The Long Road Home

by Mary Alice Monroe

  It was obvious the garden was aging, like May herself. The once-sharp edges were no longer straight, brush and chokecherry had reclaimed the borders, the raised beds were tilting and rotted, and some of the perennial beds had long since given up to volunteer tomatoes. The size and scale of this garden called for a young, vigorous woman, not an old, obese diabetic. It probably pained the avid gardener every time she saw her once beautiful garden gone to seed.

  “I’m coming,” she heard May calling. Nora heard heavy footfalls and a jiggle of the handle, then the door swung open. May was dressed in what was called a duster, a loose-fitting, pastel-colored kind of dress that barely covered May’s shape.

  “Well, hello! You finally made it!” May exclaimed. May always made declarations in a loud, enthusiastic voice, giving the impression that she didn’t care who could hear what she had to say.

  “Come on in. Just shoo that dog away,” she said, brushing away a pepper-and-salt-colored mutt with a dish towel.

  May stepped aside and Nora stepped up, squeezing past her into the trailer. Inside it was small but not cramped, and amazingly well organized. Nora expected to see a shabby room, given the run-down appearance of the outside. May’s home was instead dainty. White dotted-swiss curtains with pale lavender trim fluttered at the small screened windows. Her two metal-legged chairs and her double bed were covered in the pastel multicolored quilt pattern, Round the World, that May was well known for. On the shelves, tables, anywhere she could put them, were potted plants and cactus in old tea cups, clay pots, and canning jars.

  “I brought you some bread,” Nora said, handing her several loaves, still warm. “I haven’t gotten the kinks out of my kitchen yet, so I hope it’s good. I’ll bring you more, if you like.”

  “I would indeed. Now sit down. Wait; let me clear this wool out of the way.” May huffed over and grabbed an armful of gray wool out of the chair and tossed it on the sofa.

  Nora sat quietly at the small round table while May put some water in the kettle. It made her uncomfortable to hear May’s heavy breaths, and she worried that she shouldn’t have arrived unannounced.

  “I won’t stay long.”

  “Don’t rush off. I’m just doing my spinning.”

  Nora noticed the small, compact wheel beside May’s chair. “I’ve never seen a spinning wheel like that.” She reached out a tentative hand to touch it. The golden wood was smooth. Instantly, Nora was mesmerized by the yellow wood black-trimmed tool that sat waist high. She wondered what it would feel like to feel wool slide between your fingers.

  “It’s a new design. Works like a charm. Here, I’ll show you.”

  To Nora’s delight, May delivered a brief lesson in the art of spinning. She attached a small clump of wool to the yarn by stretching the fibers out with the wheel. Pull, pull, spin, spin. The operation was amazingly easy and efficient, or at least May made it look that way. When Nora had a turn at it, her samples of yarn turned fat and irregular as compared to May’s thin, even ones. Nora watched in awe as May’s stubby fingers flew over the wool, nimble and quick.

  “Some spinners like their wool clean, but it’s easier to spin in the grease. Feel the difference.”

  Nora rubbed the two wool samples between her fingers. The natural lanolin did indeed have a greasy feel and looked like a clumped tail. The cleaned wool was softer, airy, like fine, brushed human hair.

  “Is there much business in this?” Nora asked, already scheming.

  “Some. More when you’re good.”

  Nora made a snap decision. The instinctive, gut-level kind that she was good at. “I’m going to learn to do this,” she said. “I’ve got the wool and God knows, up in that house all winter, I’ll have the time.”

  May looked up and slowed her spinning. “You’ll be tough competition.” A smile snuck out of the folds of fat.

  May’s head ducked back down toward her spinning. Nora beamed. In her lap, her fingers imitated May’s every move. Gradually, as she gauged May’s pace, Nora began handing her bits of wool to spin. The two women spun wool and tales over the next hour.

  They talked about Nora’s garden and what she should plant. May declared she would draw up the plans herself. They discussed Sarah, Seth’s younger daughter, and whether she’d marry again and give those two babies a daddy. Sarah lived in a mobile home minutes from Seth. Her ex-husband, Zach, lived in their house down the road.

