I so love you! she thought.
Hobart’s blue eyes darkened as if in response to her heart’s murmur. Lila registered his, And I so love you, darling! as clearly as though she’d heard the words aloud.
“Hey, what’s the holdup – up there!” cried Gray, from below. The worm hole closed. Lila giggled joyfully, and scrambled for the top of the rock.
“Watch the gap in the corner, darling,” Hobart cautioned her, pointing knowingly toward a six-inch crevice that threatened to split an ear away from the northern face of the big rock. My sources tell me that many a shoe, wallet, plate, fork and ribbon have met their demise in that crevice over the past 200 years, never to see the light of day again.
Hobart, satisfied that Lila was safe, returned to the bottom of the rock to help the others scale the heights. By 11:30 a.m., everyone was up to the top of the Millett Rock, “Oo-ing” and “Ah-ing” over the views, especially those of the Western mountains, outlined in indigo against the soft blue sky. Blankets were settled, pillows placed, dead branches tossed overboard, and the picnic was unpacked. Dainty cut sandwiches, stuffed eggs, fruit, cheeses, pickles, sweets and other delicacies were passed around, hand to hand, hand to mouth, joyfully, laughingly, teasingly, lovingly – as though this was the last supper and each of the picnickers was prepared to enjoy it to the utmost.
No one describes the type of felicity found on top of the Millet Rock that afternoon better and Ralph Waldo Emerson, who writes in his beautiful essay Friendship:
“We have a great deal more kindness than is ever spoken. (Despite) all the selfishness that chills like east winds the world, the whole human family is bathed with an element of love like a fine ether … The effect of the indulgence of this human affection is a certain cordial exhilaration.”
An hour later, when everyone was stuffed, the group sprawled languidly atop the warm gray rock, luxuriating in the sensation of Emerson’s “certain cordial exhilaration.” Wendell dozed off. Rebecca, who had been sitting next to him, gently tucked her shawl under his head.
“Didja evah see such a bread pudding as my Maude’s?” Ralph cried, overcome with a rush of love for his wife. He threw his arms around his wife and squeezed her fondly. “She’s the best cook evah!”
Maude blushed, but for once she didn’t rebuke her husband for “spoiling the mood.”
“Hey, no shillyshallying!” teased Hobart, who was stretched out full length and resting on his elbow. He eyed his former employer with unabashed fondness—and not a little envy.
Lila felt her heart take flight at the look of longing in Mike Hobart’s blue eyes. Someday?! Someday!
“Wonderful! Everything was just wonderful, dahrrrlings!” exclaimed Miss Hastings. Matilda squawked her agreement, and even Ryan MacDonald laughed.
Chapter 27
The Staircase Tree
That night, after the picnic, Lila experienced her worst nightmare since her mother’s death. Her stepfather “visited” her during the night, taunting her with words and looks too fiendish and sick for me to describe. Rebecca, who heard Lila’s cries from the bedroom above, rushed downstairs in the moonlight and found her young friend softly weeping in bed. “Oh, my dear, what’s the matter?” she cried.
Lila sat up, brushing the tears from her eyes. “I’m OK now, Becca,” she said, smiling tremulously. “I told him to go away and … he left!”
“He, who, dear?”
“My stepfather!”
“Oh, my goodness,” said Rebecca, sitting down on the edge of the bed and clasping her young friend’s hand. “Can’t you tell me about it, dear?”
In response, Lila scooted over in bed toward the open window, making room for her friend. Rebecca, needing no further encouragement, climbed into the antique brass bed that Lila had appropriated from the attic for her downstairs bedroom. The tired old springs creaked with the weight of the new addition.
“Ooh, I hope it holds us!” Rebecca said. Both women giggled.
Lila drew in a steadying breath, finally prepared to share her burden with her faithful friend. However, Amber, hearing the commotion, wandered downstairs and into Lila’s bedroom, interrupting them.
“What’s going on?” Amber asked, sleepily.
“Nothing, dear,” replied Rebecca, propping herself up onto her elbow. “Lila’s just had a bad dream, that’s all.”
