“It’s good when everyone and everything know where they belong, isn’t it? And Siwash doesn’t mind us sitting on his back, and Casey doesn’t mind sleeping on the porch, because they know that’s the way it has to be?”
“Exactly! You’re smart.” David ruffled little boy’s hair.
“And mom said that’s why I have to go to bed when she’s tired and I’m not, because that’s just the way life is. I was going to ask you why, Jeff but I forgot and now I know. Even big people have to do things just ’cause. Like trees and animals.”
“That’s right, sport. Sometimes we may not be very happy about the things we have to do, but when we know it’s necessary, we do it anyway. Now and then we may even do a cruel and unnecessary thing and leave it for someone else to clean up our mess.”
“What’s that mean, Jeff?”
Yes, Eleanor thought, frowning. What does it mean?
“It means that I’ve got a big mess to clean up and I don’t know how to go about doing it. Just like the long grass around the trunks of trees, it will have to cut out carefully, so as not to leave too many deep wounds and scars.”
Philip looked as bewildered as his mother felt. What was David saying? What was he trying to lead up to?
“Don’t you want to cut the grass, Jeff?”
“It will have to be done, son, but let’s leave it for now and ask your mother if she feels like making us some lemonade.”
Remembering what had recently been said, Philip said, “She’ll make it, Jeff, because that’s what moms are for. For doing things for their kids, just like apple trees are for growing apples. Good thing my mom only has me to do things for.”
They walked toward the house, David and Philip few paces behind Eleanor, and she heard her husband say, “But your mom hasn’t always had just you to think about. She has been, over the years, a daughter, a wife, a mother, a landlady, and a friend—sometimes all at the same time. That’s a lot for any one person to be, and it must be hard sometimes to be all those things together. It’s no wonder your mom wants you to go to bed when she’s tired.”
“Yup,” said Philip. “Too bad she can’t just stand around growing apples.”
~ * ~
Grant came back on Wednesday.
“Hello, Ellie,” he said, sitting across from her in the arbor. “I’m sorry about the other night. I said a lot of things I shouldn’t have, about what I want, about thinking you owe me, about the… about Philip. Will you forgive me?”
“Of course, Grant. I understand. You had a right to be upset. I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that. But this doesn’t mean I’ve changed—”
“Never mind that. I said a week. I want to wait until then. But there’s no need to apologize for ‘springing it on me’. There would have been no easy way to tell me he was your husband.”
“Not ‘was’, Grant. Is.”
“Yes. Well. Have you told the… told Philip yet, who his ‘friend’ is?”
“No, no I haven’t. If—when I decide what I’m going to do—that’ll be time enough to tell him. I will tell him, Grant, and I will let David have a part of his time. I can’t do anything else.” She rose and left the arbor, having heard the school bus arrive.
Grant followed her up the sloping path to the fence, and the puppy, frolicking at their heels, tripped him. “Why don’t you keep that little pest on a leash?” he snapped, reverting to type.
“Why should I, in my own yard?” she shot back.
“Because he’ll have to get used to being on a leash when you move to the hotel. I won’t have him running loose there.”
Eleanor blew out a long breath. “Grant, I told you. I will not be—”
“Ellie, please. Just wait a few more days before you make a hard decision.”
Why? Do you think you’ll have dug up some dirt on him by then that will make me look favorably upon you?
But, he’d had already said he wouldn’t listen to a refusal before Friday, and that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, so what was the point in getting involved in an argument when Philip was coming down the path? “I thought you wouldn’t have a dog at your hotel at all?”
“Well… I’ve been thinking, it does seem a little unfair to the… to Philip.”
So now he’s willing to make the effort, Eleanor thought with bitterness. Now that it’s too late. But, said a small voice inside her, it always was too late. I wouldn’t have married him anyway. If I had been going to, I wouldn’t put all those obstacles in the way.
At that moment Philip came through the gate, swinging it closed quickly so the pup could not escape. He stooped, laughing, and deposited his lunch kit and his plastic bag on the ground, before scooping up Casey into his arms. The pup wiggled in ecstasy and licked Philip’s face with a wet, pink tongue. “Cut it out Casey! Oh, that tickles. Hi, Mom. Where’s Jeff?”
