The Charity

by Connie Johnson Hambley

  Fatigued, Bridget headed to her bedroom to put her feet up before she began making dinner for the two of them. She walked through the kitchen and into the main hallway. Sunlight poured through the transom windows on either side of the paneled front door, casting shadows upon a large staircase which wound its way up to the second floor. A wooden bench, a small table set with a vase of flowers and a fine oriental rug were the only adornments. This time of year Bridget kept the vase and others around the house filled with the delicate pink and white flowers of her favorite flower, Mountain Laurel. She smiled at the sight of them and continued her way upstairs. A brief spasm of coughing made her dizzy and she reached to balance herself on the newel post of the stair railing. The whole top section of the post gave way under her weight. Not having the expected support she toppled over and landed on the broad stairwell. Slightly stunned, she paused for a moment to catch her breath and looked at the one-foot section of the post that contained the top finial and its supporting molding resting upon the floor beside her. Slowly she pulled herself back to a standing position and peered down into the now topless post. A crudely hollowed space was filled with a tightly rolled brown envelope.

  Bridget reached down into the hollow and absently, almost lovingly, fingered the well-worn edges of the papers. Straightening herself, she heaved the finial up and jammed it back into its place on top of the post. “Damn stupid thing,” she muttered and continued up the stairs.

  Jessica knew exactly where to find Anna and joined her in the large hayloft of the smaller barn. It was their favorite place to be as they could see and hear everything that went on around the farm in complete secrecy. No one ever discovered their private location except for the inquisitive barn cats and occasional rat. There were days they would hear Bridget or Gus calling for them, but answering them would have given away their secret and they sometimes spent the night there. They laughed at the foolishness of Bridget and Gus’ frantic searches thinking something dire had happened to them when they were warm, safe and happy. Jessica helped reinforce the hay bale igloo so it would be big enough to move around in and crawled inside next to her friend.

  “I leave next week,” she said. “Are you going to be okay?”

  “I’m always okay,” Anna shifted herself into a more comfortable position.

  “Aunt Bridget says you can come here anytime.”

  “Yeah. I will. She’s the only one who notices when I’m not around.”

  “That’s not true,” Jessica lowered her eyes. “I do, too.”

  Anna punched Jessica in the shoulder and changed the subject. “Tell me again about this place?”

  “Oh, it’s all right,” Jessica began trying to keep the enthusiasm out of her voice. “It’s a lot of camping in mountains and stuff like that. The riding they do is different than around here. The horses are scruffier, but they handle crazy steep trails like mountain goats. The guides teach you how to take care of yourself and others with, like, no real equipment or anything.”

  “Sounds like that would suck.”

  “When I went there last year we camped out on a glacier!”

  “That sounds like it would suck even more.” They both burst out laughing.

  “‘It channels the wild child in you, dear,’” Jessica said in the tone of voice she always used when mocking Aunt Bridget. They held their sides as they laughed.

  “‘Oh! That girl is such a tomboy,’” Anna responded back in kind, rekindling their mirth.

  After a while, the laughter tapered off and they lay in their fragrant cocoon listening to the sounds of the barn. It was feeding time and they could hear the stable hands leading the horses back to their stalls so the girls stifled any additional banter to prevent their discovery. Once released into their stalls the horses paced and stamped their impatience for their evening meals of hay and sweetfeed, a combination of oats, corn and molasses. Water buckets were filled and the stable hands made the last barn check of the night. The girls could hear the hands’ conversations about how a horse did in training that day or what plans they had for the evening. They sometimes found it hard to recognize individual voices but could always distinguish Gus’ from a distance. Whenever he was near, they kept especially still.

