1929

by M. L. Gardner

  “Want to help me?” he asked, holding up the bucket.

  “Sure.” She went into the pen and took a handful of grain. “Spread it like this.” She spread the grain in a sweeping motion in front of her. “That way they can all get some, and they won’t fight over a small pile.” He nodded and spread it into hardly more than a scattered pile.

  “Keep practicing,” she encouraged and showed him again. Aryl stood at the entrance of the barn watching them with a half-smile.

  “Hey,” he called to Caleb. “Come look at this.” Caleb stood with Aryl for several minutes as they watched Ava and Jean’s first authentic interaction.

  June 18th 1930

  Work on the house stopped for the day of the funeral. Jonathan Sr. and Margaret offered their house to receive mourners afterward. The work of preparing food for the guests had kept them busy late into the night. The hushed atmosphere of soft music, sniffles and tears, and long, silent hugs lingered heavily in the house. Ethel sat in the corner, dressed in black with sagging eyelids, the corners of her mouth turned down, and although it took concentration she would not remember rallying, she acknowledged loved ones and friends as they took turns to sit near her, and offer their condolences. She gave a weak smile and a polite thank you to most, cried with some and laughed modestly with Hubert’s men friends, who told stories of Hubert’s antics and sense of humor; their way of consoling indirectly. Praise and gratitude was extended to Jean whenever the story was shared of his heroic act in saving Samuel. He beamed with pride and watched Samuel with brotherly love. The sudden appearance of Jean and his questionable origin was not spoken of by the majority, but the few who dared to whisper impolitely had recoiled from the sting of Arianna’s harsh tongue.

  Caleb avoided the crowd and direct sympathy by remaining outside. Jonathan and Aryl wandered in and out of the house alternately, never leaving him alone for more than few minutes. They brought him a plate of food and sat together on the wooden bench at the back of the house.

  “Remember when we sat back here as kids?” Caleb gave a short laugh.

  “We got caught doing something and were in trouble. I don’t remember what we did, do you, guys?” Aryl asked, grinning.

  “God only knows. There were so many times.”

  “All I remember is us sitting here while we waited for Jon’s dad to go get our folks,” he said.

  “I remember,” Jonathan said, smiling. “Sitting here, I mean. And I remember getting whooped, but I don’t remember what for. Must not have been that bad.” He shrugged, picking at his food. They sat quietly, each remembering numerous times they awaited punishment together on the bench for childhood antics that seemed like a really good idea at the time.

  “I'm glad I made peace with him before . . . .” Caleb said quietly.

  ∞∞∞

  “Dadee!” Before Jonathan stirred, Ava woke, slipped out of bed, and tiptoed into Jean’s room.

  “Where’s Dadee?” he asked, his cheeks stained from tears.

  “He’s sleeping. He’s very tired. Is it all right if I sit with you?” she asked.

  He nodded, scooting over for her. She sat with her back against the headboard and pulled the covers back up over him.

  “Nightmares again?” she asked. He nodded and sniffled.

  “I had many nightmares when I was a child after my parents died. What do you dream about? Sometimes it helps to talk about it,” she said.

  “The fire.” His voice was shaky. “I dream I can’t get Samuel out of the crib . . . and the fire burns us.”

  “You wouldn’t have left him there, would you?” She spoke the obvious with admiration. “If you couldn’t have gotten him out of the crib, you would have stayed with him.” She pushed his bangs from his forehead, so she could better see Jonathan’s eyes in the dim light.

  “Yes,” he said without hesitation.

  “That’s very admirable, Jean,” she said with a sigh. “There are many adults who couldn’t be that brave.”

  “I don’t feel brave when I dream,” he said shamefully.

  “Do you know what you need?” she asked. “A good luck charm. Something to keep the bad dreams away.”

  “Is there such a thing?” he asked, raising his head off the pillow.

  “I’ll be right back.” She disappeared into the dark hallway. A moment later, she reappeared with something in her hands and repositioned herself beside him.

