THE HOMEPLACE

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Old Man Jenkins? Why, he’s a moonshiner!”

  “I reckon he does make shine, and maybe that’s why he wanted the bottles.”

  Lanie stared at Maeva in despair. “We can’t sell bottles to moonshiners!”

  “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with it.”

  “It’s against the law to make moonshine!”

  “It’s not against the law to sell bottles. It’s none of my business what he does with them.”

  “You got to stop it, Maeva.”

  “Well, I ain’t going to. We’re gonna keep this place, no matter what we have to do. You said that your own self, Lanie. Now, I’m goin’ out to get more bottles.” She dashed out of the room without another word.

  Lanie looked down at the seven dollars. “Lord, I reckon it’s wrong, but I don’t know how to stop her. Just watch out for her and don’t let her get hurt.”

  The bank’s board consisted of seven members. As they sat around the long table in the conference room of Planter’s Bank, Effie Johnson studied each one carefully. As she had expected, Otis Langley had proposed as the first item of business that the bank foreclose on the Freeman property.

  “We’d be within our rights,” Langley said. “They didn’t make their last payment, so I’m proposing that we take action at once.”

  A fairly hot and heavy discussion ensued. The lawyer Orrin Pierce, Sentinel owner Elspeth Patton, and Mayor Phineas Delaughter stood with Effie against the motion. Mortician Zeno Bruten and theater owner Francis Butterworth, dependent upon Langley’s financial support, sided with Langley.

  When Effie saw that a vote would favor Lanie’s family, she said, “All in favor of extending clemency to the Freeman children, raise your hand.”

  As she had expected, Orrin, Elspeth, and Phineas raised their hands.

  “No sense taking another vote. It’s four to three.”

  Otis Langley disliked being crossed. His face grew red, and he stared at the three members of the board who had voted to show mercy. “We’re a business here, not a charity! I’m sorry for the Freeman children, but they’ve got to face the facts.”

  “The fact is,” Orrin said vehemently, “that those kids are practically orphans. I’m not a Christian myself, but I know what the Bible says about anybody who picks on widows and orphans, and I won’t have any part of it!”

  “This is business, Orrin!” Langley insisted.

  “We’ve got to give them all the leeway we can, Otis,” Elspeth said. “It’s not going to break this bank to extend the loan a little bit. They’ve paid the interest. That’s more than others have done, isn’t it, Effie?”

  “Yes, it is. They’re trying hard.”

  “Trying won’t do it!” Langley said. “You know and I know that with their father in prison, they can’t make enough money to live on, much less pay this note. Now, I’ve offered to buy their place, and I’ll pay them enough to pay off the note and have some cash left!”

  “Where would they live?” Elspeth demanded. “We can’t take their home away from them.”

  Langley managed to lower his voice. “I don’t want to be hard about this, but you know what’s happening in this country. A lot of good people are losing their homes. A lot of businesses are closing, and it’s going to get worse. Their best chance is to take my offer, and I think those of you who know them should encourage them to take the money they can get.”

  “I’ll never change my vote,” Orrin said.

  Langley looked at Phineas, and the mayor became flustered. “We’ll just have to see how it comes out,” he said.

  After the meeting was over, Orrin whispered to Effie, “He’ll try to put the pressure on Phineas. If he can get him to change his vote, he’ll get his way.”

  Effie sighed. “We’ll have to convince Phineas to stand firm.”

  “All right, everybody, listen to me,” Cody said. He had come home with a flat square box in his hand, which he set aside until after supper. When the dishes were washed, Cody put the box on the table and grinned from ear to ear. “Our worries are over! We’re gonna make it fine with my new invention.”

  “What is it this time?” Maeva said wearily. “A perpetual motion machine?”

  “No, it’s something practical, and it’s all my idea.”

  “What is it, Cody?” Lanie asked. She had little hope that Cody’s idea would be as great as he thought. “What have you got in that box?”

  “What I’ve got in this box is what’s going to save this place.”

