by Slimpoet
Chapter Fourteen
A truck ambled up the Henley’s driveway and stopped. Two figures emerged. One bouncing around to the other side and taking the hand of a larger limping figure that exited the driver’s side.
“Nice and slow Daddy.”
Herman looked down at this girl of his and smiled,
“Thanks for the help, Mary. You were brave out there when we went off that slippery road.”
“Yes and I was too small to help you push the truck but I did turn the steering wheel.”
“Honey, I’ll get to my recliner in the living room and rest. You go and make yourself a sandwich.”
They moved slowly up the steps to the kitchen door. Once inside, Herman made his way to his favorite reclining chair in the living room and let his mass just sink into its support. With a big sigh he pulled a lever on the side and laid back. His eyes then came to the ceiling and then a ladder. There was Michelle, paintbrush in hand, staring at him. Her eyes were wide open. Herman spoke,
“Honey, you didn’t say a thing. What are you doing up there?”
“Herm. Angie gave me this great idea for the ceiling. Hope you approve. You did before.”
“Michelle, I did say it was your ceiling. I’m not retracting that. By the way, Mary is in the kitchen making a sandwich. She’s feeling proud about helpin’ her dad get the truck out of the snow bank.”
Suddenly steps came bounding down the stairway.
“Michelle, I just got the greatest idea how you can do what you want.”
Angie stopped and saw Herman rubbing his back and then Michelle going down the ladder to him.
“Sorry Mr. Henley. Are you all right? Hurt your back?”
“Yeah. Pushing that truck out of a snow bank looking for those crazy kids. But now, my favorite chair and some Michelle applied liniment will help a lot.”
Angie continued down and headed for the ladder.
“Michelle, Mrs. Henley, has a real knack with the paintbrush. Thought I’d help her with some technical tips. She’s got a great idea for those clouds.”
By then Michelle was off for some liniment.
Angie asked, “How’s the situation at the Foster’s place?”
“Angie, I never made it out there. But, Dan Foster called me on the cell phone. He’s mad at me now. Said they were all fine. Everyone’s there for the night. So, it’s going to be nice and quiet tonight at the Henley household.”
Angie’s eyes wandered off for a second. Then Herm sat up.
“Oh, Luke’s okay. Guess he gave Matt an earful about taking responsibility for others.”
Angie sat down on a ladder step,
“Guess I need some quiet time too. Michelle and I can work on the ceiling.”
Michelle returned with a liniment bottle in hand and a roll of paper under an arm.
“O.K. Herm you lay down on the bed in the spare room and I’ll be in shortly.”
Herman grappled with his aching back and hobbled off out of the living room. Michelle watched Herman and then turned to Angie,
“Angie, you set up these new paints of yours while I work on Herm.”
Back at the Foster’s place, Meg Foster commands,
“O.K. All the men outa’ here and into the livin’ room. Mark you can stay and help me cook.”
Mark frowned. “Aren’t I a man too?”
“Honey, I want you to watch the baby. We’ll put Orion in the baby-swing over there.”
Mark looked at the part of Orion not covered by Stella’s breast-feeding tent. He chuckled and turned a bit red,
“I’ll wait for Orion to finish his dinner Mrs. Foster.”
He went over and checked out the baby-swing. Meg moved into her lifelong farm wife’s cooking routine.
Stella rolled her eyes at her mother.
“Mom! Don’t go cooking some big fancy meal.”
“Honey, I’m just happy you all are safe and sound.”
The Foster living room was filled with every reminder of an Irish heritage one could imagine: crocheted home scenes in wooden frames, delicate doilies on every flat surface and faded photos of long dead Ireland family.
And there they were, the three men. Luke and Matt sat on opposite ends of a heavily stuffed leather sofa with carved wooden highlights and Dan Foster sat on his favorite rocking chair. The back of this chair rose above his head and had a large shamrock carved into it that became a Celtic halo above his head.
