1929

by M. L. Gardner

  Jonathan tore onto the property, skidding to a stop with a muddy fishtail in the pouring rain, and Aryl screeched to a halt behind him; the oldest of the neighbors who had been dispatched to fetch them was left several miles back. Aryl ran toward the house, the fire now reduced to a smoldering mess, and picked up a stray bucket along the way. Jonathan looked across the yard where Caleb held his mother’s shoulders as she cried over her husband’s body.

  “Dadee!”

  Jean ran from the barn and scrambled up into Jonathan's arms. He hugged him tight and then pulled him back to look at him.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, caressing his hair and sooty face. He nodded with eyes full of tears as Jonathan carried him back to the barn.

  “I was scared,” he whispered in his father’s ear.

  ∞∞∞

  “Jonathan,” Arianna said, as she sat against a bale of hay, feeding Savrene. Samuel lay on his side next to her leg. She looked like she was ready to drop, if she weren't already sitting, from the combination of exhaustion and the letdown of adrenaline. “Thank you for coming.” Jonathan looked at each of the babies and thought her gratitude absurd.

  “I’m glad you all got out all right,” he said, running his fingers through his hair and looking back to the black hole in the side of the house.

  “Jonathan, Caleb and I were out walking Savrene when it happened. Jean was in the house. He said Hubert fell on the table and the lamp started the fire. He ran upstairs and saved Samuel. I don’t know how he got him out of that crib, but–” She looked at Jean with more love than any mother could possess. “He saved my baby.” Tears filled her eyes, and she simply lowered her head and sobbed.

  Jonathan set Jean to standing and lowered himself to his level. He wiped the soot from his cheeks and forehead with his sleeve and pushed his hair out of his eyes. He held his little head between his hands, looking him in the eyes.

  “You did a very good thing tonight, Jean. A very good thing. I’m so proud of you.”

  Jean’s bottom lip quivered and he fell into Jonathan’s hug.

  The rain drove down, and Aryl had to speak loudly to be heard.

  “You’ll need to get the coroner,” he told one of Hubert’s older friends. “We should get him out of the rain.” He took off his jacket and put it around Ethel’s shoulders, though it didn't help much. It was soaked through within minutes. He walked around to stand behind Caleb, touching his shoulder briefly.

  “Help me get her out of the rain,” Caleb asked when he looked up.

  Aryl bent down. “Ethel. Let us help you get into the barn where it’s dry. You’re going to catch cold.” She shook her head violently.

  “No! I won’t leave him!” She grabbed two fistfuls of his flannel, refusing to let go.

  “You need to get out of the rain. It’s getting worse,” Aryl said gently as he looked up and squinted his eyes against the storm. It had been the house’s saving grace. Without it, Aryl knew that a dozen men with buckets would not have been enough to keep the fire contained, much less put it out.

  “No!” she screamed, still staring at Hubert’s bloodless face.

  “Mom–”

  “Leave her.” Aryl took his arm and lowered his voice. “This is the last few moments she has with him. Let her have them.”

  Caleb crumpled roughly beside his mother in a puddle of muddy rain that had collected around the body and dropped his head into his hands.

  “I need to go look at the damage to the house and check on Caleb.” Jonathan told the women huddled in the barn. “Jean, you stay here, you’ll get soaked if you go out there.” Jean shook his head and grabbed onto him.

  “I’ll be right back, I promise.”

  “Jean.”

  Jonathan turned slowly toward the sound of Ava’s voice and saw her outstretched hand.

  “We need someone to stay here and protect us. Will you?” He looked over the women and babies and nodded to Jonathan that he would stay. He walked over and sat as close to Arianna as possible, stroking the forehead of the baby she was nursing.

  ∞∞∞

  “Looks like the kitchen is completely destroyed. There’s smoke and water damage a few feet into the living room, and the first five stairs are gone along with the banister,” Aryl assessed. Jonathan and Aryl walked slowly through the darkened house, each holding a kerosene lamp to light the way. Jonathan turned to look at the charred hole where the door once stood.

  “Well, they can’t stay here. Not until all this is repaired.”

  “Caleb, Arianna and the babies can stay with us. We have the extra bedroom,” Aryl offered.

  “What about Ethel?”

  “I think it would be best if she stayed with one of her close friends. She’d be more comfortable.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  They walked out onto the smoke-blackened porch and saw that all of the volunteers had migrated to the barn. Caleb was helping Ethel walk, who looked on the verge of collapse. A fresh wave of hysteria and tears erupted as the coroner arrived to take Hubert’s body.

  Jonathan explained the extent of the damage and the sleeping arrangements for the night. Ethel’s best friend, June, stood by her side with an arm around her.

  “Ethel can stay with me as long as she needs to.”

  “All right. Caleb and I can go back inside and try to get whatever you might need for the next few days. The things upstairs should be fine, except for the smell of smoke.” June rattled off a few things Ethel needed; Bible, toothbrush, robe, hairbrush. Jonathan made a mental list while telling Caleb to grab everything he could carry for the babies.