  “This is very special. I want you to take good care of it, all right?” He nodded with sincere, promising eyes as she showed him Maura’s cross.

  “Someone special gave this to Jonathan when he was having . . . nightmares, and, just recently, he gave it to me when I was very sad. He said it should always be with someone who needs it. And I think,” she lifted the corner of his pillow as she spoke, “that if you keep it here, it will keep the nightmares away.”

  “Do you believe this?”

  “I do. It worked for me. Will you give it a try?” she asked with a smile, and nudged his head back down.

  “Will you stay here until I fall asleep?” he asked, yawning.

  “I will.” She put her hand lightly on his back as he closed his eyes.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  The child spoke the words, but she heard Jonathan’s voice.

  June 19th 1930

  The formalities of mourning now behind them, people arrived at the farmhouse and began the healing process with the sweat of labor. Jonathan helped Caleb pitch hay into a pile for Hannah, then they surveyed the bustling work site from the barn door. Older women stood around a large, metal tub over a fire. Each of them held a washboard and scrubbed the pungent smoke out of any fabric washable from the house. Jared and Sam, two of Hubert’s closest friends, carried long two-by-fours on their shoulders into the house, which produced the typical sounds of construction: hammering, clanking, occasional clatter of burnt rubbish thrown out onto the porch. Whooping laughter and a string of curses that set one of the washing women off into a long-winded reprimand which included her husband’s full name.

  The younger generation worked in the garden, trying to save what they could from the storm’s damage, and the youngest walked around with buckets, picking up garbage and burnt items tossed from the house.

  “I don’t know how I can ever repay them,” Caleb said, clearly moved.

  “Maybe we could have a party when it’s finished. A big picnic,” Jonathan suggested. “We could shoot old Hannah there and have steak,” he said and grinned.

  Caleb let out a laugh. “No, we need her for milk . . . but we could have pork.” They both looked back slowly at the sow in the pen.

  “I was going to wait until fall.” He watched the many people who took time out of their busy, struggling lives to help. “I think that’s a good idea.”

  On their way back to the house, an old truck came rattling up the bumpy drive. A metal clanking sound came from the bed, but the old cast-iron wood stove wasn’t visible until the truck backed up to the porch. Abe Prescott threw the driver’s side door closed with a tinny slam and waved at Caleb. “Got something for ya,” he yelled and motioned for him to come closer. “Had this laying around, needs cleaning up, but it’ll work fine until you can replace it,” he said, smiling wide and toothless, motioning for help to lift it out of the truck. It took eight men to lower it to the ground and the women descended upon it with rags and scrub brushes, admiring the old relic.

  June 21st 1930

  The bulk of the major renovation reached completion by early Saturday afternoon, and a group of women armed with buckets went to work cleaning every inch of the smoke-damaged interior. Ethel walked around in amazement. This was her first return to the house since the fire. She looked tired, but with the early stage of shock past, Caleb could see she was moving into the long process of grief adjustment as he walked with her quietly.

  “It’s amazing,” she said, moving from the kitchen to the living room. “It was so wonderful of everyone to help.”

&n
bsp; “There’s work until Monday, and then we should be able to move back in. I thought we would have a cookout on Tuesday afternoon to thank everyone.”

  “I think that’s a great idea,” said two women in unison from the hearth where they were scrubbing.

  “I know it’ll be hard, Mom. We can move some stuff around.” She looked over the living room slowly and then set her gaze to the window facing the blueberry trees.

  “He’s still here. I can feel it.”

  “Let me know if there’s anything you want me to, you know, take out to the barn.” She followed his eyes to his father’s chair where he had sat every night.

  “No. Leave it there,” she said with a wistful smile. “Please, leave it there. So I can sit with him.”

