Someday Home

by Lauraine Snelling

  “I know. And I truly forgave you.”

  What next? Judith could think of nothing else to say, so she made her breakfast as Lynn busied herself washing out bowls and bagging buns.

  Then she returned to her room and started to call the number of the farm with chickens. Wait. She’d best make sure her pen was ready first. She went outside and around the corner of the house to see how her chicken coop looked.

  And stopped cold. Phillip and Lynn stood nose to nose, and the conversation was not happy-smiley. Quietly, Judith moved closer until she could eavesdrop. This was wrong, so very wrong, but she did it anyway.

  Lynn was saying, “You ask why I’m upset? I’ll tell you why I’m upset. Judith admitted she made a big mistake, and she apologized. But you two! You betrayed me! You both know I don’t want chickens, but you took her side! And helped her set up! When you know what my wishes are!”

  Oh, dear. So that was why Lynn was so upset. Judith had made such a mess!

  Suddenly Phillip reached out and engulfed his mother in a big bear hug. She struggled for a moment, then melted against him sobbing. “Mom, you know without a doubt we love you. We were not betraying you. You have two grown women—I might even say women old enough to be kind of set in their ways—and they are not always going to want exactly what you want, and not want what you don’t want. Sometimes they’ll want what they want. This is one of those times.”

  The sobbing continued.

  Phillip purred, “What would Dad say about this? If we’re at cross-purposes, let’s do what he would want.”

  At first Judith didn’t think Lynn was going to reply. Then she drew a breath so deep Judith could hear it. “He probably wouldn’t give a hang whether there were chickens in his backyard or not.”

  Phillip chuckled. “Remember when Lillian decided to raise geese? We had goose droppings everywhere you walk. At least Judith’s chickens will be limited in where they make deposits.”

  “And we never did get to eat any of her geese.” Lynn hiccuped. Or was it a sob? She stood up straight and wiped her eyes. Phillip handed her a tissue and she blew.

  Here came a Paul’s Plumbing pickup into the yard. Tom got out. “Whoa. What am I missing?”

  Lynn shuddered. “Nothing much. I’ll explain, then.”

  Judith carefully backed away before someone noticed her. She hurried around to the front and into the house.

  Angela was just coming into the kitchen.

  How much should Judith reveal of what she allegedly had never heard? Nothing.

  Angela stretched. “I can’t believe I’m up and out before nine. I didn’t even hit the snooze button this morning.”

  “Congratulations. Lynn was worried you might be ill. She would even go in and check on you now and then.”

  Angela froze in midstep between the counter and the refrigerator. She looked at Judith a long moment and then continued to the fridge. “You don’t say.” She set out the half-and-half and poured herself a coffee.

  “I think the boys are here. I’m going to go see how my chicken project is coming.” Judith went out the back door and walked across to behind the garage.

  Lynn was standing aside watching as Tom sat at the wheel of the pickup and Phillip wired some of the poultry netting to the end post closest to the coop.

  Tom put the truck in gear and very slowly, carefully backed up. Judith now saw that the truck was attached to a fence stretcher—or the stretcher was attached to the truck—and they were stretching the netting.

  Phillip wired the netting firmly to the middle steel post, then to the front corner post. Tom moved the truck forward, then off to the side. They stretched the poultry wire between the corner and the center post.

  Lynn went back inside. Judith stood gaping as these two boys—well, they were men, but half Judith’s age made them boys—hung the gate between the two posts set in the middle of the second side. They set some braces to keep the posts straight. They had never built a chicken yard before, and yet look at it! Perfect.

  They stretched the netting between the gate and other corner, then the netting on the other side. A tidy rectangular chicken yard, three sides of netting and the fourth side the coop itself, now awaited Judith’s dream. But wait. Apparently there was more.

  They stretched netting out on the ground inside the yard and wired it securely to the sides. Now raccoons and other animals that might dig under the fence could not come up into the pen to steal chickens.

  Angela came out and stood beside Judith. “Wow!”

  “It sure is wow! The Ritz of chicken coops!”

  Finally the men came out of the pen and closed the gate behind them. They both looked mighty happy with themselves.