“Got room in there for me?”
There was a shifting of bodies, a giggle or two and further creaking as Amber climbed into bed with the two older women. She cuddled up next to the warmth of her mother, and Rebecca necessarily squeezed closer to Lila to make room for her daughter. The three curled up in Lila’s bed like peas in a pod.
Lila sighed, contentedly. “This is so nice,” she said. “It’s almost like I had sisters!” She felt herself relax. And before she knew it, she dozed off.
The three women slept together during the remaining few hours of the night. More truthfully, I should say that Amber and Lila slept, for Rebecca slept not a further wink. Instead, she lay sandwiched in bed between her daughter and her young friend, listening to their heavy breathing mingled with the sonorous chorus of peepers outside Lila’s open window. She reflected upon Lila’s words. “I told him to go away … and he left!”
Rebecca wondered what Lila’s stepfather had done to cause so much anguish in her young friend’s life, and came pretty close at guessing the truth. However, in these early hours of the morning she also realized that Lila seemed to be making progress in some sort of healing, not regressing. It appeared to her now that Lila had been experiencing a kind of emotional and spiritual cleansing since she had moved to Maine. Rebecca began to suspect that this was why Lila had never been able to form meaningful romantic relationships, and that the healing was necessary in order for Lila to claim the love and joy that awaited her with Mike Hobart.
Spiritual forces were at work helping Lila heal, and Rebecca told herself that perhaps she should stop trying to direct traffic and concentrate on playing a supporting role. She promised herself (and perhaps a Higher Power) that, come what may, she would not push Lila or finagle events, but simply BE there, BE present; support and encourage and love Lila.
Perhaps thatminister DOES know what she’s doing! Rebecca thought. These things DO take time.
Healing doesn’t happen miraculously overnight, except in the New Testament. And this was Lila’s life, not a work of fiction; but a dog-gone, dragged out, dumbfounding LIFE.
One of my favorite books is a collection of letters, “Waiting for God,” by the French mystic Simone Weil. (I actually do read some of the books on the many shelves in my church office.) The title is taken from a recurring theme of Weil’s, a translation of a Greek phrase, “en hupomene” – “waiting in patience,” or “patiently enduring,” a neatly turned phrase that means so much more than the literal translation suggests. This is not just everyday “waiting for bread to rise” or “waiting for the grass to grow.” The phrase suggests a hopeful waiting, in expectation of a wondrous event, or the kind of waiting that’s necessary during the emotional and spiritual healing process of a friend or loved one, such as Lila Woodsum.
These things DO take time.
The next morning, Lila and Rebecca rose early, abdicating the bed to the slumbering Amber. The two huddled together at the kitchen table in the early-morning light. Over several cups of coffee, Lila poured out her childhood history and the gist of her meeting with me to her faithful friend. The older woman listened quietly through the entire revelation, only reaching out occasionally and squeezing Lila’s hand. For her part, Lila was able to relate her entire story with nary a sob or a tear. At the end she was almost cheerful. “The nightmares are terrifying when they happen, because they seem so REAL,” Lila concluded. “But afterwards I feel so much better!”
“That’s how I feel after a good cry!”
“Eggs-actly,” said Lila, wryly. “For my part, I am cried out.”
“Oh, it was such a brave and yet awful thing your
mother did! I wish I’d known what truly happened at the time,” Rebecca cried. “I could have done so much more to help you, dear!”
Lila, who was not normally demonstrative, reached out and hugged her friend. “You did everything you could, Becca. And I can never, EVER thank you enough!”
Tears came to Rebecca’s eyes, but she said nothing. She was too emotional to talk. She daubed the tears from her face with the paisley cloth napkin at her place setting, which she had recently sewn to match the new tablecloth.
The two friends sat in companionable silence in the cozy kitchen. A soft, spring rain fell outside. Occasionally, the south wind pushed a spray of moisture against the window, and the water dribbled down hitting the wooden sill with a desultory dripping.
