JC: Harry and Amy
Chapter 2
By
Lazlo Zalezac
Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezac, 2005

The sharp rap of knuckles impacting the door broke Amy's 
concentration. Irritated by the interruption, she turned on the 
screen saver and looked up from her computer screen. In a harsh 
voice, she said, "Come in."

Richard Montclair, her boss, opened the door and entered the room 
without saying a word. Usually, he didn't visit the people who 
worked for him in their offices, but called them to his office. On 
this occasion, he had made an exception for this visit. His boss had 
requested that he deliver a personal invitation to the company 
picnic to Amy. 

He looked around her office for a minute. It had been years since 
he had been in her office and he couldn't believe that she had been 
working in it all that time. He had never seen such an empty room 
in his life. It was totally devoid of anything personal, not even a 
photograph. Unnerved by the stark and sterile surroundings, he 
said, "The company picnic is this Saturday."

Amy looked at her boss for a minute before deciding that it would 
be in her best interest to attend. He wouldn't have personally 
delivered the invitation otherwise. The problem was that she didn't 
like picnics. They were held outdoors and the ground made it hard 
for her to move around. She couldn't participate in any of the 
events and always ended sitting off to the side alone. She replied, 
"Sorry. I'm busy, Mr. Montclair."

From behind Richard, a male voice asked, "Did I understand that 
there's a picnic?"

Richard wondered which of his employees would stand at the door 
eavesdropping on their conversation. He answered the question 
even as he turned to face the speaker. "Yes, a company picnic."

"I love picnics. Picnics always include my favorite foods -- fried 
chicken, cole slaw, potato salad, and pickles. And we can't forget 
the games. A good picnic includes games - three legged races, tug-
o-war, and baseball."

Richard stared at the green robed man standing before him in 
shock. Not knowing what else to say, he repeated, "It's a company 
picnic."

"Splendid," the Druid said, "Amy and I will be more than happy to 
attend."

Amy listened to the exchange in shock, wondering who was the 
mystery man hidden behind Richard. The echo through the 
partially blocked door and noise outside the office made it difficult 
to tell who was speaking. When Richard moved out of the way, she 
saw the green robe and the shepherd's staff. She didn't need to see 
his face to know who it was. Excited to see him, she shouted, 
"Harry!"

"Hello, Amy. We're going to a picnic. This nice gentleman invited 
us," replied Harry with a smile and a wink. He patted Richard on 
the shoulder as though he were a long lost friend.

"Who are you?" asked Richard.

"Harry!" she repeated. This time she said his name in protest at 
accepting the invitation without discussing it with her. 

Richard turned back to look at Amy wondering what she had to do 
with a Druid. The last time a Druid showed up at the Chicago 
Stock Exchange the market dropped ten points. Harry's presence 
was going to cause a bit of turbulence in the market, of that he was 
sure. 

"That's me," answered Harry with a grin. He stepped around 
Richard and looked around the office. His face wrinkled as he took 
in the lack of décor. Frowning, he said, "This has got to be the 
ugliest room I've ever been in. You sure you work here?"

"Yes," answered Amy. She was used to the reaction of other 
people to her office. 

Richard interrupted, "Excuse me, but who are you?"

"I'm Harry. Happy Harry, last of the Hoboes."

"Happy Harry?" asked Richard trying to figure out what kind of 
name that was. It wasn't a proper name and he wondered if the guy 
was actually a Druid.

"Yes, that's my name," answered Harry. Turning back to face 
Amy, he asked, "Don't you believe in pictures? How about a few 
plants?"

Staring at the fireworks displayed by the screensaver, she 
answered, "I don't have any photographs and I can't take care of 
plants."

Snapping his fingers, Harry said, "I need a piece of paper, a pen, 
and a piece of scotch tape."

Richard asked, "Who are you?"

"You've asked that three times. Are you slow or something?" asked 
Harry enjoying the unease of the immaculately dressed man. He 
estimated the man's suit cost over a thousand dollars. He decided 
the man was the kind who thought charity consisted of writing 
checks for the tax write-off. 

"Excuse me?" asked Richard shocked at the statement. No one had 
talked to him like that in years. He stuttered even as Harry turned 
his back to him.