  This was not a night they heard Gus’ voice. Jessica knew he was in Ireland scouting for more breeding stock. Ireland’s long tradition of thoroughbred racing was something Gus could not ignore while running a world-class operation like Wyeth’s Worldwind Farm. Jessica begged to go with him instead of wilderness camp and she was hurt by his blunt refusals. Gus seemed never to have time to teach her about how to be a great trainer, so listening in on barn conversations was her own private tutorial on how to identify and cultivate a top horse. Jessica felt she could pick a winner as good if not better than most of the men that came to the farm to talk about the races. She would try to impress Gus with her knowledge and grew angry when she was curtly rebuffed time and again. She knew that one day, whether Gus helped her or not, she would be ready to take over as head of the farm.

  It was dusk when they emerged from the hayloft. Anna declined Jessica’s offer of dinner and headed off on her own. Jessica strode down the driveway looking at the light coming from the kitchen windows of her home. She saw Aunt Bridget’s shadow pass in front of the window and Jessica felt that familiar pang and longing for her parents and sister.

  Pushing back her thoughts, she bounded up the back porch steps two at a time and entered the kitchen. A pot of thick beef stew bubbled on the stove and the scent made Jessica’s mouth water.

  “Mmm. That smells great! I’m starving!” After she had washed her hands in the kitchen sink, she turned and looked at Bridget. The older woman stood in the doorway holding a rumpled brown envelope in her hands.

  May 1988

  “GUS! GUS! HEY you! Over here!”

  Gus pulled up on the reins of the big gray thoroughbred. He was exercising the animal on the far track of the farm and turned his head to see Jessica waving her arms over her head in excitement as she ran down the small hill toward him. He had mixed emotions about seeing her. He hoped she was back at the farm only for the summer months or until she decided what to do for a real job.

  The slight change of pressure with Gus’ legs and hands encouraged the horse to wheel around and break into a gallop. Its hooves pounded out a greeting and Gus’ ruddy face broke into a smile as he slowed the powerful animal. Jessica was already moving toward the horse to jump up on its back as Gus hopped off.

  Gus covered the distance between them with one stride and gave Jessica a big hug and a quick buss on the cheek. “Don’t I even get a ‘Hello’ and a ‘How are you?’ before you take to the hills? I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”

  Jessica answered him with a smile tucked into one corner of her mouth and a glint in her eye. “Hello Gus. How are you? Fine? Great! Now hand Blue Jeep over before I burst. I’m dying to get to the hills. Now go away!”

  “Not so fast. I can see that caged look in your eyes, Missy. I’ll hand over the reins as soon as I get a good look at you.”

  Gus placed his hands on Jessica’s shoulders and looked at her. They stood eye to eye now. He could hardly believe how much she had grown over the years and just how beautiful she had become. He had always thought of her as a pretty girl, but as a young woman she was stunning. She had an athletic build that looked at once elegant and strong in her breeches and tall black field boots. Her blonde hair was amply streaked with honey-colored highlights and her blue eyes were bright with laughter and intelligence. His pride in her and worry for her were all balled up together.

  As he looked at her, he knew that today’s smile was for his benefit. Jessica was like Bridget in keeping her stronger emotions locked away from public inspection, but he could see the strain. The light that should emanate from a beautiful woman like Jessica was dimmed by the pain she carried for her losses. Anything resembling a fam
ily to her was gone. Bridget fought like hell to make it to Jessica’s college graduation by not giving in to the cancer that was rotting her. God knows Bridget deserved to be there to witness the success of her perseverance, but she finally had to let go and join her sister. Gus watched as Jessica’s forced smile faded a bit.

  “I can still feel her, Gus. It’s like Bridget’s still upstairs in her room, watching us like she always did before she got too sick to do even that.”

  “I miss her too, Jess. The place is just empty now.” Gus reached over and embraced Jessica and let the moment of sadness pass.

  After Bridget died, it was all Gus could do to walk across the wide-planked porch and back into that house and help Jessica pack up Bridget’s things. It was the second occasion he packed belongings of someone who lived in that house and died too young. He could hardly believe that eleven years had passed since the car wreck. Bridget had been a fixture in that house ever since. Looking at the empty home stabbed him with grief no matter how many times a day he did so. He wanted to get as far away from this ghost-filled place as possible. Its hollowness pulled at his soul and made him yearn for the emerald meadows of his youth.