“Mmmm, that was a great picnic, wasn’t it?” said Lila, toying with her coffee mug. With the elasticity of youth, she had already leaped from the past to the present, wondering how soon she would see Mike Hobart again.
Rebecca smiled. “Wasn’t Ryan handsome!” she exclaimed.
“Omigod, he looked so silly in that straw hat! I can’t believe he drove all the way up here just to make me that crazy job offer.”
“I think there was more to it than a job offer, Lila. I think he honestly wanted to see you again.”
Lila tittered. “We’re not going to have the old ‘Ryan cares for you conversation’ again, are we?”
“No, no!” Rebecca said, laughing. “I’m not on that bandwagon anymore.”
“I thought you were backing a different horse these days, Becca. You should have seen the look on your face when you walked in and found the three of us joking around on Saturday!”
“I was surprised, I admit. But it was a pleasant surprise. I was expecting rather a different outcome!”
“Ryan never had a chance with me romantically, and I think he knew it. But he’s a good friend.”
“Poor Ryan! He’s a good man, but he’s not the man for you, dear.”
“Mmmm,” said Lila, picturing the handsome carpenter, helping her up the Millett Rock yesterday. Her heart swelled with love as she relived the passion emanating from his bright blue eyes.
“But … are you sure you’re doing the right thing, dear, turning down double your old salary? It was a fabulous offer Perkins & Gleeful made.”
“I am totally sure! THIS is my home, now,” Lila proclaimed. She glanced around the kitchen that Rebecca had made so homey with her domestic efforts. “You’ll have to take me out of here in a box!”
Rebecca shuddered at the implication of Lila’s words. “Oh, don’t say that!” she cried. “It sounds so horrible! Besides, we never know what might happen to us in life, what future choices we might have to make.”
“Translated from Rebecca-speak: ‘We never know when we might fall in love, get married and move to that guy’s cabin in the woods.’”
“Not even loosely translated: that is what I was thinking!”
Lila sighed. “I’m not there yet,” she said, sadly. “Not until I’m sure these nightmares are gone for good. I wouldn’t wish ‘em on my worst enemy, let alone someone that I so totally love.”
“But you will tell Mike about … about,” Rebecca broke off. She remembered her promise not to interfere.
“Someday, yes. But not now.” Lila stared dejectedly off into space. Who knew how much longer it would be?! Patience. Patience!
After a few seconds, Lila collected herself. Her impish sense of humor returned. “Besides, his cabin is too small,” she added with a grin.
“You’ve been there?” Rebecca asked, hopefully.
“Nooo, I’ve never actually seen it. He says that’s because he couldn’t trust himself not to … well, you know. But I think more likely the place needs cleaning.”
“I doubt that!”
“Mmmm; but I know where he lives…”
“You do?”
“Yep. He showed me the dirt drive to his place the night he and I had dinner with Maude and Ralph. Some morning, I’m gonna sneak over to his cabin and crawl into bed with him.”
“Lila!”
“Omigod, you are soo easy to tease, Becca!” said Lila, throwing her arm around her friend’s shoulder affectionately.
“Totally,” agreed Amber, yawning, in the doorway. “Mom is SO easy. What’s for breakfast? I need a big meal before I head back to Boston.”
“EGGS!” cried Lila and Rebecca in unison.
For his part Mike Hobart spent a reinvigorated night floating on a cloud of hope. He didn’t understand what Lila was suffering or why, but he recognized that she had made some small progress during the week that they had been apart. She had asked for time to sort things out, and it appeared even a short period of time had been efficacious. Lila seemed happier, more peaceful, and more at ease with herself and with him at the picnic. Certainly, that was love he had seen in her eyes! He began to calculate how much more time she might need before he could once again press his suit.
Hobart thought it was fair that Lila had asked for time. But he also thought it was fair that he make the most of any opportunity that happened to come his way. He was a patient man, and he would wait for her to invite him back to her side. But he would also ensure that his “side” was as attractive as possible!