  “Kissing distance away,” May mumbled with disgust.

  “Why don’t they just get back together? I met him today and Zach’s a great guy.”

  “Yeh-up, he is.” May slowed her spinning and her eyes looked up with intent. “You ever seen Timmy? Her second born?”

  “The one with the dark curly hair?”

  May nodded gravely, pursed her lips, and went back to her spinning.

  Nora continued feeding May the wool, thinking of little Timmy, always so curious and determined to get into trouble, and his sister Grace, with her carrot red pigtails. Then it dawned on her. Blond Sarah, red-haired Zach, red-haired Grace, and then little Timmy as dark haired and brown eyed as a deer.

  “Oh,” she replied.

  “Uh-huh,” May mumbled, her lips curled tight around her gums.

  The spinning wheel spun while Nora thought that she still hoped it would all work out. Zach seemed mighty lonely.

  “What’s ever become of Tom?” Nora asked as she poured another cup of tea. Seth’s eldest son had always been her favorite neighbor. Handsome and wiry, like she imagined Seth must have been when he was young. Tom Johnston always appeared with his pickup truck whenever they had car trouble or needed a spare hand. “I haven’t seen him around.”

  When she looked up, May had ceased her spinning. She held a clump of wool in her hand and her face took on a faraway look. The sadness seemed to well up and swallow her whole.

  “Our Tom is gone.”

  “Oh no,” exclaimed Nora, setting down the teapot with a rattle. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s a sorry tale,” May replied, shaking her head. “You might just as well hear it here as elsewheres. Tom was a good boy, always workin’ hard on the farm, like Seth. But times got lean so he took a job at the quarry to ease the costs here at the farm. Same as Frank and Junior done. Two years back there was this accident. Our Tom got crushed by a load of stone.”

  “My God, that’s terrible.”

  May rested her hands in her full lap. “Sorrowful pain it was. Near killed Seth as well. First his wife, then his boy. Went into the mountains for a long spell. Thought we’d lost him too. He come out again, though, and when he did it was like he found himself again. A better self.”

  Nora leaned forward in her chair. “How so?”

  May chafed her heavy arm. “Hard to explain. Seth, Squire and I—Squire’s our older brother what moved out to Florida—we was always raised close to the land. Woods, ponds, fields, that’s our world. But the mountains,” she looked out her window toward the great timber-laden expanse beyond the windbreak. “The mountains hold a kind of magic.”

  “Come now, May. Magic?”

  “That’ll be it. The deep woods are immortal. Walk in there and see for yourself. You hitch up somehow with the wild, natural part still beatin’ inside yourself. For the three of us, leastwhiles, going to the deep woods is like going to church for some folks.” She cackled loudly, bursting the tension like a bubble. “Lord, Reverend Wilcox will have my soul if he hears this.

  “Anyways, of all of us, Seth was closest to nature. So it was right that nature healed him. He found a small grove not far from the house. Calls it sacred. None of us is buried there or nothin’. I ’spect you couldn’t dig it, it being so steep and rocky. The hills drop way far down to some rivulet of water and scattering of white rocks. Big boulders, some of them. But up high, where the sun dapples through the leaves, the grass is long and soft, like I guess angels’ hair would be. A peaceful spot. A sacred spot, surely.

  “Seth won’t let nobody build on or ar
ound it. No human hand can change a thing. Wrote it down for generations to come. He goes to it often. Took me and the kids too. Says it’s to remind us of what it was all like in the beginning. Of where we come from and where we’ll all be again someday.”

  May sat for a moment, still looking out the window. Nora guessed May could no longer make the arduous walk to the sacred grove, but it was clear that she carried the image close to her heart, like an icon. When May swung her head back, she was her usual fiery self.

  “Seth don’t worry so since then. It’s a relief, I can tell you. The place might be a bit let down now, but he ain’t working ’round the clock and fallin’ asleep at the table neither. He takes time to talk to the kids.

