“I guess I better take care of this boy,” said the store woman, handing the older girl a large paper sack that appeared to be heavy. “Better hold it from the bottom, or you may have a paint disaster.”
“It’s okay; I’m in no hurry,” said Ethan. He truly wasn’t. The longer he stayed, the closer it would be until time to go home when he got back to Miss Green’s. Besides, he didn’t mind waiting behind the two girls.
“Oh, my,” said the older girl. “I didn’t realize we had such a cute boy waiting in line behind us. Where did you come from? I’ve never seen you before.”
Ethan flushed.
“He’s shy too,” said the older girl. “How adorable. I’d kill to have his beautiful mouth and thick lips. And what pretty eyes and perfect nose. Please tell me you’ve got an older brother at home. Are you new to town?”
“Me and my mom just moved here from eastern Kentucky,” said Ethan, looking to see what the younger girl found so intriguing on the floor.
“So no brother, I guess,” said the older girl. “Darn. Anyway, welcome to town. My name is Maria Evans and this is my stepsister, Cynthia Graves. I hope you won’t be a stranger. My little sister here is single, thought I’d throw that in.” She laughed; her sister covered her eyes with her right hand as though mortified. “Guess we better get going. Hope to see you around. We live out on West Cedar Street, just in case you want to know where you can bump into us at. It’s so hot outside, don’t be surprised if you catch Cynthia and me out in the yard in our bathing suits.” With that the two girls left the store, leaving Ethan staring out the door.
“May I help you?” said the store woman, startling Ethan.
“Yes, sorry. I’m here to pay a bill for Miss Zelma Green.”
“Oh, are you working for Miss Green?”
“Yes, Ma’am. I help out around the house.”
“My name is Becky Huffman. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too. I’m Ethan Brook.”
“That’s right; the other boy who worked for her, Jeff, has gone off to college. Well, welcome to town. You’ll soon learn, if you haven’t already, that Miss Green is quite a character. People around here like to gossip about her, but I’m sure she’ll be good to you. I’ve known her for many years, and I consider myself a pretty good judge of character. If you need any supplies, we’ve got it all right here or can order it.”
“Thanks, Ma’am. I’ll remember that.”
Ethan stepped out on the porch and stood there a moment trying to remember the direction of the post office. There was an older black man, his thick white hair trimmed short, sitting on the porch bench, whittling a stick into a pile of shavings. “Excuse me, sir,” said Ethan, “I need to deliver some letters to the post office for a Miss Green. Could you tell me the direction? I’m new to town.”
The man laughed and said, “I hope you ain’t talking about Miss Green who lives out on Pawnee Lane.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now why would you be delivering letters for old Miss Green, if you don’t mind my asking? Has that other boy done mysteriously disappeared?”
“I’m working for her, helping out around the house. I think the other boy went off to college, and I got his job.”
“Oh, is that where they’re saying he went. Well, better you than me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Oh, no reason, none at all. But you wouldn’t catch me hanging around that house for very long, not a house with haints like that one has.”
“What’s a haint?”
“Same thing as a ghost. That woman has outlived five husbands. The last one just up and disappeared one day. It never was cleared up exactly what happened to him. The story was that he left her for another woman, if you want to believe that. To make things worse, Miss Green’s got a sixth sense, as they call it. She can look at you and see right through you, right on into your future. It’s plum spooky.”
“I know about that,” said Ethan, “but I don’t think she means any harm.”
“I don’t suppose she means any harm,” said the old man, “but you go around messing with spirits, and such, and you never know what might get conjured up.
“She was born with a veil over her face, you know. My granny used to tell me that; she was there at her birth. My granny worked for the Green family at the Flintridge estate for many years. In fact, Granny was responsible for saving Zelma’s life on the day she born; she sure was.”
“How’d she do that?” asked Ethan, sitting down beside the old man.
“You might think I’m crazy for believing such a thing, like a lot of folks around here, but it’s true none the less. Granny saved Zelma’s life on the day she was born the same as if she’d pulled her off a railroad track. You see, about the time they got baby Zelma cleaned up and the veil removed, her unfortunate mother closed her eyes in death. That poor woman had a rough confinement. Some folks say you can still hear her scream at night, if you listen real close, at that old Flintridge estate. It seems Zelma didn’t come out quite the right way.
“Well, Granny knew what to do. She got to work right away and passed baby Zelma around to everyone in the room.”
“Why did she do that?” asked Ethan, unconsciously gripping the bench with his hands and swinging his feet.
“It’s an old belief among the black folks, dating back to the days of slavery, that if the mother dies from childbirth, she will come back to take the baby with her. The only way to prevent this is to pass the baby around to everyone in the room. I don't know how it works, but it works just the same, or so it’s told.”
“That’s fascinating,” said Ethan, truly captivated.
“Well, I’d just be careful if I was you, working up there. There’s been a lot of weird things going on at that place.”
“I’ll remember that,” said Ethan. “Thanks for warning me.” But he wasn’t really sure if he was glad of the warning or not—now the place would be even creepier.
