The Qualities of Wood

by Mary Vensel White

  ‘Whose are these?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know. They look pretty old.’

  ‘I’m starting to get the impression that your grandmother never threw anything away.’

  ‘Sometimes people are like that,’ he said. ‘Sentimental. Maybe once we have a big house we’ll feel differently about throwing everything away. It’s hard to use space you don’t have.’

  She followed him into the other room, carrying the shoebox. ‘I found some clothing in the attic, all folded and put into a dresser drawer like someone had used it recently.’

  ‘I don’t think she went up to the attic much,’ Nowell said, ‘but maybe she kept some of her things up there.’

  ‘No, it was men’s clothing. Reminded me of the type of things your dad wore, I mean, from the photos I’ve seen. And there was a gun,’ she added, watching his face.

  Nowell looked up. ‘A hunting gun? My grandfather used to hunt.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Vivian said. ‘It was a hand gun.’

  ‘What did you do with it?’ Nowell asked.

  ‘It’s on a dresser in the attic.’

  ‘I’ll go up later and make sure it’s not loaded.’

  Vivian lowered her voice. ‘But why is it here? Whose is it?’

  Nowell rolled his eyes. ‘My grandma lived out here alone for many years, Viv, and this isn’t the city. Everyone out here probably owns a gun.’ He turned to leave. ‘And the clothes, you can get rid of them.’

  Seven years earlier, Nowell’s father died suddenly of a massive stroke during the hottest part of a hot summer. He was fifty-seven years old, so active and healthy, Nowell said, that it had been hard to imagine anything happening to him. Beverly found Sherman on the kitchen floor and woke Nowell. Together, they moved him to a more dignified position before she called the paramedics. Nowell was home from college that summer, helping his father with the repair business to earn spending money. Lonnie was away on a fishing trip. Everything was over within two weeks: the funeral, the packing of Sherman’s things, the selling of the family’s share of the repair business. In three weeks, Nowell was back at school. He said later that he couldn’t believe how quickly his whole life changed.

  ‘Dorothy can help you out with the house while they’re here,’ Nowell said.

  Vivian looked at him. ‘Are you sure she’s coming here to work?’

  ‘They’ll benefit from the sale of the house, too,’ Nowell said. ‘Lonnie knows that.’

  ‘My mom always says that one kitchen is too small for two women,’ Vivian said.

  ‘That’s not very progressive of her,’ Nowell remarked.

  Vivian heard the sound of gravel crunching under tires. She pulled back the curtain and saw a faded black jeep with an open top. Lonnie jumped from the driver’s seat and a blonde woman turned and pulled a duffel bag from the back seat.

  ‘They’re here already,’ she said.

  Nowell galloped to the kitchen entrance and stood with a fixed grin, hands on his hips and head tilted to one side, like a dog listening to a rustle in the grass.

  Lonnie’s bulky form eclipsed the sunlight as he stood in the doorframe.

  Nowell had moved to the far end of the kitchen, at the square entry to his study. The dark support beams of the ceiling tapered off like bars behind his head. ‘So you made it in one piece,’ he said.

  ‘Number One, what’s new?’ Lonnie stepped onto the yellow-patterned tile. ‘Hey, Vivian.’

  Their hug was brief and awkward; Vivian turned her head and Lonnie’s collarbone pressed into her cheek through his scratchy plaid shirt.

  A small woman moved around him and grinned. ‘Hello.’ She looked at Nowell. ‘Hello again.’

  ‘Hi,’ Vivian replied. ‘You must be Dorothy.’

  ‘The one and only,’ Lonnie said.

  Greenish eyes squinted above Dorothy’s small, amber-freckled nose. Her hair was reddish blonde and ended in a gentle wave at her shoulders.

  Vivian extended her hand. ‘It’s great to meet you at last.’

  ‘Don’t shake her hand!’ Lonnie roared. ‘She’s family, isn’t she?’

  Vivian hugged her. Dorothy smelled faintly of vanilla.

  Nowell came forward and embraced both of them. They all stood in the centre of the kitchen.

  Lonnie looked well. His skin was ruddy, his cheeks like two round apples. His dark hair was very short, like a military haircut.

  He noticed her looking. ‘How do you like the hair? Wanna touch it?’

