Taking Stock

by C J West

  Sue appeared behind her and reached for a fork. “Let me help you, Dear. Forks go on the left, knives and spoons on the right. Like this.” Sue picked up a napkin, creased it diagonally and set the fork on top.

  Erica blushed. Proper table setting wasn’t something she’d learned from her mother. She wished she’d taken the initiative to learn on her own. She had a queasy feeling about her first impression, but Sue changed the subject to Gregg’s future as an excellent husband and father. Erica forgot her place-setting weakness and moved on to larger worries.

  The men burst in the front door. They headed for the kitchen sink where they washed one after another and passed the towel from man to man before hovering around the sliced turkey on the counter. They took turns distracting Mrs. Turner while the others sampled her cooking. She knew what was happening, but feigned ignorance. Erica watched, relieved to be free of the homey chat with Mrs. Turner. She had no inclination for cooking or mothering and she gladly tuned in when Mr. Turner started talking about planting time.

  The screen door slammed behind Matthew and Justin as they ran full speed into the kitchen.

  “Boys!” shouted Frank.

  Sneakers squealed as the boys skidded to a halt in the middle of the kitchen floor. “This is not a racetrack. There are twelve hundred acres outside. You can go out there and run yourself silly until the fields are planted. Inside, we walk.”

  Rick glared at his children.

  “Yes, Sir,” they mumbled.

  Frank motioned them to come to him. Erica turned slowly toward the dining room, not wanting to see them get spanked. From the corner of her eye, she saw the boys give their grandfather a tight squeeze.

  Sue herded a reflective Erica and the rest of the family toward the table. Frank came in last carrying a grandson under each arm. When he set them down, they climbed into seats on either side of Sue. Gregg and Tom sat at the opposite end, on either side of Frank while the women and Rick clustered in the middle. As Frank said grace, Erica bowed her head and spied the faces around the table. Frank and Sue were firmly in control, yet their children and grandchildren adored them. It didn’t take a special occasion to bring them here. The atmosphere was so foreign she lost track of Frank’s prayer.

  When grace was said, Frank passed heavy platters filled with turkey, ham and vegetables one by one to Gregg and on down the table. As Erica passed the platters to Claudia, she noticed how young she looked, thirty or thirty-two. She hadn’t spent much time with children, but figured Matthew to be at least eight.

  “You must be proud of the boys. They act so grown up,” Erica said.

  “They grow up fast. I can’t believe Matthew’s ten and Justin’s nine.”

  Erica nodded as she passed a dish of mashed potatoes. Babies at twenty-two? Dianne looked about twenty-five. No doubt children were in her immediate future. Was Erica a spinster in this room, single at thirty-four?

  “They don’t behave this well at home. Grandpa keeps them in line.”

  “I noticed.”

  Sue chimed in from her end, “Don’t let his bark fool you. He’s a big teddy bear.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Erica said.

  Dianne looked up from her plate. “Gregg tells us you’re almost finished with your master’s.”

  Erica nodded. “Finally. All the work is done. I graduate next week.”

  Sue looked down the table at her husband. “That’s terrific! I don’t think we know another woman with a master’s degree.”

  Frank tore off a large chunk of bread. “I don’t think we know a man with a master’s degree, except Dr. Colby and maybe one of the teachers down at the school. Computer Science, isn’t it Erica?”

  “That’s right.” Erica had an odd feeling about the Turners. She’d only been dating Gregg a week and they knew so much about her. “Is there anything Gregg didn’t tell you?” she asked.

  “Gregg doesn’t talk much. We can barely get a word out of him.”

  Erica wondered how much Boston had changed him. The Gregg she knew could charm anyone. He was a strong manager and mentor, far from the shy kid Sue described. “He’s told you plenty about me.”

  “We’ve never seen him so taken with a woman before,” Sue said.

  “Can’t say as I blame him,” Frank added.

  Erica blushed for the second time in an hour.

  Gregg avoided her eyes.

