Ж
Jane was fast asleep, baby Bibby at her breast, both of them totally relaxed, mouths hanging open. “Janie, are ye awake?” Benji asked softly.
Jane started at her name. The momentary panic she felt being caught asleep was quickly replaced by a smile of contentment. It was Benji calling her, calling her by the name he had given her. “Oh, I see ye got a little nap there. Are ye hungry? We have a fine chicken dinner, and all we’re missin’ is ye and little bit here,” Benji said.
Jane suddenly remembered the baby she had been nursing. She scooted the rousing baby over her shoulder, effectively covering her bared breast with the child’s body.
Benji was all smiles at seeing her, and she was happy to reflect them back to him. “I’ll be in there shortly,” she said, and looked toward the door, asking him subtly to go back without her.
Benji left quietly and Jane got up. She set the baby down on the surgery table and rewrapped her sarong. It didn’t look like Benji had seen that she had been nursing, or at least allowing the baby to suck on her breast. She wanted to keep her blessing of having milk a secret for now.
“Come on, sweet child,” she said to Bibby as she lifted her up over her shoulder, “there’s nothing wrong with feeding and caring for you, so I won’t feel bad about it. But, I’ll bet your Mommy and Daddy miss you.”
Bibby replied with, ‘braat,’ a healthy, dry burp, and almost a giggle then nuzzled her face into her cousin’s shoulder. She was full, warm, happy, and ready for Daddy’s snuggles.
Ж
I saw Sarah stare at Benji as he came out of the surgery. She was definitely looking for a reaction from him. I followed her line of sight and didn’t see anything except the overly perky tall man coming over to the table to pick up his cousin Wren and attempt to carry on a conversation with the one-year-old. If he had seen anything unusual in there, he was keeping it a secret, and wearing his poker face. Oh, well, it must not be important, at least not yet.
30 The teen years
W e all gathered together at the small kitchen table. It was time to eat our Thanksgiving meal. “We thank ye Lord fer the food, the friends, and family. Thank ye fer keepin’ us safe today and fer the new member to our family. Bless us, O Lord, and gives us Yer strength and wisdom in all that we do; in Jesus name; Amen.” Jody looked up from the blessing he had just invoked and smiled at his family: safe again, at least for now. “Okay, eat hearty everyone, there’s plenty fer tonight and we dinna need to save any fer tomorrow. Mangia!”
“That means ‘let’s eat’ in Italian!” Jenny declared although everyone but maybe Jane and Benji knew it. “And Grannie said I don’t have to use a fork or knife when I’m eating chicken, but I have to make sure that I use a napkin. I put some extra ones out in case anyone’s hands get too messy and hey, I wanted that piece,” she carped as Leah took a drumstick.
“Don’t worry about it—Grandpa and I fixed three chickens. That means there are how many drumsticks, Jenny?” Wallace asked.
“Six!” she announced with pride. “And, if Leah and I both eat one, that means there are four more drumsticks for everyone else.”
“And lots of other pieces, but if ye dinna stop talkin’ and start eatin’, ye’ll miss out on yer fair share,” Jody admonished then passed the plate to Benji.
“Ooh, a nice juicy breast,” Benji said as he stuck his fork into the golden roasted piece of meat, “my favorite part.”
Sarah and Jody snorted at the same time then turned to look at each other. “I’m sorry,” Sarah said at the same time Jody said, “Excuse me, something went down the wrong way,” as lame explanations for their guttural responses to Benji’s preference for breasts.
Benji shrugged with a sheepish grin. His slightly off color joke was made for the wrong audience. To apologize for it would draw more attention to it, so he decided to drop the subject. He took a big bite. “Mighty fine fare here, mighty fine,” he praised as he chewed the chicken that tasted just like Mom used to cook, more than happy that he didn’t have to eat grubs wrapped in grape leaves anymore.
After dinner I nursed my babies then put them down on a quilt covered pallet in the corner, letting Jenny snuggle up to them so they would settle down and hopefully go to sleep. Leah sat as close to James as humanly possible with clothes on as he cuddled Bibby to his chest, his gratefulness to be alive and have his family with him evident in his Mona Lisa smile of peace and contentment. Jane took Sarah’s advice and went to the surgery to lie down. The rest of us paired off and found chairs, stools, or fat quilts to settle onto to get comfortable for an after dinner conversation with my nephew, Benji, the great big time traveling fairy.
