by Karen Wolff
Then came the thought that I had pushed to the back of my mind. My father. Would I see him? How would I behave? I hoped he’d stay away, out of sight. Eddie and Gabe would come for the funeral, and Polly too. My brothers would want to see him, but Dad probably wouldn’t let poor Polly near. What a sorry mess our family was.
My mind moved on to more pleasant things—the exciting possibilities I had ahead of me in Kansas City. Sam, wonderful Sam, the new business and a partnership. Would folks think I was bragging if I told them about our plans? Would they be jealous? Or not interested? I decided to play it safe and not talk about it unless someone asked.
The train was a local. It stopped at every little town along the way. Often only one person, or sometimes no one, boarded. Even so, the whistle blew importantly, and the engine pumped steam into the cold night air. So many little towns, like Richmond I supposed, just as boring and dreary.
Ultimately the rocking motion of the car made me drowsy and I fell asleep. I don’t know for how long, but when I awoke the first pale light of dawn had appeared. I couldn’t see much of the landscape because my window was covered with frost, and I shivered in the cold. The conductor pointed me toward the dining car where I ordered a cup of coffee. The hot steam coming off the cup warmed my fingers and nose, and my sleepiness lifted. I stirred in cream and sugar and figured it would have to serve for breakfast. Using my fingernails, I scraped the frost from the window and gazed out at a bleak, frozen landscape, flat and treeless to the west.
A well-dressed man sat over his breakfast, reading the Omaha newspaper. “How far are you going, son?” he asked me.
“To a little town north of Sioux City.” I hadn’t spoken all night, and the words came out hoarse and scratchy.
“They’ve had a big snow up there. I hope you’re ready for that.”
I nodded. “Yessir. I am.”
In a little while we pulled into the station in Sioux City, and I figured my trip would be over soon. But then we sat for another hour. I hadn’t taken into account all the switching and moving of cars that would occur there. Eventually, some additional travelers came aboard, bundled in caps and scarves, their cheeks rosy, and snow on their shoulders. “Colder than Billy gee-whiz,” one man commented. “It’s January, George. What can you expect?” a woman answered.
At last we set off for the short ride to Beaverton. The coffee was working inside me now, and I was eager for this ride to end. A long, lonely whistle announced our arrival, and I got up, grabbed my bag, and prepared to get off, the only person to dismount at this station.
A stiff, icy wind nearly knocked me over as I stepped down from the car. Nobody was on the platform, and I wondered if anyone had come to meet me. Inside the depot, the telegrapher looked up and said, “Are you Harry Spencer?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“Your brother was here earlier, but the train was late. He’ll be back for you.” Then his key started to rattle, and he turned back to his work.
When Ty came in about a half hour later, puffing and stamping off the snow, I was so relieved and glad to see him, I just threw my arms around him. It probably embarrassed him a little, but I didn’t care.
“Where’ve you been, brother?”
“I had to take Gram to the undertaker’s. She’s there now, trying to get everything decided. We’ll have to pick her up and try to get home before there’s more snow.”
We braced ourselves against the wind and hurried out to the car where Ty had some trouble getting it started. Finally it turned over, and we drove to Westby’s Funeral Service. As we stepped inside, Ty said, “There’s something I have to tell you, Harry.” I looked at him questioningly.
“I got married last week. To Daisy. She’s inside with Gram.”
“Really,” I said. “What a surprise. That sure happened fast.”
“We kinda had to,” he said, looking down, his face reddening.
“Oh,” was all I managed as we walked into the lobby.
Lester Westby, who did every funeral in the whole area, was attired in his usual black suit. He stood tall and thin over Gram and the girl I took to be Daisy. My eyes fastened on Gram. She seemed so small. Her dark dress hung on her, too long and loose. Her face looked more tired than I had ever seen it. Instinctively I went over to give her a hug.
She wasn’t much of a hugger, but she said, “Harry. It’s good you’re here.” She turned to the girl and said, “Daisy, this is Harry, your brother-in-law.” We shook hands.
“I’ve heard so much about you, Harry. And I’m so sorry about your grandfather.”
