Keeper of the Doves
Keeper of the Doves
““Mother, please lower your voice. I am not deaf.”
“But a dove keeper?” If anything, Grandmama’s voice got louder. “You never mentioned that before. What does a keeper of the doves do?”
Unnoticed by Grandmama or Mama, Abigail and I sat down on the steps. Abigail glanced at me and mouthed the word Tominski. But I had already sensed the conversation was about him and found myself relieved it was not about me.
“Nobody needs a dove keeper!”
“Mother, please.”
“If the man’s got to keep something, why not bees? At least you would get honey out of that.”
“Mother, I don’t want Albert to hear this.”
“Albert’s gone to the lumber mill with the Bellas. That’s why it’s so quiet around here.”
“I wouldn’t say it was quiet, Mother.”
“Well, I’d really like to know what the man actually does.”
I had wondered that most of my life.
“Mr. Tominski is a harmless old man, Mother. The connection goes back to Albert’s childhood. He’s part of family history.”
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