“Ye see, I was, had been, a prisoner of Sept—that is Atholl MacLeod the Seventh—since I was nigh on twelve-years-old. He came to me at school, tellin’ me that my mother was in trouble, and needed my help. Hmph! I was so gullible. Imagine, someone askin’ a child fer help rather than goin’ to my father or a police officer.”
“Weel, at first he and his gang called me their hostage. They were gonna make a lot of money when my parents paid the ransom. Months later, when they couldn’t get anybody to give them what they wanted, they called me a prisoner. Hmph. Prisoner woulda been a step up; I was more a slave than anythin’. They sold me to anyone to do anythin’ from cleanin’ out shitters, I mean privies, to shovelin’ coal or other, um, stuff. And they werena verra nice to me either; not that I was verra nice to them. But, no matter what they did, I still wouldna tell them where they were or what was in them, The Letters, that is.” He shifted his position on the hard stool, then sighed. “They thought I was deid.”
“Who,” I asked, “your parents or the men who held you prisoner?”
Benji didn’t answer my question, but continued with his narrative. “The bad men werena too smart and were sendin’ their ransom notes to the wrong place. Ye see, I wasna too cooperative in givin’ them the right address, and they relied on the postal system to get the letters delivered. Sept could read and write and made sure I wrote the notes jest like he said. I had only seen him write his name, and it was all scribbled, like he had held the pen in his mouth. So, rather than writin’ the notes himself and them bein’ illegible, he had me take down his words then he’d read them and make sure I wrote what he told me.”
Benji wriggled his shoulders like his shirt was too tight. “Although I wished I had known he could read before I wrote the first note for him. He took a switch to me and laid me open fer writin’ ‘It’s been a hard day’s night and I’ve been workin’ like a dog’ instead of his request fer gold and gems fer my safe return.”
Benji snorted then continued his story. “We dinna have any gold or gems. My parents werena rich. They had to work like everyone else. And if there had been any extra money anywhere…”
Benji looked toward Jody and I could swear he gave him a ‘look,’ then continued.
“I certainly dinna want it to go to the man who stole me, beat me, and threatened my family!”
“But, you said they thought you were dead: who? Everyone?” I asked again.
“Oh, weel, like I said, Sept could read, so I made sure I wrote the right words after the second whippin’. I was mad about the first one and wouldna do what he said no matter how much he… Weel,” Benji sucked in his bottom lip, “I stopped bein’ so pig heided and realized that since the letters werena goin’ to the right place anyway, I would go aheid and put down the words like he said. I musta written six letters, each one a couple of weeks apart. I told him that it took a long time to get the letters delivered by post there in Scotland. It sounded logical to me and since he saw that I believed it, he did, too. He dinna tell me where we were, but I figured by the accent of the men, we were in England, not too far from London, maybe Soho district.
“Weel, after a few months and no answers, he and his boys packed me up and we all heided fer Scotland. He figured if he mailed a letter nearby, it would get to my parents sooner. He waited day after day fer the ransom of g
old and jewels that was never delivered.
“We were stayin’ at an old abandoned brewhouse there in Angus. It was winter and he was tired of feedin’ me since he couldna hire me out: there wasna any work fer anyone. I wasna makin’ him any money so he decided he’d jest take that letter to Garden Hall himself, leave me locked up there at the brewhouse, outta sight. He dinna want to chance me runnin’ away, um, again.
“Of course, when he tried to find the address of Garden Hall where the letters were sent, he had a wee bit of a problem. He found out that there wasna such a house number, or even road… I wasna there, but I’m sure he was verra mad! He found a tavern, of course, and asked where this Garden Hall place was. The locals realized he was confused and set him right; told him exactly where Barden Hall was.”
“Um, dead?” I hinted again, hoping to get him back on track.
