Christmas With Hover Hill

by Risner, Fay

  “What does he want to drink?”

  “Drink?”

  Susie gave her an exasperated glance.

  “Oh yes, to drink. Don't mind me. Like I said I'm just tired. We've traveled a long way today. He'll take coffee.”

  Susie went behind the partition into the kitchen. As she scooped up loose hamburger to pile on two buns, she asked, “Where are you from?”

  “Ah, …. Northern Minnesota,” Elizabeth supplied.

  “That is a long drive from here,” Susie agreed.

  “Where is the nearest grocery store? We'll need to get some supplies for our stay,” Elizabeth asked.

  “There's a small family operated grocery store on your right as you leave town. The only one we have,” Susie said as she laid the bill beside the maidrites and drinks.

  Elizabeth laid out the correct change. “Thank you, and where is the nearest gas station?” She asked, gathering up her meals and drinks.

  “Across the street from the grocery store. You can't miss it, either. Earnie's gas station is on the south edge of town. He does repair work if you ever need anything fixed on your car.”

  “Thank you for all your help,” Elizabeth said as she headed for the door.

  “Sure thing. Enjoy your stay in town,” Susie called.

  Elizabeth stopped at the grocery store to get eggs, bacon and bread for toast, milk, coffee and hot chocolate mix. She could come back in the morning after Hover had a chance to help her make a list. He'd need to go through the food boxes they brought first.

  She really was too tired and upset to think straight right now. All she wanted was to get to the house and relax. They traveled east out of town along a stretch of bleak, leafless timber and brown pasture land. She said more to herself than Hover, “Seems to me the turn off is about a mile from town. Hope I don't go past it.”

  She watched for the mile to turn over. When the mile was up, she slowed down. To her left was a narrow dirt road between fences lined with trees. She stopped and stared down it. “Could this be the right road? I've come a mile.”

  Hover Hill droned, “Just two hours, thirty minutes, and five seconds ago you said you knew right where the house was located.”

  “Give me a break! I was a small child when I came here with my father. The trees and brush have had time to become overgrown in the last fifteen years.” She turned down the road and drove slowly through the potholes and frozen ruts. “Oh well, if it is the wrong road, we'll just turn around and come back to the main road and drive on.”

  “Good thing you did not buy cream at the grocery store. It would be whipped in the container by the time we get to our destination,” complained Hover Hill, holding his hand on top his head to keep from bumping the car top.

  The road came to a dead end in front of a large farm house. The place was surrounded by trees. A trail led past the house into the timber.

  “This is it,” Elizabeth said, relieved when she recognized the house. “I'll help you up the front steps and set everything from the car on the porch. You can help me carry the sacks in.”

  She gripped Hover's arm. They stepped up one step at a time until she had him standing on the porch. She turned the key in the lock and pushed open the front door. “Now back to unpacking the car.”

  Elizabeth set the four sacks of groceries on the porch and climbed the steps. She handed two to Hover and picked up the other two. She remembered her way around once she was inside. Elizabeth headed across the speckled living room linoleum to the kitchen. “Put the bags on the table, and you can refrigerate everything that needs it.”

  She looked around her. “For heaven's sake!”

  Hover stared at her. “Don't tell me this is the wrong house.”

  “No, I'm afraid it is the right house. This kitchen is just as I remembered it. You would think my father could have remodeled this house sometime in all the years he's owned it.

  Look at that old, large sink with the drain pad.” Elizabeth waved her hand around the room. “These cupboards, with layers of white paint, must be the original ones yet.”

  She patted the bright yellow table in the middle of the room. “This chrome table and chairs are vintage fifties. Scott and I played checkers right here.”

  She turned to look behind her. “How about this old dish cupboard? Bet it has been here since the house was built over a hundred years ago.” She pulled down on a knob. “This is a flour bin. See the crank at the bottom. The flour sifted out into a bowl to make bread and biscuits back in the old days.” She opened the top doors. “We at least have a set of dishes. You can go through the other cupboards to see what pots and pans are there for cooking.”

