But ‘Casey’ the dog remained.
~ * ~
The birthday dinner party went off well, with everyone, including Kathy batting balloons wildly around the house while the puppy barked shrilly, getting in the way, and getting too excited, Eleanor declared wiping up the third puddle in five minutes.
“Put him on the back porch, love. His basket’s there. He’ll be warm enough.” she added seeing the mutinous look on Philip’s face. Casey, she was determined, would grow up to be an outdoor dog. She didn’t want him—or Philip—thinking he could sleep with her son. The covered and walled-in back porch was to be his realm. “And then you’d better get ready for bed. Big day tomorrow, don’t forget. And I’ll be there to see you win lots and lots of races… Or at least try hard.”
“Jeff,” Philip informed the party of adults, in an attempt to gain out-of-bed time, “went to school to help the dads get the field ready. He told me last night. But,” he added sadly, “Miss Walker wasn’t there. So he couldn’t tell her he was my friend. Would you tell her tomorrow, Mom? Please? And tell her him and me’s building a log cabin?”
“Oh, Philip! If I tell Miss Walker anything, it will be about your grammar. Let’s not talk about ‘Jeff’ right now. You’re only stalling. Put Casey to bed now, make sure his water dish is full, and say goodnight. I’ll come and tuck you in soon.”
After she had tucked Philip into his bed Eleanor returned to her guests. “Well, Bill, I hope you’re right, and having the pup will keep him home. I don’t know why I didn’t have sense enough to think of something like that myself.”
“Probably because you were never a little boy,” said Bill with admirable logic. “That’s where I think single parents have it rough with a child of the opposite sex—they can’t see things quite the same way as a parent of the same sex can, not one with a half decent memory of his or her own childhood, that is.-your-old dad must’ve had a few problems raising you, Ellie, what with being a man raising a girl, and a double dose of the generation gap as well.” He laughed. “I’m glad Kath and I are having our kids before we’re old enough to be grandparents.”
“If Dad had a hard time, I was blissfully unaware,” she responded. “At least not until he tried to tell me about my rapidly approaching puberty.” She grinned, remembering. “There, we did have a few hang-ups. Thank goodness for sex-ed in school, though it did come about six months too late for me. I was an early bloomer. I sure hope you’re still around, Bill, when Philip starts to grow up. I’ll need all the help I can get.”
“That’s a ways off yet,” said Kathy, making no attempt to hide her prodigious yawn. “Before you have to worry about it, you’ll all be settled down and married to someone… Grant, maybe, and can sit back and leave it all to him.”
But will I? Eleanor asked yourself later that night she lay sleepless in her bed. Will I ever settle down and marry anyone, even Grant? The thought of letting Grant try to explain hormones and such to her son curdled her stomach. She doubted he’d do a good job. Knowing him, he’d insist it all be left to male teachers, preferably at a prep school where he’d expect to incarcerate her child.
She tried to picture him beside her, tousled in the aftermath of loving and sleep and the only thing she could see was David’s eyes, looking deeply into hers. With the memory of him flooding over her again; the sound of his voice seemed to fill her ears and she sat up, holding her hands to her head, moaning.
Why won’t he go away and stop haunting me? Why can’t I be sensible and forget him? And the answer came to her immediately. Because I still want him. I still need these memories. Until I no longer have need for them they will remain, just as Philip will keep his imaginary friends until he outgrows the need for them.
Oh, David, what has your disappearance done to me, and what is my lack of acceptance, my failure to adjust to it, done to our son?
Chapter Five
Sportsday at school was a thunderous success. Kids ran whooping in droves, powered, it seemed by so many small noisy piston driven engines. The amount of energy expended could have fed the town’s combined light-requirement for two weeks if only it could be harnessed. Eleanor worked with other mothers behind long trestle tables, laying out platters of different sandwiches, salads, pickles and other condiments, while the kids hovered hungrily around several portable grills where hamburgers and hotdogs sizzled. At another table more people cut pies and cakes into serving pieces. The abundance of food would never be eaten, Eleanor decided, looking at the plates of ham, cold turkey, and roast beef and salads in the section next to her own, and at the amount of desserts on the far end of the row of tables.
