by Jan Surasky
“How’s the job going, Sammy?”
“Not so well, Jenny. The Andersons have me going everywhere and working overtime. They refuse to hike my pay. And, with me and Annie expecting, it hurts.”
“Why don’t you go over to Nolan’s in Dundee?”
“I wouldn’t be able to help Ma and Pa and Bert out as much with drivin’ that far.”
“Maybe we can get you some weekend work. I’ve got an empty barn, and Anne could help me in the greenhouse.”
“That would be nice, Miz Gert. Annie and I would be grateful.”
“I’ll look into it. I still roam the campus and I know a lot of professors looking for a good mechanic.”
Talk turned to Josh’s basketball and his schooling, both of which Cliff took a great interest in. Josh basked in the attention. As Josh regaled them with all that he was learning and the free rein at LaGuardia compared to New York City schools, Cliff promised him a basketball net installed by next visit.
“Father will probably challenge you to a game. He was on the team in high school.”
“Mom’s right, Josh. Your grandfather was a pretty good basketball player. All the girls were after him, but Mattie caught him.”
“Jenny,” said Anne, looking demurely up from her plate, “would you ever see Jake?”
Jenny paused, remembering the eager and ambitious farm boy. “I think probably not, Annie. He knows I’m in New York but he hasn’t contacted me. I think he doesn’t want any reminders of the early years. He’s caught up in a high-powered career and a high-powered society. I think I would just be in the way of his ambitions.”
“He doesn’t write or call. Ma and Pa are sad but they try not to show it. Ma keeps the quilt from his bed she made him when he was ten in a special place above the sofa on the parlor wall.”
“Sometimes life gets away from people, Annie. Maybe someday Jake will remember his roots.”
Aunt Gert stood up. “Who’s going to help me serve those beautiful desserts Sarah and Anne spent all those hours baking?”
“I will, Aunt Gert. Then I’ll get first choice.”
“Josh, that’s true. Servers get first choice. But, it’s hard to decide between cherry and peach pie. Especially since the fruit has come from the orchard back of Sarah and Jesse’s fields.”
“Okay, I’ll have Rebecca choose.”
Rebecca, Sarah’s four-year-old, jumped up and smiled. “I choose one of each.”
Everyone laughed as they cleared the table. Even the little ones pitched in, trained at an early age to lend a hand to chores around a homestead with no electricity and many long hours of labor for an income derived from the second poorest county in New York State.
Jenny watched as two-year-old Jeremiah trailed after Josh, a look of rapt admiration overcoming the toddler’s countenance. Rebecca attempted to relieve him of the bowl he grasped with two very pudgy hands, setting up a howl of distinct possession.
She looked about the kitchen to memorize the scene. The memory would have to last a year. Josh would insist on Sparky skipping stones with him along Keuka Lake and Father letting him drive the tractor out into the carefully cultivated fields. Mother would insist on Josh purchasing his school supplies at the Windmill because they were cheaper than anywhere in Manhattan. And, Jenny herself would spend time in the hayloft, despite the dust on her new designer jeans.
But, they must be on the road promptly at seven on Sunday. Cathy was receiving a most important client from the USSR on Monday.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chip’s CEO friend was all that Chip had said he was. Charming, dashing, and very, very busy. But, he had taken time to call Jenny on a Sunday afternoon.
Mark Brigham wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. Jenny found herself strolling through Central Park an hour later, munching a mustard and relish slathered hotdog purchased from a street vendor. The ride to the park had been swift, the sun roof open and the wind blowing through her hair in the fire red Porsche.
Jenny had forgotten how good a street vendor’s hotdog could be. Especially strolling through the walks of the beautifully designed park, amid the lush maples and hawthorns and elms, the sun poking through the darkness of their dense green leaves. The arching branches of the dogwoods were at full bloom, sporting a remarkable number of lovely and pure white blossoms.
“It’s nice to finally meet the artist of three of my favorite paintings. I really like your work, Jenny.”
“Thanks. It keeps me busy.”
“I’ll bet. And, what else do you do?”
“I raise my son. He’ll be fourteen next month.”
“He seems like a nice kid, Jenny. You’re doing a great job.”
“Thanks. I try.”
“So, does your painting support you, or do you do something else besides?”
“I work for an import export firm on the East side. A friend’s firm. It’s more fun than work.”
“I see. You’re lucky. My two businesses seem to be getting the better of me. Time for a break.”
“What businesses do you have, Mark?”
“Two manufacturing firms. My facilities are in Brooklyn. That’s how I met Chip. I have an office in Manhattan.”
“What do you make?”
“We make an airplane part that only three companies in the world make. Small part, but it helps to keep planes up in the air. My other company makes gears for sports car motors. Very specific.”
“Sounds like work. You must be brilliant.”
“Not brilliant. Just persistent. But, I like the contribution to travel we make. When I was younger, traveling was one of my greatest joys.”
“Do you travel now?”
“All the time. But, for work. I hardly get time to see where I am. How about you?”
“I travel also. It gives me a chance to photograph the world. The lure of Eastern Europe. It sells magazines.”
“I bet. With your artistic eye, it’s probably done wonders for tourism.”