“My name is Simon, Simon Green, by the way. You’ll probably be seeing me around here, if my heart don’t give out tomorrow, so you might as well know what to call me.”
“My name’s Ethan Brook. It’s nice to meet you. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around. It’s interesting that you have the same last name as Miss Green.”
“Not by coincidence, for sure. My ancestors worked for the Greens for many years before the Civil War; a few stayed on after the war, though they had to start paying them, of course. Somebody along the way decided to start using the Green name. I’d of come up with something else, myself, but it’s too late to change it now. My granny was one of the ones who stayed on at Flintridge, guess there weren’t many other jobs available to her at the time. Her name was Ester Green. Zelma was born around 1880, and Granny pretty much raised her. She worked for Zelma for many years, even died right there in the kitchen of the house she lives in now. Zelma replaced her with that old hateful Miss Satterfield, who’s pretty much taken over the place. She’s the one you really need to look out for.
“Anyway, that Zelma is getting older than Methuselah. My granny told me stories about her that’ll make your hair stand up. Old Miss Zelma will tell you some things if you listen to her, I’m sure; she seems to be the type that likes to talk. If you don’t mind, let me know if you hear anything interesting or if something strange happens up there. You’ll find me most days sitting out here in front of the store or on a park bench. Usually there’s a few more of us old men, and I need some new stories to burn their ears with.”
“I’ll be sure to do that,” said Ethan. “I’ll know to watch for it now. It sure was nice talking to you. I’m new to town, so I don’t have many people to talk to besides my mom.”
“Well, you just stop by here when you can. Like I said, I’m here or at the park most days. Ain’t many youngins, like yourself, willing to listen to an old man like me. They would have just kept on walking out the door and never paid me a bit of mind. But you stopped and listened, and
I appreciate that. People who make something out of themselves are the ones who take the time to stop and figure things out, listen to people’s advice.”
“I’m glad we met,” said Ethan. “I’ll look for you whenever I come to town.”
Chapter 4
For the next few days, after completing his work at Miss Green’s, Ethan rode his bike up and down West Cedar Street, hoping to run into the two girls he’d met at Square Deal. But by the end of the week, he found himself disappointed that he hadn’t caught even a glimpse of either of them. He figured they were too rich to hang out with him, anyway. The older girl was probably just a flirt who flattered every boy she saw. She probably wouldn’t even acknowledge him if he saw her hanging out with a group of her friends. And the younger girl didn’t seem to be the least bit interested in him to start with. It was a joke to think that he was ever going to fit in around this town. Rocky Creek was an old money town, and money was something he didn’t have. The other kids would laugh if they saw his mom’s old Volkswagen that occasionally backfired like a shotgun at the most embarrassing times possible. He’d have to think of a nice way to ask his mom to keep the Bug, as he called it, out of site when he was hanging out with other kids, assuming he ever found any friends. Besides, he was close enough to town to ride his bike about anywhere he needed to go. At least he had a pretty cool red Schwinn Stingray bicycle, a gift his mom had given him after the whole incident with his dad, an attempt to cheer him up.
That weekend he finally got to return to eastern Kentucky, at least for a few days. Sandy had loose ends to tie up and some things in storage she wanted to retrieve. They stopped at a shoe store along the way, and Ethan bought a pair of blue Converse Tennis Shoes with the money he’d made during his first week of working for Miss Green. He slipped the shoes on in the car and admired them until he drifted off to sleep, waking up when the Volkswagen pulled to a stop in his grandparents’ gravel driveway.
Ethan met up with his old pals Russell and Taylor on Saturday morning. The reunited friends hiked through the mountains for miles until they reached their secret swimming hole. Water cascaded into a deep pool of water as the boys took turns diving off of a large rock. To Ethan’s delight, he took back his rock skipping title. They swam and played until nearly dark. And it was dark by the time Ethan made it back to his grandparents’ house, where he found his worried mom none too happy. Sunday morning was spent at his old church, followed by a big potluck supper with family at an aunt’s house. That afternoon he met his friends again and held back tears as he told them goodbye.
He felt deeply depressed all the way back to Rocky Creek. Recognizing his glum mood, Sandy futilely tried to cheer him up by singing to the radio and telling jokes. Annoyed, Ethan covered his eyes with a ball cap and fell asleep, not waking up until the Volkswagen clattered into the driveway of their tiny farmhouse. It was late, so Ethan went straight to bed. That’s all he was in the mood to do, anyway. He dreaded going back to Miss Green’s house. She was nice, he supposed, but all he wanted to do was to get in the Bug and head back to eastern Kentucky, over where pure cool water cascaded down luscious green mountains. He was really going to miss that place in the fall when the leaves started to change.
He mowed Zelma Green’s yard again the next day. Figuring it a good time to work on his tan, he pulled his shirt off but quickly put it back on when Miss Satterfield came nearly stumbling out of the house to inform him it wasn’t proper to be running around nearly naked on the job. What an old toad, he thought. He’d have to finish his tan when he got home. Better yet, maybe he could find a place around Rocky Creek to swim and get some sun. That could be a way to meet people his own age and make some friends. The two girls might even show up. He made a mental note to start focusing more on his nightly weight lifting, maybe add some weights to the barbell.
