by Sarina Bowen
“And Miriam?”
My stomach dropped, and I watched Caleb lick his lips. “She’s afraid. It sounds like they want her to marry soon.”
“Damn it,” Maggie swore under her breath. “I always hoped she’d find a way to marry you. I’ve been praying for that.”
I couldn’t even look at Caleb then.
“…I mean, I know they wouldn’t allow it,” she said quickly. “They don’t give girls like Miriam to a twenty year old just starting out.”
Daniel made an unhappy noise. “It kills me to hear you say ‘give girls like Miriam.’ You can’t give somebody.”
“But they do,” I argued. It came out more forcefully than I would have liked. But I felt I needed to defend poor Caleb.
Daniel gave an exaggerated shudder. “I know. But damn.”
“Do I want to know who is asking for her?” Maggie asked.
“Not really.” Caleb said, his voice low. “It’s Asher.”
“Christ on a cracker,” Maggie said. “We have to get her out of there.”
“I want to try,” Caleb agreed.
Nine
Maggie and Daniel’s farm was on a low, round hill. The barn was red, and set back from the road. A second outbuilding rose up in the rear, and the sign on it read Daniel Lacey’s Furniture. “Nice place,” I said as the truck came to a halt beside a white farmhouse. “Wow.”
“Oh, wait until a pipe bursts, or the wind starts blowing through the cracks in the walls,” Maggie laughed. “It’s cool and old, but it’s also old and cold. But we love it. Every creaky inch. Come and see.”
We stepped into a drafty little space that Maggie called the mud room, where all the shoes and jackets were hung. “We keep this door closed,” she said, opening the way into the kitchen, “because it keeps the drafts out.”
“Some of the drafts,” Daniel corrected.
The kitchen had wide plank pine floors, and an ancient refrigerator. But the cabinets and countertops looked new, and the other appliances gleamed. “We’re redoing this a little at a time,” she explained. “Daniel built all of the cabinetry.”
“Wow,” I said again. I was saying that a lot.
“Now, our room and the new baby’s room are upstairs. But down here there’s a living room,” she pointed toward the front of the house. “And your room is this way.” She turned toward the rear, and we followed.
“The laundry room is there,” she pointed toward the right as she passed a doorway.
“We could, uh, stand to use that,” I said.
She turned around, stopping our progress. “Any time, Josh. I’m not kidding. I mean for you to make yourselves at home. And I brought a couple of Daniel’s things downstairs…” she stepped into the room at the end of the hallway, “and left them on the bed. I think Josh can fit these clothes, but I’m not sure about Caleb. We’ll hit a Target store tomorrow or the next day.”
We all came to a stop in a sunlit room with a queen-sized bed and a blue quilt. “This dresser is empty,” she laid a hand on an antique piece of furniture, “for your things, when you have some. But there’s no closet, so I put that armoire against the wall. And the bathroom is the nicest part. See?”
There was a narrow little door in the corner. When I peered inside, I saw a sunny bathroom with a big clawfoot tub. “Nice.”
“We put that in ourselves. The laundry is on the other side of that wall, so the plumbing was easy.” She clapped her hands together. “Obviously, the only real drawback here is that there’s only one bed. For some reason it never occurred to me that the first people to show up would be two guys.”
There was a beat of silence while I wondered what to say. I’d been practically sleeping on Caleb these past two nights. But I’d never admit it. “Maggie, we’ll be fine. We shared a smaller room than this with four guys in it on the Compound. There’s plenty of room here.”
She tapped her chin. “I suppose one of you could sleep on the sofa if you weren’t comfortable.”
“There’s no problem,” Caleb said quickly. “We spent two nights in a truck, scared out of our minds. This is like heaven.”
“Okay. Caleb built this bed just for this room, and his parents have stayed here before. They live in California. But maybe if his business slows down, he could make a couple of twin beds. He’s pretty busy right now.”
“Busy is good,” I said, eager for the change of topic.
She lifted a pair of sweatpants off the bed and held them up to Caleb. “These will do, if only for laundry day.”
“You have no idea,” Caleb said, “how much this means to us.”
She tilted her head sideways and took in the both of us. “Actually, I do. Someday I’ll tell you about my runaway days. But right now, I have to make some lunch. Help yourselves to the washing machine.”
Caleb and I closed the door to our room and changed into Daniel’s clothes. I put on the jeans, which fit me well, as long as I turned up the cuffs once. It was great to pull on clean socks, even if poor Daniel’s closet had been raided on our behalf.
I gathered up all our stale-smelling laundry in my arms, and Caleb put his hand on the doorknob. When I came close, he kissed my cheek. “We’re going to be okay,” he said. “You know that, right?”
“Yeah. Even if this is weird.”
He opened the door, and then the two of us went into the laundry room to puzzle over the settings on Maggie’s washing machine. “The choices are normal, casual, or delicate,” Caleb said. “Which one, do you think?”
I dropped my voice. “We’re definitely not normal.”
Caleb snickered. “Casual?”
“Sure?”
“Fine. But now we need to pick hot, warm, or cold.”
“Um…?”