“Oh, yeah,” he said, and laughed out loud. “That Sept wasna too bright, and not careful about what went out, the mail, I mean. Ye see, I was able to post a letter jest after I found out that the man was wantin’ to ransom me.” He shrugged in embarrassment. “Weel, it seemed like a good idea at the time and maybe it was wise in the end. I’m sure it caused a lot of anguish over the years, though. Ye see, I, um, sent a note to the newspaper, the one I kent my parents read, sayin’ that a young lad, identified as one Benjamin MacKay by a witness who wished to remain anonymous, had fallen into the smelter at Lochaber and was incinerated, leavin’ nothin’ but ashes behind. I was hopin’ they’d publish it, maybe even verify that I was gone, ye ken, askin’ my family when they had last seen me. Ye see, while I was with Sept, I never saw any newspapers around, never heard a TV or radio, so I was pretty sure he dinna keep up with current events.”
“TV and radio are like watching or listening to books or newspapers; well, kinda,” I explained or rather reminded Jody and Wallace. “Sorry for the interruption. Please continue.”
“So, I was hopin’ my family wouldna be vulnerable to Sept or his cousins. I was pretty sure they never got any of the ransom notes. If they thought I was dead, they wouldna be scourin’ the countryside lookin’ for me. But, whether I was missin’ or kidnapped, I still dinna want them askin’ around about me. So, I had to make sure they believed I was deid.”
“But, dinna ye ken the pain and anguish ye musta put yer parents through? They thought ye were deid? If ye let the ransom note get delivered to them, at least they coulda found out where ye were and got ye back. I’m sure yer father coulda found a way to pay the note.” Jody was twitching with discomfort, identifying with his daughter and her family’s pain at the loss of her only son.
“But, they were gonna to kill me as soon as they had the gold and gems. That’s what he said, ‘yer jest a way to get the treasure. When we have it, yer…’ and then he,” Benji took his index finger and mimed slitting his throat. “Ye’d be too much trouble to hang, and cuttin’ yer throat is a bit messy, but weel make sure we’re not wearin’ our good clothes when we do it,’ he said. And I dinna have a reason to doubt him. I’m pretty sure that if he or the others got close enough to my mother, they’d try to get her, too. They had this unnatural hatred of red heided people.”
“Or jest my kin,” Jody said. “Ye see, Sept, as ye call him, is Atholl Grant MacLeod the Seventh. His ancestor, Atholl the first or,” Jody dipped his head as he said the name softly, “Captain Asshole,” then returned to his normal stature and voice, “was a verra bad man. He tried to kill yer Grannie and Auntie Evie there and do even worse to yer cousin Jenny. And he did quite a few other bad deeds that we needna speak of. But, ye see, it was my testimony that got him sentenced to hang. As it turned out, he escaped and it was yer cousin James here who shot him, killed him, before he did harm to another of my family, yer,” Jody closed his eyes and counted on his fingers, “Yer second cousin once removed or, weel, your mother’s cousin’s son. The lad Wee Ian is still alive because of James here and his fancy gun.”
“So yer sayin’ that these MacLeods I’ve been dealin’ with since I was twelve years old were causing, are causing, will cause, problems because of what went on here, in what, 1782?” Benji asked in disbelief.
“Well, it actually started in 1781 when these guys were only about six weeks old,” I said, pointing to the penned in trio plus one who were now asleep. “And I have the scar to prove that he tried to kill me. I mean the,” I whispered the name, “Asshole,” then resumed my normal voice tone, “shot me in cold blood. And he kicked your Grandpa in the head, threatened your Grannie with a knife, killed Jenny’s biological brothers, and threatened even worse than that to poor Jenny herself…”
Jenny popped in, suddenly awake and involved in the conversation, “But Daddy whooped the tar out of him. And then he and Grandpa Jody made sure that after he was caught, he got a fair trial, huh, Daddy?”
“I thought you were asleep,” Wallace said with a mix of embarrassment and agitation. He looked over at his nephew Benji and admitted, “I’m not proud of the, um, thrashing, but he had just shot, and I thought killed, Evie, my fiancée at the time. But it all turned out okay, right?” he asked Jenny.
Jenny nodded her head, sucked in and chewed on her bottom lip, but didn’t say anything. I could see she was remembering her ‘other brothers,’ Clyde and Clayton, who Captain Asshole had killed. Rather than call attention to it, Wallace opened his arms and Jenny crawled right in—right where she belonged. She rubbed her head under her daddy’s chin, then tipped her head back and gave him a kiss on the neck. “I sure love you, Daddy,” she said, and nestled back into him, at peace again.