“Thanks,” I said, unable to think of anything to say.
Gram said, “I think we’re about finished up here. We picked out a casket.”
“A real beauty,” Mr. Westby said, his pale face shining with the glow of a sale completed.
“The funeral will be tomorrow morning at our church,” Gram went on. “Lida did some hard bargaining with the minister, but he finally agreed to it.”
I knew Granddad hadn’t set foot inside a church for years and had even been baptized a Catholic. Good thing Gram and Aunt Lida were such pillars of the church; otherwise the funeral might not have happened there.
Gram shook hands with Mr. Westby who said, “Again, my condolences, Mrs. Didier. We’ll bring your husband out this afternoon and set him up in the church.”
I got a mental picture of Granddad sitting slouched in a pew, his hat stuck jauntily on his head, grinning his fool head off, but of course I knew that’s not what Westby meant.
“To get ahead of the snow,” he clucked nervously.
“Let’s hope it holds off,” Gram said, and we went out into the cold and climbed into the Ford.
AT GRAM’S HOUSE the kitchen was filled with pots of food, enough for an army. The Ladies Aid Society had been busy, and I was ready to make up for my missed breakfast. I piled into scalloped potatoes and ham, green beans and bacon, hot biscuits with rhubarb jam, and a towering chocolate cake. I drank down two big glasses of milk, and then I was ready for more coffee.
We sat at the kitchen table oddly the same as before, but different with Daisy in Granddad’s chair. It gave me a sudden pang, and I missed the old man right then. Ty ate his meal and soon left for the store where one of the Beaubien boys had been watching things during the morning. I asked Daisy where they were living.
“We’re staying at Sally McVay’s for the time being, ‘til Gram can get everything settled. My dad is getting old and wants to retire, so Ty’s going to take over his farm come spring. We’re going to live in my grandma’s house just a quarter mile from the home place.” She got up to do the dishes, and then she left to join Ty. Gram and I were finally able to talk.
“She seems nice,” I said.
“Yes, I think so. Ty doesn’t like the store much. He’s still shy around the customers, so the farm is probably right for him.”
“Was Granddad awful sick?” I asked.
“Not at first. Seemed just like every other time when he got pleurisy. Something was different, though. He was so tired, didn’t seem to want to make an effort to cough or even eat. After a week or so, Doctor Brunner came and said he had pneumonia in both lungs. His breathing was bad. He just couldn’t get a good breath. We steamed him, and I fixed poultices, but nothing helped. He just got weaker and weaker. Finally he said, ‘I’m gonna be leavin’ you, Bess.’ He just closed his eyes and stopped breathing.” She put a handkerchief to her face, but she didn’t cry.
“He was an old devil sometimes, but I’m going to miss him,” she said.
“Did you love him, Gram?” I said, thinking how I loved Carol Ann and wouldn’t be able to bear losing her.
“Oh, I don’t know. We were so old. We had affection for each other, I guess you would say. Yes, we had affection.”
She stood up then and said, “You’d better unpack, Harry. You’ll have to sleep on the daybed. All right?”
“I’ve done it before, Gram. A lot.”
“
Did you bring something to wear to the funeral?”
“Of course,” I said, proud that I now had decent suits to wear.
“If you’re all right, I think I’ll lie down for a while.”
AFTER SUPPER THAT evening, the neighbors began stopping by to see Gram. I told Ty I’d stay at the store so he and Daisy could visit with them.
Bruno’s great black and white body rose to greet me, but, after an indifferent sniff, he padded back to his spot behind the counter. It was a shock to look around the store. The stocks were way down. Big empty holes on the shelves that should have been full of canned goods, flour, sugar, and the like. The floor had been swept, but there was clutter everywhere I looked. Ty must have been trying to do everything himself while Gram took care of Granddad.
Only a few customers came by on this frigid, windy night, so I cleaned out the produce bins and got rid of the shriveled turnips and carrots. By the time I finished, it was after nine o’clock, and I didn’t expect to see anyone else. I was tired, but couldn’t help noticing the cigarette and candy case sticky with fingerprints. I got a bucket and was washing it when Squint Pickard came in with a blast of cold air.