  “What is it?” Davis said. “You been walking around grinning like a possum for two or three days now.”

  “I’ve been getting it just right and now I’ve got it.” He pulled the lid off the box and pulled out a white object. “This is it, folks.” He put it down on the table. “Feast your eyes!”

  Maeva reached out and touched it. “It’s a round piece of wood with a hole in the middle. What’s it for?”

  The object was oval and painted white. It was smooth and rounded on top, but as Lanie picked it up she saw that it was flat underneath.

  “It’s a seat of some kind.”

  “That’s exactly what it is, but what kind of a seat? Can’t you see?

  That’s what makes a genius. We see stuff other people can’t.”

  “Well, what kind of stuff? Are you gonna make a chair for it to fit in?” Maeva asked, a puzzled look on her face.

  “No. Just look at it. Can’t you tell what it fits?”

  “I can’t tell anything about it. What is it?” Davis said with some irritation.

  “It fits your bottom. That’s what it fits.”

  “What are you talking about?” Lanie exclaimed. “You shouldn’t be talking like that at the table.”

  “Well, we ain’t eatin’ and it don’t matter anyway. You all know what outhouses are like, a flat board with maybe two holes in it, and most of the time those boards are rough and got splinters. What this is an outhouse seat. You fasten it down over the hole with screws. See how smooth it is and how much better it’d be to sit on this thing than on those old splintery boards.”

  Maeva began to laugh. “You are crazy, Cody! I’ll admit it might be a little more comfortable, but how is this going to make us rich?”

  “We’re gonna sell ’em!” Cody announced. “How many houses are there in Fairhope?”

  “I have no idea,” Lanie said, “but we can’t—”

  “There must be at least five hundred, and every one of ’em has got an outhouse, and most of ’em are two-holers. That’s a thousand seats it would take, and you can’t tell me people won’t spend a few dollars once they see the advantages of it.”

  “You know, your ideas are usually nutty, but this one may have some-thin’,” Davis said. He took the seat and ran his hand over the smooth surface. “How’d you make this thing anyway? How’d you get the hole in it and make it so smooth and round?”

  “Well, I got this idea—that’s what geniuses do, you know. Then I got some scrap lumber from the mill and glued it up until it was as wide as a seat. When it was all dry, I went to Mr. Schwartz’s carpentry shop and told him what I wanted. He let me use his band saw, and I sawed it out into an oval, and he showed me how to cut the center out. Then he showed me how to shape it, make it all nice and round. At first we used hand planes, don’t you know, then Mr. Schwartz figured out a way to use one of his machines to round it off. The hard part’s sandin’ ’em to make ’em smooth. He’s got a sander there that’s just right.”

  “We can’t do a thing like that!” Lanie protested. “It’s not genteel.”

  “Genteel my foot!” Maeva said, and her eyes flashed. “I think Cody’s got a good thing here. Don’t tell me you like to put your bare bottom on them old splintery boards, Lanie.”

  “I wish you’d stop talkin’ like that. It’s not nice,” Lanie said weakly.

  “You don’t have to worry about sellin’ ’em. I already sold six. I’m makin’ ’em right now,” Cody said. “I’m gettin’ four dollars
apiece. I have to pay Mr. Schwartz a dollar apiece for using his machinery.”

  “Who’d you sell ’em to?” Maeva demanded.

  “Mr. Pink, Mr. Stockwell, and Chief Hathcock. They were tickled with ’em. They all got two-holers, and they each ordered two. So there you are. We’re in business!”

  “Those were all men!” Lanie said in disgust. “You couldn’t talk to a lady about this.”

  “Well, shoot, I can!” Maeva said. “I can go to the women, and Davis and Cody can go to the men.”

  “You’ll all have to help me make ’em. They take lots of fine sanding and then we have to paint ’em. We’ll have to set up a place out in the barn or somewhere where the paint will be nice and smooth.” Cody overflowed with ideas, and Lanie watched Maeva and Davis get caught up in them.