  “That’s beautiful! Wonderful! Thank you so much! Is there some way I can pay you or repay you? I would love to.”

  Phillip shook his head. “You mentioned yesterday how this is a dream of yours. We’re happy to help you realize it. Now you just have to get some chickens.”

  Judith pulled that slip of paper out of her pocket. “I have a phone number here that I got at the feedstore. Someone is giving away some Buff Orpingtons.”

  Angela had her cell out. “What’s the number?”

  Judith handed her the slip of paper.

  Phillip asked, “You need anything else?”

  “As if this isn’t enough!” Judith laughed. “No, I don’t think so. I’ll get some chickens if I can and appropriate feed for them. Thank you again!”

  Phillip bobbed his head. “Mom, I’ll be going into town. Need anything?”

  From behind Judith, Lynn said, “Another twenty-five-pound bag of flour if you’re near the supermarket.” So she had come back outside; Judith had not noticed.

  “Got it.” Phillip nodded and jotted it down in a notebook.

  Angela swiped her cell. “Those Buff Orpingtons are all taken, but the lady says someone named Franklin is moving and might be getting rid of some.”

  Phillip frowned. “Franklin. We put a tub and shower in for a Franklin. Hibdon Road?”

  “Why, yes. I believe so.”

  “Young family, really nice people. Tell them their plumbers said hi.”

  Judith giggled. “I shall.”

  Lynn sounded sad, resigned. “I know where they live. I’ll take you.”

  Should she accept the offer? Judith didn’t have to think very long. Yes. “Thank you, Lynn.”

  Why did Lynn offer if she didn’t like chickens?

  Because Lynn had a big, big heart, bigger than her disappointments. That was obvious. Judith wished so much that she could be as magnanimous as Lynn and so able to bend with the punches.

  Lynn had the number in her cell. She probably had every customer’s number in her cell. She punched it in, talked a few moments, and closed the phone. “They’re moving and have to get rid of their chickens. They’d like us to come over soon.”

  “Is right now too soon?” Judith asked.

  Angela said, “I’d like to go along, but I agreed to help out at the library from three to eight tonight.”

  “We’ll be back long before three. Let’s go.” Lynn headed for the garage. “No, Homer, you can’t go along.”

  Judith had not even noticed that the woebegone-looking dog was hovering close, tail wagging.

  Lynn drove and Angela sat in back, Judith in front.

  Angela was grinning. “I am excited. This is so—so earthy! Real! Oh, I can’t explain it.”

  Judith nodded in agreement. “I never expected to have it happen so fast.”

  They turned into a long driveway and stopped in front of an open garage. A young woman came out of the house with two small children and a baby on her hip. “Thank you for coming; we caught them up last night and penned them. A couple of them are real escape artists. We’re moving into town or we would keep them.”

  “We promise to give them a good home.” Judith eyed the two boxes with airholes cut in the sides. “What kind are they?”

  “Four New Hampshires
and two, oh, shoot, they are black, can’t remember the breed. We got them down at the feedstore this spring.” She pointed to the feeder and waterer beside the boxes. “Those go, too.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want some money for all this?” Judith made a sweeping gesture with her arm.

  “No, we bought the chicks, but the others were given to us. You enjoy these; we sure did.”

  “Don’t give our chickens away, Mom, please!” The little girl beside her looked up, tears starting to brim in her blue eyes.

  “Maybe we’ll get some in our new house. Depends on town ordinances.”

  “But they won’t be these chickens.”

  The woman smiled guiltily. “She made pets of a couple of them.”

  Judith had no idea what to do, but Angela knelt down in front of the little girl so that they were eye to eye. “We promise to take good care of your friends. Can you tell me which ones are your favorites?”

  “The big black one is Fluffy, and the biggest red one is Henny Penny.”

  “Oh, good! You know one of my favorite stories? The sky is falling! The sky is falling! Thank you for telling me.”

  As they loaded up the boxes in the back of Lynn’s SUV and waved good-bye, the little girl buried her face in her mother’s skirt.

