The Long Road Home

by Mary Alice Monroe

  “I guess you could say I got screwed by both the MacKenzies.”

  Nora flinched but salvaged her composure. “Sit down, Esther. If you would be so kind.”

  “Up yours.”

  “Sit down, Esther,” Nora’s voice rang out. She took a deep breath and restrained her temper. “Please.”

  When Esther didn’t move, Nora walked purposefully to a bale of hay and sat down, patting the bale beside her. Being in the right gave Nora strength. “This is just as difficult for me, I assure you. But we need to settle a few things between us, and it might as well be now.”

  Esther crossed her arms and considered this a moment.

  “You owe me that much.”

  Confusion registered on Esther’s features, and a shade of guilt. She agreed with a brief nod and seated herself on the bale of hay with as much esteem as she could with mud on her clothes and her spirit.

  “Esther, I’m sorry for taking over your job. I don’t have a choice. I’m trying to make a living for myself and the decisions I make are sometimes very hard.”

  “Okay.” Esther was looking off at a distant point, and Nora saw that she was struggling to get through this. To prove she could if Nora could. Although Esther was taller and broader, Nora felt larger. She edged forward on the bale of hay to better catch Esther’s expressions.

  “I am not letting you go because of your relationship with Mike. I know that you’ve suffered enough. This is simply a matter of economics. I can’t afford to pay you. I bear you no grudge, Esther.”

  Esther brought her focus to Nora’s face and their gazes locked: Esther’s searching, Nora’s telling. Nora could see the battle going on inside Esther. She couldn’t quite believe that Nora was being honest.

  “To prove that,” Nora continued in a steady voice, “although I am taking away one job, I am offering you another. One that I think you may be very interested in.”

  Esther shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m not interested in any more farm jobs.” Esther slumped in defeat. “I’ve decided to marry John Henry.”

  This was the last thing Nora had expected to hear today. “What? When did you decide this?”

  “Today. I’m going to tell him tonight. At the dance.”

  Nora let loose a long stream of air. She stood up and walked over to the feeder, gave it a shake, then turned and leaned against it, facing Esther squarely.

  “Then I guess you’re not interested in the job offer I had, or rather that Jenny Gold had.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Jenny is a friend of sorts. She owns an art gallery in SoHo.”

  Esther bolted off the bale of hay. “New York?”

  “Of course.”

  “What job? I didn’t know about this job. In New York?”

  “What does it matter? If you’re going to stay here and get married…” Nora brushed dirt off the bunk.

  “It matters! You know it does. Nora, don’t fool with me. Tell me.”

  “Jenny was interested.”

  “She liked my work?”

  “Of course she did. But it’s young. Raw. You need to develop it, but you’ll be able to work at her gallery and take classes during off hours. The atmosphere, the peer criticism, the exposure—you’ll never get another opportunity to equal it. The plan is that you live in her loft as part of the arrangement.” Nora paused.

  “I’ll be totally honest here, Esther. I called in a lot of favors. And with Jenny, it took some doing. Otherwise the loft would never have been included. It’s a real coup, a morsel she dishes out carefully. In the end, she’ll come out the winner. She knows it, too, but will never admit it to you.”

  “I can’t believe it.”

  “Jenny Gold will earn her keep from you, believe that.”

  Esther was standing perfectly still, as one in shock. “I can’t believe it,” she kept repeating, her voice rising in excitement. Then her excitement ebbed and she turned to face Nora.

  “You made those calls, spent that effort, all for a woman who’d slept with your husband?”

  “No. I did it for a friend.”

  “This is too much.”

  “It isn’t too much. I also did it for Seth, for the boys, and for May. You’re like family, the only family I have.”

  Esther looked down. “I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time in the beginning.”

  “Forget it.”

  “I thought you had everything. The rich and pretty blond girl from New York with her perfectly polished nails, matching her fancy outfits.” Esther chuckled, holding up Nora’s dry, tanned hands with their chipped nails. “I have to admit, you fit right in, now.”