“Harry,” he said, grinning his simpleton smile. “I sure didn’t expect to see you here. You been gone a long time.”
“Yeah, it’s been over a year,” I said.
“Is Alfie here?”
“I think you know, Squint, Alfie passed the other day.”
“Oh yeah. It’s terrible, isn’t it?” His one good eye got dreamy and wandered off somewhere. After a minute or so, he said, “Alfie used to let me have some beer. Do you s’pose you could let me have some?”
“Afraid not, Squint. The beer parlor is closed down what with Granddad gone.”
“That’s right. I guess Ty told me.”
I hoped he would leave so that I could finish up and go to bed, but he seemed to be in no hurry.
“How come you went away, Harry?”
“Oh, I just needed to try something new, I guess.”
“I heard it was ‘cause you were mad at your dad.”
“That too.” I wanted this conversation to end.
Squint moved closer to me, looking at me carefully. “He didn’t do what you thought, Harry.”
“What do you mean, Squint?” My skin prickled.
“Cal didn’t hurt Alfie. I was there. I saw the whole shebang.” His gaze got foggy again as if he’d forgotten what he’d just said.
I felt my head begin to throb. “What are you talking about, Squint? What did you see?”
His eye refocused on my face. “I saw it all. I was standing right there when it happened.”
I grabbed his shirtfront and pulled him to me. “Tell me,” I yelled. Bruno let out a throaty growl and got up to see what was going on.
Squint looked up at me, fear squeezing his face. I let go of him and tried to calm myself. “Go lie down, Bruno.” Then, more quietly I said, “Just tell me about it, Squint. What went on?”
He took a breath. “All them fellas in white sheets ‘n pointy hats. They come up over the end of the porch so fast.” He pointed in that direction. “They had torches on fire, and they were yellin’ at Alfie. I was scairt, I’ll tell you. I thought they might kill him and me too.”
“What happened next?” I was afraid to move for fear he would stop talking.
“Well, them fellas started pushin’ Alfie around on the porch. They spun him around, and he was teeterin’ there on the edge, Buster barkin’ like a fool. That’s when I saw Cal come runnin’ up the front steps in his white sheet. Yessir, I saw him.”
“You saw him here? How did you know it was him?”
Squint didn’t answer me right away, but started walking around, scanning the shelves as if he planned to buy something. At the meat case he stopped and said, “That stuff looks good. I’m kinda hungry, Harry.”
My stomach knotted up, but I couldn’t lose him now. I cut a few slices of bologna and ripped open a bread package. I slapped the meat between two slices of bread and handed it to him. Then I popped the lid off a Coke for him and said again, “How’d you know it was him?”
He chewed slowly, mushing the food around in his mouth, little bits falling out onto his coat. “I’m tryin’ to remember.” He stared off again, but finally swung his gaze back to me. “Well, I guess it was them torches. They shined on his claw hook, that’s what. That’s how I knew it was Cal.” He nodded his head up and down. “Yessir, I saw him, and I knew it was Cal.” He continued to chew.
My heart was pumping hard, and I felt my breath hot on his face. “What did he do, Squint, when he came up on the porch? Did he push Granddad off? Down on top of the dog?”
“Nosirree, he did not. He tried to save Alfie.” He took a big swig of Coke. “Cal’s good arm come up like this.” Squint raised his left arm with the half-eaten sandwich and waved it in the air. “He pushed them others back with it like this. Then he wrapped that good arm around Alfie.”
“Yes? Then what?” I wanted to squeeze the words out of the poor old devil.
“Cal, well he was tryin’ to get his bad arm up to hold on to Alfie, but it got tangled up in that white sheet. He couldn’t raise it up. I saw that hook slide down Alfie’s back, tear his shirt. Next thing I know, Alfie and Buster were on the ground.”
I exhaled. Could this old fool possibly know what he was saying? I stood back, scarcely breathing.
“They all run off then, and I fell down in the ditch. I had too much beer.”