  Angela watched behind them as the farm disappeared beyond the trees. “Fluffy and Henny Penny, eh? I sure hope those aren’t the roosters.”

  “They’re noisy. It’s why my father got rid of them.” Judith stared straight ahead. “I loved those chickens. I know exactly how she feels, but I wasn’t allowed to cry. They were just chickens. You don’t cry over chickens, right?”

  When they brought the boxes out of the SUV, Homer was leaping and sniffing and whimpering until Lynn grabbed his collar. “Now down, Homer. Let’s get you in the house.” She hauled him up the steps and into the mudroom.

  Judith and Angela toted the boxes around to the chicken pen, and Judith opened the new gate, entering her dream for the very first time. “Now what?”

  Angela snickered. “You know what a pig in a poke is, right?”

  Judith laughed, too. “When you buy a pig that’s inside a sack. You don’t know if it’s fat or skinny or even a pig. Chickens in a poke—but then, I didn’t pay for these.”

  They set the boxes down in the middle and closed the gate behind them. “Now what?” Angela stared at her box.

  “I suppose we open the boxes and let the chickens find their own way out.”

  Lynn stepped up to the outside of the pen to silently watch.

  Judith unfolded the flaps, opened them wide, and got her first look at what were now her chickens. Four reddish-brown chickens stared up at her. She left that box open and did the same with the other. The larger black one fluffed his feathers, his grand comb proclaiming his roosterhood. All but two of the chickens were nearly grown.

  “Look, he’s giving me the stink eye.” Judith pointed to the big black fellow in the second box and flashed a grin to Angela. “Think you’re pretty hot stuff, don’t you, boy? Do you suppose this is Fluffy?”

  “If he starts crowing, you have a problem. You’d better name that big black one Fluffy. Just in case the little girl comes out to visit her chickens. But you have to have a rooster if you want eggs, right?”

  And another distant memory surfaced. “No,” Judith replied, “the pullets just start laying when they’re old enough. But the eggs aren’t fertile.”

  Angela wrinkled her nose. “Parthenogenesis?”

  Judith grinned at the depth of Angela’s vocabulary. “Think about it. We women lay an egg every month, and then we get our period.” Judith held the gate for Angela, who was still laughing. “We are going to have to find six names, aren’t we?”

  They joined Lynn outside the fence, watching the newest residents of this lakeside home.

  Angela shrugged. “We have two of them already, thanks to that little girl.”

  The chickens peeked over, hopped up, teetered, hopped down. One by one they fluffed their feathers and pecked at the grass, wandering farther with each step.

  Judith was smiling. “This brings back good memories of my childhood.”

  Lynn looked at her. “I’m glad to hear that. Let the good memories blot out the awful ones of the later years. Is there feed and water in the coop?”

  “Water. Not feed. Now that I know what they look like, I can buy the right stuff.”

  “And I have to get to the library.” Angela pushed away from the fence. “Lynn, thank you for introducing me to Mary. So far I really love this job, even if it’s unpaid.”

  Lynn smiled. Was the storm in her heart passing? “Most welcome. And I know your help is welcome there.” She started back into the house, so Judith followed.

  Lynn asked, “How long ago did your father insist on no more chickens?”

  “Oh, I was eight years old or so, I’d guess. I was still way too young to mount a decent objection. Even in adulthood, I rarely took a stand. It was just easier to let him have his way. I got so tired of the constant anger.” She cast one last look over her shoulder before going inside.

  The rooster was strutting along the perimeter, sizing up his domain. The hens were already starting to eat the green grass.

  “They are pretty tame.” Lynn watched them a moment, too.

  “I feel sorry for that little girl. I’d like their address. I’ll take some pics and send them to her.”

  “What a nice idea. Let’s have some iced tea.”

  Apparently the storm had passed. That pleased Judith immensely. So did chickens. So did the lake. So did everything. And to think she had once considered moving in with Melody.

  Lynn let Homer out. Thank goodness chickens did not require as much attention as dogs did. Then they carried their iced tea outside and sat on the porch gazing across the riffling water. Lynn leaned over to look more closely at Judith’s face. “You better put a hat on; your nose is getting a little red. You got any sunscreen?”