  “So what embarrassing childhood stories can you tell me? Is there anything I need to know before things go too far?”

  Gregg’s eyes dropped to his plate.

  Rick and Tom straightened in their chairs, eager for a laugh at their brother’s expense.

  Frank started them off with a story everyone but Erica had heard at least twenty times. “Gregg is quite a golfer. You see those two trophies there behind Sue?” Frank pointed proudly at two matching gold men golfing atop glittering, sixteen-inch platforms. “Gregg and I won the local four-ball together. It’s the biggest tournament our course has – mind you we don’t have much time to practice in summer. Three years ago, we came to the last hole of the championship match tied. I lost my ball so it was all up to Gregg. He hit two huge shots. The second one landed on the green.”

  Rick gestured impatiently. “Yeah, yeah. He hit the green in two and made an eagle putt to win the tournament. I think the putt gets longer every year. How long was it again? Forty feet?”

  Frank glared at Rick. “You know it was thirty feet and I’m sure Erica is glad to hear the story even if you aren’t.”

  Tom raised a finger. “I think she’d like to hear about the yellow jackets in the orchard.” Everyone smiled.

  Erica waited to see who would tell the story.

  Sue spoke up first. “When Gregg was a teenager, he stepped on a hornets’ nest while he was picking apples. Hornets flew out of the ground and right up his pants. I guess they got him pretty good. He stormed off to the barn and poured gasoline down the hole. Lord knows how much because he still won’t say. When he lit the nest, the ground exploded. He killed the hornets and two apple trees. It burned so bright I could see it from the house. If the grass was any longer, or the tractor was any further away, he would have burned half the orchard.”

  “It wasn’t that bad,” Gregg protested.

  “Erica Dear, I have pictures. He burned a black circle in the grass five times the size of this room,” Sue beamed.

  “Can we talk about something else,” Gregg pleaded.

  “That was a great story,” Erica said, rubbing her hand above his knee.

  Matthew and Justin pushed their plates forward and asked if they could go see the new batch of chicks. With permission, they excused themselves and headed outside.

  Frank called after them, “It’s getting cold, don’t keep those young ones away from the light too long.”

  The children disappeared with another slam of the screen door.

  Sue looked down the table. “Erica Dear, why don’t you tell us about your family?”

  “There’s not much to tell. It’s just my mother and me.”

  “What about your father?” Everyone’s attention focused on Erica.

  “He died when I was four,” she said stiffly.

  Forks clinked down with a collective gasp.

  Claudia put a hand on Erica’s elbow. “I’m so sorry, Erica. What happened?”

  “I don’t like to talk about it,” Erica snapped.

  The room went quiet. Gregg reached under the table and held Erica’s hand as if that could somehow protect her from the past.

  “It must have been hard growing up without a father,” Sue pressed.

  No one was eating now. All eyes were on Erica, not with the accusatory glares she’d seen from hundreds of kids in school, but with a budding compassion for her loss so many years ago. She wondered how the expressions would change if they knew she was better off without him. Even Gregg had no idea. After the horrors in grade school, she’d never told a soul again. “Really, I’d rather not talk about it
, if you don’t mind.”

  “It was a long time ago. Almost thirty years, isn’t it?” Sue asked.

  Stomachs tightened around the table, wincing in sympathy. Erica gave a slight nod and focused on her mashed potatoes. Being singled out as the only vegetarian in a house full of farmers with a turkey and a ham in the center of the table would be bad, but she’d rather have that conversation than the one Sue was driving toward.

  Sue shifted in her seat. Her head buzzed with questions that needed to be answered. The others fidgeted. They knew she wasn’t going to let it go.

  “Was he sick?” she asked.

  Gregg squeezed her hand, an apology of sorts for his mother. The table fell silent. Erica couldn’t answer. Memories of her father’s life and death still haunted her dreams. It was something she needed to forget. She stood up, her lips quivering as she addressed Sue. “Will you excuse me? I need some fresh air.”