“I hope so.”
“Where are you from, Jenny?”
“Jerusalem. Southern tier. About five hours drive from here. But, millions of miles away in sophistication.”
“I’m from a small town, too. Indiana. Rows and rows of corn.”
“What brought you here?”
“Well. Aeronautics is big on the west coast. But, I’m not the Hollywood type. So, New York it was.”
Jenny looked toward the horizon and the setting sun. “I think those orange and red swatches in the sky are trying to tell us something. I promised Josh I’d be back for dinner.”
“Will do. Spoken like a true artist. Thanks, Jenny, for taking the time to help a workaholic unwind. It’s been fun.”
“Same here, Mark. The weather and the company are about as pleasant as I can remember in a long time.”
“Well, it’s been especially nice to enjoy a tree and look at the summer blossoms and hear the song of a bird. It’s been a long time since I breathed the air of the outdoors. Mostly it’s been chasing planes and poring over blueprints.”
“Well good. New Yorkers need a dose of the outdoors every now and then. Even if it’s filled with taxis and smog.”
“I’d race you to the car, but I think you’d win. Those look like serious sneakers.”
“They are. Cathy has pointed out that when we’re on the job overseas, time is money. So, our footwear reflects our company motto.”
As Mark opened the door of his Porsche, Jenny breathed a sigh as she stepped in. It had been long since she had been treated as a woman valued for her femininity alone.
The ride through the New York streets, as deserted as they were for a Sunday, brought a musing Jenny hadn’t entertained in a long, long time. She felt an interloper in a highly energized society. The City’s melting pot reputation was highly deserved. Those walking the streets, she knew, were both “natives” and visitors. But, which were which?
In her mind, The City still belonged to the natives who had exchanged this is
land for a mere $24 in beads. Whether visitor or native, not one of the pedestrians looked comfortable in their environment.
“We’re here. A penny for your thoughts.”
Jenny remembered when a young farm boy had asked her that question. But, this time she was ready.
“I’m thinking that I had a very nice time this afternoon. Thanks for the excursion.”
“I did too, Jenny. How about repeating it?”
“I’d like that, Mark.”
“I’ll call you when I get back from China.”
Jenny used her key to open the door of the building. There was no doorman on Sunday afternoons. Mark put her hands in his. And then, with a quick farewell, he was off.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Mark’s return from China marked the beginning of a whirlwind courtship. Jenny was swept off her feet. Mark was very persuasive.
Nights at the opera, posh restaurants, night clubs and Broadway plays, evenings walking the streets of New York turned into weekends in faraway lands. Thailand, Cambodia, the hinterlands of China. Mark was always on the lookout for new markets and cheaper labor, but most of all engineers who understood the aeronautical business. There were many with Ph.D.’s who could not find a job in their own country because there was no demand.
Josh managed. He often stayed with friends, or Dee who would take him in for the weekend with her loud and boisterous family. Rosa played the big sister, counseling Josh to save himself for the right girl and not be too hasty in falling for the wrong one too soon. Denny, when he was there, would take Josh off for “guy” stuff, letting the little ones tag along, mostly to the park for a game of Softball, where Denny belonged to a Sunday league, or bowling, or for an action flick that would put the small ones to sleep during the requisite car chases.
Sometimes, the three of them, Jenny, Josh, and Mark, would spend the weekend together, soaking up a laziness that was rare for any of them. Josh would do his homework, or watch sports on the large TV Jenny had given in to buy, with Mark. Sometimes they would just sit around and play chess or checkers while Jenny cooked pot roast in the kitchen.
But, these occasions were rare. Mark was gone on business often, and most of his waking hours were spent abroad. Jenny was beginning to feel that they were almost having a long distance relationship though they lived in the same city. Between his travels and hers, they rarely saw each other.
Despite the absences, Jenny felt a connection to Mark she hadn’t felt toward anyone since she had arrived in New York. Perhaps it was the easy demeanor they both displayed. Or, the extra sense of responsibility, independence and understanding they had both developed as strangers in the ultra modern culture of a city neither one of them understood. Or, perhaps, as Jenny began to feel, it was the strain of melancholy she sensed in them both.
“Mark, there’s a sadness about you.”
“I thought I hid that well.”
It reminded her of Jake, of the talk in the hayloft between them when neither of them could see the future.
“Is it something I should know?”
“Not really, Jenny. An old love. An unattainable love.”
“Why did you turn your back on it?”
“I didn’t. I was simply run out of a Tanzanian village for falling for a chief’s daughter when I was in the Peace Corps.”
“She must have been very special.”
“She was, Jenny. She was sixteen. Tall and graceful. A shadow of a memory to me now.”
“Why have you never tried to find her?”
“I thought I could forget her. I didn’t want to disturb her way of life. She was so much a part of Kilimanjaro and the bush country she was born in.”
“Perhaps she thinks of you as well.”
“I’ve thought of finding her, but by now she must be the wife of a highborn villager and the mother of six children.”
“She also might be the sixth wife of a tribal elder and wanting a means to escape.”
“Thanks, Jenny. I’ll give it a try. But, now we should take a run in the park. We have to break in those new sneakers of yours.”