  Judith shook her head. “Nor a hat, either.” Why did Lynn’s concern suddenly irritate her? That’s silly! But there it was. She could feel anger rising.

  “Surely we have some Paul’s Plumbing caps over in the shop. You know, to protect your nose and cheeks. I’ll have Tom get you one.”

  But I don’t like wearing hats. I never wear hats. Judith kept it to herself, though. This posed a dilemma. They just smoothed everything over. She didn’t want to create tension again. So should she just wear a cap to please Lynn, or…Wait a minute! Lynn was not her mommy. No wonder she was irritated. This woman was treating her like a child. Sure, her father had done that his whole life, but that was just how he was. She didn’t have to let a landlady do it, too.

  Then her very soul chilled, for here came two SUVs into the yard. The whole gang was here! All those children! Oh, dear!

  Doors flew open; the children unbuckled, hopped out of their car seats, and came tumbling out. Maggie and Josie, the drivers, climbed out and headed for the porch.

  Miss Priss came running up and plopped into her grandmother’s lap. “Mommy says you have chickens! Can we see them?”

  “You can,” Lynn said. “But don’t open the gate. Understand?”

  “’Kay!” All five of them charged off.

  Judith was irked all over again; they were her chickens, not Lynn’s, thank you very much. On the other hand, she was relieved. The children were being directed appropriately, and Judith didn’t have to interact with them at all.

  “Oh, to bottle that energy.” Maggie sat down beside Judith.

  They heard barking and at the same moment, Doug, Tom’s boy, came back screaming, “G’ma, one of the chickens is out and Homer is chasing it!”

  “I’ll get the dog,” Maggie hollered over her shoulder, already off the porch and at a full run.

  Judith ran hot on her heels. Please don’t let him hurt the chicken.

  Homer gave one more bay and allowed himself to be dragged away, Maggie now in charge.


  “We didn’t let it out, it was already out,” Doug cried. “Honest! We didn’t! And Homer took after it, but the chicken flew up on the back porch roof! See? There.”

  “Smart chicken.” Judith watched Maggie drag Homer into the house.

  Lynn wagged her head. “Mrs. Franklin said something about escape artists. But how?”

  The boy named Travis (was he the future chef? Judith couldn’t remember) pointed. “There, I betcha.” He walked to where the fence met the coop. There was a gap of about three inches.

  Lynn nodded. “We’ll wire one-by-fours vertically to block the spaces on each side. He certainly is an escape artist.”

  “But how do we get him down?” Judith looked forlornly at her rooster.

  “I’ll climb up there and get him!” Travis suggested eagerly.

  “Oh no, you won’t!” Lynn barked. Her voice softened. “Those are his hens. When they go up into the coop near dark, he’ll want to join them. He’ll come down.”

  Maggie called to the kids, “Load up!”

  Judith watched them pile back into the vehicles and buckle up. “Thank you for coming to visit the chickens.” And she was almost sincere about that.

  “Couldn’t stay away.” Maggie paused and added, “Priss would never let me.”

  Judith watched them drive away and suddenly thought, That Josie, Tom’s wife, never said a word. She is even more reticent than I!

  “I’m going to go start supper. Not to sound too cannibalistic, but I was thinking chicken potpie tonight.”

  “Sounds lovely.”

  Lynn headed off to the back door. She was barely inside when Phillip pulled around the corner of the house in his pickup and stopped by the chickens. Oh, good! Maybe he could fix the escape hatches.

  He got out and joined Judith. “Just the lady I want to see.” He walked over to the pen. “Nice birds. Five, huh? Nice number.”

  “Six.” Judith pointed to the porch roof. His Excellency was pacing, giving them the stink eye. “Lynn mentioned plugging the hole with one-by-fours.” She pointed to the gap.

  Phillip laughed. “Ah. Yeah, we can fix that right away. Judith, normally I wouldn’t talk about Mom’s personal matters, but since you’re all living together…well, I thought you should be aware. Maggie talked to Mom’s primary care doctor this morning, Eleanor Alstrop, and told her how moody she is. They both agree, it must be a symptom of menopause.”