The grave diggers had done their work neatly—a rectangular hole with perfectly squared corners gaped in the earth. The pile of black dirt was discreetly covered by canvas weighted down at the corners with rocks.
Oscar pulled the wagon around so that Gertrude had her back to the open grave and would not see the coffin being lowered. Even with only one arm, he managed a team of horses. Lena had seen him on occasion hold the reins between his teeth when he needed his hand for something else. At those times his expression changed from his usual bad-tempered sullenness to a disconcerting fierceness.
When the coffin was lowered and the ropes hauled up and laid out of sight in the undertaker’s wagon, they all gathered around the grave, except for Gertrude who refused to get down. Lena heard her muttering, “Ach, Gott in Himmel.” Gertrude always talked to herself in German.
Frederick assisted Julia down from the wagon, and she remained on his arm through the brief grave-side service. The sky was darkening by the minute. Pastor Erickson spoke the prayers as rapidly as he decently could. Lena noticed that Julia had flowers in her hand. She had not seen her take them from the vase in the narthex, but she must have since she didn’t have them with her in church. During the Lord’s Prayer, Lena for some reason kept her eyes on Julia waiting for her to toss the flowers into the grave. But when the prayer was over, her arm still looped through Frederick’s arm, Julia turned with her flowers and walked back to the wagon.
The dingy wool sky gave no sign that it was either going to release its downpour or move on. The weather seemed stuck. There was no wind. The clouds did not churn. They hung low like the underbelly of a pregnant ewe unable to give birth.
A murmur of voices and the aroma of coffee perking in two large enamel pots on the cookstove filled the dark ambiance that met Lena and Will as they stepped across the threshold of Ma Kaiser’s house. The windows as always were heavily curtained. Someone had lit a lamp here and there, but these little lights were not up to dispelling such gloom. Nor did the gathering of people there lighten the place. In their dark clothing, sitting, standing, or milling around, the people seemed saturated with the atmosphere of the house, like a sponge full of dark water. The white shirts on some of the men alleviated nothing. Only Lena in her blue dress bobbed along surrounded but untouched. A kind of euphoria shielded her and gave her buoyancy. For the moment, she felt pleasantly disposed toward everyone, even her sisters-in-law, whom she usually regarded as gnats—irksome but inevitable on a summer’s day. She managed a warm greeting, first for Nyla, who was slicing a pie and looking unhappy as she always did no matter what the occasion, and for Mary. Sweet Mary never spoke her mind, seldom went out, and when she did she was never alone except to attend Mass and frequently consigned to the shadow formed by Walter’s cigar smoke. Right now she was carrying a small porcelain pot she had just filled with coffee from one of the pots on the stove.
Lena and Will followed her in to the dining room where food was laid on for a multitude. Neighbors and friends had brought a variety of cakes and pies. There were also hot meat and potato dishes, cold chicken, ham, plenty of bread and butter. The coffee flowed in a constant stream, and the cream pitcher was kept brimming from the jug in the ice box.
Lena noticed the clean table cloth and attributed that nicety to Mary. It couldn’t be Ma’s, and Nyla, who was as slovenly as her mother-in-law, would not have thought of it.
For Lena not to have had a part in the preparation of such an affair was unusual. She found herself with most of the work at all family doings. This time, however, because of Will’s trouble, she hadn’t been involved and was grateful that no one expected anything of her.
Oscar, Walter, and Frederick, who had followed Will and Lena into the house, dispersed into the gathering. Ma took to her rocker and began accepting condolences. Julia busied herself in the kitchen washing plates and taking over for Mary in the supervision of the coffee pots, her little cat never far from her feet and the dish of cream she had put down for him in the corner. Tori sat at the kitchen table out of the way and happily accepted a large slice of angel food cake from Mary. On her way into the dining room with a bowl of stiff cream she had just whipped, Mary stopped and dropped a spoonful on his cake.