He had planned on the next rainy day when he wasn’t working on his barn project to finish a surprise gift for The Egg Ladies, which would celebrate the opening of their business. On the prior rainy day, he had started to carve a simple wooden “Organic Eggs for Sale” sign to hang off the Staircase Tree at the end of the driveway. Today, he would finish the sign—and carve his secret weapon: wooden pegs that inserted into the bottom of colorful papier-mâché chickens that the kindergarteners and first graders had crafted for Miss Hastings after her last “music lesson.” The wooden pegs would affix the chickens, one hen to a step, into the Staircase Tree. Hobart knew that the unusual folk art creatures setting like hens in the tree would be an eye-catching addition to his sign.
Hobart wasn’t sure now whether or not the “chicken on every step” idea had originated with him or Miss Hastings. He had poured out his troubles to Miss Hastings over tea the prior Wednesday afternoon. “I’m willing to wait for her as long as it takes,” he had declared; “but I can’t sit around doing nothing while I wait!”
“That’s the spirit, dahrrrling!” Miss Hastings gushed, leaning over and patting him on the arm. “All’s fair in love and LOVE!”
At that point, the retired music teacher had suggested Hobart follow her into her studio where 18 papier-mâché chickens were setting on top of her baby grand piano and in various chairs around the room. Miss Hastings admired each chicken, pointing out particular quirks that signified each child’s rendition of Matilda. Hobart looked at the heavily varnished, unrealistic yet charming renditions of Miss Hastings’ pet chicken and mumbled a few well-meaning remarks.
“Take it from this old hen, she won’t be able to resist these colorful chicks!”
“But what would I do with them?”
“Dahrrrling, step up, STEP UP your wooing! Put them where they’ll make a good FIRST IMPRESSION!” And Miss Hastings went off into peals of laughter over the double entendres in her words.
By the end of the day Monday Hobart had made good use of the rainy day AND the sun was beginning to shine. Hobart had finished the pegs and had also cut holes into the bottoms of the papier-mâché chickens so they would be easily removed from or inserted onto the pegs. The step tree had 12 steps, so six of the chickens would be in reserve at any time and could be rotated or replaced as necessary. Lila could switch them on a whim and store them all in the barn during inclement weather and winter. Now, Hobart only needed an opportunity to hang his sign and drill the peg holes into the 12 steps. After that, he could set the colorful chickens on their new nests. But he needed time when Lila was away from home, and Lila rarely left her hens and baby chicks for long.
Once again, Miss Hastings came to the rescue. She invited Lila up to tea on Th
ursday afternoon. Hobart had calculated that he would need two hours to do the work, but Miss Hastings managed to keep Lila from her afternoon egg collection and from checking on her baby chicks for closer to three hours by playing an extended selection of Chopin’s works on the piano for her guest.
Entranced, Lila lost track of time. “I can’t believe it’s almost five o’clock!” she exclaimed, glancing at her phone when Miss Hastings had finally finished playing. “That was so amazing!”
“Dahrrrling, I’m just an old loose screw, but I still LOVE to perform!”
Lila thanked Miss Hastings, kissed the old lady goodbye and exited the antique cottage hastily. She had arrived on foot, and now set out to hike the half mile back down the hill in the moist warmth of the late afternoon sun to the old Russell homestead. A chipmunk followed her part way atop the old stone wall lining the road, squeaking and chirping. A downy woodpecker was rat-a-tat-tatting the bugs out of a nearby apple tree, and two blue jays in a nearby white pine and a quorum of grackles on the telephone wires were in a fierce competition to out-caw each other. The sun had burst open the top blossoms of the apple tree, and Lila inhaled their sweet scent as she strode down the hill.
When she reached her driveway, the most amazing sight greeted her: the steps to the Staircase Tree were filled with a wondrous display of colorful hens and chickens! Hanging from the tree was a brand new carved wooden sign: “Organic Eggs for Sale.” The net result looked like something out of a colorful children’s picture book.
“Wow!” exclaimed Lila, hand to her heart. Despite the fact that only four days earlier she had declared herself to be “cried out,” Lila felt tears of joy spring to her eyes. She recognized the author of this delightful display!
Hens and Chickens Page 23