  Nora smiled awkwardly but retracted her hand, putting it to her hair.

  Esther eyed Nora’s hair and twiddled her fingers. “I don’t even know how to do one of those fancy braids.”

  “Such a little thing. It’s not hard to do. I could teach you. Would you like me to braid your hair?”

  Esther moved uncomfortably. “I guess.”

  Nora walked around behind the bale. Standing close behind Esther, not seeing her face, she felt it was an odd truce for their rivalry. Nora hesitated before putting her hands on Esther’s head. This was a personal move, one that required either friendship or apathy. Deciding on the former, she began braiding Esther’s fabulous red hair.

  The ritual of preening was relaxing. They began to chat.

  “You know,” Esther ventured, still looking down, “I never had too many friends. The girls up here never took much to my liking books and painting instead of boys. I like boys, mind you, but I never wanted to stay home and take care of one.”

  Nora thought how she had always wanted to take care of someone.

  “What about you?” Esther asked. “Do you think you can stay here or will you go back to New York?”

  Nora puffed out her cheeks and exhaled. “I wish I knew. I thought I was going to die in New York. It’s so loud there, horns honking, people shouting, and everybody in such a hurry.”

  “Sounds great.”

  Nora looked over at her and wagged her head with exaggerated sympathy. “You’re a born city girl, I guess.”

  “Thanks.”

  Both women nodded, smiled to themselves, then nodded some more. Nora finished Esther’s braid, then sat comfortably beside her on a bale of hay. “You know what this reminds me of?”

  “No, what?” Esther answered with ease.

  “My favorite childhood story, The Prince and the Pauper, by Mark Twain. Did you read it?”

  “I saw the movie.”

  “Right. Then you know how they switched places, each one thinking that the other had the better life. After they tried it, however, they couldn’t wait to go back to their own worlds. Maybe that’s us.”

  “No way. I know the story, but it’s not mine. I’ve got to get outta here. Really, Nora, you saved my life.”

  Nora looked at her chipped nails. “There is one other reason why I did this for you.” She looked up to see Esther nervously shift on the hay. “I feel responsible to fulfill all Mike’s debts.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  “Yes, I did. As much for me as for you. But it’s done now, and let’s never talk about it again.”

  Esther put her hands under her arms and shifted her eyes lest the flash of tears show.

  Nora jumped up from the hay bale. “Ain’t nothin’ worth doin’ here, as your father would say.”

  “Let’s go and get cleaned up. Tonight’s the Harvest Contra Dance. Those brothers of mine are croakin’ like two horny toads and can’t wait to borrow some of C.W.’s bay rum. Frank’s in a rare mood for celebrating.” Esther stood and brushed her pants, pausing when she caught Nora’s bewildered expression. “You heard about Frank, didn’t you?”

  “No,” Nora replied openly. “What?”

  “He’s gone and asked Katie Beth to marry him.”

  “How wonderful! There certainly will be celebrating tonight!”

  “You coming?”
/>
  “I wasn’t invited.”

  “You’re invited now.”

  Nora smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Es. In that case, I’d love to come. I could use some dancing.”

  “I don’t know how much dancing I’ll be doing.” Esther rubbed her hands together and Nora could feel the tension pour out of her. “Frank’s getting married won’t make John Henry any happier. He’s still hurting.”

  “Better now than after you’re married.”

  Esther shook her head, mumbling to herself. Nora closed the gate and trotted to catch up with Esther. They walked, side by side, toward the road.

  Above them, the darkening clouds swirled and gathered in a storm pattern.

  In the northern pasture, Seth extended his hand to Frank. Frank took it gladly, then Seth grasped his son’s hand between his two.

  “That’s good news, son,” he said, his eyes gleaming. “Katie Beth will make you a good wife, and a good mother to your children.” Seth brought a hand to Frank’s shoulder and gave it a firm shake.

  “You’re a man now. And a man needs his own place.”