  Finally Maeva dealt Cody a sharp blow on the shoulder. “Brother,” she said, “I’ll never say anything about your inventions again. We’re in business!”

  Lanie could not believe this was happening. She protested feebly. “We can’t sell seats for outhouses. It wouldn’t be decent.”

  “Sure it would,” Cody said. “Maybe we can borrow some money and buy our own equipment so we don’t have to pay Mr. Schwartz.”

  Lanie stamped her foot. “No, we’re not borrowing any more money!” She looked around and saw the three staring at her and knew she was defeated. “All right, but I mean it about the money. You just wait. You know what they’ll be calling us, don’t you?”

  “What?” Cody demanded.

  “Probably ‘The Outhouse Kids.’”

  “I don’t care what they call us as long as we make enough money to keep our place,” Cody said.

  Lanie began to laugh. “All right. You did good, Cody.” She gave him a big hug. “We might be called worse, but if it’ll keep our place, I don’t care.”

  The room was full of talk, Cody expounding on the production, and Maeva talking about getting samples to show. She said, “When we get all of Fairhope supplied, we can go on over to Rosewood. They got as many outhouses as we have. Why, the world is full of outhouses!”

  Lanie found herself smiling.

  Lanie’s eyes were red with fatigue, but she felt a surge of pride. “This is the longest poem I ever wrote,” she whispered. She read over the lines with pleasure, for it was not only the longest poem she’d ever written but maybe the best. She read it softly, dramatizing the lines she had labored over for a week.

  Shepherd

  Well, here’s Jerusalem, and I am home.

  That shop I left last year for good, will

  Be my tomb. But then, it’s not a bad old box,

  And since I’ve done my fifty years and two

  Enclosed within those peeling walls, just let

  Them bury me right here when time wags out.

  It’s late, and there’s my window in the shadow.

  Almost I see myself spinning endless rugs

  Forever there—but no, I need not see a ghost

  So many stranger things I’ve seen of late.

  Tomorrow Tychicus will jibe at me:

  Well, well, our wealthy herdsman is returned!

  But where is the gold those sheep were going to bring?

  He never understood it was not money

  Which bade me close my shop, turn all my cash

  To sheep, and drove me from my buried life.

  My city-cluttered eyes I craved to rest

  Just once on clear, unbroken desert space

  Sweeping off to hidden continents

  While sweet, unbroken silence touched my ears.

  For months my eyes were washed by canyons burnt

  To crimson cinders, daubed with smears of

  Yellow blooms. I saw the searing pale-blue skies

  Of noon grow coolly dark, then turn to sheets

  Of purple silk across the glittering sky.

  If I cannot explain my going forth

  Much less then my return. For who’d

  Believe I’ve seen the heavens peopled

  Thick as Jerusalem itself at noon.

  Shouting wildly, “Glory to God in the highest!”

  Oh, how that cry shook heaven, earth—and me!

  Or who’d believe the brightest of the host

  Gave me command: “Go find the Christ of God!”

  I heard, obeyed, and stumbling on these legs

  So shrunk with age, outran my lad until

  We found the child, then breathless fell

  Struck sudden dumb by what that stable held!

  When we returned, the wild Judean dogs

  Had slaughtered every sheep and every lamb.

  So I am back. Tomorrow I’ll begin

  My little life, and some will laugh. But yet

  There’s always this—it isn’t every birth

  That brings the angels overhead to shout!

  Some sheep I lost, but had I stayed for them

  All else were lost—but now my treasure’s sure:

  One night—just for a while—I saw the King!

  Lanie sighed, for her life was now so hard, but she found pleasure in working on her poems. She closed her eyes and prayed, “Lord, I hope you like my poem. I did it for You.”

  C H A P T E R 18

  As they sat down for the evening meal, Cody offered to give thanks. “Dear Lord, we thank You for our new business. Lord, this idea come from You. And, Lord, we all thank You . . . for the money and for how much better it feels to sit down in the outhouse.”

  “Cody!” exclaimed Lanie as Maeva and Davis chuckled, “you can’t pray like that.”