  ∞∞∞

  Close to midnight, Arianna got the babies settled in the corner of the extra bedroom of Aryl’s home. Jean’s head wobbled heavily, but he fought to stay awake, clinging to Jonathan. He carried him inside Aryl’s house, and Jean nodded off briefly on his shoulder while Jonathan said the usual words of consolation to Caleb. Caleb thanked Aryl for housing them and excused himself to bed, exhausted and emotionally drained.

  Jonathan stood with Aryl after their friend had disappeared upstairs into the bedroom. He shifted Jean on his shoulder as he spoke.

  “Rebuilding is going to have to begin as soon as the storm is over,” Jonathan said quietly. “I know I don’t need to ask, but I thought we could take some out of the business savings for supplies.”

  “Of course,” Aryl agreed. “We’re going to have to take some time off work. Maybe a week if some neighbors pitch in to help. What about Hubert’s funeral? Who’s going to be organizing that?” Jonathan went over his mental checklist, organizing the things he needed to address right away and things that could wait.

  “I heard Caleb say his mother would with the help of their friends. I’m not so sure that’s something he can handle right now.” Aryl slumped down on the sofa, looking up as Jonathan continued. “I think it’s best to keep Caleb busy. I’ll come back in the morning. We can go back to the house and start making a list of things we’ll need for rebuilding.” Aryl nodded with a yawn, closing and opening his eyes in an exaggerated blink.

  “I’m beat.”

  “We all need some sleep,” Jonathan said as he made his way to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  He walked out to the car where Ava was waiting and set Jean in the center of the narrow bench seat. He woke briefly, looking around in confusion and then slumped over onto Ava’s arm. She moved hesitantly as she lifted his head to free her arm and put it around his shoulders. He melted into her side, and she held him loosely with both arms to keep him from falling forward in his deep sleep. Jonathan watched from the corner of his eye, silently relieved and deeply hopeful.

  June16th 1930

  Ava was jarred from her sleep in the early hours of morning as howling winds shook the frame of the house. Poking her head out of the covers, she saw a light coming from the hall and that she was alone in bed. She pulled herself up groggily and slipped into her robe.

  From the d
oorway, she could see a dim light coming from Jean’s room. The door creaked briefly as she pushed it open and peeked inside. Jean lay on his stomach on the edge of the mattress with his arm hanging over the side, his hand connected to Jonathan’s, who sat with folded arms on his knees, his back against the wall. He looked up and shrugged.

  “Nightmares,” he whispered.

  “He’s asleep now,” she whispered back, walking toward him with a watchful eye on Jean.

  “Every time I leave, he wakes up. After the third time, I just decided to stay.” He leaned his head back on the wall and closed his eyes.

  “What a terrible day,” she whispered, sitting down next to him. Jonathan nodded in saddened agreement.

  “Do you think Caleb will be okay?” She laid her head on his shoulder and held onto his arm.

  “Eventually,” Jonathan whispered back. “There’s something he hasn’t thought of yet, and I’m not sure whether to bring it up or let him come to it on his own.”

  “What?” Ava looked up at him.

  “With his father gone, someone is going to need to run the farm. Caleb has been wanting off the boats. This may be his chance. Problem for us is that we need a third man. I’m not sure what we’d do if he decided to leave the operation.” He stared ahead in the dim light, searching for solutions.

  “Maybe he won’t,” Ava said and shrugged lightly.

  “No. I think he will–” Ava put a finger to her lips as Jonathan’s voice grew above a whisper.

  “Think about it,” he continued in a lower voice. “There’s a lot that little farm produces that they can’t do without. Milk, eggs, butter, and meat, not to mention the acres of wheat they use every year. Caleb has two children now. If anything, he needs to increase productivity.” Ava laid her head back on his shoulder, too tired to think. Just as she dozed off, her head slid off Jonathan’s shoulder and an image of Shannon holding one of her babies in the homemade sling flashed into her mind. Her head whipped around to face Jonathan.

  “Patrick!” she cried. Jean stirred and shifted under his quilts. “Sorry,” she whispered. “Patrick, Jonathan! He can take Caleb’s place. He lost his job and they are on the verge of total ruin. They could make a new life here!” She could barely keep her excitement contained to a whisper. Jonathan grinned at her.

  “That’s a damned good idea,” he said, nodding. “Good thinking, beautiful.” She grinned back, albeit selfishly, at the thought of Shannon living close again.

  “I’ll talk to Aryl. Caleb, too, for that matter, so he knows there’s no pressure. I can telegram Patrick and maybe you could follow up with a letter, explaining the details? We might could even help a little with getting them out here, depending on how much it costs to rebuild part of the hou–” He interrupted himself with a hearty yawn.

  “Go back to bed,” Ava whispered, but Jonathan shook his head and looked at Jean helplessly.

  “I’ll just be back here in ten minutes.”

  “Go. I’ll stay.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I am. Go. You need your rest. You’ve got a house to help rebuild.” She slipped her hand in between Jonathan and Jean’s and took his place against the wall. He bent down and looked at their hands briefly before giving her a long but modest kiss.

  “Thank you,” he whispered. Ava gave him a little smile and leaned her head on the mattress, Jean’s hand curled inside hers.