“Hi, honey. How was your day? Have fun at school?” Philip nodded while trying to keep his nose from being chewed off. “Aren’t you going to say hello to Grant?” asked Eleanor, gently prodding her son’s manners. It didn’t matter how poorly the two got on together—manners were manners and important.
“Oh… Yeah,” he said without enthusiasm and with scarcely a glance. “Hi, Grant. I didn’t see your car.”
“I rode over. Glider needed the exercise. Say, Phil, I hear you’re pretty good rider these days,” Grant said, attempting heartiness but achieving only falsity.
“Just on Siwash,” Philip replied sullenly and Eleanor shot him a telling look.
“Oh,” said Grant jovially, “if you can ride one horse, you can ride them all. Come on and give old Glider a try. He’s in the paddock by the farmhouse.”
Philip shook his head, his mouth set in a rebellious line and started to walk away. Grant grabbed him by the shoulder. “I give a five dollar bill to any kid who can stay on Glider for five minutes,” he said coaxingly.
“No! No thank you,” replied Philip remembering his manners for once.
“How about ten bucks then… Fifteen?”
“No! I don’t want to ride Glider!”
“Oh, come on and—”
“Grant! Stop it!” Eleanor shouted. “Don’t try to bribe him.”
Grant let the child go and Philip raced away, through the gate by the orchard, running in the direction of the woods, not even stopping at the house for his customary snack or his bike. The pup tumbled along after him, yelping, till Philip picked him up and ran on.
“I… That was a mistake, wasn’t it?” Grant asked miserably.
“Yes,” agreed Eleanor between her teeth, seething with fury. “It certainly was.”
“I’ll go now… But I’ll be back on Friday.”
Oh! Would he never give up? “Don’t bother.” Eleanor said this to his departing back, but he either failed to hear her or chose not to. He did not bother to close the gate. Eleanor did, firmly.
~ * ~
By Friday morning Eleanor was no nearer to knowing what to do about her future relationship with David. Her husband had stayed completely away from her since Sunday when he’d cut the grass and made his cryptic comments, and she refused to allow herself to ask Philip about him and his activities.
But one thing she did know was that the nearer her time came of meeting with Grant grew, the more apprehensive she became. She did not fear he would harm her physically. Certainly not that. But she was still afraid he might have made good on his threat to have David investigated and use the results of that investigation—if they showed David in a poor light, which she sincerely doubted they could—and use even lies and innuendo to hurt her through hurting her son.
If only she could ask David if it was likely Grant could find anything damning in his past. Though she believed he could not, if accusations were to be made against him, didn’t he have the right to hear them? She would meet with Grant because she knew he would show up. As he said, he never broke a promise, even when she saw it as a threat. But if David were there with her, not in evidence maybe, but near
enough to step out if need be, she wouldn’t feel so alone.
Who do I think I’m kidding? I want to see him, is all, so why make up frail excuses? Just go.
She walked slowly across the yard behind her cottage, along the path, and for the first time in nearly eight years, stepped over the little trickling creek and into the daisy studded meadow, heading for the trees beyond. Where the path entered the forest, she stopped for a moment to look back. The farmhouse stood as it always had, gaunt and gray, alone on top of its little hillock with the dark red barn off one side. Faintly, through the branches of the spreading alders, she could see the silver shingles of her own roof and the golden glint of sunlight shining on a window pane. She turned and went into the forest, to the other side of the hill.
The path wound through the cool dimness, around tall evergreens, past old moss covered nurse logs with delicate seedlings struggling for air and light. In sunny patches, huckleberry bushes dripped bright red berries from slender branches and long before she expected it, Eleanor found herself at the edge of the clearing.
It was raw and new, terrible looking as are most new clearings; the earth torn here and there, moss folded over in great pads to expose snakelike brown roots of trees and underbrush. Sharp, jagged stumps stuck up like broken molars, but the ground had been raked tidy all around the neat little log cabin which stood in the center, its chimney rising askew against one side of the building. And there, just as she had been told, at the corner of the cabin, stood the dogwood tree, far bigger than it ought to have been, still with a few white, five-petaled blossoms in evidence. On the far side, the brush had been cleared away, and the bend of the creek bubbled brightly over the rocks of its bed.