Amy handed the paper and pen to Harry. Bending over to write on 
the desk, Harry drew a picture of a sun over a tree under which 
stood a hobo complete with bindle on a stick. Little heart shaped 
figures floated from the hobo to a stick figure woman. In a corner, 
he wrote, 'Harry loves Amy.' When she handed him the tape 
dispenser, he hung the picture on the wall. Stepping back, he said, 
"Much better."
 
Amy stared at the picture for a minute and started giggling. A five-
year-old kid could have done a better job on the picture, but this 
one was pure Harry - humorous, cute, and harmless. 

"I'm going to call security," threatened Richard. 

Harry turned to look at Richard and shook his head. In a quiet 
voice, he said, "No you won't. Today at lunch, I suggest you go 
down to the burger place and buy five hundred dollars worth of gift 
certificates. Don't cheapen your actions by getting a receipt so that 
you can write off the money. Once you've got the gift certificates, 
go onto the street and hand them out to the panhandlers and 
homeless people. When you've given all of them away, come back 
here and look in the mirror. You'll see a better man looking back at 
you." 

"What?"

"At that time, you'll be a good enough man to tell me to leave," 
Harry turned his back on Richard dismissing him. 

Richard turned to Amy and knew she wouldn't dare dismiss him in 
the same manner as the Druid. Her job depended upon his good 
will and he could fire her in a minute. In getting to his position, he 
had never been afraid of using his power to make a point. He 
asked, "Who is this man?"

Still smiling at the picture, Amy answered, "That man is Happy 
Harry, last of the hoboes. He is a Druid who serves his Goddess by 
taking care of the invisible people in this society. He watches over 
the homeless, the poor, the hurt, and the lost. He's the American 
version of Mother Theresa."

The comparison of him with Mother Theresa brought a smile to 
Harry's face. He shook his head in the negative and said, 
"Everything she said is true except that Mother Theresa part. That 
was a little overboard. Little? Who am I kidding? It was way over 
the top."

Amy shook her head with a smile on her face. Seeing the look on 
Richard's face, she said, "He's the real thing. He's the one who has 
built Homeless Hotels all over the country. He's part of the reason 
why not one homeless person died in that horrible storm last 
February."

"You're really a Druid?" asked Richard.

"Horrible green dress, gold trinket around the neck, and a 
perverted mind. Yep, I'm either a Druid or a rapper with a bad 
fashion sense," replied Harry.

The comment about being a rapper cracked up Amy. She was used 
to his sense of humor and had come to enjoy his jokes. She didn't 
know what kind of sense of humor her boss possessed, but she 
doubted it extended to the kinds of jokes that Harry told. Still 
laughing, she made a gesture like a rapper. Harry adopted a similar 
pose.

Richard shook his head and said, "You're crazy."

"People keep telling me that, but I'm secure enough in my insanity 
not to believe them," replied Harry.

"Why are you here?"

"Why I am here is not your business. However, I have 
accomplished what I came to do so I shall now leave," answered 
Harry. He had learned that Amy was spending almost every 
evening at the Homeless Hotel helping hand out food and supplies. 
It bothered him that the young woman was not developing a social 
life. Even the homeless at the shelter had expressed their concerns 
about Amy. 

With a smile plastered on his face, he turned to Amy and said, "I 
shall pick you up for the picnic Saturday."

Amy started to protest that she didn't want to go to the picnic, but 
with Richard there she couldn't say that and with Harry there she 
couldn't lie. Caught, she nodded her head in agreement and 
mumbled, "Okay, Harry."

As Harry turned to leave, he said, "You work for Michael Walters, 
don't you?"

"Yes," answered Richard warily. 

"He's such a nice man," commented Harry as he left the office. 
Pointing his way with an arm, he sidestepped his way down the 
hall. The sound of Amy's giggle followed him.

A very uneasy Amy rode her IC ATV across the grounds of the 
house where the picnic was being held. Harry walked beside her, 
cheerful at the change in his routine. They hadn't quite reached the 
picnic tables where everyone was gathered when, in a last ditch 
effort to duck out, Amy said, "It's not too late. We can turn around 
and leave."

