The Charity

by Connie Johnson Hambley

  The proof that the old lifestyles of the generations before her still survived was in the century old estates that were well hidden down long drives. Large mansions could be glimpsed along roads, but she knew that if she were on the ocean looking at the shoreline she would see the immense homes lined up behind their sloping lawns and private beaches. The North Shore held extremes of wealth and struggle. The wealthy became rich from the efforts of common men and built their seaside homes. But it was the homes of the common man than she could see clearly as she traveled the roads. The coastal communities were proud of their seafaring heritage. She looked at the many lobster boats that had already been hauled out of the water for the winter season and stood supported on blocks and braces in the yards of their owners, the rib cage-like spines of the lobster traps stacked neatly beside them. Buoys and other nautical paraphernalia dotted the landscape with both functional and simply ornamental purposes. The taxi pulled up in front of a small motel with a ship’s helm and net lit by yellow spotlights.

  Jessica uneventfully paid her fare and checked into her threadbare room. The manager grumbled something about closing next week for the season and Jessica assured the pot-bellied man that she was only staying two nights. Once in her room, she opened the window and relaxed in the single wooden chair with her feet up on the bed. On this still night, she could hear and smell the ocean lapping against the beach. The familiar feel of this corner of the country acted as a balm to Jessica’s psyche. She could feel the pieces of herself begin to merge.

  She did not remember crawling into bed, but awoke the next morning to crisp air and sun pouring through the open window. Again, the salty air sparked her senses and gave her additional energy to explore and renew her acquaintance with her home. The motel manager did not mind dropping one of his guests off in Hamilton while he did some errands. After all, it was only the next town over, and he mentioned that Hamilton’s town center had some nice shops she might like to browse through.

  Jessica pulled the hat down over her eyes and her coat collar up as she stepped on to the sidewalk of her hometown. In the daylight, the buildings had a freshly scrubbed appearance. It was as she remembered it. The drugstore was still on the corner, and the hardware store had what seemed like the same trucks parked in front of it. A new restaurant graced what once was a series of clothing and shoe stores. It was a nice addition to the town, she decided. As much as she wanted to sit and absorb the details of change, she knew she had to keep moving. She began to walk out of town toward the east along Bay Road.

  Wyeth’s Worldwind Farm was only three miles outside of town. Jessica covered the distance quickly and enjoyed the walk on the clear day. As she rounded the final corner, she saw that not all changes had been good. Large portions of land that were once open meadows dotted with grazing horses now held homes with manicured shrubs and brick walks. Each house was different, but each was big, rich, and stately. The homes had a generous portion of land, and some had smaller barns and paddocks out back. The majestic drive which once swept up between two lines of trees to her barn and house now had a stop sign stabbed in its middle to warn travelers of oncoming traffic. A new road split off from the drive to feed another set of homes on the next meadow.

  Jessica walked over to a stone wall and sat for a long time just looking. She thought that she would be overcome with sadness if anyone had told her that this was what happened to her farm. Instead, her nostalgia was mixed with a welcomed numbness. Eventually, her legs began to move her forward again, and she found herself walking up the long, tree-lined street.

  The house and main barn still stood, as well as the smaller barn she loved to hide in. She smiled to herself as she noticed the name of one of the new drives. “Worldwind Road” greeted her and branched off to the right. Once she got closer, she noticed that it seemed to have been only the front acreage that was sold and developed. The back meadows, where the breeze tracks and the larger turnout areas used to be, were still used for horses. The barn was used for boarding purposes and was busy with many people enjoying a fine Saturday. No hint of the farm’s racing past could be seen.

  “Can I help you?”

  Jessica jumped at the unexpected voice and quickly assessed its owner. The large hazel eyes of a fresh faced young girl looked up at her expectantly. “No thanks. I was just taking a walk and wanted to have a look around. Nice place. Do you live here?”

  The young girl eyed Jessica coolly. “I live just over the hill. Are you friends with a member here?”

  “No. I’ve heard about this farm and wanted to see it for myself.” Jessica did not want to be closed out of her inspection of her home too easily, especially by a kid. She returned the assessing glance of the girl. The hazel eyes were peering from beneath a black velvet hard hat. The girl’s attire was distinctly ‘horsey’ in breeches and boots. “I’ll bet you’re in Level Three Dressage and hate it.”

  Jessica was relieved when the girl responded enthusiastically to her use of jargon. “Yes! I hate all of that legwork you have to do to get a horse to respond! How did you know?”

  “Pretty easy, really. You’re about thirteen years old and look the part. You must have had some experience in dressage.”

  The young girl began to warm to this unusual visitor. “Yup. My mom says dressage is a way of riding and working with a horse that gives both horse and rider a workout.”

  Jessica kept the conversation on a safe subject as the girl relaxed. “Right. Discipline and better communication. Dressage forces horse and rider to work as one. I love watching a huge horse canter lightly on its feet or gracefully prance sideways. Most people fall in love with the sport after seeing the great white Lipizzaner Stallions from Austria perform their incredible dressage feats.”