  “And the dogs and cats. The mutts and sluts, we call ’em. Every year there’s another one come crying at the door and another one leaving without so much as a thank-you. Word’s got out. I think people are dropping ’em off now. He can’t say no.”

  Nora laughed as a knock sounded on the door.

  “Who in the world?” May started to rise.

  “I’ll get it, May,” said Nora, rising to her feet. It only took a few steps to get to the door. When she opened it, she found Seth bent over three mutts, waving his glove and sending the dogs leaping one over the other for it. She couldn’t tell who was having the better time: Seth or the dogs.

  Seth nodded and smiled when he spied her in the trailer. Her presence seemed to keep him at bay, because he just stood there, a metal milk pail in his arms, while the dogs sniffed and scratched at his boots.

  “I was just leaving,” Nora said to reassure him.

  Seth only nodded.

  “Speak of the devil! What you got there?” boomed May from behind her.

  Nora pressed herself against the door so that May could peer over her shoulder.

  “That my milk?” May called. “Be a good girl, Nora, and fetch it for me. I have a hard time with these legs.”

  Nora did as she was asked. Seth relinquished the milk with a grunt of satisfaction and a few more nods. Underneath his visor, Nora noted that his blue eyes seemed to sparkle with some private humor that only he was privilege to. Nora carried the milk jug inside and set it on the table while May descended the three wooden steps on stiff legs, her hand tight on the rail.

  “How’re things over at the Thompson place?” May asked, winded.

  “All right.”

  “John Henry?”

  Seth lifted his shoulders.

  “That poorly, huh? Esther ain’t farin’ much better. Snappin’ and swipin’ like a dog on a chain.”

  Seth grunted and looked out over the hayfield.

  “It’s better this way,” May continued. “You can only fix a broken lamp so many times.”

  “Naomi Thompson’s real upset over her boy,” Seth said. “Worried ’bout how he’s actin’ so queer.”

  “He got an ailment?”

  “Nope. Leastwhiles, not one that a potion can cure.” Seth shook his head and rubbed a palm across his spreading smile. “It’s a sight, that’s f’sure.”

  “What’s a sight? What’s goin’ on at the Thompson place?”

  “Well now. John Henry just up and took his twenty-gauge and started off shootin’ all his ma’s whirligigs and ornaments in her front yard.”

  “No! All of ’em?”

  “Yeh-up. Them ducks with the twirly arms, them stick-up cows, and them fuzzy sheep, too. Blowed ’em all to bits.” A laugh exploded from Seth. “A real blessin’, I call it.”

  May let loose a belly laugh that set the two of them to snickering and laughing.

  “Did he shoot off the rear end of that bendin’-over lady?” May asked between guffaws.

  Seth howled. “That’d be the best one.”

  “Praise the Lord!”

  Nora stepped out from the trailer, drawn to the laughter. Not even knowing what it was about, she couldn’t help chuckling herself, the laughter being so infectious. Soon enough she caught on and laughed till tears ran down her cheeks.

  It took a while, but they settled down, May rubbing her belly and Seth rubbing his chest. Nora’s ribs hurt.

  “It ain’t funny, really,” May said, wiping the moisture from her eyes. The laughter fled from her voice. “That boy is hurtin’ real bad. Near breaks my heart. Esther must’ve really broke it off this time.”

  That sobered Seth up real fast. “Clumsy, she is. Just like her sister.”

  Nora saw May’s hands slam on her big hips and it was plain she was about to light into her brother with a fiery retort. Nora started back-stepping away, hoping to escape without notice.

  May noticed. Her mouth was open and her finger was pointed to heaven when she spotted Nora inching away. Instantly she snapped her mouth shut and used her uplifted hand to wave Nora over.

  Nora returned reluctantly. “I really have to go. Thanks for a lovely visit, May.”

  “You come back anytime.”

  “If’n you’re goin’ up, I got them plans for the house ready,” said Seth.

  “Wonderful! Then we can get started on the work. It’s getting chilly up there at night.”

  Seth seemed quite pleased with the prospect of paying work.

  “Well, I’m ready to go if you are,” she said to Seth. “I expect you’ll want to drive up?”