Maggie poked her head in the room, grinning. “I just realized that you would have no idea how to operate a washer. Did you put in soap?”
Caleb shook his head. “Didn’t get up to that part, yet.”
“How funny are you two? I forget, honestly. It’s been five years. I forget that a man never touches a washer at the Compound, or sets foot in the kitchen. Now I get to teach you both to cook, right? It’s a life skill. And it will amuse me.” She giggled to herself, grabbing a bottle of detergent off the floor. “Fill it just to here,” she showed me a line on the cap. “And let’s see… those settings are fine. Pull that dial out to start it.”
I gave the dial a tug, and felt the washer kick into motion. And it felt like the start of a whole new life.
Ten
Dear Washington,
THANK YOU for all your help!
We have arrived safely at Maggie and Daniel’s place. Things are a little hectic because they are expecting their first baby in just a couple of weeks. But Maggie promises that we aren’t underfoot, and we’re welcome to stay as long as we need to.
Caleb is anxious to find a job right away. But all the garages in the area are a thirty minute drive in various directions, and he has to borrow Maggie’s car or Daniel’s truck if he wants to visit them. So it’s taking him a while.
In the meantime, Caleb is learning how to use Daniel’s computer, and I’m learning how to milk cows. Since I can’t get a job yet (I have no ID, and no transportation,) I want to help Daniel and Maggie in the barn as much as I can.
I enjoy it, actually. Cows are good company. They look forward to seeing me at milking time, and they never get too ruffled about anything. Daniel sells his raw milk to an organic yogurt maker down the road, who picks it up every morning at ten.
When the baby comes, Daniel and Maggie are going to have their hands full, so I figure milking is the least I can do.
That’s all our news, I guess. It might not sound like much, but we’re ridiculously happy to be here. Thank you for all your help. I have no idea how we would have made it here without you. Caleb used Google to calculate that you drove us 1,750 miles.
We appreciate every one of them.
* * *
Sincerely,
> Joshua Royce
Eleven
Dear Josh,
I am so happy to hear how well you’re doing. When I got home, I told my wife Brenda all about you two. She said you sounded like nice boys.
That was tricky of Caleb to leave me his money. Would you thank him for me?
I never wanted money, though. But there is something you can do for me. When you run across someone who needs help, just do the same for him. Maybe it will take a while before you figure out who that will be. Just keep your eyes open, okay?
Don’t be a stranger. Let me know how you’re doing. I like hearing from you.
* * *
George Washington
(That’s my real name. Don’t laugh too hard.)
Part Two
The Gospel According to Caleb
Twelve
OUR FIRST DAYS with Maggie and Daniel were filled with small awkwardnesses, as Josh and I tried to figure out how to fit into their lives.
Daniel had his carpentry workshop out back, and he spent his working hours there. But in the evenings, he must have found his own house crowded.
After supper, we all watched television in the living room. “Think of it as cultural education,” Maggie said. The first night, she had us all watching a show she liked about a bunch of rich, stuffy British people. But Josh and I had never had a television, so we were happy to watch anything.
The next night was Daniel’s pick, and he put on a football game. “We have to teach you to be Patriots fans,” he said during the commercial break.
But football had a million rules, and just when things got going, all the players would end up in a heap on the turf. Everything stopped while the camera focused on ornery looking coaches, with their earphones on, and gum in their mouths. The announcers would say a whole lot of nothing, and show the play seventeen more times, in slow motion.
The best part of football, as far as I could tell, was all those muscular athletes running around in very tight pants.
During a commercial, Maggie wandered in and sat down beside her husband, lowering her round body into the sofa with a deep sigh.
“Hey, babe. Can you get me a beer?” Daniel asked, giving her a nudge with his elbow.
Now, I thought it was pretty cold of him to wait until Maggie had gotten comfortable. But even so, what happened next surprised me. Maggie smacked Daniel in the chest and said, “you asshole.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Josh brace himself.
But Daniel just tipped his head back and laughed. Then he jumped off the sofa. “I’m going to get a drink, does anyone need anything?”
“I’m fine,” Maggie said. “But you’re scaring Josh and Caleb.”
“Why? Because beer is a sin?”
She shook her head. “Because they expected you to backhand me for calling you an asshole.”
It was true. In Paradise, the women waited on their husbands. Always. And backtalk resulted in punishment.
“Jeez.” Daniel put a hand on his wife’s head. “You can call me whatever you want, babe. Just don’t call me late for supper.” He disappeared into the kitchen, then reappeared a few minutes later with three bottles of beer and a glass of water for his pregnant wife.
Even though I was feeling bad about living off of Daniel, I accepted the beer. “This will be my first one,” I said.
His eyes went wide. “Ever?”
“Ever.”
He shook his head. “Wow. I’m honored.”
Maggie put her hand on his knee. “A long time ago I said that I hoped you’d meet more of us. Because then you’d understand me better.”
He took a deep gulp of his beer. “It does clear a few things up. It does.”
“Do you two remember Isaac and Leah Abraham?” Maggie asked us. “You must have been pretty young when they ran away from Paradise.”
“Sort of,” I said. “I mean, I know the Abrahams family. But they don’t talk about Isaac.”
