“This is my home, not Grant’s, and if he doesn’t like my rules, he knows where to put them. In my household coffee tables were meant to be foot stools. Want a pillow under your feet?” Without waiting for a reply, she lifted Kathy’s feet and slid a cushion under her heels. “Besides,” she added, feeling a touch wistful, “pregnant women deserve to be pampered.”
Oh, heavens! Am I really feeling envious of a woman with that enormous girth?
“Did you and Grant have a fight, Ellie?” Kathy asked with sympathy.
“Sort of,” Eleanor replied, still looking at Kathy’s big tummy.
“Why don’t you marry him? And in no time at all you could look just like me.”
Eleanor laughed for a moment at the proudly pregnant woman, then sobered. She knew a genuine interest in her welfare prompted Kathy to ask such a personal question—friendship, not idle curiosity—and she replied in the same spirit.
“I haven’t agreed to marry him because I don’t think I love him. I’m not even sure he loves me, Kath.” She went on to describe the happenings of the night the dinner date and ended saying, “if he actually loved me and didn’t just want me, physically, he’d never have made that crack about my being frigid. It was insulting.”
“Maybe the guy’s just getting desperate. Lord knows he’s hung around long enough for you to make up your mind sixteen times. What is it, four years?” At Eleanor’s unhappy nod, she went on. “Well, after that long, even the most patient of suitors has a right to get a little frustrated.”
“I’ve told him many time, he’s not obligated to stick around. It’s been his choice. And it’s only been the past few months that I could have been said to be ‘free’, and even now I’m not... Not legally, unless I have David declared dead.”
“Are you going to?”
“I don’t know, Kathy. I honestly don’t know.”
“Do you still hope you’ll come back? Still love him that much?”
“I don’t know that, either, Kath. But I do know if he did come back, say today, he’d be a different man from the one who left me here, and I might not care for him at all. In fact if he did come back, he’d have to have an awfully damned good reason for having stayed away so long or I wouldn’t have a thing to do with him.”
“Well, I guess not!” exclaimed Kathy indignantly. “After all, a man can’t just walk out for seven years and expect to come charging back whenever he feels like it.” She ran her fingers across the empty cookie plate Eleanor had placed on the end table beside her chair, within easy reach.
“More?” asked Eleanor, and at Kathy’s pleased expression, rose and went to the kitchen to refill the plate. She let out a squawk of alarm and poked her head back through the doorway. “Hey,” she asked Kathy, “did you hear the screen door squeak open?”
“No. Why, is it open?”
“No, but Philip’s lunch kit and books are on the table, and the cookie can has its lid off, and the little stinker’s disappeared. Must be off in the woods again with his dear friend ‘Jeff’.” She returned to the living room. “Oh, Kathy, I do wish he’d give up on that business.”
“Take it easy,” Kathy said with her mouth full.. “Just give him some time, Ellie. He will give up on it when he outgrows the need for it... Having imaginary friends, I mean. Remember when it was Solomon the Soldier?”
Eleanor laughed at the memory. “Lord, yes. And woe betide any of us who referred to the fellow simply as Solomon. The whole title, or nothing at all.” She sobered, frowning again. “But this time it’s different, somehow. He’s making up the most intricate details about ‘Jeff’. They began by cutting down the trees, clearing away the brush and laying the foundation. They even put in the base for the fireplace. Now, they’re putting up walls. The way he talks about it is uncanny, almost as though he really were involved in the building of a log cabin. The work is going ahead at what seems like a likely rate. You’d think it slip up once in a while and put in a window before building the wall, or something.”
“Just shows the child has a level head on his shoulders. And,” Kathy added, “that he has the same talent for making up stories as his mother does.”
“I suppose,” Eleanor replied doubtfully. “But I worry about him. Besides, I don’t make up my stories; I just take the old legends which have existed for centuries and weave fictional characters into them.”
“Could be that’s what Philip’s doing. Perhaps he’s following the story he’s hearing from his teacher. She might be reading them a frontier type book, chapter by chapter, and he’s acting it out in his after-school play. But look, Ellie, if you’re really worried about him, why not walk over to where he’s playing and sneak a look at him?”