  ‘Get your own wife to touch it.’ Nowell pulled Vivian against him.

  Lonnie punched his brother lightly in the arm, then Nowell reached for him quickly, unaware that his elbow collided with Vivian’s arm. As the two men struggled into a wrestling hold, she rubbed the sore part of her arm and stole a glance at Lonnie’s new wife.

  Dorothy’s face held the bemused look of a mother watching her toddler. With her pale skin and hair, and her soft, pliant expression, she reminded Vivian of a painting of the Madonna and child they studied in art class. It was Fra Filippo Lippi, she believed, and his rendition stood out from countless others because of the humanistic way he painted. Dr Lightfoot spoke at length about the use of shading and line, but what Vivian remembered most was the animated, loving expression of the young mother; the way the painting came alive. She gazed at Dorothy and as Nowell and Lonnie grunted and pushed against each other, Dorothy turned towards her and rolled her eyes.

  ‘Enough already,’ Vivian said to the men. ‘You’re going to break something.’

  Lonnie backed Nowell against the table. ‘Give,’ he ordered.

  Nowell laughed. ‘Okay, okay. When did you get bigger than me?’

  Lonnie peeled the checkered shirt from his body and hung it on a hook next to the door. Underneath he wore a plain white t-shirt. ‘Got anything to drink? Heating up out there.’

  Dorothy touched Vivian’s arm. ‘Where should we put our things? And please, call me Dot.’

  Vivian thought that she and Dot were opposites in some ways. Vivian was small and dark, with dark brown, almost black eyes and olive skin. Dot, while similar in size and proportion, had light, gold-blonde hair and fair, freckle-prone skin. At times Vivian had wished to be taller, but she prided herself on her narrow waist, her silky hair, and her vein-free hands. People used to tell her that she should be a hand model, selling fingernail polish or jewelry, but her mother said that models had to be tall, no matter what kind they were.

  Vivian showed her the spare bedroom. Dot walked directly to the window and peered outside. ‘I feel so gritty from the drive,’ she said. ‘Lonnie wanted to ride with the top down the whole way. He’s like a kid, happy with the smallest things.’ Her eyes glistened. ‘He’s simple in the nicest ways. Uncomplicated, you know?’

  Vivian smiled.

  ‘So you’ve been married a long time,’ Dot said.

  ‘Four years, but I remember what it’s like to be a newlywed.’

  Dot unzipped the duffel bag then straightened up, her hair falling into her eyes. ‘What’s it like?’

  Vivian shrugged. ‘Exciting, new. You can hardly stand to be apart.’

  ‘And all that changes?’

  She chuckled. ‘No, not all of it. The parts that stay come back really strong at times. They surprise you.’ She met Dot’s gaze. ‘At least that’s how it is for me. By the way, congratulations.’

  ‘Thanks. I wish we could’ve had a different kind of wedding, you know, with family and friends. But Lonnie was stubborn about that. It was all pretty sudden.’ Dot looked again through the window. ‘It’s nice out here.’

  ‘I’ve had a hard time getting motivated,’ Vivian said.

  ‘Lonnie says you’re fixing up the house?’

  ‘Trying to. It’s not very exciting work.’

  Dot started lifting things out of the bag and shoving them into the dresser. ‘I understand. I still haven’t unpacked most of the boxes since we got married and moved. It seems like we’ve been all o
ver since then, and I don’t know how long we’ll be there, you know? I mean our little apartment. Lonnie wants something with more space, and to me, it doesn’t matter. So the boxes sit in our living room. Seems pointless to unpack them just to pack them again.’ She shut the dresser drawer. ‘I’ll be glad to help you with the house.’

  ‘You don’t have to…’

  ‘What am I supposed to do, watch you work while I lay in the sun?’

  ‘I’ve been doing some laying around myself.’

  ‘Then we’ll do that together too.’

  ‘I’ll be glad for the company,’ Vivian admitted. ‘Nowell writes every day so I’m pretty much left to myself.’

  Dot’s eyes narrowed. ‘Do you have any sisters?’

  The question surprised her. ‘Sisters? No.’

  ‘You seem like you do.’ She set a purple cosmetic bag on the dresser. ‘Lonnie says that the little town is just a few miles up the road.’

  ‘Yes. We’ll have to drive in for lunch or a movie sometime while you’re here.’