Lena helped herself to a piece of apple pie and a cup of coffee. She found a vacant chair in the corner of the dining room, from where she could see into both the kitchen and living rooms. She enjoyed watching her brother, who let the cat lick some of the cream off his fingers. Tori took after their pa in that way, always indulgent toward animals. Will piled a plate with ham, chicken, and cake for his mother, then one for himself. After that Lena lost track of him.
Lena took small uninterested bites of her pie and sipped her coffee while she observed the flow of people through the house—a mass without detail, like the surge and retreat of inlet water. A person or event would individuate for a moment, like a wavelet on the surface of Lena’s consciousness, only to sink again, merging into the dark waters. Walter: glad handing, puffing on his cigar, his gravelly voice cutting through the din, his square face thick behind heavy glasses and crowned by an oily stand of coarse, prematurely yellowish-gray hair. Even here, at his father’s funeral, he had to talk business and make jokes, though he was never funny, just goofy, Lena thought. Will was the only Kaiser with a real sense of humor. Anyway, this wasn’t the place for it.
Oscar: emerging larger and more brooding than Walter, lodging in first one chair, then another, unable to get comfortable, speaking seldom and only when spoken to. About as funny as a hailstorm on a good day. Nyla appearing again, venturing out of the kitchen to exchange a newly cut pie for an empty plate on the table. Her perpetually sour expression made her look older than Lena, though she was not. Her long thin hair was twisted into a tight braid and wrapped around her head in an unbecoming style. She wore shapeless clothes over a bottom-heavy body and clumped around in the same heavy shoes winter and summer. In winter, Lena thought she must ache with the cold, and in summer from the heat.
Mary followed Nyla with the cream jug and filled the pitcher. No matter what, Mary looked nice. Her clothes were well made, always crisp and new. She favored floral prints. With her dark hair and eyes, creamy skin and high color on her cheeks, Mary had something of the rose about her, albeit a rose without thorns.
Magda Nilsen, a larger wave than the others, washed up at the table and slavered thick yellow cream over a hunk of chocolate cake.
Pastor Erickson surfaced long enough to have a cup of coffee and a final word with Gertrude. She seemed not to hear him.
Frederick darted from person to person like a tadpole, neither fish nor frog, at home in the water though, unruffled, accepting condolences with a serious and grateful face.
In the kitchen Lena saw the tall lanky form of Iver Iverson bringing a fresh jug of cream and a small cake. Julia took the cake from him and brought it into the dining room, where she lingered to rearrange things on the table. Mary put the cream jug in the ice box. “We’re getting low on ice,” she said to no one in particular. Tori jumped to his feet. “I’ll get you a chunk. You bet. Don’t let anyone take my cake.”
Mary smiled. “Don’t worry. It will be here when you get back.” Feather slipped out the door with him, hoping, no doubt, for more cream.
The ice house took shape and floated along the top of a wave, and Pa, himself—who had been lost amidst Lena’s worries and troubles—now came into focus. He was linked in her mind to the ice house. He had built it right after he bought this place. That was a long time ago. Pa had always taken care of it. He and his sons went out to Marble Lake twice every winter to cut blocks of ice. The boys would cut the ice, load it, and unload it, but Pa personally laid the blocks into the ice house just so. He spread fresh straw between the layers for insulation and to keep the blocks from sticking together. Most of the interior of the ice house was underground, and it was his careful arrangement, he said, that guaranteed the ice would
last all summer to the next freeze. Even after he had passed the well business on to his sons, he continued to look after the ice house. Now that Pa was gone, the job would fall to the boys. They won’t be as meticulous as Pa was that’s for sure, thought Lena.
Pa Kaiser had been a quiet man. Since his retirement he always wore a black suit, shabby but well brushed. Where Ma was a giant unmade bed, Pa was spare and neat. Lena had heard rumors of his mean-spirited youth, but he had always been kind to her. She began to feel the first twinge of grief for her father-in-law when Tori came back with a large chunk of ice gripped in heavy tongs. Even under his ruddy sun-and-wind-beaten face, he looked pale. He slid the ice into the ice box, dropped the tongs with a clank, and sat down. His breathing was labored. Lena put down her pie and coffee and went into the kitchen to see what was wrong with him.