  “My mom took me to see them at the Topsfield Fair Grounds a couple of years ago!”

  “You might hate the work now, but your horse will thank you for it. Do you have your own?”

  “Yes! Mom and Dad got it for me last year for my birthday. Wanna see it? My name’s Brittany. What’s yours?” The broad smile flashed silver braces over white teeth.

  “Lolly. Are your mom and dad here today?” Jessica fell into step with the young girl and tried to avoid any direct eye contact with any adult in the barn.

  “Nope. They’ll be here in a couple of hours.” She stopped in front of a stall. “Welp, there she is! Isn’t she beautiful?” Brittany beamed with pride.

  Jessica looked at the gleaming black Morgan pony and smiled. “She really is beautiful, Brittany. What’s her name?”

  Jessica listened to the accomplishments of Stargazer and Brittany with divided interest. Her eyes wandered over the pony’s stall and over the familiar beams of the stalls and barn. The ladder to the loft had been removed, and the tack-room expanded. One of the smaller stalls down the corridor was converted into a sitting area where soda and snack machines hummed. It all seemed so odd. The familiar was so mixed with the long forgotten and the new; it was hard to sort it all out. She would not think about her feelings now. There would be enough time for remembering later.

  Brittany chirped on about how she first started riding and the smaller ponies she had before Stargazer. She waved to friends outside on their way to the outdoor ring. It was cold, but the ground was not too hard yet on the horses’ legs. Many riders were taking advantage of one of the last days of outdoor riding before another New England winter arrived. “They just finished the indoor arena. Now we can ride all year round!” The young girl was enjoying showing the interested woman around the farm.

  “How long has this farm been here?” Jessica looked at the freshly painted sides of her old house. The porch still offered an unspoken invitation.

  “Oh. A couple of years. It used to be some kind of racing farm, or something.”

  “Racing farm? What do you know about that?”

  Having such an attentive audience fueled the young girl to ramble on. “
My dad said that the farm was owned by some rich heiress who killed her lover in a fit of rage! Then realizing she could not live without him, she blew herself up! Isn’t that great? My mom hates it when my dad says that gory stuff to me, but I think it’s just creepy thinking about it. Don’t you?” Teeth, silver with braces, flashed in the sunlight as the girl hugged herself with the imagined drama of the moment.

  Jessica looked down at her feet and shook her head. Kids seemed different than she remembered. “Gee. That’s quite a story. Who owns the farm now?”

  Brittany scrunched up her nose. “Oh! I don’t know. Some company bought the whole farm and split it up.”

  Knowing no more information was forthcoming, Jessica began to wean herself away from the girl. “You’ve been very nice to show me around. I can tell you’re going to be a great equestrian some day.”

  Again, the silver teeth grinned. “Thanks, Lolly. Hey! Before you go, d’ya wanna see some pictures of me in some horse shows we had here? They’re in the den of the main house!”

  Jessica stopped. “Well, don’t you think whoever lives there would mind you just barging in with a stranger in tow?”

  Brittany laughed. “No way! That’s the riding club’s office. We always go there to hang out. Wanna see it?”

  There was no way to deny the urge to walk up on to the porch again and go through the paneled oak door and into her home. “Yes, I’d like that, Brittany,” Jessica replied softly.

  The house was freshly painted, but the faded ivy leaf wallpaper still hung in the dining room to the left. The furnishings were old, but none that she recognized. The old maple banister still curved up to the second floor, but the newel post and finial had been replaced. The wooden floor creaked quietly as she walked in a fog to the den. Edges of sadness began to fold over her. Jessica blinked hard to stop the tears from flowing out of her eyes. She feigned interest in the many pictures of young girls and their horses.

  “See! There I am on my old pony, Snowball. She had the weirdest eyes! There’s my friend, Melinda, I told you about her before.”

  Trying to focus on the present and not the flood of memories Jessica tried to rejoin the conversation. “Right, you said you and Anna went to riding camps together and—”

  “No. Melinda and I went to camps.”

  Brittany continued talking, and Jessica tuned out the barrage of information by pretending to look at the pictures. She was overwhelmed with images of past and present and did not want to bring any unwanted attention on herself by having another breakdown. Trying to hide her pounding heart she concentrated on the new and faded photographs which dotted the walls and bookcases. The shelves were heavy with trophies and ribbons of various events. Her eyes rested on the carvings of the new mantel which formed a deep ledge over the top of the brick fireplace. Stunned, she stopped and stared.

  Delicately etched at each corner of the stately mantel was a three-leaf shamrock shedding tiny tear shaped drops.

  Owen Shea smiled as he heard the verdict rendered by the judge. He had won on four counts of embezzlement and had lost on the fifth. It did not matter; the four counts were enough to build the precedent trail he was working on.

  He gathered up his papers and tried to hide his look of vindication from his assistant.

  Abbey placed her hands on the papers and looked at him. “You’ve got to tell me how you did that! I went to bed Sunday dreading what Monday would bring. We knew our witness wasn’t going to show. The old bookkeeper practically had to be dragged to court on Friday and said that she was not going to appear again.”