  Hover surmised, “This is a twentieth century country house built in circa 1910. What did you expect it to look like? It does have a gas cookstove to cook meals on and running water to do dishes.”

  “Well, aren't you Mr. Look On The Bright Side.” Elizabeth looked concerned again. “Oh, I hope Dad at least remodeled enough that I don't have to go outside to use the outhouse anymore.” She rushed from the room.

  Hover droned behind her, “What is an outhouse?”

  She called back from the hallway off the living room. “For us humans that have active bladders and intestines, an outhouse is an unheated building outside of the house that's most unpleasant to use especially in the winter time.”

  “Oh,” Hover said. He peered down the hall as Elizabeth disappeared into a room. She came right back, leaned against the wall and patted her chest. “Thank goodness. Dad did have a bathroom put in.”

  “You worried for nothing.”

  “He sure didn't hurt his bank account. I've seen prettier bathrooms. Come look for yourself. Dad left in place the old, humongous bathtub with claw feet. All he did was have a stool put in. The lighting, such as it is, hangs from an old cord attached to the ceiling. That has to have been there since the thirties or forties when electricity first came through here.”

  “I would say be thankful you have a stool,” Hover returned.

  “I am. Believe me, really I am since nothing else has changed in this house. Still the same boxy rooms with dark, carved woodwork and high ceilings.” She walked around the living room and held her hand in front of a window. “Old drafty windows. We need to get the fire going while I still have my coat on.” She stopped to look at the fireplace, a mosaic of rocks with a walnut mantle. “Logs are probably kept out back. I've never started a fire before.”

  “I saw an LP tank off to the side of the house. There may be a furnace installed as well as the cookstove,” Hover Hill suggested.

  Elizabeth searched the living room walls and walked back down the hallway. “Good for you, Hover. Here's the thermostat.” She tweaked it and heard the furnace ignite. “We will be warm soon.”

  She opened another door. “This is the stairway to the upstairs bedrooms. I don't intend to go up there. The rooms aren't heated. I can sleep in Dad's bedroom next to the bathroom. Where would be a good place for you to wind down?

  “I power down,” Hover corrected with a exacerbated sigh as he looked around. “I'm going to stand next to the fireplace.”

  Dusty, gold metal framed family pictures strung together with cobwebs lined the stairwell walls. Some of them were Scott and her in 8 x 10 inch school pictures. That stairwell was as close as her father could come to hiding the pictures of his children from his girlfriends without completely throwing them away. Out of sight, out of mind. It wouldn't do to have his flavor of the month girlfriends think about him with grown children.

  Hover tilted his head, listening. He moved to the living room window that faced the road. He droned, “Do you want to know a man is dumping tree pieces by the house?”

  Chapter 6

  “Tree pieces?” Elizabeth rushed to the window. The man appeared to be about her age. Definitely a farmer from the looks of his clothes, tan Carhartt bib overalls, heavy flannel shirt, zippered tan jacket and green lace up knobby soled boots.

  A black Labrador dog
circled her car, sniffed the driver side back tire and peed on it. Nosing around the car, the dog turned his attention, sniffing the tires on the beater pickup parked beside her car.

  “That man has some nerve dumping debris this close to the house. He parked his old blue pickup by my car. That means he has to know someone is in here.” She rushed to the door.

  Hover followed her. “What are you going to do?”

  “I'm going to go out there and tell that man to dump his trash somewhere else. You stay away from the window until he's gone,” she groused.

  “You should put your coat on,” Hover said.

  “I won't be gone that long.” Elizabeth tramped out and down the steps. She demanded, “Who are you?”

  “Hello!” The smiling man pulled a log out of the pickup bed and twisted toward her as he stacked the log on the neatly arranged row. “I'm Bud Carter. I'll be done in a minute.”

  “Stop right now. Tell me why are you dumping this stuff here so close to the house on private property?” Elizabeth demanded.

  That got the man's attention. He put the last log on the stack and turned to study her. “I didn't dump anything. As you can see I made a neat rick of wood.”