  ∞∞∞

  Everyone met outside the farmhouse just before noon as neighbors came from miles away to help in what small way they might. Caleb set to work taking care of the animals that had been neglected the previous afternoon. Deep-set brow lines and bloated eyes hid the joyous milestone of the babies sleeping through the night for the first time. They had woken twice, fussed briefly and, just as Caleb pulled his eyes open, settled quickly.

  Aryl walked through the house with a notebook along with one of the older neighbors, skilled in carpentry. He pulled away large chunks of blackened plaster in the kitchen to reveal little damage to the framework. “That’s going to make our job a lot easier,” the old man said and smiled. “I’d say a week, give or take a day. Should have this place livable again.” He looked around as he spoke, grimacing at the grunge covered icebox and stove. “I’ll ask around, see about getting some appliances.”

  “That’s great. Thank you for all your help.” Aryl followed him around as he finished inspecting the damage, taking notes and making lists.

  ∞∞∞

  Jonathan joined Caleb in the barn and quietly took a seat next to him as he milked their cow, Hannah.

  “She’s hurting,” Caleb said as he worked. “Missed two milkings.” Jonathan watched his hands’ rhythmic motions as Hannah made low grunts of relief.

  “I wanted to talk to you about something. I was going to wait, but the sooner we get a plan together, the better. I already spoke with Aryl.” Caleb remained focused on Hannah’s udders with a scowl. “Look, I know you’ve wanted off the boats for a while now. I think there’s a way we can make that happen.” Caleb stopped milking and looked up at him.

  “How?”

  “We could send for Patrick. We can help him and Shannon get here, and he could take your place. You’d be free to work here full-time.” Caleb rubbed his forehead, deep in thought and shook his head in disappointment.

  “I just can’t see how . . . I need to do both, Jon, and I don’t know how I’m going to do that.”

  “What do you mean, do both?”

  “I need to keep things going here, even just producing for our own use, but I need to make money, too.” His shoulders drooped and he looked up, discouraged. “I don’t know how I’m going to do both.”

  “Why don’t we do this?” Aryl walked in and leaned on Hannah’s left haunch. “You take some time off, get things in order around here. We’ll ask Patrick. He’s a quick study, so it won’t take him any time at all to outwork the both of us combined. We’ll save every cent and get that fourth boat up and running. You can use that.” He nodded out toward the acre of blueberries visible from the barn window. “And spend time here. You might need to hire a hand to help–” Caleb opened his mouth to protest. Aryl raised his eyebrows and continued. “There are a lot of folks that need work right now and will take what pay they can get. Maybe next year Arianna can expand the garden and for now, you can pay a hand partially in produce come fall.” He shrugged his shoulders with his suggestion and waited. Caleb sat pondering the suggestion.

  “I don’t see how I can pay for the boat repairs, we’ve parted the hell out of that thing.”

  “Let us worry about that,” Jonathan said. There was a long pause before he looked up with gratitude.

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you guys,” he said quietly. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.” Jonathan turned to leave, immediately kicking the plan into action. “I’m going to run into town to send Patrick a telegram, and Ava can get started on a letter.”

  “Think he’ll go for it?” Caleb called after him.

  “I do. It’s getting bad in the city. They’ve got nothing to lose,” he said as he rounded the corner with long strides.

  Aryl looked around the barn. “What else needs to be done in here?”

  “Pigs. They need to be fed and their bedding changed.” Aryl walked over and smiled at the massive sow surrounded by noisy, wiggling, pink piglets. He filled their trough with feed from a large drum outside the pen and cleared the hay while they were distracted.

  A small shadow caused Caleb to look up, and he halfheartedly smiled at Jean. “Hey, fella. What are you doing?”

  “My Dadee left. Can I stay with you? Can I help?” The large cow swung her head around to look at Jean and let out a long “Moo” that made Jean giggle.

  “Sure. We’ll find something for you to do,” Caleb said with a smile.

  “What about the chickens?” Aryl asked from across the barn. “Want to feed the chickens?” Jean nodded excitedly, and Aryl grabbed a bucket as
Caleb directed him to the chicken feed.

  Outside, he showed Jean how to scatter the feed, and Jean squealed as all the chickens surrounded him, clucking wildly, and pecking the food from the ground. Ava stood by the front of the house where the women had gathered to assign the needed cleaning work and designate who was to provide food on which days. Jean’s giggles grabbed Ava's attention as the chickens chased him, then he turned to chase the chickens, feed spilling out of the bucket as he ran. She smiled, remembering that it was her daily chore with her aunt to feed their small flock of chickens. It was her favorite responsibility as a child.

  One of the older women handed her a note with her jobs and days to provide lunch listed, and she walked over to the chicken coop, tucking the list into her pocket.

  “Did you know they have names?” she called. Jean turned, startled at her voice and smiled shyly.

  “No. What are they?” he asked.

  “Well, that one is called ‘fried’. And that one is ‘roast’.” She pointed as she spoke with a grin. “That’s ‘casserole’ over there and ‘cordon bleu’ is in the corner.” He giggled and walked over to her.