  They walked together up the hill toward the barns, grief keeping them deep in their own thoughts. He stepped back and for the moment decided that he was going to be happy that Jessica was there filling the void that stared at him from over the porch.

  “I’ll hand over the reins if ya promise me a couple of pints at the tavern tonight.”

  “Deal!” Jessica gave Gus a quick hug and sighed as she swung herself onto the horse’s back in one fluid motion. Habit compelled Gus to quickly summarize how Blue Jeep was handling that day and where the big horse was on his overall training schedule. Instinctively, Gus knew the big dappled gray horse was destined never to be a winner at the track and he knew that hardly mattered to Jessica. Blue Jeep was one of Jessica’s favorites for the rough terrain she loved. All of the information about Blue Jeep’s conditioning was given to her in the quick staccato speech of one horseman to another. Jessica had the same intuition Gus did for the big animals and full sentences or completed thoughts were unnecessary between them.

  “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” And with that she wheeled the horse away and started toward the wooded hillside.

  Gus stood and watched until horse and rider were enveloped in a cloud of dust. How many years ago was it that he chose the life he did? No, that’s wrong. He did not choose it. His path was born inside of him in the way a man is called to the priesthood. He took solace from that thought many times while he lay in bed alone. His line of work did not necessarily require him to be alone, but he thought it best and was proved right time and time again. Occasionally a doubt did creep up on him trying to create a breach of faith. He only had to think of the larger picture, the alternative life of himself and others if he did not live by his own beliefs, to bring the consuming fire back into his heart. There were really only two people on earth that would ever make him break his vows. One was already dead. The other just left him behind in a cloud.

  He touched his right hand to his forehead, then to a spot vaguely central to his gut, up to his left shoulder, and lastly, to his right. A cool feeling crept up between his shoulder blades and tightened the minuscule muscles around the hair follicles on the back of his neck. Something deep and ancient within his soul awakened trying to whisper the future into his ear. It had been too many years since he had listened to such voices and he shook off the feeling as just a vestige from his youth. If he had listened, or if he understood the meaning, he may never have allowed the smile on his face to linger as the dust slowly sifted back down to earth.

  Jessica gave Blue Jeep his head by loosening the reins and squeezing her legs in the signal that said ‘Go faster!’ and raced toward the edge of the pasture. She balanced herself over the horse’s neck and shoulders and felt its powerful muscles propel them forward. The surge of speed whipped her hair from her face and stripped away her tension and grief. She coiled her hands in the horse’s mane and allowed the action of its gait to pull her arms forward and back in a pulsing rhythm. Her senses filled with the smells of the early summer meadow and the sweaty horse. With each stride, Jessica felt the distance between her inner and outer selves close. It was only when she was alone, away from anyone, that she felt safe enough to be herself.

  In the solitude of being on horseback, Jessica let tears blur her vision. The act of graduating from Bowdoin College and being thrust out into the world gave Jessica an opportunity to think about herself and about where she was headed. The hubbub of the past few weeks bothered her. She had finals to study for and papers to write, the burden made heavier by a brain muddled by grief from the loss of her Aunt Bridget. She hid her feelings behind her work, but the sting was no less painful.

  Without warning, her imagination sprang to life, knocking her off balance and taking her breath away. She tightened her legs around the moving horse as flashes of memories came to her. Details of what happened were sketchy and she wanted to keep it that way. She grabbed the uninvited visions around their spindly necks and shoved them back into the darker and less explored recesses of her mind. Despite her skill at suppressing the memories, some still surfaced through the panic attack. An image of her father with Dark Irish the day they won the MassCap at Suffolk Downs melded into an image of an animal in her mother’s car. She recalled how she and Gus had conspired to keep her home and not visit her aunt that day. Without that whim of conspiracy, Jessica would be dead as well.