  Erica walked to the front porch, looked at the wicker chairs and then at her car parked on the hillside. She could be home in an hour if she didn’t get lost. Gregg could return her bags when he came back to the city. If he knew what she was hiding, he wouldn’t blame her for leaving. He had to know it was something awful. Sooner or later he’d ask the same questions and he deserved the truth. She felt her pockets and looked down at her empty hands. Her keys were inside. She had to go back in no matter how uncomfortable it was, but not yet.

  She wondered what they were saying about her as she gazed into the darkness. The night sky was murkier here. There were no lights for miles. Crickets chirped and frogs peeped in the stillness. The glow from the house only extended a few dozen yards, but the moon threw a surprising amount of light around the fields and outbuildings. She could see well enough to navigate the farm, but she couldn’t imagine leaving the porch unless it was for her car. A thousand hungry creatures could be hiding in the shadows.

  Gregg came outside and stood close to Erica. “Sorry about that. I should have warned you about my mother. Sometimes she doesn’t know when to stop, but she doesn’t mean any harm.”

  “Your whole family’s sweet.”

  “Let’s take a walk.”

  “You sure you still want to?”

  He turned her head toward him and raised her chin until they looked directly into each other’s eyes. “Nothing could change my mind about you. Nothing. Whatever happened is in the past. Tell me, don’t tell me, that’s up to you.”

  They walked away from the house and into the shadows at the edge of the farm. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, Gregg rambled through the family history she should have quizzed him about in the car. She relaxed until a pack of coyotes howled in the distance. The chilling sound had her clinging to him for the next two hours. They walked side by side in the cool night air and Gregg rattled off stories about every building and tree they passed.

  Tom and Rick drove off with their families. Gregg didn’t call out. He stood with Erica in the grassy field and watched the tail lights fade into the night. When she was too cold even in his sweatshirt, they walked back to the house and settled into separate rooms for the night.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  It seemed like only a few minutes later Erica woke up to a burst of loud noises outside her window. It sounded like the men had gotten up early to stack metal plates, dropping them on top of each other from two feet high. At six o’clock the sun had already brightened the shades. She lay back, aching for sleep, but the crowing roosters and the growing light prodded her awake. The metallic noises kept booming. Soon she gave up, showered and went to the kitchen. Sue cooked French toast, scrambled eggs and bacon simultaneously on the stovetop. Frank waited at the table, his attention focused out the window. Gregg was nowhere in sight.

  Sue gave a hearty smile and indicated a fresh pot of coffee.

  “I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to upset you, Sweetheart.”

  Erica found a mug and filled it. “It’s not your fault. You’d think after all these years, it would get easier, but it doesn’t.”

  Frank watched a corner where the brown field met the trees. He was intent, but if there was something going on out there, Erica couldn’t tell. How could Gregg sleep through all the noise?

  “If you ever need someone to listen, I’m always here.”

  “Thanks,” Erica muttered. “Dinner was great if I didn’t mention it.”

  “You’re welcome anytime. Did you sleep well?”

  Erica had dreaded facing Sue and Frank after running away from the conversation at dinner. Alone with them she should have been uneasy, but she felt as if she belonged here. She’d never been in a more accepting, affirming place. No wonder Gregg came home every weekend.

  “I didn’t sleep long for a woman on vacation,” Erica said. “What’s all that noise?”

  “The boys are shooting crows.”

  “Do they have to do it so early?” She asked, taking a seat next to Frank.

  If he was watching them, she still couldn’t tell.

  “Daybreak’s the best time. They lay out rotten apples and hide in the trees between fields. The crows fly in for the apples, but they’re tricky. One move and they vanish.” Frank imitated a darting bird with the outstretched fingers of both hands. “The boys make a competition of it. On a good day they’ll get three or four each.”

  “They shoot them for fun?” She must have looked horrified because Frank snapped to attention.