  The dog whipped Elizabeth's legs with his strong tail as he raced in circles around her. She stuck a foot out and pushed him away. “So you dump neater than most. What I want to know is why you did it?”

  The man scratched a blond sideburn as he asked. “Who are you?”

  The dog came up behind her, and licked Elizabeth's right hand. She jerked her hand away and folded her arms over her chest well out of reach of the dog's tongue. “Go away, dog,” she hissed.

  “Buster, leave the lady alone. Load up!” The farmer scolded, shaking his finger at the dog. The dog tucked his tail between his legs and ran to the pickup. He hopped into the back and laid down.

  Elizabeth put her attention back on the farmer. “Thank you for that. Now I asked you a question first. Why are all these tree pieces here?”

  “All right. Fair enough I guess. The owner of this house told me if anyone wanted to use the house in the winter he'd pay me to deliver wood for the fireplace. That's just what I did,” He said, pointing at the wood.

  “Oh,” Elizabeth said quietly.

  “Now who are you?”

  “I'm Elizabeth,” she stopped, thinking she shouldn't use her father's last name. She came up with, “Morris.”

  “Kin to Martin Winston, the owner, I take it,” Carter said.

  “No, just a friend. Sorry I sounded so inhospitable. I can see how wood in the fireplace might be a good idea this time of year. This old house is a bit drafty,” Elizabeth conceded, shivering now that she noticed the cold air buffering her. The turtleneck wool sweater she wore wasn't enough protection from the cold. The only warm place on her was the heated blush on her cheeks. She whirled around to go inside.

  “How long are you and your husband going to stay?”

  Elizabeth twisted back around. “Why?” She knew she said that too sharply when the farmer stared at her intently.

  “I just wondered,” he said lamely. “This rick won't last long. I will have to deliver more wood if you're staying a while.”

  “Ah, I see. Well, I can't say for sure how long it will be,” she said.

  “That's all right. I come by here every morning to check my cattle back in the timber pasture,” Bud said, pointing toward the trail through the trees behind the house. “I'll keep my eye on the pile so I can bring more when you need it.”

  “Thank you, that would be helpful,” Elizabeth admitted, heading for the steps again.

  “You and your husband have a pleasant stay,” Bud called.

  Elizabeth stopped on the middle step. “What makes you think I have a husband?”

  Bud nodded toward the window. “I saw him when I drove in.”

  “Oh, he's not my husband,” Elizabeth said. She regretted how quickly she blurted out that truthful information when she saw the farmer's surprised face.

  “I see,” Bud said cryptically.

  “He's just a friend that wanted some time away from the city,” she explained quickly. “Good-bye.” As she hurried inside, she wished she hadn't tried to explain at all. The pickup motor started. She breathed a sigh of relief when she couldn't hear the rumble any longer. The farmer was gone.

  “That went well,” Hover criticized as he looked out the window. “I see the rubble is still there.”

  “Don't pick on me. I'm not in the mood for it. That was just a farmer leaving us wood to put in the fireplace to keep this place warm. Seems my father gave him instructions to do that if anyone showed up in the winter. So he had a right to be here.”

  “I see. My mistake.” Hover looked out the window again. “How did the farmer know so fast that someone is staying here and needs wood to burn?”

  “Oh, dear,” Elizabeth cried. “I don't know. I didn't ask him.”

  “Who is going to pay for the wood?”

  “My father, of course.”

  “Will your father think it strange that there is a need to be billed for wood when he knows no one has asked him if they can spend the winter in this house?”

  “Oh my, Hover. You're right. What am I going to do?”

  “May I make a suggestion?”

  Elizabeth sighed. “When have I ever been able to stop you?”

  “I think the total sum is never. You should find out this man's phone number. Call and ask him to bill you for the wood.”

  “Good idea,” she praised.

  “Of course, it was,” boasted Hover.

  Elizabeth looked out the window again, thinking about the situation. “You know what? I won't have to go to the trouble to hunt him up. The man says he goes down that trail every morning to check his cows in the timber. I can stop him to talk to him. That is if he will even want to stop when he sees me after the unfriendly way I treated him.”