Eleanor walked quietly nearer, feeling like an intruder. But how can I be? she asked. Isn’t this my glade? Hadn’t this been her special place until a brash young man had entered from out of the dark surrounds and taken her for his own? Her heart thundered as she was struck by an overwhelming urge to see, just one more time, the little mossy hollow under the dogwood tree.
The stable was empty, neither David nor the horse around, and Eleanor stepped down into the cool, magic place of sweet memories.
It was shady as it had been before, and moss-filled still, with feathery ferns hanging over the sides, creating the most secure and private of places. Eleanor stood in the center of it for a moment, her eyes tightly shut, filling her mind with the memory of sent, of sound, and then she dropped to her knees in the thick mattress of moss. “Oh, David,” she whispered. “I never forgot. How could you have so forgotten for so many years?” A stray breeze whispered through the branches with a ghostly, derisive chuckle.
Eleanor leapt up and ran from under the tree, letting her feet follow the path which led to the forestry road. She soon saw the camper. Curiosity overcame her as she peeked in the door, which hung open. If she wanted to talk to David she might as well wait in comfort for his return. She stepped inside the compact little home, noting the three burner stove, the tiny oven below, the small fridge, and the neatly made bunk which jutted out over the cab of the truck. There was a window under that bunk which gave view through the windshield of the road beyond, and one more window on either side. Through the window on her right, a beam of sunlight glanced in, picking up a reflection, flashing it in her eyes. Eleanor turned to see what was so bright, and was struck by the beauty of a gold filigree picture frame. She plucked it from its crooked perch above the stove, and stood staring for a long moment while she felt as if all life drained from her.
With shaking hands she replaced the picture exactly as she had found it and stumbled from the camper, back into the woods, and ran home.
Grant was waiting for her. Eleanor saw his car pull in to the farmyard above before he had seen her coming. She composed herself as best she could and walked sedately, her head held high, toward him.
“Well,” he said heavily, “I’m ready… Are you ready to agree to marry me?”
“No. I will not marry you. I’m sorry, Grant, but I already told you that.”
“Are you all right?” he asked. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to argue with you, it’s just that you look like you’ve had a shock. Did you learn something about your husband’s past?”
“As a matter of fact,” she said, “yes. I did.”
“Are you going back to him?” he asked.
“No, Grant. I’m going to divorce David. For desertion.”
Chapter Ten
Eleanor refused to expand on her previous two statements. She would not marry him. She would not remain married to David. She did, however, agree to dine with Grant that night; a farewell dinner, she called it, and though he accepted outwardly, she could tell by the exultant expression in his eyes, he was thinking of it as a celebration dinner. Of course, being Grant, he would only see her decision to divorce David as an opportunity for himself. She agreed because she wasn’t sure she could stay away from David, though she hadn’t quite decided if she wanted to go after him with the axe he’d told her Philip used, or with her heart in her hands.
Philip dragged ‘Jeff’ into the house with him that afternoon when school was finished. Eleanor heard them coming in and steeled herself to meet David. “Come on, Jeff. Let’s ask her. I bet she’d like a night off cooking.” Then catching sight of his mother, he said rapidly, “Mom! We got the fireplace ready to light today an’ the roof and floors an’ everything’s are finished an’ the glass is in the windows and we’re going to cook hotdogs over the fire tonight for our dinner. Can I go Mom, and will you come too?”
Oh, no! she cried inside. Not tonight! Why tonight of all nights? How can I disappoint him with what I have to tell him looming so close on the horizon? I have to go, and I have to keep up a good pretense of happiness for him. I can do it. I must do it!
“Thank you, sweetie, I’d love to have you cook my dinner over that new fireplace. I did have other plans, but I’ll go up to the big house and put them off until tomorrow. Would you like me to bring the popcorn and the long handled popper, as my contribution?”