After mowing, he trimmed the bushes around the porch and weed whacked where it was needed. Miss Green declared the yard the best it had looked in years. Besides the small run-in with Miss Satterfield, it had been a good day at work. It was such a nice day that for a time Ethan forgot about how depressed he was supposed to be. He imagined there were worse summer jobs he could have.
That afternoon he rode his bike up and down West Cedar Street. Again the two girls remained elusive. Aggravated, he rode to the town square. And there she was: the younger girl, Cynthia. She was sitting and reading a book on the same bench the comic-book-reading boys had sat on previously. He approached her with caution, not wanting to say the wrong thing and scare her off like a startled bird flying away.
“Hello,” he said, finally. His voice came out hoarse, he guessed from working out in the hot sun, so he cleared his throat.
“Oh, hello,” said Cynthia, appearing a little surprised.
“Do you mind if I sit down? I’m a little tired from mowing Miss Green’s yard today.”
“No, it’s okay. Have a seat. I’m just sitting here reading.”
“What are you reading?” he asked, sitting down at a proper distance on the bench, so as not to appear too forward.
“The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. I got it at the library. They’ve got a great library here.”
“That’s one of my favorite books,” said Ethan. “It makes me think of home, where I’m from in eastern Kentucky. During the spring and summer me and my friends would always have adventures and go swimming in the mountain streams. We had a secret swimming hole, you know. I used to pretend I was Tom Sawyer or Huck Finn. I guess I’m too old to pretend now, but I still love to swim and hike in the mountains. I was there over the weekend, and it was just like old times.”
“I don’t think you ever get too old to pretend,” said Cynthia, closing the book and placing it on the bench between them. “When I get too old to go out and do things, I’ll close my eyes and be young again, in my mind at least. We never really have to be old, I think, as long as we stay young inside, as long as we can still pretend.”
“Wow, that’s beautiful, what you just said. I never thought about it that way.”
“My grandmother never really got old, I think,” she continued, staring at a red bird slashing about in the fountain. Ethan followed her eyes to the bird but said nothing, not wanting to interrupt her train of thought. “Oh everyone thought she did, but I saw it differently. The last years of her life she became more and more forgetful until she couldn’t remember anything, at least about anything current. In her mind, everyday she became younger and younger, until finally she was a little girl again.
“I visited her in the hospital the night she died. She was talking, not to us, but to people the rest of us couldn’t see or hear. I asked my mom who Granna was talking to. Mom told me that she was talking to her mother and father and her two brothers, all of who had died years ago. I was very struck by this, and I’ve thought about it a lot since: about how someone close to death can talk to people they know already in Heaven.
“She passed later that night. I believe she woke up and all the people she loved, who had gone on before her, were there to welcome her. All those people had been in the hospital room talking to her, waiting for her to breath her last breath. She wasn’t hallucinating like my mom tried to tell me. I think hallucinations would have been more random.”
“That’s one of the deepest and most profound things anyone has ever told me,” said Ethan. He barely knew this girl and already he really liked her.
“I’m sorry. I’m doing it again. I can’t help myself.”
“Doing what?” asked Ethan.
“Being too serious. My sister says I’m too serious all the time and need to loosen up. Here we just met, and I’m already giving you a philosophical speech about my dead grandmother.”
“Well, I enjoyed it,” said Ethan. “I hope you don’t loosen up too much because I love to hear philosophical speeches. I can be pretty deep sometimes too.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that. Most people just give me a weird look when I make my speeches.”
“You
picked the right person to talk to today,” said Ethan. “I’m kind of an odd mix of philosopher and nature-loving guy. By that I mean I love the outdoors, but I love a good book too. I was kind of surprised you were reading Tom Sawyer. I always thought of it as more of a boys’ book.”
“I don’t think it’s just a boys’ book. A lot of girls like to read it too.”
“That’s true, I guess,” said Ethan. “I don’t know what made me say that. I’ll have to check the library out. I’m glad you mentioned it. Having some books to read will keep me from getting too bored, since I don’t have any friends around here.”
“Yeah, it’s a great library. You definitely need to check it out.”
“So where’s your sister?”
“I think she went over to her boyfriend’s house. She’s really my stepsister. She’s Miss Beauty and Personality, and I’m Miss Wallflower who likes to read books all the time and contemplate life. She’s completely different from me, but we’ve always gotten along great.”
“I guess everyone is unique in their own ways.”
“That’s a nice way of putting it, but sometimes I wouldn’t mind having a little of her looks and personality.”
“Maybe it’s just that she knows how to fix up more, not that she looks better.”
“Thanks,” said Cynthia. “I guess that was a complement.”
“I was just saying,” said Ethan, not knowing how to finish.
“Anyway,” said Cynthia, standing up, “I need to get back home. I’ve got piano lessons in another hour. It was nice talking to you.”
A Million Doorways Page 4