  Frank’s eyes widened and he rushed to close the gap between himself and his father with a grateful hug. Junior stood nearby, swinging his arms at his side and smiling from ear to ear. He wanted this feeling to go on forever.

  In the Zwinger household, the feathers were flying. Emily was pulling out wedding dress patterns from her sewing box and fussing about how she was going to make her daughter’s dress herself, as she’d done for the other four, and Katie Beth most certainly was not going to wear some store-bought wedding gown!

  Fred Zwinger closed the door that separated the kitchen from his back room study and sighed in the resulting peace. He strolled casually to his favorite chair, sat down in it, and lazily stretched his feet out, one upon the other, on the ottoman. Then, in no hurry, he reached for his newspaper and reading glasses. Even though it was midday and he had more work piled up than he could handle, Fred sank back into the soft leather with a grunt of satisfaction and opened up the paper before him. Five girls married, he thought to himself. Now, for the first time in thirty years, Fred Zwinger felt he could relax. His stern face shifted to a boyish grin that would have hushed Emily right up in amazement if she had seen it.

  Naomi Thompson heard the news from John Henry. He was halfway out the door on his way to the milk house when he glanced over his shoulder and, trying to sound casual, said, “Oh, yeah. Frank Johnston’s getting married to Katie Beth Zwinger.” His expression dared his mother to make some comment. The years had taught Naomi never to speak her mind where the Johnstons were concerned. So she swallowed her disappointment and smiled, saying, “Isn’t that nice,” before returning to pickling her cucumbers.

  May welcomed the news with customary gusto. She’d been plucking dead heads off her mums when Sarah came rushing over brimming with smiles.

  “That boy finally became a man!” May bellowed, clapping her hands together and chuckling out loud.

  “Maybe that’ll bring two spring weddings,” Sarah said, smoothing out her skirt nervously.

  “Nope, it won’t,” May said, shaking her head at her niece. “Your sister ain’t making any plans to marry John Henry. You know that.”

  “I wasn’t talking about Esther and John Henry.”

  May liked to think that she knew everything that was bubbling under the surface in her family, but this news burst that bubble and her shocked face showed it.

  “You and Zach make peace? Praise the Lord!” May bellowed even louder than before, making sure He heard her through the black clouds gathering in the heavens.

  Late that same afternoon, Seth drove the pickup straight across the trickling stream that flowed from Skeleton Tree Pond to the roadside creek. He parked a scant few feet from the family’s canopied picnic bench. Seth had built it for Liza when she was pregnant with Tom. Over the thirty-odd years, the redwood posts had tilted, generations of spiders had come and gone, and coats of red stain had been applied and chipped off. The covered table was still the favorite family meeting spot.

  Esther was sitting there now, alone. She saw her pa drive up and wondered why he never walked where he didn’t have to. It seemed to her it might work off some of the fat he grew more and more each year. A small twinge panged her heart when she saw the truck door swing wide and Seth struggle to push himself from the cab with a hefty grunt.

  Esther knew why. She knew her pa’s breathing came harder these days. Seth let C.W. and the boys do more of the leg work during the day, and at night, he took to watching TV more than walking the land like he used to. A worried frown creased her brow.

  “I thought I’d find you here,” Seth called as he strode in his wide, swinging gait to the bench.

  “Hi, Pa,” she called back, her heart happy to see him.

  Seth’s eyes sparkled with joy as he approached, and Esther knew that Frank had told him the good news. Seth eased down on the bench beside her, rocking it, and settled in to join her at staring out over the pond.

  “Yeh-up,” he said with a contented sigh. “This is the best pond for miles.”

  “I love this spot,” she said, meaning it.

  “Yeh-up,” he replied, knowing it.

  Seth and Esther sat comfortably together in silence, as they had often done in the past. This pond was a private link between them. They’d meet here before dinner on most warm nights, just to sit, talk a little, and share each other’s company. Neither one knew which one started it. It just happened and they’d kept it up over the years. Until the Michael MacKenzie trouble, when Seth stopped coming altogether. That was how Esther figured out her pa knew about her and Mike, and how deeply he disapproved. Though he never once mentioned it, not even after Mike MacKenzie died.