  “Right. And we also knew the defense witness would appear today, acting beaten and contrite. I had to get this witness to appear. I offered to drag their witness to court, right? I decided to offer the same service to our own reluctant witness.”

  Shea quickly told Abbey the story, enjoying the moment. “At one o’clock in the morning, I got dressed for court and drove to the witness’ daughter’s house. At four o’clock, the lights in the kitchen flashed on, and I could see our gal making coffee and preparing to leave for an extended period of time. At four-thirty, they walked to their car.”

  Abbey grinned. “Shit, Shea.”

  “They were a little surprised to see me. The daughter yelled at me to let her mother go. So, I mentioned that appearing in court was what a subpoena was all about and that I was merely helping her mother discharge her duty as a citizen of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Her mother, our witness, was my personal guest every second. Her redirect testimony was sufficient to get us to win even on just four counts. It was worth the aggravation, don’t you think?”

  “You’re an arrogant jerk, you know that Shea?”

  “Right. But I win.” He put his head down and looked at his calendar. “I’ve got to go. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  He walked back to his office and was immediately swarmed by paralegals and associates, as soon as he exited the elevator, demanding his attention on work they wanted to complete. Any glow of victory he may have had was quickly trampled by their needs.

  He did not notice the lone messenger jump to her feet in the sparsely furnished reception area when he walked through. The only movement that registered with him was that the receptionist seemed unusually perturbed and bounded toward the group of people surrounding him. But then again, Shea judged, she always had a bee in her ear about something. He did not take any further notice.

  Jessica was frustrated by this guard dog they called a receptionist. As soon as she saw the attorney general step off the elevator, she tried to wedge herself into the group of people that immediately surrounded him. She received nothing but shoulders in her face and the fury of the receptionist trying to keep her out of the law offices. Jessica looked at the number of people enveloping Shea and tried to think of another way to reach him. They picked up on the receptionist’s urgency and banded together to keep the unwanted and scruffy messenger outside. Jessica decided to wait until the receptionist left for the day.

  No sooner had she planted herself down on the sofa and picked up another magazine, than a security guard appeared. Jessica lifted her chin in defiance as he spoke to her and looked at him from under the brim of her hat. The thick glasses nearly slipped off her nose.

  “You got business here with someone, Miss?”

  “Yes. I am here to see Attorney General Owen Shea.” She looked at the small eyes supported by huge jowls and crossed her arms.

  “The receptionist says he ain’t expecting any packages, he don’t recall ya name and that ya should make an appointment to see one of da associates. They’d be happy to forward on ya message.” He stooped down and pulled Jessica to her feet.

  This was not the way she wanted to meet with Shea. “Fine. Tell him Lolly Greenburg will be back.” She tossed her head and sniffed as she passed the guard, adjusting her grungy clothes. He fell into step beside her.

  She rode the elevator down to the lobby in silence with her uniformed escort listening to the conversations of the elevator’s other occupants. “I suggest you don’t come here again until you have appropriate ID as a messenger or an appointment, Miss.” Jessica quickly walked over to the building directory which stood in front of the large polished brass revolving doors. She tried to use it as a shield from the guard. He guided her away from the directory and nearly shoved her out of the doors.

  Jessica shook off the feeling of his hand on her arm and ignored the stares of the people in the lobby. She had a better idea.

  Two hours later the same security guard looked up from his post. “Good Evening, Ma’am. Can I help you with something?

  The elegantly dressed woman in a form-fitting blue suit, sky-high heels and hair pulled back into a sleek chignon searched frantically through her briefcase. “I am sorry. I had a meeting today with Brandt Management on the thirtieth floor, and I believe I left my car keys with Julia. Would you mind if I went up
and took a look? I know that Chris Allen is there, and he’ll let me in. I just spoke with him.”

  The guard looked at the smooth skin and glint of expensive jewelry of the woman in front of him. He could see her fighting the irritation of this inconvenience and was trying to be polite. She was about to explode with frustration, and he did not want to anger the client of the building’s most prestigious tenants. He knew Julia Brandt would eat him for lunch if he treated any one of her clients with less than total subservience.

  “Yes. Of course, Ma’am.” He hoisted himself to his feet and summoned the elevator for the woman. He bowed his head slightly as she entered it.

  “Have a good night, Ma’am.”

  Jessica rode the elevator to the thirtieth floor and got out. She waited near the elevator for a few moments. It was not long before someone emerged from behind the shiny glass doors.

  “I am beginning to think everyone works late in your office!”

  The smartly dressed broker looked at the woman from behind black rimmed glasses. “Pardon?” Jessica noticed the glint of his thick wedding band as he summoned the elevator.

  “Oh! Nothing. It’s just that I am so relieved that I was able to get my keys I left here earlier. No wonder you all do such fine work, you spend so many hours at it!” Jessica stood close to the young man and looked up at him with wide eyes. “I mean, just the thought of balancing my checkbook sends me crying!” She lightly brushed his hand with hers.