“No!” Eleanor yelped sharply, then seeing the astonished look on her friend’s face, she went on more quietly, “Sorry, Kathy. I didn’t mean to yell at you. But I stay the side of the creek. There are too many memories over there on the other side of the hill.” Her eyes had a faraway look in them. “Too many ghosts...”
As if not wanting to intrude on Eleanor’s memories, Kathy remained silent for a long time then she said gently, “Maybe you should walk over there just once and see if you can lay those ghosts, Ellie. Maybe they’re still there because you want them to be.” When she received no reply she rose clumsily to her feet. “I’m going to stagger off home, now,” she said, “before I’m tempted to eat even one more of your decadent chocolate-chip cookies. My doc says she doesn’t want me gaining any more weight.”
“I’ll walk you home. Eleanor pulled herself back with an effort from that far place and time she had been visiting.
“No need. I can make it,” Kathy smiled.
“Not on your life. Now I know there might be two babies waiting on for their turn on earth, I intend to look after you. After all,” Eleanor grinned, pushing Kathy up the gentle slope ahead of her, “who else has their own private army of one tank?”
The ‘tank’ laughed, and when the two women reached the farmhouse door Eleanor turned to go. “See you Sunday, love. Take care.”
“Sunday... Unless...” Said Kathy wistfully.
“I’ll keep my fingers crossed those babies stay right where they are,” Eleanor said. “It’s way too soon for them to make an appearance yet.”
~ * ~
When Philip got off the school bus he walked slowly down the path toward home. He was feeling very, very blue. He had a note in his lunch kit from Miss Walker. She hadn’t given him one at first. He had asked her why he didn’t get one when all the other kids did. Miss Walker had got all red in the face and her eyes got sort of shiny and she’d said, “Philip, dear, it’s just a reminder to the fathers that tomorrow is the day they’re going to get the sports field ready for sportsday.”
“My mom would come.”
“No, Philip. I’m afraid not. But your mom is making sandwiches and a cake for the picnic after the races on Monday, isn’t she?”
“Yeah... But give me a note anyway, please Miss Walker. I’ll give it to my friend Jeff. He’s building a log cabin and he’s real strong he could do more work than all those dumb old dads.”
Miss Walker had looked sad and given him a copy of the form letter. On the bus, Jamie Peters, who was fat and had a fat dad, too, said, “Aw, you haven’t got a dad to help with the field and I bet your old Jeff guy won’t come either. I bet you haven’t even got a friend named Jeff.”
“I have so! I have so! You wait! You ask your dad after Saturday and see what he says! My friend Jeff will so come and help!”
“I can’t ask my dad after Saturday cause he won’t even be there. He’s got better things to do. He has a golf game with his boss. I bet your old Jeff guy’s got better things planned, too.”
Oh. Maybe Jeff wouldn’t go to the school to help. This hadn’t occurred to Philip before, but now it weighed heavily on his mind. He trudged slowly down the path and into the house, creeping quietly inside. He didn’t want to talk to his mother just yet.
He could
hear his mom and Kathy talking in the living room, and he stood eavesdropping for a few minutes, putting off the time when he had to take the note Jeff. Soon, because the conversation in living room wasn’t all that interesting, just about his dad hadn’t come home, ever, and he’d heard that lots of times, he grabbed some cookies, took the note out of his lunch kit and went to the other side of the hill.
Panting, he came to halt beside Jeff, who grinned down at him “Hi, sport!”
“Jeff! Jeff! Will you go to the school on Saturday.... tomorrow… an’ help with the field for sportsday on Monday? The teacher wasn’t gonna give me a note ’cause I don’t have a dad and my mom said even if he did come back he’d have to have an awful damn good reason for staying away for so long and—I’m not allowed to say ‘damn’, so don’t tell, okay? but I haven’t got a dad to go and I told Miss Walker you would go and she gave me the note.” He sucked in a long breath and pushed the note at Jeff. “I told her you were strong and could build a log cabin and do more work than any of the dads!” His wide, light gray eyes looked up at Jeff with faith and trust and hope.