  “Maybe you should send your husband or boyfriend out to stand in the middle of that trail so he has to stop,” Hover snipped.

  “Why am I not surprised you were listening?”

  “Hard to miss what was said through these thin walls. In 1910, the only insulation in the walls was oat hulls. The mice moved in and ate the insulation long ago in this house.

  Besides that, I have excellent hearing and hear even better yet when you are yelling. You have a sharp pitch to your voice when you yell,” Hover criticized as he left the room.

  Right after the Maidrite Diner opened the next morning, Bud Carter walked in. He was Susie's first customer. “Morning, Sis.”

  Susie stopped wiping the counter surface and dropped the cloth out of sight in a pan of water under the counter. She dried her hands on her apron. “Morning, Bud. What are you doing in town so early?”

  “I needed to gas up the pickup. Figured I might as well come in for breakfast.”

  “Breakfast coming right up.” Susie said and headed for the kitchen. She looked over the divider as she cooked. “Hey, did you happen to meet the visitor at Mr. Winston's house yesterday?”

  Bud snorted. “Yip. She sure is a sassy thing. She gave me a chewing out.”

  “What did you do?” Susie asked accusingly.

  “I didn't do anything I wasn't supposed to do. After you called, I went right over with a load of wood. She thought I was dumping rubbish in the yard. That's a city woman for you. Where do you suppose she's from?”

  “I asked. She told me Northern Minnesota. Did you get a look at the man that's with her?”

  Bud nodded. “Just a glance when he peeked out the window. He dresses like a city dude.”

  Susie placed a plate of bacon, toast and eggs in front of her brother. “They are a strange couple is all I've got to say.”

  Thinking about that, Bud put the toast to his mouth before he asked, “They probably think us country hicks are strange, too. Why do you think they are strange?” Then he took a bite.

  “It was right after the lunch hour when they got to t
own. The guy sat in the car while the woman came in. She ordered a maidrite. I asked if she didn't want to get one for the man in the car. She looked flustered, said no and changed her answer to yes. She wanted one for him. Wouldn't you think it would be a given that he'd want to eat when she did?”

  “Maybe he wasn't that hungry. Who knows.” Bud turned his attention to his breakfast.

  Early that morning, Elizabeth decided to go for a walk while she waited for the farmer. The trees surrounding the house seemed like a city park. She wanted to explore her surroundings and get some fresh air. She paused to look back to make sure Hover had followed her order to stay away from the windows. She couldn't see him.

  She inhaled a smoky smell and sneezed. When she looked up at the house roof, she saw gray smoke curling out of the fireplace chimney and down over her. One of those country scents, she probably could do without. Elizabeth moved on along the trail until she came to a fence line with a barbed wire gate in it.

  A steady, loud rumble came from the direction of the road. Bud, in a green tractor, was coming to check his cattle. He had a large bale of hay attached to the back of the tractor. He waved at her when he hopped out of the cab to open the gate. Once he drove the tractor through, he released the bale in the pasture, drove back out and closed the gate.

  “Morning, Lizzy. It sure is chipper out here this morning. Do you want a ride back to the house?” Bud pointed at the tractor cab's open door.

  Elizabeth paused. Do I look like a Lizzy? She thought better of making that cryptic comment out loud. She gave this farmer a hard enough time yesterday. While he was still speaking to her, she needed to get the wood billing explained to him. His overly friendly nature might stop if they got into an argument over her name. “I think I'd like that. I've never ridden in a tractor before,” she said as she put her foot on the step. Bud grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her inside. She perched on a narrow ledge beside the seat.

  When he came through the driver's door, Bud grinned. “Glad I'm your first time.” His breath came in rhythmic white plumes as he talked.

  The way he said it made her blush, but she couldn't tell from his friendly grin if he'd meant to embarrass her or not. She hated feeling uneasy around this man, but she didn't know how to take him. She looked out the window, hoping her face would quickly lose its flushed color.