  Seth snorted. “I sure don’t expect to live long enough to walk up.”

  15

  SETH DROVE NORA up to the house in his pickup, easily avoiding the pits and soft spots on the old road. A porcupine scuttled across in front of them, eliciting a sigh of awe from Nora and a grunt of frustration from the old hunter.

  “Dang porcupines. Never remember seeing so many of them.”

  “Well, they won’t bother me anymore,” said Nora smugly. “I put a salt lick out so they’ll leave the house alone.” Nora leaned back in the cab, enormously pleased with her ingenuity.

  Seth swung his head around to look at her, then slowed the Ford to a stop. He had an incredulous glint in his eye.

  “Come on now, missus. You really done that?”

  Nora guessed he was impressed. “Yeh-up,” she replied proudly. It was the first time she’d used the typical Vermont response. She liked the way it rolled off her tongue. She even nodded her head a few times for good measure.

  Seth’s shoulders started to shake as if he was heaving. He made short, gasping sounds and hunched over the wheel.

  “Seth, are you all right?” Nora asked, her voice rising in alarm.

  Seth turned toward her and it was clear that he was laughing again, only his face was all red from trying to hold it in.

  “Don’t know,” he said, pausing between laughs, “that I can take two fits of laughin’ in one day.”

  Nora sat straighter in the cab and scowled. “What’s so funny?”

  “You did it now. That salt lick will attract every porcie from here to Canada. It’ll be huntin’ time for sure.”

  Nora’s mouth fell open. Attract every porcie? “But I thought it would distract them from the house!”

  “Nope. Nothin’ a porcie loves better’n salt.”

  Nora slumped back in the seat and rested her chin in her palm. She imagined a long line of short-legged, spindly porcupines traveling south from Canada, just for a lick of her salt.

  At first she was furious with herself. Then the whole thing seemed pretty ridiculous. Even funny. Before she knew it, Nora started laughing again. It started as short spurts, then rolled into side-holding laughter. It was fun to hear Seth let loose with another round as well.

  Nothing like a good laugh to cement a friendship, Nora thought.

  “Not t’worry,” Seth mumbled as he fired up the engine. “My dog Zip will take care of them porcies. He just flips ’em on the back and ziiip! Rips their bellies clean out.”

  Nora blanched. “Be sure to point out Zip someday. I’d like to stay out of his way.”

  “Yeh-up. Good ol’ Zip.” Seth stretched his arm out over the wheel and eased out onto t
he road. The tires caught gravel and they started off with a lurch.

  “Seth, May told me about the sacred grove. Will you take me there sometime?”

  “Sure. Jus’ let me know when.”

  “Would you mind if I took a few rocks from it?”

  Seth’s face skewered. “I would mind. I don’t allow nothin’ disturbed. What do you want those rocks for anyway? You got plenty of your own, lying in your fields.”

  “Oh, they’re not for me. I just thought that since May can’t get to the sacred grove, and since she loves the place, well, I thought that May would enjoy having a few of the rocks put in her garden. For sentiment’s sake.” Nora looked at her hands. “She mourns Tom so.”

  The pickup truck rumbled up the road, bumping over rocks. Seth hadn’t responded. He kept his pale blue eyes dead on the road. Nora chewed her lip, worried that she’d brought up a subject still painful for him.

  Seth ran his hand over his mouth and around his stubbled cheek. Then, when he set it back on the wheel, he said, eyes still on the road, “If anyone oughta bring May them rocks, it’ll be me. Truth to tell, I should of brung ’em long ago.”

  He looked over Nora’s way, briefly. Nora never knew anyone who could convey so much in so brief a glance.

  “Much obliged.”

  Nora smiled and her chest eased as she turned her head to look out her window. Beyond in the meadow, surrounded by birch gold, straw grass yellow and maple red, a lone figure stood before an easel. Her long strawberry-colored hair blew freely in the autumn breeze. It was Esther, looking like a model in a Wyeth painting.

  “Seth, stop!” Nora called.

  He hit the brakes and followed her gaze to his daughter in the fields.