The races were finished. Philip’s team had won the tug-o war for his age-group, with chubby little Jamie Peters as anchorman, and for once she was pleased to note, the poor child was not being treated as a pariah by his schoolmates, her son among them.
Philip came panting up just then, his one blue, two red and three white ribbons fluttering on his grubby T-shirt, a wide grin splitting his equally grubby face. She hoped he’d soon grow into those extra-large front teeth. He glanced around to see if anyone were near, then whispered to his mother, “Did you see him, Mom?”
“Who, love?”
“Jeff! He was over by the backstop when we won the tug-o-war and when I ran over to say hi he left.” Philip showed no disappointment at this development, naturally, his mother concluded, admiring the way Philip could go on making up reasons for ‘Jeff’ never having to show himself when there were others present. Philip burbled on, “But that’s okay, though, because he’s afraid to be around me when there’s other people here, ’cause he might forget and tell my secret. I told him about”—Philip came closer still, his steamy breath tickling in Eleanor’s ear—“Lorna!”
Dear diary. A smile twitched at the corners of Eleanor’s mouth. “I’m glad you have a friend you can talk to about things like that,” she said, giving her son a hug. “You must like him a lot.”
“Oh, I don’t just like him, Mom,” said Philip confidingly. “I love him like you only different. He’s sort of like a dad. I wish I could have a dad just like him. Can I have a hot dog now Mr. Exley?” This last was bellowed at the top of his lungs as he roared away to the cooking facilities presided over by Ralph Exley, the neighbor who had provided the puppy for his birthday.
At length the trestle tables held only scraps and crumbs and dirty dishes. The miracle had happened and all the food had vanished. The adults, exhausted, crumpled in heaps on blankets on the grass. Not so the children who, stuffed as they were with hotdogs and hamburgers, cakes and pies and cookies, to say nothing of quarts and quarts of ice cream, seemed only to have been recharged.
Eleanor sank back on her blanket and propped herself on both elbow to watch the crowning of the May Queen. The “throne” was set in a beautiful little bower made of lilacs and maple leaves, yellow broom and hyacinths interspersed with white stars of dogwood flowers.
The parade began with little boys, her own among them, riding on decorated bicycles in the lead of the “princesses”, small girls in long pastel dresses, carrying baskets of petals which were tossed by handfuls along the path to be taken by the May Queen. A cheer went up from the children and applause from the adults as she came around the corner of the school, walking with extreme dignity in her long white gown with a blue satin sash. The picture of decorum, she glided toward the bower where she was to be crowned with a garland of spring flowers. Upon reaching the two shallow steps which led to her throne, she raised a laugh by turning and calling out loudly,. “See daddy? I didn’t trip on my own big feet!”—and immediately tripping upon the hem of her gown.
Later, driving home with the evening sun in her eyes, Eleanor rubbed a hand across her forehead which was aching slightly from too much sun, too much food, and most certainly from too much noise. Philip leaned forward and spoke into her right ear. “Wasn’t she pretty, Mom?”
“Uh-huh,” she replied, wishing he didn’t have to be so loud. “Sit
back down and do up your seatbelt again.” Eleanor knew her son was referring to Lorna the Princess in pale gold that matched her hair.
They were greeted at home by an ecstatic Casey who forgave them at once for leaving him, and showed his magnanimity by producing a puddle on the floor. Eleanor bent over to mop up and rose feeling sick and dizzy.
Neither she nor Philip felt like eating after the excesses of the day, so Eleanor took a couple of aspirins and went to the coolness of the rose arbor to rest for an hour before Philip’s bedtime. The hour did her no good at all. She wished her head would quit aching, but it just seemed to be getting worse. Not only that, but her sinuses were stuffed up. Maybe we’ll have a storm, she thought, looking with apathetic eyes at the unrelentingly blue dome of sky which remain cloudless and bright even at seven o’clock in the evening. She rose and called Philip to get ready for bed though it was early.
He put the pup into its basket and went with great reluctance to have his bath. When he was finished, he appeared before his mother, scrubbed and pink, shining with good health and overabundant energy. It made Eleanor tired just to look at him.