"No chance of that happening," replied Harry. He winked and said, 
"I can't wait to run the three-legged race with you."

"There's no way I'm doing that," declared Amy. 

"I had no idea that Mickey lived in such a big place," remarked 
Harry looking over at the house. The house was situated on a 
hundred acres of land that ran along the shore of Lake Michigan. 

To the best of her knowledge, no one ever referred to the CEO of 
the brokerage firm as Mickey. Wryly, Amy asked, "Mickey?"

"Yeah, Michael Walters," answered Harry. He noticed the amused 
expression on her face and answered her unasked question. "I met 
him years and years ago. That was long before he was a 
somebody."

"Oh," replied Amy. It surprised her how many people Harry knew. 

As they approached the crowd, a figure detached itself from the 
tables and walked towards them. The man waved and shouted, 
"Harry! It's great to see you."

"Hey, Mickey!"

The man came over and picked up Harry, hugging him tightly. 
With obvious delight, he said, "My old friend. I'm amazed that 
you're here. How did you know to come here?"

"Ah, I'm the date of this young lady," answered Harry gesturing to 
a very embarrassed Amy. As her face turned a bright red, he said, 
"May I introduce you to Amy."

With little more than a causal glance at the braces, Michael turned 
to Amy with a genuine smile. She wasn't aware of it, but he had 
been watching her career ever since Ed Biggers had worked with 
her. The fact that she could deal with a Druid of his caliber without 
a problem had signaled to him that she was future executive 
material. He took her hand in a warm grip and said, "Delighted to 
meet you, Amy. Any friend of Harry is a friend of mine."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Walters," answered Amy. She wasn't sure 
how to address him, so she chose the formal address appropriate 
for a business situation.

"Please call me Mike," replied the executive. He said, "Only my 
employees call me Mr. Walters."

"I work for you," replied Amy not wanting there to be any 
misunderstandings about her position.

"In that case, call me Mike," answered the man with a grin. At the 
surprised expression on her face, he added, "I didn't say that I liked 
to be called Mr. Walters, just that my employees are the only ones 
who call me Mr. Walters."

Harry laughed as the three of them made their way to the tables. 
Amy was intimidated to be in the presence of the CEO. She 
wondered if the man really meant what he said about any friend of 
Harry's being a friend of his. Harry had some pretty scruffy and 
rugged friends that most people wouldn't want to meet, much less 
consider a friend. Working up her nerve, she asked, "How do you 
know each other?"

Mike answered, "I was a little wild when I was in college. One day 
I had too much to drink. When I woke up in an alley, Harry was 
sitting there watching me. It scared the hell out of me at the time. 
I'd never met a homeless man. Pardon me, a hobo before."

Harry grinned at the correction. Mike continued, "Harry took me 
on a little tour in which he showed me what happens to people who 
can't control their drinking. He didn't put it to me that way. Instead, 
he introduced me to some of the people that he knew. As I learned 
their stories, I came to the realization that I had to take control of 
my life. I haven't had a drop since that day."

"Were you a Druid then?"

"No, that was years before I met the Goddess," answered Harry 
shaking his head in denial. 

When they arrived at the picnic tables, Harry noticed that Richard 
was standing off to the side watching. Turning to Richard, Harry 
said, "You didn't do as I asked."

"How did you know?"

"I would have heard about it if you had," replied Harry. He shook 
his head and said, "I was very disappointed in you."

Mike paused and asked, "You asked him to do something? What?"

Harry answered, "I asked him to take a lunch out to feed some of 
the homeless in the area."

Mike turned to study Richard for a full minute. Richard was a 
rising star within the organization. He ran a tight ship and his 
teams produced good results. He wondered if there wasn't a 
character flaw within the man that would eventually lead him into 
trouble. Looking over at Harry, he asked, "Harry, could I ask a 
favor of you?"

"Sure," replied Harry having a very good idea what he was going 
to be asked to do.

"I'd like you to take Richard here under your wing for a month. 
Take him around and let him meet some of your friends," 
requested Mike. He looked at his friend hoping that the answer 
would be positive.

"No problem," answered Harry. He made a show of looking over 
the physique of the executive as though sizing up his strength. He 
added, "I've got a couple of people who are suffering from 
psychiatric problems that I'm trying to help. I'm sure that Richard 
would be a great help."