  ∞∞∞

  I can’t believe how great you look. It hasn’t even been two months, Ahna!” Claire said. “I hope I bounce back that quickly.” She turned to Ava, who was holding Samuel while Arianna fed Savrene. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine now. I felt sick a lot during the beginning, but everything has been so hectic, I hardly noticed. I’m going to have to start letting out my clothes soon, though.” She looked down at her dress, which strained slightly over the small bulge of her lower stomach.

  “Just think! Next summer, we’re going to have four children between us.” Arianna laughed in amazement. “How did that happen?”

  “Five,” Ava said quietly, picking at the grass with her free hand.

  “Yes. Jean.” Arianna glanced at Claire, then Ava. “I just didn’t know how you’d feel if, well, if I included him.”

  “Well, he’s here. He’s a child. He’s Jon’s, so . . . .” She raised one shoulder in concession. “That makes him mine, too, I suppose.” Ava gave a strained smile.

  “What changed?” Claire asked bluntly.

  Ava looked out into the yard at the shiny, new door on the old house bustling with volunteers, then to Aryl and Jonathan laughing together near the barn as Jean clung to his father’s leg. She didn’t tell them about Elyse’s letter, Maura’s love and support from afar, Jonathan’s confession, or giving Jean the cross.

  She answered with tranquility, “Everything.”

  June 22nd 1930

  You’re taking a trip, Mr. Drayton?” Grayson stood at the bedside ready, if asked, to help Victor pack his suitcase. His employer packing his own luggage was unusual.

  “Yes. I’ll be gone until mid-week or so. Make sure Mrs. Drayton doesn’t stray far while I’m gone, would you?” He gave at tight, irritated smile.

  “Of course, sir. What time shall I have the car ready to leave?”

  “Have it ready in an hour. But I won’t be taking the train. I’ll be driving myself.”

  Grayson smiled nervously. “Going on an adventure, sir?”

  “Yes, Grayson, something like that.” His black eyes flashed. “Where’s my coat?” he asked.

  “It was laundered last week. I’ll call the maid to retrieve it, although it is rather warm for a coat, sir.”

  “Just go get it.” Victor waved him away, annoyed, and resumed his packing.

  Grayson returned with the long, dark coat over his arm and looked even more unnerved. “There’s someone here to see you, sir.” Victor snatched the coat and tossed it into the leather bag. He glanced at his watch and cursed under his breath.

  “He’s early,” he growled. “Grayson, get the car. I’ll be leaving sooner than expected.” He zipped the bag and headed downstairs.

  Outside, Victor was handed a set of instructions. Two good-sized boxes were tucked in the back seat. “Be sure to follow these instructions in the order I’ve written them.”

  “You’ve told me and showed me a dozen times. I can handle this,” he said, stuffing the paper in his pocket.

  “I still don’t understand why you won’t send me? This is, after all, my area of expertise.”

  “For the reason that this is personal, that’s why. I want the satisfaction of a job well-done by me.” His smile was unsettling. His malevolent educator raised his hands in submission.

  “Besides,” Victor said, taking a step closer and lowering his voice, “if I sent you to do this, you wouldn’t be here to take care of my other problem.” He glanced toward the house. “Remember,” Victor held up a finger in warning, “what I said. Quiet and neat. No loose ends.”

  “A man doesn’t get to charge what I do by being messy or leaving loose ends,” he said with confident arrogance. Victor hurled him a final smug look before pulling out onto Fifth Avenue.

  June 24th 1930

  “We really appreciate your putting us up, Aryl,” Caleb said sincerely as they carried armloads of things upstairs in the rebuilt home.

  “It’s no trouble.” He pushed the bedroom door open and let his armload spill onto the bed. “I’m just sorry for the circumstances.”

  “Me, too.” Caleb set a stack of diapers and blankets inside the crib, and then stopped to stare at a stuffed bear that was propped in the corner. “You know what’s strange? The babies have slept through the night ever since it happened. And Savrene’s colic has all but disappeared.” Aryl raised his eyebrows.

  “Really? That’s great.”

  “It’s strange.”

  “Don’t question it. Just be grateful for it,” Aryl said as they returned downstairs.