  So Esther was all the more moved that her pa would seek her out at the pond, with a cold wind coming in from the north, wearing a smile on his face. Her own smile trembled with emotion.

  Seth rubbed his thighs in thought, then leaned back, resting his elbows on the old redwood picnic table behind. His belly spread out before him like another table, and Esther noted that his leather belt was let out clear to the last notch. Esther didn’t tease her pa about it, as she might have done. The time wasn’t right for teasing. Instead, she waited patiently.

  “Got a letter from Squire,” Seth muttered. He casually reached into his inside pocket, pulled out an envelope, and gave it to Esther.

  “From Uncle Squire?” she asked, surprised. Esther opened and read the letter, then the amount on the check enclosed. It was written in her name, for more money than she ever thought she’d see at one time.

  “May told him about you wantin’ to go to the city.”

  Esther was speechless, and her pa, sneaking glances at the tears running down Esther’s cheeks, wasn’t up to words either. Esther reached over and clutched her pa’s hand. The wind tugged at the papers, but she held on to them, and to her pa, so tight her fingers turned white.

  Then they let go, at the same time.

  28

  THE SKY HAD long since darkened and the clouds overhead were transformed into battleships of gray and black. They sat in readiness, an armada of awesome proportions with an unpredictable captain at the helm. C.W. stood alone in the fields. Hands on hips, he screwed up his nose and sniffed, slowly turning his head from side to side. Moisture was in the air; he felt it on his face and in his bones. A cool, heavy presence, laden with a whiff of snow.

  In the distance, the bleating of ewes echoed against the mountains and floated back to him. Its sweet familiarity sang across the pastoral scene like the hypnotic song of the sirens. How good it felt to be back home.

  Behind him, the sound of heavy footfalls broke his concentration. Turning, he saw a shadowed form approach with a wide, swinging gait. It could only be Seth.

  “Glad you’re back, son,” he called.

  C.W. met up with him and shook his hand with strength and warmth. “Strange night,” he said, returning his g
aze to the sky.

  “You feel it too, huh? I’ve lived through many an odd season, but I ain’t seen the likes of this before.” Seth scratched the hair under his cap. “Heard tell of a freak snowstorm in Grandpa Wade’s time. October, same as this. Never heard of another.” Worry creased his brow as he looked again at the sky.

  C.W. continued the sky watch. The hills were cloaked in suspenseful silence. Far off in the northern pasture he heard a low, worried bleat. “Is that Brutus?”

  Seth chuckled and nodded his head. “You old cow!” he called out to the teaser ram with affection. Seth took one last sweep of the threatening sky, listening to the rumble with a frown.

  “Best go get the kids, son,” he said, scratching his bristle. “Gotta shore up the hatches. They’re at the Harvest Contra Dance in Clarendon Springs. They won’t like it none, but hell, what’s one dance more or less in the face of a storm?”

  “You be sure and wait,” replied C.W. “The boys and I will round up the ewes to the lower pasture.”

  “So who’s givin’ the orders around here?”

  C.W. smiled down at the scowling, toothless face. “I’m not giving orders. But with your heart, you have no business up in the north pasture. Now please, go on back and sit tight. I’ll go get the kids and come right back. We’ll get it done.”

  Seth grunted and wiped his lips with his palm. He was about to leave when he turned back and asked, “You find your field, son?”

  C.W. nodded. “Yes, sir. I believe I did.”

  “Good,” Seth replied. After a moment, he hitched his pants up a notch and, head down, added, “You oughta talk to that girl of yours, son. She needs to know you more to love you more. She’s a good’un. And seems only fair.”

  “I will, sir. Thank you.” There was much more C.W. would have liked to say, sentimental words of gratitude and affection. Like a son would say to a father. But of course he didn’t. Men didn’t speak such things. He could only nod his head and tighten his lips, letting his eyes translate the message of his heart.