Unable to believe what was being discussed, the young 
businessman looked at his boss in shock. His boss was asking 
someone to have him deal with crazy people. Trying to minimize 
his exposure, Richard said, "Sure, I'll make some calls to the local 
hospitals and see if we can't get a bed or two opened up for your 
people."

Even Amy had to laugh at that offer. Mike said, "Richard, Richard, 
Richard. He can make a collect call to the Surgeon General and get 
more doors open than you can possibly imagine. Don't be 
ridiculous. The help he needs is a little more physical than that."

"I don't want to do that," answered Richard. He didn't go to an Ivy 
League School to end up in an alley wrestling with some crazy 
man. 

"You'll do it if you want to keep your job," answered Mike. There 
was no humor or friendliness in his voice when he delivered his 
threat. He explained, "If you want to understand business, you 
need to see the effects of various business decisions. Going to the 
thousand dollars per plate dinners hosted by politicians will only 
show you one side of the story. You need to learn the other side of 
the story; the people who are affected by the bad decisions made 
by executives."

After agreeing to meet Harry at 6:30 Monday morning in front of 
the office building, a very disgruntled Richard walked away. He 
kept looking back at Amy, blaming her for his current 
predicament. Although others wanted to take the place abandoned 
by Richard, Mike kept his attention on Harry and Amy. He asked, 
"So how did you two meet?"

"I heard of the Chicago Angel who was going out every Friday 
night to feed the homeless with food purchased from her own 
money. I tracked her down and discovered that it was Amy. She'd 
been doing that for over a decade," explained Harry. He put an arm 
on her shoulder and added, "She's now watching over the Chicago 
homeless hotel that I started earlier this year."

"Really, I'm impressed," commented Mike looking over at Amy 
with increased respect. He hadn't known anyone in his firm was so 
active in social issues. Although no one knew it, his wife ran a 
food kitchen in South Chicago. She talked about it, but only as if 
she occasionally did volunteer work at it. He helped out as much as 
he could, particularly around the holidays. He was very proud of 
his wife's involvement with the poor. 

"He makes it out to be more than it is," said Amy. The young 
woman found herself blushing.

A bark of laughter forced itself from Mike as he retorted, "He 
hasn't made it out to be anything other than a statement of fact."

"Oh," replied the woman. She felt like she kept making a fool out 
of herself in front of this man. Not knowing what to say, she 
decided to say nothing. Harry grinned at her silence.

Amy frowned as Harry led her over to the starting line. She 
couldn't believe that she had allowed him to talk her into 
participating in the three-legged race. She was going to look like a 
fool and she hated looking foolish more than anything. The others 
at the starting line were looking at her in surprise, unable to believe 
that she and an old man were participating in the race. The young 
executive prospects were all highly competitive and were in the 
race for blood. Amy said, "This is a really stupid idea."

Discounting her arguments, Harry said, "Nonsense. How can you 
have fun if you don't play?"

Amy looked around at the others and said, "They aren't here to 
play."

"I am and that's that."

It took him a minute to tie her left leg to his right. Once that was 
done, he unlocked the brace so that his leg would control it. 
Standing up, he said, "All you have to do is worry about getting 
that right leg of yours out in front of us."

"You're crazy," commented Amy as she hugged him to keep from 
falling over. 

"You know, a lot of people say that about me," he replied with a 
grin. He wrapped an arm around Amy and held her tight to him. 

Stepping up to the starting line, Mike shouted, "On your mark. Get 
set. Go!"

The others participating in the race took off like shots. Amy just 
stood there for a second and then swung her leg forward. Harry 
kept up with her. After ten steps, she realized that they were 
actually making progress. They were definitely in last place, but 
she didn't care. She was too busy laughing as Harry made jokes 
about how they must look to everyone else. 

The course was only a hundred yards long, but to Amy it had 
seemed like an impossible distance. As they approached the finish 
line, she was shocked to hear others calling out in support of them. 
Although she had no idea which team had won the race, she was 
sure who was the crowd favorite. There was no doubt of that. 