  Ethel had begun teaching Arianna the art of cooking on a wood-fired antique. Jonathan bounded onto the back porch and into the kitchen.

  “Caleb,” he said breathlessly. “I just got a telegram from Patrick. He said yes. It must have gotten delayed somehow, but they are going to be here on the noon train tomorrow.”

  “That fast?” Aryl pulled a chair out and sat down. “We haven’t even talked about where to put them up.”

  “Well, we have plenty of room here,” Caleb said, “until we figure something else out.”

  “Once Patrick is taught, you’re free.” He understood the misery of doing a job every day that you hated. Or, at the very least, didn’t love. Jonathan had come to love fishing. And Caleb loved this small farm.

  He leaned back and smiled. “I really appreciate that. But I’ll still go out with you guys a couple days a week.”

  Earlier that morning, Aryl had started the roasting fire in the pit and Jonathan and Caleb had heaved the massive swine from the tree where it drained to the fire pit.

  “You boys better check on that pig if there’s going to be a dinner. Folks’ll be showing up here this afternoon,” Ethel warned while preparing to make a vat of potato salad. She had gone into work mode, Caleb noticed, and kept her hands and mind busy every waking moment of the day.

  Ava was all smiles, looking forward to seeing Shannon again and helping them settle in the town. Jean stayed close to her side.

  Just before dinner was called, Caleb stood up and got everyone’s attention. Many families were scattered about the yard, some at small tables and others on blankets circling out from the main food table. They all quieted down to a hush.

  “I just wanted to thank everyone for everything you’ve done. It’s amazing,” he said, admiring the house. “And it’s hard to believe it only took a week. Thanks to everyone for all your hard work. This dinner isn’t nearly enough to repay all of you. Or express our gratitude–”

  “It’s plenty enough, we’re starving already!” toothless Abe yelled out.

  Caleb laughed. “All right, everyone. Let’s eat!”

  He carved piles of pork for a large platter and thanked each person as they helped themselves to the meat. Caleb glanced over at Arianna sitting on a blanket. The dozing babies lay close together, and Savrene tightly held a fistful of Samuel’s sleeper. When everyone had filled their plates, Caleb walked toward his family with two plates of food. Friends, old and young, adorned the multitude of blankets and quilts that dotted the yard. The simple meal and fellowship a reward for the week's worth of hard work and charity. Jean sat in between Ava and Jonathan under a small tree. Aryl and Claire sat close togeth
er in the sun by the porch. Claire was listening intently as Aryl talked nearly nonstop, pausing occasionally to eat. It was quieter now as everyone feasted, and Caleb was grateful for a peaceful moment. He lowered a plate of food to Arianna as she smiled, squinting up against the sun.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Are you excited about Patrick and Shannon?” Arianna moved so Caleb could snuggle in between her and the babies.

  Nodding, she said, “I’m so excited.” She covered her mouthful of food with her hand. “I’ve missed her so much.”

  “I think she’s going to be quite impressed with you. How much you’ve changed.” He shook his head slightly as if he himself still couldn’t believe her transformation.

  “Are you okay?” she asked after several moments.

  “Everyone has helped so much that it astounds me. I guess we spent so much time in the city that I forgot how decent and charitable people can be.” He looked over the gathering and smiled. “It really helps with what happened. I don’t know whether it should or not.” He looked at Arianna as if waiting for her to agree or disagree. “I feel like I should be grieving harder, mourning deeper. I almost feel guilty for being so, well, happy.”

  “Don’t feel guilty. Your father wouldn’t want you to wallow in grief and stop living life. I think you’re doing and feeling exactly what you should be right now.” She slipped her hand into his. His eyes panned over the small farm that was now his. It was made official with the reading of the will at the dining room table the day before. The two conditions of the inheritance were simple and Caleb had no problem with agreeing to them. His mother was to stay on with him for the rest of her days, and he was to never, ever, sell the farm to any non-blood relative.