room. The old doors groan beneath our shoes. Closet doors creak as we open them.

At sixty, Marie is still quite agile and manages the steps with ease. She tackles gardening like a twenty-year-old landscaper. She has my back. The rooms appear untouched. No cloaked strangers jump out from closets or behind doors. No hideous figures are hiding under beds.

All of a sudden, a loud whistle makes Marie jump.

"It's okay, Marie. It's only the teapot." I place my hand firmly on her shoulder.

"I guess I've had too much excitement for one night."

We hurry down to the kitchen to silence the kettle.

Satisfied with our investigation, we take our tea to the oak table. The tea is comforting, and we talk late into the night. Marie tells me she's been living in Boulder for most of her life. She tells me stories of early days at the Boulder Mall. In the sixties, people came from all over just to experience the popular outdoor mall.

"Oh, it was a great place for hippies to gather and mill about. I used to love walking down the mall on weekend evenings. Oh the celebrations! The music, the dancing, and, oh yes, the scent of marijuana flowing freely in the air. The herb and tea stores, token T-shirts advertising the latest demonstrations. It was definitely a piece of history."

Moonlight shines through the window and makes me think of the coyote. "Marie, what about those woods across the road? Do you know anything about that coyote I keep seeing over there?"

She takes a deep breath and says, "Let me tell you about those woods. When I first came to this area, I chose my house because of those woods. Not too many areas have forests or anything natural left. A developer bought the land and wanted to build houses that would face ours. He hired a company to clear the entire parcel. They weren't in there very long before they happened upon some ancient artifacts. It just so happened that the man was from a long line of Navajos and knew exactly what he'd found. He stopped bulldozing—and ever since, the land's been deemed a historical site. Absolutely no one's allowed to build there. Every once in a while, you'll see a group of people trek in to explore, but that's about it. I hiked in once and got this eerie feeling. Chills ran right up my back."

"How about the coyote? Have you ever seen the coyote that sits just behind the tree line?"

"Strange. Until recently, I'd never noticed the one I think you're talking about. He's coming around more and more these days. Oh, I've seen others. You bet. Usually a pack of 'em come out and walk around under a full moon. They're harmless—as long as you're aware of them."

I take a sip of my tea.

Marie adds, "It's getting late, and you seem to get up quite early. Even on the weekends! Busy lady. If you're all right with me leaving now, I'll be off to let you get your sleep."

"Thank you so much for watching out for my house. I really appreciate it. Anything I can do to return the favor, let me know. I'm quite serious. Let's go through the front room to see if that coyote's out there."