“Oh, Mom! Sure!” Philip gave her a big hug, his skinny little arms digging into her waist. Over her head she saw David give her a grateful look. “Hurry! Hurry!” Philip yelled, darting from her to the doorway. “I’m starving and we have to see if the chimney smokes before we can start cooking. Jeff went into town today and bought the wieners and buns and marshmallows and chocolate and Graham wafers for s’mores.”
“That certainly sounds like a feast,” she said.
“Tell you what, son,” David said. “We’ll go on ahead and get the fire started and leave your mother to come soon she can. Then, if it smokes she won’t get it in her eyes.”
“Okay,” replied Philip, and bounded off, the pup following close behind him.
“David… Wait,” Eleanor spoke urgently as he made to go after Philip. “I have to tell you. I’m… I’m sorry. I’m going to go into town on Monday and see a lawyer… To start divorce proceedings.”
David’s face turned a deathly shade of gray. He opened his mouth but no words came. He closed his lids over almost black eyes for a moment and swallowed. Eleanor watched his reaction with growing horror. “The date,” he said in a strained voice, opening his eyes to look at her, “The one you have to postpone… With Grant?”
She nodded. “But not what—” It was pointless to go on. David had bolted off into the late afternoon glare and for a long moment Eleanor watched his moving silhouette until he finally disappeared into the trees.
Numbly, she called Grant, explained the situation, listened apathetically to his arguments, accepted his grudging agreement to put off their date until the following day, and called her babysitter to cancel.
Later, walking toward the woods with the setting sun behind her casting long black knives of shadow across the meadow, Eleanor recalled the look on David’s face when she’d told him of her plans. Never had she seen a human being become so old, so ill, in such a short space of time. He had been
grave, clearly worried, before she spoke, but after her words had tumbled out, he had looked like death.
But why? Why should he look like that at the thought of losing her when she had seen that picture in his camper? She had been haunted by the memory of it all day. The beautiful woman, with her enormous dark eyes, eyes full of deep, eternal sadness and wisdom, as if she faced a certain and terrible future—a future without David? If so, why? No. It made more sense to think perhaps she faced no future at all, as if she’d been given a death sentence before that picture was taken. If she’d died, that would explain why he’d come back. Long, curling black hair hung over her shoulder to mingle with the equally dark hair of the lovely little girl in her arms. The child was the image of her mother, with eyes just as dark, but gleaming with life, happiness, in stark contrast to what the woman’s eyes revealed. But, even if the woman was dead, what of the child? How could David have left her? Why, when he had that portrait signed ‘with deepest love from Manuela and Juanita’, had he come back to her, to plain ordinary Eleanor, whom he had chosen to forget for all those years?
Could it be that the woman had somehow found out about her and her son and sent David away? As Eleanor’s feet beat an unerring path to David, her heart, her mind, were doing the same, for he was part of her, even while she could not accept what he had done. He had been right not take the risk of telling her the reason for his long absence. Knowing how she felt about the years she had spent alone, he must’ve known, too, that the knowledge he’d spent them in another woman’s arms, another woman’s home and life, would destroy her faith in herself. It had. Where did I go wrong? she asked herself. Where did I fail him? Was I too young? Was it the fact that I was too ill with Philip to go with him? Was it that he knew how I hated having to leave my father? What?
As the tortured thoughts whipped back-and-forth through her mind, Eleanor had been walking steadily along the forest path, and found herself once more in the clearing. Philip waited impatiently outside the cabin.
“Mom! What took you so long? Hurry up!” he called excitedly. “The chimney draws like it should and Jeff says that because it’s crooked. I made it crooked, Mom ’cause I was too short to reach up and get all the rocks in just the right place and before Jeff noticed, the mortar was dry. Oh good. You remembered the popcorn. Come and look at my horseshoe.” He dragged her to the doorway and pointed up at the lintel, where on a big nail, hung a horseshoe. “It’s mine, Mom. My very own. Jeff and Si gave it to me for my birthday.” He paused for breath, and then went on, “Did you know that me and Jeff are going to live in the cabin for as many summers as I like? Oh I forgot, Jeff says we have to ask you first, Mom. Can I, Mom, please? Can I?” His trusting eyes searched hers for the answer and then he added, “I’ll be close to home, Mom, and I promise to come and visit you every day.”
A Father for Philip Page 16