My quiet son-in-law James cleared his throat and looked around. It had quieted with Jenny’s appearance, but it was obvious that he wanted to say something. “Yes?” Jody, Benji, and I asked at the same time.
“I think I should tell you, oh shoot, it doesn’t really make a difference now, but,” James looked over at Jenny and decided to continue the thought. “My father told me that I was the treasure; that the letters referring to a treasure were just to make sure that someone came back to save Ian Kincaid so that his heir, me, would be born.” James finished his report with his eyes on Jenny, his future great-grandmother. She wasn’t paying attention to what was being said, but was running her finger around the button on Wallace’s shirt.
“But, but?” I asked as I saw him look at Jenny. He shook his head quickly, and I took his cue to shut up. I’d probably, hopefully, hear about it later.
“Weel, that’s a relief, in a way. The treasure was a person, not gold or jewels. Hmm. It’s a good thing they dinna ken. I dinna think they woulda been too pleased if ye were given up as the ransom,” Benji joked, then slapped his knee. “If ye’ll excuse me, I think I need to go see a man about a horse.”
“A horse?” Jenny brightened up. “Are we getting a ‘nother horse?”
Jody looked up at Benji, now standing in the doorway. Jody didn’t say anything, but knew he was missing something.
“Um, I think he just wants to go make sure one didn’t fall down the privy,” I explained lamely, and then whispered to Jenny, “I think he needs to go pee.”
“Oh,” she said with a big round ‘O’ mouth, looked down in embarrassment, and hid in her daddy’s chest.
“But, if I find a ‘nother horse wanderin’ about, I’ll make sure I give her to ye, okay?” Benji said to try and ease her embarrassment.
“Okay!” she said brightly and popped away from Wallace’s pectoral comfort zone. “But if she’s been down in the privy, I’d appreciate it if you washed her in the creek before giving her to me,” she added, head nodding with excitement at the prospect of getting her own horse, even an imaginary one.
“Aye, I’ll be sure to do it—that is if I find one…,” he said with a grin and a nod in farewell as he headed to the wooden-seated personal comfort station.
31 He’ll clean ye up
J ody remained mute as Benji finished the tale about his youth and how he had let—no, made sure—that his parents believ
ed he was dead. He watched Sarah during Benji’s revelation; he could see that she was as torn up inside as he was. He had to talk to him about it, but not in front of the others. An hour passed; “Let’s walk,” he said softly to his grandson, taking advantage of the break in the other family members’ after dinner conversations with the garrulous and congenial fellow.
Benji was taken aback at the sudden change in tone of the party that his grandfather’s request had caused. He looked over at Janie and saw that she, Evie, and Leah were all making a fuss over the cute, petite ribbon that Jenny had affixed in Bibby’s hair, or lack of it. She had tied a bow and fastened it to the very top of the little girl’s bald head with a dab of honey. Jenny was holding one-year-old Wren’s hands, making sure the little big aunt didn’t pull the blue adornment off of her niece’s nearly fuzzless head. Wallace and James had gravitated to the window, both on them holding one of Wren’s brothers. It appeared that they were discussing the next building they planned to construct; the movements of their arms and hands indicating roof slopes and intersecting room additions. The Pomeroy-Hart boys were enjoying the security of their man jungle gyms, climbing over their family’s shoulders then retreating, batting at each other, slapping hands and giggling in glee. No, the general mood of the family wasn’t dour; it was just his and his grandfather’s.
The patriarch and his giant heir walked quietly onto the porch. Jody took a deep breath, turned and looked back into the house, and watched Sarah join the other women in their adoration of Bibby’s hairless coif. She looked back and saw her husband, tried to smile at him, but only managed a half grimace. She knew he had a difficult discussion to undertake. If Benji were anything like Jody, convinced that what he had done was right, there would be loud words tossed around. Jody frowned back at her and realized that his persuasive conversation might wind up becoming a confrontation with loud, angry voices. Yes, he had better get further away from the rest of the family than the porch. This wasn’t going to be easy. No doubt, an ego or two would be bruised.
The Great Big Fairy Page 27