“Of course they don’t. The Compound doesn’t like to admit its failures.” Maggie smiled. “Isaac and Leah are married, and they have the cutest toddler. They live in Vermont, about ninety miles from here. I talk to them a couple times a year. And guess who showed up on their doorstep one day? Zachariah Holtz.”
“No way!” I said, laughing. “I love that guy. He talked me through my first oil change.”
Josh snorted beside me. “Oh, the memories.”
“Stop,” I said, chuckling. “Zach’s departure was the reason I got my cushy garage job. I always wondered what happened to him.”
“He’s working on a farm just down the road from Isaac and Leah,” Maggie said. It’s a big apple orchard.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“It took him a year to find his footing,” Maggie said quietly. “It takes all of us a while to figure out where we’re headed next. So don’t panic, okay?”
“Okay,” I said slowly. “Thank you.”
I’d probably panic, though. A year was a long time to impose, even on someone as nice as Maggie.
* * *
Life got a little more comfortable as the four of us developed something of a household rhythm.
The cows were milked early in the morning and then again in the late afternoon. Although Josh had never shown much interest in the beef steers on the Compound, he took a shine to the dozen Jerseys that Daniel and Maggie kept. Each morning when I woke up, Josh was already outside, helping with the milking.
Sometimes I went out there with them, especially in the afternoon. But it wasn’t for the sake of the cows. I loved watching Josh handle them. “Come here, pretty girl,” he’d say, leading a big-eyed Jersey to the milking post. As his long, patient fingers nudged their flanks along, the cows blinked their long lashes at him.
After milking, Josh would come into the house smelling of a mix of sweet hay and clean sweat. I was aching for him, all the time. But every night we climbed into that bed together, Josh always kept to his own side of the mattress.
“Aren’t you going to come over here and kiss me?” I asked the first night.
“Not in Maggie’s house,” he whispered. “They could hear.”
“Hear a kiss?” I’d pressed.
But he didn’t answer. He just turned his back to me.
This bothered me. A lot.
I didn’t ask again, even though I wanted to. If that’s how he needed things to be, I wasn’t going to force the issue. So I stayed on my own pillow when we turned out the lights.
In the middle of the night, though, I would sometimes wake up to find Josh curled up to me, his long leg thrown over mine, his arm across my waist. I could bury my nose in his hair, and hold him. A sleeping Josh was an affectionate Josh. Since it was all I got from him, it would have to do for now.
But when morning came, I always woke up alone. And he did his level best not to undress me with his eyes anymore. (I never should have told him that I’d noticed.)
What kept me sane during these early days was my belief that our stay at Maggie and Daniel’s was temporary. I knew I was employable as a mechanic. All I needed was a job — any job — and then we could make our way forward.
But finding work proved tricky. Since the Runaway Farm was in a rural area, that meant a twenty minute drive to the nearest grocery, and a thirty minute drive to any of a few different automotive shops. And I didn’t have a vehicle. So if I wanted to go anywhere, I had to borrow the truck, or Maggie’s little Prius.
Then, when I managed to find the garage in question, they were always busy. “Come back in the early afternoon sometime,” I was told by one shop. “Come back on a Thursday,” another suggested.
Yet with Maggie expecting her baby soon, it was a busy time. She took us clothes shopping. Maggie put our new things on her credit card, which I hated.
“You can’t get a job without clothes,” she argued. “It isn’t all that much money.”
But that simply wasn’t true. Every day that I couldn’t work we were living off their cash.
We ate their food, wore clothes they’d bought, and washed them with Maggie’s supply of laundry soap. I felt as though I was digging a deep hole, with no way to fill it.
Josh seemed calmer than I felt. He milked cows, and he helped Maggie paint an old rocking chair she’d bought for the baby’s room.
From late morning to early evening, Daniel worked by himself. “He’s trying to finish a bunch of pieces before the baby comes,” Maggie told us. “Because it’s going to be hectic around here.”
I asked Daniel if there was anything I could help him with in the shop, but he usually turned me down, unless there was sanding to do. “I would love to train you for more. But I’m on such a tear right now that I can’t even stop to do that. Maybe after the baby comes.”
Though I hoped I’d have a paying job by then. One garage I visited had asked me to fill out an application. So now I couldn’t stop listening for the phone to ring, and it made me feel edgy.
Meanwhile, Maggie was making plans for childbirth. “I’m not going to do this at home, like the women at the Compound. When the baby comes, I’ll be away for two nights, at the hospital in North Adams,” Maggie told us.
We’d already noticed the doctor’s phone number on the refrigerator. The big note tacked up there read, IN CASE OF EMERGENCY: MAGGIE’S DOCTOR, with a phone number.
“… And Daniel’s parents will fly out at some point. So you’ll meet them.”
“We can sleep on the couch,” I said quickly.
Maggie shook her head. “See, you’re not sleeping in the guest room. That’s your room. His parents can stay at the Bed and Breakfast in town.”
“But…” Josh tried.
“No,” she said with some force. “You’re not listening. I made that room for a reason. I had a really shitty time after I ran away from the Compound.”