“I’m not tired, Mom. Can’t I stay up just a little longer?” he wheedled.
“No. Maybe you’re not tired, but I am. It’s nearly eight now, so let’s get going, young man!” She led him off to his bed, read him an extremely brief story and kissed him. “Good night, baby.”
“Mom!” he bellowed indignantly. “I’m not a baby! Jeff knows I’m not a baby. He said so.”
“Sorry, sweetie,” she said. “I know you’re not a baby, too. Just… sometimes I slip up. Okay? I’ll try not to do it again.”
“Okay. ’Night mom.” Philip who was not tired, yawned. “How come I have to go to bed when you’re tired?”
“Just the way life is, Phil.”
“Aw, that’s no answer. I’ll ask Jeff when I see him again. He always gives me good answers… ’cept once…” And Eleanor decided her son was about to ask another question, so she quickly flicked off the light and left her son still wondering about whatever it was he intended to use as another stalling tactic
~ * ~
For the next four days Eleanor fought the symptoms of her cold, taking pills and just managing to keep going. Philip would come home from school, and play rambunctiously with Casey for a while, then hare off into the woods, leaving the puppy sleeping peacefully in his basket.
Eleanor felt too miserable to try to keep her active, noisy little son around. She knew it was a cop-out, but it was so much easier to let him go. At least she had some quiet for her poor aching head. Philip, too, seem to have developed a new sense of responsibility since the advent of the puppy. Instead of her having to call him every night, she was delighted to find him home on time for dinner, ready and willing to feed his pet. Even if that’s all the puppy has done for me, he’s well worth it, Eleanor thought.
“I’m glad you’re coming home on time, now, Phil,” she told him one night when she was tucking him into bed. “It’s much easier for me this way.”
“That’s what Jeff said,” Philip informed her seriously. “He says now that I have someone small and helpless relying on me—he meant Casey—I have to watch the time.”
“I’m so glad, honey,” Eleanor said, trying not to smile. Not for the world would Philip admit that he, himself, had developed a more responsible attitude. Far easier to say that the ubiquitous ‘Jeff’ was responsible. That way, any backsliding could be blamed on ‘Jeff’, too. Assuming, of course, a seven-year-old had that sophisticated a sense of reasoning. Whatever the cause, she’d take it.
Oddly enough, though he was still spending much of his time in the forest, after that one mention of Jeff, Philip seem to forget about him. He would go out, return muddy or dusty, according to the weather conditions, but with a silence on the subject of his playmate which gave his mother an easier mind. Perhaps she decided, the woods are simply a good place to play for their own sake, and no “friend” with a log cabin is necessary.
That was not true.
~ * ~
The day after sportsday at school, Philip had gone riding wildly into the woods, bumping and weaving on his bike, calling loudly as he rushed into the clearing. “Jeff! Jeff! I saw you!” He fell off his bike into a panting heap beside Jeff, who was making what appeared to be a lean-to shed out of poles. “Did you see me win the tug-o-war?”
“Sure did, sport! Saw your team win second prize in the relay race, too. Nice going. How was your birthday?”
“Great! Hey, Jeff, guess what my mom gave me!”
“What?” Jeff smiled down into the glowing little face.
“Guess!” Philip hugged himself in ecstasy, bouncing from one foot to the other. “You’ll never guess.”
Jeff pondered, then said, “A new pair of pants?… A skate board?… A tool-box?” And at each wrong answer the little boy shook his head, his shaggy hair flying around his face, his eyes dancing with delight. At last he could stand the guessing game no longer.
“A puppy!” he blurted. “A little bitty puppy who’s going to grow up to be this big!” he indicated height, as his mother had done, only adding a foot or two of exaggeration. “He’s a Labrador retriever. His name’s Casey.”
Jeff opened his eyes wide, showing astonishment. “No!” he said. “Not a real live puppy of your very own?”
“Yup!” Philip nodded earnestly. “Honest, Jeff. But he can be yours, too, if you like. He can belong to both of us and to Mom, too, of course. Mom says he’s too little to go running through the woods. I can’t put him in my bike basket ’cause he might fall out and get hurt, and I have to stay home and look after him until he’s growed up some, but she let me come today. She doesn’t feel good and my racket hurts her head. I try to remember to use my indoor voice, but sometimes I forget.”