  “It’s what I think, and I mean it, Lanie!”

  “You just use better language at the table, young man.”

  Cody bowed his head and continued, “Anyway, Lord, thanks for this here food. Bless Lanie’s hands for making it. Amen.”

  “Lanie,” Davis chided, as he scooped mashed potatoes onto his plate, “you gotta admit, them seats do make the outhouse comfortable.”

  “What I will admit is that I’m still surprised that they are selling so well.”

  “Yep,” said Cody, putting gravy on his potatoes. “And not just here, but in nearby towns.”

  “I can’t wait to tell Daddy about the business!” Lanie declared.

  “You ain’t wrote and told him about The Outhouse Gang?” Davis asked, surprised.

  “No, I want to tell him in person. And”—Lanie looked at Cody—“I want to take one to show him.”

  “Heck, we all ought to go. After all, we’re all in the gang,” Cody remarked. “Seems like we all ought to tell him.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Lanie countered.

  “Well, I do,” retorted Davis as he ladled gravy on his potatoes. “I vote we all go with you this month. You’re driving really good, Lanie, and there’s enough room if we all squeeze in.”

  “I’ll need to pray about that before I decide. All right?”

  Maeva placed a piece of pot roast on her plate and passed the meat plate to Davis. “I think Daddy’s going to be plum excited to know about the business and that it’s allowing us to pay more and more each month on the note.”

  Lanie put her fork down.

  “What’s the matter, Lanie?” asked Davis. “You look like you just heard something bad.”

  “I don’t know if I should tell you all.”

  “What?” cried the children in unison.

  Lanie wiped her mouth with her napkin. “I saw Miss Johnson at the store today. She told me the board is getting more and more nervous about our paying interest only. She suggested we do everything we can to make the full note in July. If we don’t, she can’t guarantee us that Mr. Langley won’t foreclose.”

  Dr. Owen Merritt wiped his mouth and neatly trimmed beard with the embroidered linen napkin. “Mrs. Langley, you’ve outdone yourself. That has to be the finest meal I’ve had since I arrived in Fairhope.”

  “We’re so glad you could join us, Dr. Merritt,” Martha Langley said. Ow
en thought that her clear blue eyes and beautiful smile gave her a classy appearance. He had enjoyed getting to know her as he had begun to court her daughter Louise. The rumors around town weren’t really of any bother to him—after all, he wasn’t sure he’d be here that much longer anyway. He glanced at Louise, who was smiling at him. She had her mother’s eyes and fair skin, but was blond. Louise taught music in Fort Smith and had access to the finer families in the area.

  “Miss Langley, do you think you’ll return to Fort Smith to teach this fall?” Owen asked.

  Louise put her napkin on her plate and furrowed her brow. “Well, I do need to discuss this with my mother and father, but I’m thinking of relocating to New York City to continue my training.”

  “Hear, hear,” snorted Mr. Langley. “Louise, I think that would be fabulous. I have a friend at the music conservatory there. The training is world class, as is your voice.”

  Louise smiled at Owen. “Daddy’s just too kind.”

  “No, no! It’s true, Dr. Merritt. This lady’s voice is the envy of the angels,” he said, his chest puffed out in pride.

  Mrs. Langley took a sip of water. “Otis, I’m not sure it’s proper for a single woman to travel to such a big city. It might not look right.”

  Mr. Langley reached over and patted her forearm. “Now, now, darling. It’s more and more common in these modern times. Besides, the conservatory has a dorm for the women with houseparents and very strict rules. Not that our Louise would need rules.”

  Louise’s brother Roger said, “I’m not sure it’s safe for a single woman to travel alone on the train these days—not even in a private compartment.”

  “Hogwash, son!” exclaimed his father. “Nothing could be further from the truth. Why just last year Cassandra Sue Pruitt traveled to New York City to study at the city library. Remember?”

  Everyone nodded and he continued, “She took a private compartment and said she felt safe every inch of the trip. And Henrietta Green took the train to Memphis to get her phone company training.”