When they crossed the finish line, an exuberant Harry shouted, 
"And the tortoise wins again!"

Amy was laughing too hard to even stand. Harry was holding them 
both up. When he suggest that they take a victory lap, she lost it 
completely. They fell to the ground in laughter. It was more than a 
few minutes before Harry untied them and locked her brace into 
place. 

Carrying her crutches, Mike came over with a big smile. As he 
handed the crutches over to Amy, he said, "You know, it's funny. 
Forty people participated in the race, but only two had fun. I hope 
you compete in the wheelbarrow race. Maybe some of the others 
will get the idea."

Mike helped Amy to her feet. Harry handed her the crutches after 
she was standing. Grinning, she said, "I'll take part, but only if 
Harry is the wheelbarrow."

"Oh my, I've created a monster," complained Harry with a theatric 
grin.

They sat out the wheelbarrow race as participants, but were chosen 
to be judges. As wives cheered on husbands, the competition was 
fierce as each team tried to stand out in front of the boss. At least it 
started out highly competitive. In the beginning, the only ones who 
had any fun were Harry and Amy. 

Harry ran along side the competitors making announcements as 
though he were calling a horse race. He had given each team a 
nickname. Abbot and Costello had dropped into last place right out 
of the starting line. They were the first to succumb to his jokes 
about their athletic ability.

The mixed gender team, Ginger and Fred, were light on their feet, 
but slow in the mid-section. They fell to the ground when he 
started singing, 'Oh lucky guy.' The crowd cheering on the 
participants had started singing as well. 

He had nicknamed the most competitive team, the Grumpy Old 
Men, and made all kinds of jokes about how seriously they were 
taking the race. It soon became too much for the man who was the 
wheelbarrow and he collapsed on the ground in laughter. That had 
been about the time when Harry mentioned that first prize was a 
second hand key to the janitor's bathroom in the building across 
from the one in which they worked.

Another very serious team he nicknamed, Serious Business. They 
lost it when he described them as a stallion and broken down nag 
in heat. When he wondered how long it would take the stallion to 
mount the nag, the race was over for that pair. The guy holding up 
the barrow had doubled over in laughter. 

The winners of the race were a couple of guys from the computing 
center. They had probably been the most out of shape of all the 
competitors, but after the first ten yards they had decided to have 
fun with it. When they crossed the finish line, Amy shouted out, 
"And the winners are Bit and Byte!"

A number of the older executives who hadn't participated stopped 
by to tell Harry and Amy how much they had enjoyed the events 
this year. In the past, the competition had heated up to the point 
where major arguments had broken out. They commented on how 
nice it was to see people having fun for a change.

Amy found herself seated at a picnic table surrounded by the real 
movers and shakers within the company. At first, she felt nervous 
about talking to them and their wives, but she relaxed after hearing 
some of the wives talking when the husbands went off to get some 
food. She was surprised to learn that one of the wives had worked 
in the Emergency Rescue Section of the Fusion Foundation for ten 
years before she had meet and married her husband. Most of them 
were heavily involved in various charities. She could tell that they 
really believed in the organizations with which they worked. 

She fielded a lot of questions about Harry. None of them, with the 
exception of Mike's wife, had met him. They all knew who he was 
and wanted to know how she had met him. She didn't answer that 
question, but did talk about the kinds of things that Harry did in the 
Chicago Area. 

When Harry returned to the table, he faced the wives and said, 
"Ah, I see you are all getting to know the Chicago Angel."

"Stop calling me that," complained Amy. It embarrassed her every 
time he said it, particularly in front of others. 

"So you are the Chicago Angel," commented one of the women at 
the table. She nodded as she put the pieces together. The braces on 
the legs, the fact that she was friends with Harry, and that she 
knew more about the social services in the Chicago area than most 
of the wives around the table identified her without a doubt. She 
said, "I've heard about you. There are a lot of men and women who 
speak very highly of you. They say that you've been feeding the 
homeless for years out of your own pocket and that you hand out 
coats at the beginning of winter."

Mike showed up at the table juggling two plates. He set one of the 
plates in front of the woman that had just been speaking to Amy. 
He said, "I see you've met my wife, Abigail."