“Well, we’ll have to make sure you’re home on time to feed your pup, Phil. If your mom has a headache she won’t want to have to go outside to call you.”
“What’s that you’re building now, Jeff?”
“A lean-to.”
“What’s it for?”
“Siwash.”
“What’s that?”
“My horse.”
Philip backed up the pace or two. He raised big, hurt eyes to Jeff. “A horse?” He looked betrayed, his lower lip trembled slightly.
Jeff nodded, leaning another pole against the crossbeam and nailing it in place. “I told you I was getting one.”
Philip looked around apprehensively. “Is it here?”
Again Jeff nodded, not stopping his work. “In a horse trailer over behind the truck. Let me have a nail please, Phil, I have to get this finished so I can bed him down for the night.”
Philip handed over a nail from the box at Jeff’s feet. “Horses don’t have beds,” he said derisively.
“No,” Jeff agreeably replied and evenly, “they have stables. Every creature likes to have a warm dry place to sleep, out of the wind, out of the rain. Siwash will like this shed we’re building for him, where he can eat his oats and hay and sleep warm. You wouldn’t enjoy sleeping standing up in a trailer all night, would you?”
“No, I guess not,” said the child doubtfully. “Will you still like me when he comes to sleep here in his stable?”
“Of course, son. You have Casey, and you still like me, don’t you?”
“Yes. You don’t want me to get up on him, do you?”
“No. Not unless you want to. May I have some more nails, please?”
~ * ~
The following afternoon when Philip arrived the lean-to had been completed. It was roofed with shakes over the framework of poles, and the front, too, had been covered with shakes, leaving an opening in one end in which Jeff had hung a Dutch door made of poles and big, brass hinges. The top of the door swung open, and from it protruded the head and neck of an enormous looking brown horse with a white nose and a calm and sleepy demeanor.
Philip stood well back, watching the horse with di
strustful eyes. Jeff came quietly up behind him and when he touched Philip’s shoulder the boy squealed and jumped. “Easy, son. Easy. It’s only me,” said Jeff in his relaxed, resonant voice. “See? That’s Siwash, and he’s all locked up in there, poor old thing, because I knew you were coming.”
The horse whickered softly, tossing his head and Jeff went on in the same even tones, his hand still comfortingly warm on Philip’s shoulder. “He’s asking for an apple. Get me one from the basket over there, will you?”
Philip tiptoed to the basket of apples, selected one by feel alone, not taking his eyes off the horse and sneaked in a wide arc around, back to Jeff. The man took the apple and went alone to the horse.
He held it out while Philip watched from a safe distance, and the large, yellowish teeth snaffled it daintily from his outstretched palm. Siwash chomped noisily, tossed his head and made a sound. “No, Si. Sorry boy. That’s enough for now. When my friend goes home for his dinner, I’ll let you out. I know you hate being penned up in there, but you see, he’s been my friend longer than you have, and he’s a little worried that you and he might not get along together.” The horse snorted gently again, blowing his breath over the side of Jeff’s head, ruffling his hair and beard.
Jeff went right on talking, after pausing politely to listen while a horse made his sounds. “No, no. Don’t say that! Of course he’s not afraid of you. He’s just had a couple of bad experiences with horses, and he worries a bit.”
Philip edged just a step or two closer. “Are you an’ that horse really talkin’ to each other?”
As if on cue, the horse whickered and Jeff smiled. “We are indeed,” he said to Philip, then turning once more to the horse, he said, “Well, all right, my friend. Just one more.” Again the horse made a sound, and tossed his head. “Oh, Si, I don’t know,” Jeff replied doubtfully. “But if you think it’ll make you feel happier about staying inside on such a nice afternoon, I’ll ask him. Just to prove that he really isn’t afraid of you.” As Jeff turned from the lean-to, the horse muttered something quietly. “Hey, now!,” Jeff said. “Do you think so? I’ll try that,” Jeff sounded impressed.
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