My mouth hung open, my throat dry. I believed Squint’s story, and now I knew for sure that Dad was here at the store that awful night. But he hadn’t pushed anybody off the porch. He’d tried to stop the others. He’d tried to do the right thing. I couldn’t speak for several minutes.
“I guess I better go home,” Squint said. He waved vacantly.
I looked at him without seeing him. “Uh, yeah. You better go. I have to close up.” Then I realized I owed this man more, and I said with real gratitude, “Thanks, Squint. Thanks for telling me. It means a lot.” He turned to leave. I said, “Wait a minute, Squint. Why did it take so long for you to tell somebody about this?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno, Harry. I guess I was scairt. I didn’t want them Klan fellas to know I was there. Right after that, my sister heard I’d been drinkin’ too much, and she made me come up to Portlandville to stay with her. I didn’t come back to Richmond for a long time. Not till after the weather warmed up. It was all over with by then.”
His short, grubby body went out the door into the cold. I bent over the counter, leaning on my arms with my head down, thinking about Squint’s news. Maybe my dad wasn’t the person I had thought he was. I stood so long bent over the counter that I was numb, and when I finally stood, the warm blood flooded back into my arms and face, and I breathed deeply over and over. Thank God for that little man who remembered enough. I rejoiced to have heard his tale. Then, just as quickly, I was struck by remorse so deep and painful I could hardly bear it. It doubled me over again. What an evil thing I had done to my father. What a terrible person I was. I had to find him and tell him. I had to make it right.
MY BROTHERS, GABE and Eddie, arrived from Westfield with their wives and kids early the next morning, and Gram’s kitchen seemed very small. We shook hands and hugged, everybody talking at once.
“Harry, you’ve grown so much,” Pauline said. “And what a handsome haircut.” Indeed, I was as tall as my brothers. I felt like one of them in a new way, not like the baby in the family anymore.
The women got busy right away, making breakfast for everyone. We had eggs and bacon, corn muffins, cinnamon rolls that someone had brought, and a big potful of coffee. Ty and Daisy came over from Sally McVay’s and joined us. Daisy got introduced all around.
“So Ty’s finally got a wife,” Eddie teased. “Thought he’d never get around to it.”
Esther said, “Now you stop that, Eddie,”
Daisy and Ty blushed with the kidd
ing. She got away from it by taking a tray of food back to Gram who was dressing in her bedroom. I asked Ty if Dad was coming to the funeral.
“Naw,” he said. “He knows everybody in town thinks he was in on the Klan attack. He doesn’t plan to go.”
I was about to tell him what I’d learned from Squint when Vince and Polly showed up with Mary Jo and their little boy, Vincent Harry, whom I’d never seen. It was hugs and introductions all over again. Except for Dad, our family was together for the first time in years. We’d missed out on so much with each other, it made me sad to think about it.
Gram came out of her bedroom dressed in a heavy black dress and her good hat with a black rose on it. Her hair was pulled back into such a tight bun that it seemed to stretch her face taut. We left off bantering and laughing when we remembered why we were there. It was time to go to the church.
Gram had asked that we four brothers serve as pallbearers with Uncle Carl and Granddad’s best friend Walter Trometer. Mr. Westby gave us our simple instructions when we arrived. Before the service started, the family walked down to the front of the church where Granddad lay in his satin-lined casket. The smell of fresh-cut evergreen boughs that decorated the altar filled the air.
I noticed right off Granddad’s ashy-gray, calloused hands, so incongruous amid the white satin. They were clasped over his chest in the unlikeliest position I could imagine for him. How he would have snorted at that.
“He looks so natural,” Pauline whispered, but I thought he just looked dead, and I was filled with a revulsion I wasn’t expecting. I remembered Sam asking, “Have you ever seen a dead body, Harry?” Well, now I had.
He seemed small and frail in the vast, white bed, his one good suit too large for his wasted body. My throat tightened when I gazed at his face for the last time. Even though it was puffy from embalming, I could make out the laugh lines that always crinkled up when he joked.
I turned away as soon as it was decent and helped Gram to the side room where we waited with the family. She appeared stricken, her face pale and her jaw clenched, but she shed no tears.