Jenny was glad she had unearthed Mark’s reason for melancholy. But, it made her question her own. She had suppressed her feelings of sadness and sexuality after her divorce in favor of a life of responsibility. But, they must be there and part of her soul as Mark’s were.
As the sun went down over Central Park, and the endorphins took over to bring the most pleasant sensations of sunset, Jenny knew she was in for the first session of soul searching she would have since she arrived in New York.
Chapter Fifty
Mark’s letters from Tanzania arrived sporadically, dependent on the political climate and the safe passage of mail. The Tanzania he had known had all but disappeared. In its place, the country had become a hotbed of political infighting, complete with multiple party factions and an ineptitude to move toward the “democratization” process which had eluded so many of its African neighbors. Uprisings and slaughter in nearby Burundi and Rwanda had taken their toll. The pastoral land tenure which had been the basis of their economy was in conflict with what they saw as progress. And, Dar-es-Salaam, their largest city and formerly the country’s capital, a name in Arabic which meant the “house of peace,” was full of bribery and sloth.
Mark’s letters continued to be upbeat, but he had found no sign of his beloved Ajuba. He had continued to search, not certain where she might be found in the upheaval that was the Tanzania of the 90’s. Jenny found comfort in his descriptions of the countryside, much of which was still left untouched despite the political upheaval.
Jenny found comfort as well in the now worn book of Blake poems Jake had left for her in the Thompson barn at graduation. Blake’s vision of Jerusalem was what they had had in their own Jerusalem and she missed it now more than ever. “And did those feet in ancient time/Walk upon England’s mountains green?/And was the holy Lamb of God/On England’s pleasant pasture seen?”
Jenny closed the book and visualized the pastures and the fields with purple and pink and yellow wildflowers. She so much wanted to paint them. Jake’s crumpled note was still in there. She reread it and noted his hope that she would read these when times were tough. Did Jake ever think of Jerusalem or their late afternoons in the barn or evenings out back when the sun went down and the whippoorwill called?
She decided to return the book to its drawer in the back of her favorite table. Jake would be so caught up in his society ways that he most likely never thought of her or Jerusalem. They must seem so provincial to him today. She sighed as she packed away the small volume.
“Hey, Mom, what’s to eat?”
“How about the cookies I brought back from Brandanos yesterday?”
“Sounds good.”
Jenny looked at Josh. Tall, slender, athletic build. A good kid. Eager to please, but watchful. A kid with dreams. She felt such unbridled pride. She only hoped she had done right by him.
She went into the kitchen and poured him a glass of milk. Then, she set the cookies out on a plate they had dragged from their Brooklyn apartment because Josh had dubbed it the cookie plate when he was only three. She set it down on the red checkered tablecloth and poured herself a glass of the iced coffee she kept for special occasions.
“Mmmm. Oatmeal raisin. How did you know?”
“You’ve packed away enough of those for me to guess. How’s school going?”
“Good. We have a new girl in English class. She seems like she needs a friend.”
“Well, you might want to go kind of slow with that. Your grades are good. You might want to limit the dating until summer. But, maybe she would like to go to the junior prom.”
“Maybe. I’ll think about it. But, first, I’d better get to know her.
“Say, Mom, have you heard from Mark?”
“I just got a letter yesterday. He says to say ’hello’ to you and to tell you to be sure and keep an eye on Magic Johnson and Michael Jordan for him.”
“I will.
Is he there on business?”
“He’s there to find someone he knew long ago.”
“I see. He’s been gone a long time.”
“He’s in a country with a lot of problems. Hard to get around.”
Josh pushed back the chair and finished the last crumb on his plate. “I’ve got to go down and interview Rinaldo. We have to do a person piece. Mrs. Harrison says to think like we’re working for the New Yorker.”
“Well that should be fun. Be back in a half hour. Growing boys need to be in bed about now.”
Jenny finished the dishes and settled back into the easy chair. She thought of Mark. Kind, generous, and thoughtful. He had brought out the womanhood she had suppressed for so many years.
But, their life together could never be complete if he didn’t settle the question that had plagued him since youth. Her eyes became heavy as the weariness of the day settled over her. She woke to Josh’s gentle shaking and prepared for bed.
Chapter Fifty-One
Jenny awoke to the incessant ringing of her apartment phone. She reached for the receiver. It was Sarah. Jenny could hardly hear her through what sounded like a rush of tears and nervous chatter.
“Jenny, I’m sorry to wake you. But, Sammy’s in jail and Anne’s so upset we’re afraid she’s going to lose the baby.”
“What happened, Sarah?”
“The Andersons told the police that Sammy’s been taking money from their business. It’s not true, Jenny. Sammy swears he’s never taken a penny.”
“I believe you, Sarah. Where’s Anne?”
“She’s here with me, but we’re crowded.”
“I’ll call Sparky and see if she can take Anne in for now. What about Sammy?”
“He didn’t do it, Jenny. Sammy is honest as the day is long. But, the Andersons have pull with the police. They give them coffee and doughnuts every day and as far as we know they remember them with large gifts at Christmas.”