“No, I’m alone. I wanted to see you. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed home.”
His father greeted Theodore with equal excitement, just less publicly expressed. Theodore could see his father’s delight by looking in the man’s eyes rather than by listening to anything he said. Theodore’s father was a quiet man, but he had much to say for those who could listen in the right way.
“How long can you stay?” his mother asked.
“I… I’ve left the city. I’m back. I know you don’t have room any longer, so I’ll get a room at the hotel in town.”
“Nonsense,” his mother declared decisively. “No son of mine is going to stay in a hotel when he comes to see his parents.”
“Thank you, Mama.”
“Do you have bags?” she asked.
“Yes, at the train station. They’re holding them for me. I’ll get them later.”
Feeling more calm and at peace than he’d felt in months, Theodore let the love of his parents wash over him, and he felt safe at last.
“Now tell me,” his mother said, “Martin stayed in the city, didn’t he?”
“No, actually,” Theodore said. “Martin moved away some months ago.”
“He what?” his mother demanded in seeming disbelief.
“Martin moved away, um, let me see, it was probably a little more than six months ago.”
“Martin Fuller left New York City? I never thought I’d ever hear of such a thing. And his mother never said a word about it to me. Wait until I see her next. And you didn’t say anything about it to me in any of your letters.”
Theodore was quiet.
“Martin was always so important to you, such a good friend. I find it hard to believe that he just moved away. Did you two have a fight of some sort?” she asked.
“Oh, no. Nothing like that. He just got an offer he couldn’t refuse.”
“What is he doing now?” she asked.
“I don’t really know,” Theodore told her.
Fortunately he was saved from further interrogation when his mother announced that she had to start dinner.
Theodore had thought he was safe with his mother out of the room, but it turned out she wasn’t the only one who found his story lacking.
“Come walk with me, Theodore,” his father told him. “I’d like to show you my garden.”
He dutifully followed his father out of the house and into the garden, but while they walked slowly along the rows of vegetables, the garden was not their focus.
“Theodore, we are very happy to see you and have you back. You have always been such a good boy, and now such a good man.” His father paused for a moment as he appeared to look for the right words to use. When he spoke, his words were soft, gentle, but insistent. “What is the truth about Martin?”
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean is that there is something—something important—that you are not telling us. Martin is your best friend. It is most unusual for you to move to the city, and then a few months later for him to move out of the city. Your story doesn’t ring true, Theodore. Now, tell me, please, what happened? And even more important, are you all right with whatever it is that happened?”
Theodore’s shoulders slumped, and his head dropped forward. Should he do it? Could he do it? He fought back tears that threatened to escape. He knew he had to hold himself together.
Taking a deep breath, he looked up at his father and asked, “Can I have your promise that what I’m about to tell you will remain between just the two of us? No one else, not even Mother.”
“All right,” his father slowly agreed. “You have my word.”
“Martin… Martin did move north of the city… but it was not a voluntary move.”
“Explain, please.”
“Martin was arrested one night back in February at a local bathhouse. He… he… he and some other men… they were… there was some illegal activity going on, and he was swept up in a raid. The police detained nearly ninety people and arrested those they had evidence on. They had officers on site collecting evidence before they raided the place.”
“All right. I think I get the picture,” his father said slowly, thoughtfully. Theodore was so thankful his father didn’t ask him to be more specific about what “illegal activity” Martin was engaged in that got him arrested. “Go on.”
“He spent weeks in the local jail before his trial. He and a group of other men were all tried in a series of trials this spring and were all sentenced together. Martin was found guilty and was sentenced to seven years and two months of hard labor in Sing Sing prison north of the city.”
“I see.”
“I hired a lawyer for him to argue his case in court. I hired another lawyer who appealed the decision of the first court, but that failed. I used up everything I had, both financially and emotionally, trying to save him, but I couldn’t.
“I’ve seen Martin do some crazy things over the years, some inappropriate things, or maybe things at inappropriate times and places. This time the police were there, saw it happen, and arrested him and everyone involved. Martin did something stupid, something he should never have done, something so stupid in a public place. He got caught. I hate it, but there is nothing more I can do about it. And now he’s a prisoner.”
“Seven years,” his father said.
“Seven years,” Theodore confirmed.
They walked along through the rows of vegetables quietly, each man holding his hands behind his back, his head down.
“Thank you for telling me, Son. And I understand why you wanted to keep this news secret. He always seemed like a good boy, at times a little wild, but basically a good boy. Do his parents know?”
“No. At least not from me. He told me in a letter that he had no intention of telling them, that news of it would kill them. I think that it would be brutal for them. He’s their only child, and the thought of him locked up like an animal in a tiny cell for so many years would no doubt be difficult for them to bear. And there’s not a thing they could do to change it. I’ve tried. It hurt so much every time I saw him.”
“They would be seriously upset, there is no doubt about that. They would be worried about him, about his condition, about his safety. I’ve read that life in prison is not an easy one. And Martin is not the most hale and hearty of men, so life in prison will most likely be very hard on him.”