Julia came back in with empty plates and stacked them at the sink. “What’s the matter?” She saw Tori trembling.
Lena said, “I suppose he’s hauled a chunk of ice that was too heavy for him and he’s sprained something.”
Julia rallied instantly and waved Lena away. “Go sit down and take it easy. You don’t need anything else to worry about. I’ll take care of him.” Julia leaned over Tori. “That’s right, I suppose,” she said. “You lifted too much? You should have had one of the boys help you.” She poured him a glass of milk and sat next to him and spoke soothingly to him until he began to recover himself a little.
Frederick entered the kitchen and put a solicitous hand on Tori’s shoulder. Satisfied that her brother was getting the proper attention, Lena wandered back to the dining room. She looked around for Will. She didn’t see him. Ma’s rocking chair was empty. Probably went to the toilet, she thought.
Lena slipped back into her near trance state, little concerned about what was happening around her, smiling and nodding when spoken to, and moving vaguely toward the back of the house when she heard Ma Kaiser roar. Then she heard a thud.
She opened the screen door to see Ma standing like a steam engine just come to a stop. Her heavy face was purple and her arms, which, because of her weight, could never hang down straight at her sides, were curved even more as if she were ready to grapple.
Walter looked like he had just been flung against the side of the house. His thick spectacles were askew. He held his hand to the side of his face. “Ma,” he whimpered. “Why’d you go and do that?”
Lena was poised on the threshold, now snapped out of her dreamy state, all eyes and ears. Ma had actually struck Walter on the day of Pa’s funeral. Even for Ma, it was unbelievable.
“You dare—Today.” Ma was huffing and puffing with rage and the exertion of her blow, which from the looks of Walter, himself a stocky strong man, had been powerful.
“I didn’t mean nothing by it. Just a little drink.” He rubbed his face.
So, Ma had caught Walter drinking.
Will looked up and saw Lena in the doorway. He had a shamefaced look. She went out past Walter and Gertrude without a word, stepped down the porch steps to a level with her husband. Gertrude disappeared into the house and Walter wailed, “Mary! Mary! Come on. We’re going home.”
Lena turned her face to her husband to offer her unspoken support. I don’t blame you for your family. Never did, she said with her eyes, but Will wouldn’t look at her. She detected the faint smell of whiskey on his breath just before he turned away from her.
She was reeling. Ma had slapped Walter, not because he was drinking... Walter never got drunk, but because he had given Will a drink, and everyone knew Will’s problem with liquor. Lena automatically thought the worst of Ma Kaiser. Now she had the unfamiliar sensation of being on Ma’s side of things. She felt like punching Walter herself. But she couldn’t do better than her mother-in-law had just done.
Mary appeared at the door. Lena said to her, “Take him home. Get him out of here. I’ll help clean up.”
Mary, puzzled, but so accustomed to doing what she was told, took Walter by the arm and led him to their buggy.
Lena turned her back on Will and marched up the stairs to the kitchen.
Tori’s chair was empty, his cake only half eaten. His glass of milk half drunk. Julia said, “He’s out for a walk with Frederick. He just needed some fresh air. It is very close in here.”
Lena found an apron and began to wipe the dishes that stood draining on the side board. That done, she headed out back to retrieve some cups she had seen left on the porch.
Oscar was standing on the porch leaning out over the railing. Will was in the back yard talking to some neighbors who were just leaving. Since Walter had gone and Ma had returned to the matriarchal rocking chair, Lena was greeted by a peaceful scene and she sighed in relief but too soon.
Lena saw him first, sidling around the corner of the porch. Julia’s cat passed too close to Oscar. Oscar kicked him savagely. The animal flew over the rail with a yeowl that brought Julia running. He landed on his side, righted himself, and shook his head, then took one ginger step to see if everything still worked. Julia saw him and shrieked, the dishes she carried smashed on the floorboards of the porch.