Jeff read the note which was addressed to “Dear fathers”, folded it small and tucked it away in his shirt pocket. He hunkered down behind the boy and said, “Sport, why don’t you ask Grant?”
“Oh, Grant wouldn’t do anything like that. Besides, he’s gone away.” The light in Philip’s eyes showed that this was to be treated as good news. “Hey, Jeff, what’s frigid? Grant said that to mom and she didn’t even say goodnight to him. Is in a bad word like ‘damn’?”
Jeff smiled. “No, Phil. Not really, but it would be sure to make your mom mad. Probably even madder than ‘damn’.” His smile turned into a grin, as if he were amused at some secret joke. He rumpled the hair on Philip’s head. “Tell you what… I’ll go to the school tomorrow, and if I see Miss Walker I’ll tell her you sent me. Okay?”
Philip beamed. “Okay!” Then, obviously thinking that if favors were being bestowed, it was up to him to do a little bestowing himself, he said, “Sunday is my birthday, Jeff. Do you want come to dinner?”
Jeff looked sadly at his companion. “Son,” he said slowly, “I’d like nothing better than to come to dinner on your birthday, but I bet your mom has already planned on the number of guest she’s having. One more might upset all her plans, and then where’d we be?”
“But there’s still time to ask her, and she could cook a bigger cake,” Philip replied earnestly, adding, “anyway, it’s only Kathy and Bill coming.”
Jeff, who by this time knew of Kathy and Bill and their place in the scheme of Philip’s life said, “No friends from school?”
“Nah… They all live too far away except for Jamie Peters and I don’t like him. He’s a dumb old fatty. His dad’s fat, too, and he isn’t even going help get the field ready ’cause he wants to play golf with his boss.”
The triumph inherent in Philip’s tones made Jeff smile. “It’s not very nice to dislike someone just because they’re fat, Phil. He can’t help it, can he now?”
“Aw… That’s what mom says.”
“And you listen to your mother, young fella. But I promise I will help get the field ready, so you don’t have to worry about that anymore.”
“Would you come to my party?”
“No, son.” That was the final answer and Philip knew it “What you want for your birthday, Phil? A pony, maybe?”
“No! Ponies is horses but smaller. I don’t like horses!”
“Don’t you? That’s too bad. I’m getting a horse next week and I was hoping you and I could ride together sometimes.”
“No! The day I laughed at Grant when he fell off he put me on his horse and it was so big! Bill took me down and I ran and ran into the woods and then I found an axe an’ pretended I was chopping off Grant’s head and things and—” Philip abruptly remembered just whose axe it was he had found and used. “Oh!” he said, putting his hand to his mouth, waiting for Jeff to get mad at him for doing such a bad thing as chopping someone up, even if it was only pretend.
Jeff did not get mad. “I understand, Phil. You said you hated him, and just then, you did. It’s all right to hate someone sometimes, but you just have to learn not to go around chopping them up. You chopped up a log, and then we started building the cabin together and you forgot all about hating Grant, didn’t you?”
“Mostly… But I hated him before that, when I was just little and he laughed and made fun of me every time I cried when I hurt myself… And he pulled out my loose tooth and made it bleed and called me a sissy. When he tried to give me riding lessons and I said no he said I’m just a stupid baby.”
“Oh. Well, son, sometimes even grown-ups can be wrong. I know you’re no baby, and you’re sure not stupid. It takes a big, smart, strong boy to help build a log cabin.” The firm conviction in Jeff’s words made Philip glow with pleasure.
“Did you ever hate anybody enough to want to chop on them, Jeff?” Philip asked, frowning slightly, still not sure that it was all right to hate.
“Yes. Once.”
“Who?”
“Someone you wouldn’t know about, Phil.”
“What did you do? Chop him?”
“No. I told you, we might be mad enough to think we hate people now and then, but we don’t chop them up. Anyway, when I found out what he had done to me, he was already dead.” Jeff looked incredibly sad and Philip slipped a hand into the big one hanging by Jeff’s side. The man looked down and smiled. “It’s okay, I got over hating him. I can understand why he did what he did, and I can forgive him, I think. But it’s not my forgiveness I worry about…”
Philip, who hadn’t a clue what Jeff was talking about, said, “How come you have whiskers now? You didn’t have them before.”