“Yes. He was sentenced to hard labor. He was not… especially athletic or muscular.”
“That will change quickly if he hopes to survive.”
“Oh, Father,” Theodore said in concern. “I… I can’t live with the thought of him not surviving the next several years.”
“You’re a good man, Theodore,” his father assured him quietly. “What are you going to tell his parents? You know that they will inquire as soon as they see you.”
“He asked me to tell them that he’s gone on a long trip, far, far away, to someplace he’s never been, and that the offer was too good to pass up. As a result, he will likely be gone for several years and mostly out of contact.”
WHEN THEODORE and his father returned to the house, his mother asked, “Isn’t your father’s garden looking wonderful? He is out there working in it every day.”
“That’s because I’ve always been a farmer. We might not live on a farm anymore, but it still feels right to grow the food we need, just on a far smaller scale now.”
Theodore was quite surprised his mother didn’t ask anything about what he and his father had discussed, for which he was quietly grateful.
That night over dinner, Theodore’s mother told him all about what had happened with Mr. Hoffman. While he’d been in New York, his mother had kept him up-to-date on many of the happenings in their valley, especially if it was news about someone Theodore knew. And since he had worked in the general store for three years, Theodore had met just about everyone in the valley.
“Has Mr. Hoffman managed to find better help?” Theodore asked.
“Oh, that po
or man,” his mother exclaimed.
“What?” Theodore asked, setting his fork down and staring at his mother, suddenly concerned.
“He had one young man after that horrible Micah episode. He was a horrible young man, lazy, disrespectful. He didn’t last a week. Then he hired another young man who seemed to be working out well—until he disappeared one night, with all of the cash receipts from the register. He was never seen again.”
“Oh, no! How awful,” Theodore commented.
“He’s still looking for help,” his mother told him. “You can understand why he’s being much more selective now after being so badly burned twice. If you plan to stay in town, you should go see him. He might offer you your old job back, if that’s what you want.”
“I’m not really sure what I want,” Theodore answered honestly. “But I will definitely go see him tomorrow morning to say hello, if nothing else.”
“And offer him your condolences, of course,” his mother added.
“Condolences? Why? I don’t understand.”
“For his wife. I wrote this to you in a letter that probably is just now getting to New York. Audrey died.”
“Oh, no! What happened?” Theodore was shocked. “I didn’t know she’d even been sick.”
“Well,” his mother said, in good country gossip fashion, her plate of food completely ignored while she recounted the news. “After Micah cost them so much business, the entire community was angry. He practically ruined Mr. Hoffman’s reputation. Micah very nearly drove him out of business. No one wanted to deal with that odious man, so people started going up the valley eight miles to the store in the next town. It’s a long trek, but everyone was so angry at how they’d been treated in Hoffman’s Store while Micah was there.”
“I thought Mr. Hoffman got rid of Micah,” Theodore asked.
“He did, but the damage Micah caused was dreadful. It cost the Hoffmans dearly. So many people turned against them, furious at how Micah had treated them and belittled them. Audrey was walking down the street one day and saw someone approaching who she had always considered to be a friend. When they saw her coming, they crossed the street to avoid having to talk with her. She ran back to their apartment and shut herself inside. She was so embarrassed about the whole thing that she refused to leave their home. She went into hiding, never leaving, never going beyond the stairs into the store. She turned completely into a recluse.”
“Oh, no. That poor woman,” Theodore commented.
“And then one morning earlier this week, Mr. Hoffman got up to go to work. He left her to sleep, but when he went upstairs at noon to check on things, she hadn’t moved. It turned out she was dead. She died in her sleep.”
“I will absolutely go talk with him tomorrow.”
Chapter Eighteen—Visiting Old Friends
AFTER HAVING a filling breakfast—how he had missed his mother’s cooking—Theodore dressed in his best suit of clothes and walked to the store. After months of living in New York with the constant sounds of the city, the hustle and bustle of people, vehicles, animals moving about, the calm and quiet of his hometown was a stark contrast. It was so quiet that morning that he could even hear a bird singing in a tree along his route to the store. How he had missed the simple things of life—his mother’s cooking, a bird singing in a tree, the room to move about without bumping into someone else.
At the store, he paused and smiled. He knew this place like the back of his hand. When he had worked there, he had known where everything was kept because he had put it in its place. He often thought that someone could place him blindfolded in the middle of the store, tell him to fetch something, and he’d be able to do that, retrieving exactly what they requested.
But as he approached the store that cool early winter morning, Theodore felt that he was approaching foreign terrain. He had been gone for less than a year, but so much had happened in that time. Theodore had no idea how he would be received when he walked through the doors that morning. His mother had been unusually quiet, seemingly unwilling to make predictions or to share her usual gossip. Had he not been so out of practice with his mother, Theodore would have instantly been on alert.