“Well boys. Which of you thinks you know the most about women and marriage?”
The sofa figures glanced at one another, shrugged and looked down in perfect timing. Dan Foster continued,
“That says a lot to me. But, Luke you’re older I’m sure. You were pretty full of strong words for Matt here.” He looked Matt’s way and continued,
“Maybe you are speaking from experience?”
Luke leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and slowly rubbed his hands.
“I was married. My wife, Angie, got pregnant. But soon the marriage went sour. My folks could never leave their prejudices behind about her being a mulatto, despite their wanting to sound modern. Angie is an independent person and gave back exactly what my folks threw at her. I have never had any real focus in my life. Angie knew that she wanted to be a performer and to sell her art. I was content to remain a low-level paper jockey in some office. So a baby did not fit that picture. I said yes to Angie’s desire for an abortion. At that time, I was sure it was her desire and so I didn’t disagree. So, whatever the kid may have turned out to be--- it never did. I don’t like telling this story to you, a stranger at that.”
Dan Foster rose up and looked at him,
“We all do the best we can. It may seem weak or whatever but, it’s what we can do at the time.” He focused on Matt who was lying back in the sofa.
“That goes for you too young man. Just don’t kill my kin before I die.“
“Matt stared at the ceiling. This one had no artwork to distract him. A silence hung there, only broken by the rocker rubbing the floor and the squeaking of leather under the restless sofa occupants.
In the Foster kitchen country cooking smells filled the air. Stella and Meg looked proudly at the table covered with food.
“Well honey we have not done this together in a long time; maybe since last summer before you got pregnant?”
Meg sat down and pulled Stella’s arm to follow her,
“Stella, you’re the youngest. We’ve got your three brothers out the door and makin’ lives for themselves. You’re the only Foster woman of child bearing age and you’re special to us. And I love you regardless of all that stuff today.”
She sat back, looked Stella in the eyes and smiled,
“Do you love Matt?”
Stella looked over at Orion and Mark,
“I’ve already forgiven him for that stupid action. And no I did not partake of the dope. Is that what you mean?”
“Some of your brothers did stupid acts when Matt’s age. Fortunately they survived. Dad and I forgave them, but if one hadn’t survived, the grief would have been around for a long time.”
“Mom I’d like to get married. But Matt’s full of desires. He wants to travel, go to college be famous. Matt’s not ready to settle down and I feel kinda’ trapped myself. Mom, is there some way for us to be young and still be good parents?”
“Dan and I got married at 19. Still pretty young. Well, he went and fought in Vietnam. I guess he was happy just to be alive and return home. I had some time with the girls and traveled a bit till your father returned. Then we bought this farm. That seemed to fit the times.”
Stella leaned toward her mother,
“I don’t see Matt and me on a farm. I know you and Dad are not doin’ so well. Guess you might just sell and move to town?”
“That’s another topic Stella. Don’t start your dad on that one. He’ll just get wound up about the agriculture conglomerates. Well, might as well call in the men.”
Meg looked Mark’s w
ay,
“Son, you want to eat or are you too full of cookies?”
Mark did not answer. He and the baby were fast asleep. Meg and Stella took both of them upstairs to continue their sleep and then returned to the kitchen. Meg leaned out the door to the living room and called.
“Come and get it!”
While mother and daughter waited, Meg looked out a window, her mind in a far off place. She smiled and then looked back at Stella,
“He can go his way. You know that us and the Henley’s are family for you. Orion has a lot in his favor.”
“But, will he have a father, Mom?”
“Grandpas can be fathers too. And two of them can do pretty well. It was more that way in the past. Families were big and kids had more than one father, you might say. Families were big and lived nearby. Yes there were some headaches to deal with but, in any group of people that’s true.”
Stella’s eyes turned to the window above the sink. She looked at the sprouting potato in the used jelly jar. It had a long green vine wrapped up upon the sill. She smiled at the baby leaves. This was an old family tradition.