  She forced the grief to flow out of her, hoping to empty herself of the chronic ache. The memories of the funerals muddled into one, and finally sharpened into focus on her aunt’s a few months before. Her blonde head shook at the irony of her life. As hard as she tried not to visit her aunt on many occasions, it was just Jessica’s luck that her parents had named Bridget as her guardian.

  Jessica had grown to love her aunt, but she never learned to understand her. It seemed that Bridget’s fine manners and smooth exterior were cultivated for reasons more to do with camouflage than etiquette. As gracious as Bridget was to any guest, she never let anyone except for Anna feel too welcomed. Jessica attributed the distance and control Bridget conducted her relationships with to just not feeling well enough to take on more.

  Now Jessica was alone in the world, except for Gus. She looked to Gus as the head of the farm and bowed to his judgment on matters of training and racing. But it was more than just casual attention Gus gave Jessica. She felt his genuine love for her. Whenever she expressed gratitude for his being there for her, Gus would simply answer, “I wish I could do more for you, Jessie.”

  Gus understood her in a way that did not need words. In the years following the accident, Jessica tried many ways to cope with her searing grief and the pitying eyes of people when they learned of her misfortune. She hated their charity and tried to show them that she was okay. She started riding more and more challenging horses on tougher and tougher terrain. Doing so forced her to focus on the horse and land, not on her own thoughts. She competed in cross-country riding events and grueling endurance challenges. Just training herself and her horses for these marathon three day events kept her mind and body occupied. Her frenzied training was for healing and Gus never tried to interfere. He understood and supported her.

  A branch from a tree whipped across her face and slapped her back to the present. She realized suddenly that Blue Jeep was laboring up this last hillside and was lathered with sweat from his efforts. Slowing the gelding to a trot, she turned for home, taking care to steer her tired mount around tree stumps and rocks in his path.

  It was her favorite time of day. The sun would be setting soon and it seemed as if all the creatures in the woods were making the final preparations for night. Within the lengthening shadows, Jessica could detect the nervous little scurrying of chipmunks and squirrels as they gathered up their nightly meals and made th
eir way to their nests. The air was freshened with the cooler temperature of nightfall. Bringing the horse to a walk, Jessica allowed herself to feast in the scene of the long shafts of light filtering through the trees and to enjoy the earthy smells of the forest. The steady breathing of the horse, the rhythm of its gait, the creak of her leather tack, and the occasional sharp click of a shod hoof against a rock lulled her.

  The woods behind her, the rolling meadow stretched ahead. She pulled Blue Jeep to a stop on the top of a small knoll and surveyed the scene. The hillside sloped gently away from her, joining another hill below. The practice tracks were empty as it was feeding time in the barns. Along the crest of a second hill, a stone wall made its casual way back into the woods.

  Other stone walls and split rail fences defined the meadows into individual pastures. Sections of many fences were built up with either more rocks or planks of wood, making a jump into the next pasture. Jessica had fond memories of racing across those pastures and hurdling over fences on any number of horses, always stretching for something faster, something higher. The pastures were divided by a long, tree-lined drive. For a moment, Jessica saw a shadow of the Mercedes making its way up the drive with her father behind the wheel. Tears quickly misted her eyes as she pushed the memory away.

  These were her hills. Ever since she could remember, Jessica roamed their length freely following one imagined adventure after another. The knoll where she stopped offered her an unobstructed view of the barns and houses. The huge white colonial farmhouse perpetually welcomed all passersby with its large porch and gardens. The house’s slate roof matched the barns’ and its white sides were now washed with the pink and yellow light of the fading sunset. Smaller houses reserved for Gus and the stable hands were caught in the lengthening shadows. With her back to the glowing sky, she could just make out the shimmer of Essex Bay with the ocean just beyond it and the air hinted at its salty presence. Jessica had viewed this scene hundreds of times, in all seasons and in all types of weather. Each time, the scene was fresh and new.