Quietly he walked through the doors, removing his hat once inside as a sign of respect. Glancing around, Theodore was comforted to see the store looking much as he remembered it. The only thing that was out of place was the stranger behind the counter. Theodore didn’t recognize him. He was an old man, hunched over. Theodore wondered at first if the old man was awake or asleep. He also wondered why Mr. Hoffman had hired someone so ancient to work the counter of the store. He’d always employed young men like Theodore.
Deciding there was only one way to find the answers to his many questions, Theodore approached the counter and offered a pleasant, respectful greeting. “Good morning, sir. Can you tell me if Mr. Hoffman is available?”
As the man slowly raised his head to follow the voice, Theodore’s mouth fell open from the shock of the sight that greeted him. Mr. Hoffman. He had aged so much in just a year. The man before him looked to be at least ten years older than the man he remembered.
“Theodore? Is it really you?” Mr. Hoffman asked, a smile slowly spreading across his ancient face. “Is it really you?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Hoffman, it’s really me.”
“You are the answer to my prayers.”
“I just heard about Mrs. Hoffman. I was devastated to hear the news, sir. She was such a wonderful woman. I cannot picture this place without her here.”
“I share that feeling, Theodore. It was a most shocking turn of events. I am so happy to see you, Theodore.”
“Likewise, Mr. Hoffman. When I got in last night, I told my parents that I wanted to come over and see you first thing in the morning.”
“I don’t suppose you’re moving back home, are you?”
“Actually, yes, I am. I tried life in the city for a while, but it has its drawbacks. So I’m back home where I belong.”
“Do you want your old job back?” Mr. Hoffman asked with an eagerness that could not be masked.
“I….” Theodore was stunned. “I heard you have been having a hard time finding an acceptable employee, sir.”
“That is true. There is no one who has been better at your job than you, Theodore. You are one-of-a-kind, and I was a fool to ever let you go.”
Mr. Hoffman’s question actually addressed a number of issues all at once, far easier than Theodore had ever anticipated. “Are you hiring, sir?”
“Not any longer, now that you’re back here.” Mr. Hoffman moved around from behind the counter and gave Theodore a big hug, something he had never done in all the time they had known each other.
Theodore was shocked at how poorly Mr. Hoffman appeared.
“I’m sorry to ask you this already, since you probably have plans for the day, but could you possibly handle things down here this morning? I have someone coming in to help me pack Audrey’s things so they can be removed. And I’m very tired. You see, I haven’t slept at all well… in a very long time. I may take a nap. If anything comes up, you know how to handle it. I trust you, Theodore. And business just isn’t what it once was. Most of the town has yet to forgive me for replacing you with my nephew.”
DONNING HIS apron felt so natural to Theodore. Without any significant effort, he was employed again. Theodore was beside himself with excitement. But at the same time, he was terribly upset about Mr. Hoffman. The poor man looked so unwell.
Business that morning was very light, and most of the people who came in, came in to express their sympathy for Mr. Hoffman’s loss. Several of them practically shouted with glee when they saw Theodore once again behind the counter, smiling and greeting them as he had so many times before.
Even though those people had not come in to purchase anything, many of them did so, a couple of them confiding in him that driving eight miles up the valley and back was just too much. They were so grateful Theodore was back and they could hopefully soon stop avoidin
g Hoffman’s.
As word of Mr. Hoffman’s latest hire spread through the valley, a lot of the customers they had lost earlier in the year came back to Hoffman’s Store. Many of them came with long lists of things they needed.
Each day that week, Theodore was kept hopping, running from the time he opened the doors until he closed and locked up for the night. Of course that was not the end of his workday, since then it was time to unpack the latest shipments and stock the shelves. His days were long, but he was pleased to be so well received by so many people.
On nights he had to work late, Theodore’s mother kindly brought a huge pot of stew or some such home delicacy to feed Theodore and Mr. Hoffman.
“You are going to spoil me, Mrs. McCall,” Mr. Hoffman told her with a smile. “I haven’t eaten so well since….”
“You need to eat, Mr. Hoffman.” She very deftly handled his comment. “You look like you’ve lost weight. Are you eating?”
“No, not so well. You see, I never had to cook, and now I find that I don’t know how. I’ve tried, but most of those trials have ended in absolute disaster. Who knew you could burn so many things. Many nights I’ve had to throw away whatever I’ve tried and open the windows to get the smoke out of the house.”
“It takes time, Mr. Hoffman. You can’t learn anything overnight, sir. Take small baby steps at first. Learn one thing and then slowly expand on that.”
He nodded seriously.
“And then of course there is always making Theodore work late so you bring us your delicious stew,” he said with a smile and a twinkle in his eye.
“Mr. Hoffman,” she said in a warning tone. They both laughed at that.
Day by day, people began to drift back into the store once they heard Theodore had returned. Repeatedly he worked his magic at connecting with people, asking them not just what they were there to purchase, but about their families and their home situations. He had a memory for names and unfailingly asked after husbands or wives or children by name.
A Night at the Ariston Baths Page 14