She was confused by the idea that people were talking about her in 
the social circles in which these women lived. Trying to explain it 
away, Amy said, "Chicago Angel is just Harry's nickname for me."

Abigail laughed at the comment and said, "Oh no. Lots of people 
on the streets call you that. You can't imagine the impact it has 
when a woman with braces on her legs makes the effort to help out 
others. I really should have recognized you when you showed up 
here with Harry."

"How do you know all that?" asked Amy confused by the wealth 
of information about her activities conveyed by Abigail. 

"I occasionally work at a food kitchen in South Chicago. You hear 
things," replied the woman. She turned to her husband and put her 
hand on his arm to get his attention. Once she was sure that she 
had it, she said, "She's a good one. I didn't know that any of the 
younger executives actually took any interest in the social issues of 
our time."

"I'm not an executive. I'm just a business analyst," interjected 
Amy. She looked over at Harry for help, but he just winked and 
then pointedly turned to talk with someone else.

Grins broke out around the table, but no one suggested that her 
presence at the picnic meant she was being considered for 
promotion. Mike smiled as he looked down at his plate. The 
silence at the table was finally broken when Abigail suggested, 
"Why don't you and I get together some time. I'd like to see the 
Homeless Hotel."

"Uh, it's in a rather bad part of town," said Amy. She didn't want 
the wife of the CEO of the company that she worked for getting 
mugged or raped on a visit to one of the seedier parts of town.

By the time the food had been eaten, Amy had accepted a number 
of invitations to attend social events with the wives around the 
table. It wasn't that she wanted to do of them, but that she didn't 
know how to say no. She wasn't sure what half of the luncheons 
were about, but she figured that she had to eat.

Amy found herself sitting alone at the table with Abigail. The older 
woman looked at her with a smile and then said, "I think I can trust 
you not to spread what I'm about to tell you."

"Huh?"

"I run the Wooden Spoon," answered Abigail.

All of the clues had been there for her to see, but she hadn't put 
them together. She knew about the Wooden Spoon. It was one of 
the few places where a homeless person could get a meal without 
getting a sermon. It was owned and run by a woman. Rumor had it 
that she was some sort of rich woman, but no one was sure. Putting 
a hand over her mouth, Amy said, "You're Gail."

"Yes. We run in the same circles and know the same people. I 
heard about Miss Amy taking charge of the Homeless Hotel from 
the California Kid," Abigail replied.

"A lot of people speculate about you. I'd heard that you were rich, 
but I didn't believe the rumors," said Amy.

Abigail looked over at her husband with a soft smile on her face. 
He was talking with a couple of the younger men and women who 
were promotion prospects. The young men and women were 
circled around him nodding respectfully to every word that he said. 
She faced Amy and said, "I wasn't always rich."

There wasn't anything for Amy to say so she said nothing. The 
older woman smiled at her and said, "Let's go play Bocce." 

"What's that?" asked Amy.

"It's a lawn game. A very small ball is thrown out on the lawn. 
Then players of opposing teams take turns throwing bigger balls at 
the small ball. You get points for having your ball closer to the big 
ball. It's a simple game and shouldn't be too difficult for you to 
play," answered Abigail with a gesture to the arm crutches. 

It wasn't long before Amy found herself teamed with one of the 
guys from the computing center. Abigail had introduced him as 
Brian. When Abigail had formed the team, he had turned to Amy 
and asked, "Which one was I? Bit or Byte?"

Amy answered, "Byte."

"Oh good," he replied.

"Of course, I'd tell your partner exactly the same thing if he asked," 
teased Amy surprising herself. 

"Ah, then I'm lucky that I asked first," he replied with a wink. He 
added, "I'd hate to walk around feeling inferior."

They played a number of games of Bocce, winning some and 
losing some. Amy was disappointed when it was time to leave. The 
picnic she had dreaded had turned out to be more fun than she 
could possibly imagined. Settling in the seat of the lunch wagon, 
she said, "Thanks Harry."

"For what?"

"For making me come to this picnic. I haven't had this much fun 
since I lost my knees," answered Amy. She still couldn't believe 
she had participated in a three-legged race. 

"A pretty young lady like yourself will have many more 
opportunities for fun. Believe me when I say that."