“I felt like growing a beard,” Jeff smiled. “Do you like it?” He stroked the short, yet full beard and mustache covering his lower face.
Philip nodded slowly. “Hmm… Yes,” he decided. “I like it.”
“Good. What should I get you for your birthday?”
“Gee, I don’t know. What do you want to give me?” he countered.
“Something I can’t… But how would you like a lucky horseshoe to hang over your door?”
“Oh, sure!” Philip’s eyes glowed. Jeff was sure he if he had offered him a stale cooked carrot for his birthday, that too would have been just as good. “But could I wait for until we finish the cabin and hang it over our door, here?”
“If that’s what you want to do, of course. Now I think you’ve stayed long enough. Your mom will be worried. See you tomorrow? When I get back from helping with the field?”
“Yup. See you, Jeff.”
~ * ~
The morning of Philip’s birthday brought low lying clouds and heavy rain. Both he and his mother slept late, due, no doubt, to the dark skies, and when she awoke Eleanor went to the back porch at once to see if the basket was there as Ralph Exley had promised. It was, and she lifted the lid to be met by a shiny black nose, a whimpering sound and the scrabbling of little paws against wicker.
“Oh, you are a darling!” she crooned, scooping up the pup into her lap. “Come and meet your new best friend.”
She carried the puppy into Philip’s room, put it on the bed beside her son’s head and stood back. The pup sniffed, licked, then sneezed. Philip opened his eyes a crack, then widened them into big, blue-gray orbs. He squeezed them shut for a moment before he popped them open wider still.
“Wow!” he cried. Then “Wow!” again.
“Happy birthday, love.” Eleanor smiled. “Like him?”
Philip’s expression was answer enough, but he said, “Oh, Mom! Is he mine?”
“All yours. He’s a Labrador retriever,” Eleanor replied.
Philip squirmed to get away from the wet little tongue which was trying to wash his chin. “Will he get big?”
“Pretty big. Like this, maybe,” his mother said, indicating height with her hand.
“Wow!” Ph
ilip said once more. “Can I go show him to Jeff before breakfast?”
“No, honey.” Eleanor chuckled. “It’s pouring rain and he’s too little to go running through the woods yet. You’ll need to remember to keep both gates in our fence closed all the time, too.” Normally, they stayed open all the time, now Philip was big enough to stay away from the road running past the farmhouse. “You wouldn’t want him wandering into one of the pastures where a cow could step on him, would you?”
Philip looked at the tiny puppy and held him close. “No! A cow could crush him with one foot. I’ll remember to close the gates when I leave the yard.”
“But you won’t be leaving the yard much,” she said. “You’ll need to stay home with him and help him learn all sorts of things. I’m sure Jeff will understand.”
“Then can I go tell Jeff about him now?”
“Not in the rain! If you want your puppy to be really yours, you’ll have to stay out of the woods until he’s big enough to go along. You need to spend lots and lots of time with him in case he thinks he’s my dog, not yours, because I’ll have to look after him when you’re in school. What are you going to name him?”
“Casey,” replied Philip without an instant’s hesitation, looking surprised at his mother’s question.
“Casey? That’s a good name. How did you come up with it so fast?”
“Because that’s his name, Mom. That’s what you just called him.”
“I did?” Eleanor knew quite well she had done nothing of the sort.
“Yes. You said, ‘Casey thinks he’s my dog.’” Philip frowned and held the puppy closer to him for a moment. “How come he thinks he’s your dog, Mom?” He appeared quite aggrieved at the thought.
“Philip! I don’t believe you heard a word I said. I did not say ‘Casey thinks he’s my dog’, I said, ‘in case he thinks he’s my dog’.”
“Yeah. Casey thinks he’s your dog. But he’s not, Mom. He’s mine. Isn’t he? Even if you said—”
“All right! All right!” Eleanor laughed, holding up her hands to ward off the spate of words she expected to hear pouring out of her son as he repeated their previous conversation verbatim—As he had heard it. “Breakfast. Let’s go.”
A Father for Philip Page 6