  “No, no,” he said. “The crows raise heck with the corn. I’d shoot them all if I could. They’re in the fields as soon as we plant – digging up seeds. Then when the corn’s grown, they go from one plant to another, eating a little here and a little there. They turn piles and piles of corn into very expensive chicken feed. Not like the deer. They pull off an ear and eat the whole thing. I’d rather they didn’t, but I can tolerate them.”

  Sue smiled toward her husband. “He tolerates ‘em because I like seeing them in the fall after the corn’s been cut.”

  An affectionate look passed between them. Sue had more control on the farm than Erica believed possible.

  “What about all the ducks out there?” Erica asked. A hundred gray and black birds had settled into the lower part of the field away from the noisy shotguns. She hoped they weren’t next in line for target practice.

  “Those are Canadian geese. They only eat what drops on the ground and they leave a lot of fertilizer behind. The boys shoot one once in a while and we eat it, but they’re a little tough. I prefer the chickens and turkeys we raise,” Frank said.

  “How many chickens do you have?”

  “We keep sixty or seventy most of the time. We don’t sell them. It’s more of a hobby and a comfort knowing where your dinner came from. I hatch quite a few chicks this time of year because I have time to tend the incubator. You ought to have Gregg take you on a proper tour. He’ll let you hold a few. They’re cute – fuzzy little buggers.”

  Would she see tonight’s dinner in one of the pens around the farm?

  Before she could ask, the boys tromped in from the back porch, shotguns in hand, breeches open, the muzzles pointed constantly toward the floor. They were all decked out in green camouflage from their hats to their boots. Rick and Tom lugged the guns to Frank and Sue’s room.

  The brothers squeezed in around the table. Gregg nudged Erica over until she nearly touched elbows with Frank. The boys rehashed the morning’s events for their father’s entertainment. Gregg dropped five birds, his proudest shot from directly underneath. The bird fell to earth with a thud ten feet from him. Rick dropped three birds and Tom only two. Frank was riveted as the three brothers mimicked the twists and dives the birds used to avoid them. When they were through, Gregg goaded them that today’s result was typical; it took both of them to do the work he did in a day. Frank agreed when it came to shooting or golf. Erica wasn’t sure if she was proud or disturbed by his success.

  Gregg and Erica spent a quiet day together touring the farm and the town where he grew up.
Everything was small scale; the single elementary school that served the whole town, the two convenience stores too distant to be convenient. Just getting to the grocery store took twenty minutes. Every road was humped and the residents compensated by driving down the center, that way they were on top. It was odd at first, but they rarely saw another car. What they did see was trees. Everywhere they went trees blocked them in. Now and again they passed a corn field or a hay field that stretched impossibly long, bigger than she could have imagined.

  When the sun started sinking in the afternoon, they settled into a clump of trees that looked down over a long brown field. This was Gregg’s favorite spot as a boy, far enough from the house to be secluded, but not a long walk.

  Gregg sat with his back to a sturdy pine and Erica reclined against the solid muscles of his chest. “What do you think of the farm?” he asked.

  “I’ve never seen any place so big and your family’s so nice,” she said, rubbing his arm. “You can’t help but be at peace here.”

  “Could you live here?”

  “It’s too far from Boston.” She felt him sigh. “If I didn’t have to work, I’d live in a place like that.” She pointed to the hilltop. “I bet there’s a great view over the trees. And I like the way the long grass swishes in the wind. The house wouldn’t have to be big, but it would have a barn and horses.” Erica imagined a house in the empty field and what she’d do with a horse. She’d always pictured herself living alone in a city apartment. No apartment building would be erected here. This was a place for a family. There had never been children in her future, but they were a big part of Gregg’s.

  “My dad’s been saving this spot for me since I was ten.”

  “It’s beautiful,”

  He could start building anytime. Owning the land meant he could build it piece by piece as time and money allowed. He might not know anything about construction, but if he grew up on the farm he had to be comfortable with tools. Adding herself to this picture brought a sickening feeling. Things would go wrong inside the new house and his parents would hear them arguing.