Will sank to one knee and picked up the cat tenderly, cradling him in big hands. “Okay, little pal,” he soothed. “Okay.” He carefully felt for broken bones. “Oscar, you didn’t need to go and do that.”
“Goddam cat doesn’t belong over here. Pissing up a stink on everything. Gets underfoot.”
“Still no call to do that.” Will was the only one who spoke a reproach to his brother. Except for Lena, everyone else was afraid of Oscar’s rages.
“Here you go.” Will handed the cat to Julia who took the cat and tearfully held him to her breast. “He’s okay. Just roughed up.”
“Little Kitty Feather. Sweet little Kitty Feather,” Julia crooned and cried like a child. Her porcelain complexion reddened with emotion. She paused a moment and stared at Oscar. Lena thought she saw pure hatred rest upon Julia’s face before she turned and left for the safety of her own house.
Oscar only grinned and shook his head. “She’s nutty as a goddam fruit cake. Always has been.”
“You’re a mean man, Oscar Kaiser,” Lena said to him and went down the steps to join Will. No matter how mad she got at her husband, or how many times he disappointed her, there was at his core the kindness that she loved and would love till the day she died.
The house was quiet except for the gentle sloshing of water and clink of dishes. Lena looked out through Gertrude’s kitchen window and wondered what it had been like for her to stand there every day, all those long years, with Julia’s house filling her frame of vision.
Her mother-in-law was in the dining room gathering up the leftovers, scraping plates and bringing them to Lena to wash. Even though Lena had volunteered to finish the cleaning up, Ma had insisted, “I feel better to do something.”
Julia’s white house looked gray under the black sky that was just beginning to grumble. Inside Gertrude’s house, all the lamps in the kitchen and dining room were lit and turned up high though it was only six o’clock.
The rain would come soon now. Lena wished she were in her own tidy house curled up next to Will. She wondered—there was an uncomfortable buzzing in her stomach—if Will had gone home. She had sent him off saying Frederick would give her a ride home later. But she was afraid that that one drink would plunge him into a binge of drunkenness. They couldn’t afford that now. Not with him having to work, not with the trial coming. He needed to be on his best behavior. Perhaps he was safe. As far as she knew those matches were all he had in his pockets, and Leroy’s Tavern wouldn’t give him any more credit. But he could have borrowed money from someone at the open house, or he could have bottles stashed where she hadn’t found them. He could still be drinking. He could be who knows where in the storm that was coming. There was nothing she could do about any of it. She shook her head as if she could physically s
hake off the fear clinging to her mind.
Mary and Walter had planned to stay with Ma for a few days but when she slugged Walter, the plan was altered. Now it was Nyla and Oscar who were going to stay. They had to go home to get some of their things, so Lena volunteered to keep Ma company till they got back. Julia remained in her own house. Frederick wasn’t home yet. Ma’s buggy was missing so Lena assumed he drove Tori back out to the Peterson’s. If the storm broke Frederick would have to stay there and, unless Will decided to come back for her, she would have to stay the night here with Ma.
In thirteen years of marriage to Will, this was the first time Lena had ever been alone with her mother-in-law for more than a few minutes.
Lena realized suddenly that she had eaten nothing all day but a half slice of bread and a thin wedge of pie and she was hungry.
“There’s a little coffee left, Ma. Let’s finish it up. And then I’ll wash the pot.” She considered the small portions of leftover chicken, ham, potatoes, and pie on the kitchen table. “Might as well eat this up. Too good to throw away. Too little to keep.”
Ma sat herself down heavily in the chair opposite Lena and grunted her acceptance of a cup of coffee.
Lena set two small plates she had just washed on the table and two clean forks. Among the remains of the chicken left uneaten was the neck. Lena reached for that first and tore out slender strips of dark oily meat from the lattice work of bones with her teeth. It took concentration. The bones were finally clean. She noticed Gertrude hadn’t touched anything.
“What do you want to do, Ma? Do you want to stay in this big house by yourself?” Once she said it she realized that Ma was not by herself. Frederick still lived here. But he was somehow unsubstantial in Lena’s mind and didn’t count.
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