  ‘That would be great.’

  Lonnie and Dot insisted on buying some groceries. They went into town and brought several bags back. After a while, the men decided to drive back for beer, after determining that the supply in the refrigerator was insufficient. Dot took a nap while Vivian spent some time in the front yard, flipping through magazines. When she heard Dot rummaging around in the kitchen, she went inside.

  ‘Good nap?’ Vivian asked.

  Dot had a reddish crease on her cheek that almost matched the hue of her freckles. ‘Yes. Lonnie had me up at five o’clock this morning.’ She pulled some ground beef from the refrigerator.

  ‘What can I do?’ Vivian asked.

  ‘Just sit there and take it easy.’ She stood for a minute, scanning the kitchen. ‘I need a skillet, which I’m sure is in this cupboard here. Yes, here it is. You’ve put everything just where I would have.’

  ‘At least let me make a salad,’ Vivian said.

  ‘Alright,’ Dot said, ‘but that’s it.’

  They both heard a car in the driveway. Vivian said, ‘That was fast.’ A few moments later, the screen door rattled as someone knocked on it. ‘No one’s home!’ she called.

  ‘Excuse me,’ a deep voice said.

  She spun around and saw Sheriff Townsend peering in, the bill of his hat pressed against the screen door.

  ‘Oh, hello, Sheriff,’ Vivian said. ‘We thought you were someone else.’

  When she opened the door, he took off his hat and stepped inside. ‘Sorry to disturb you at the dinner hour.’ He nodded at Dot. ‘I noticed the out-of-state license plates on that jeep outside. I wanted to make sure everything was in order.’

  ‘That’s my jeep.’ Dot came forward, wiping her hands on the front of her shorts. ‘Mine and my husband’s.’

  ‘Sheriff Townsend, this is my sister-in-law, Dot Gardiner,’ Vivian explained. ‘She and my brother-in-law just arrived this afternoon for a short visit.’

  ‘I see.’ He looked again at Vivian, his face slightly flushed. ‘I really don’t mean to bother you. It’s just that you and your husband are here to take care of things for the late Mrs Gardiner, who was a member of our community for some time. I guess what I’m saying is, I figured you’d had enough trouble since you’ve been here, and I’ve made it my job to keep an extra eye out for you.’

  ‘I understand,’ she said. ‘And we appreciate it, really.’

  The sheriff looked at the hamburgers sizzling on the stove. ‘I should let you get back to your cooking. Something sure smells good in here.’ He looked at the opening to Nowell’s study and the curtain that hung bunched at the side.

  ‘Dot’s made herself quite at home in the kitchen,’ Vivian said. ‘I’m afraid I’ll get spoiled if she keeps cooking like this.’ She winked at the sheriff. She had never been a winker, hadn’t even thought of it until she saw Katherine do it.

  ‘You don’t have to worry about that,’ Dot said. ‘Cooking isn’t exactly a talent of mine.’

  Sheriff Townsend lingered in the doorway. ‘Will you come down for the festivities in town at the end of summer? It’s not too far off now.’

  ‘You’re not talking about the reunion for the Clements, are you?’

  ‘I was talking more about the town anniversary festival the following weekend. They’ll have music, carnival rides and such. All to celebrate the founding of the town.’

  ‘You’re a relation of William Clement, aren’t you?’ Vivian asked.

  ‘Yes, ma’am. He was my great-great-great-grandfather.’

  ‘How many Clements will be there?’

  He laughed. ‘Hundreds, I would guess. I expect that many will stay through the week. Should be a real boost for local business. Along with the road finally going in.’

  ‘It sounds fun,’ Vivian said.

  He twirled his hat around in his hands. ‘I’ll leave you to your cooking.’ He turned to Dot. ‘Nice meeting you.’

  ‘Likewise,’ Dot said.

  Sheriff Townsend stepped outside and put on his hat. Vivian watched as he slowly descended the steps of the porch then walked to his car, the shiny white cruiser with tan and black stripes. He looked around as he went, taking in every detail of their yard.

  ‘Talk about a hard-working police force,’ Dot said.

  Vivian walked over to the counter and continued slicing a tomato. ‘They certainly are.’

  ‘What was that about? I mean, the part about the trouble you’ve had?’

  Vivian looked at her. ‘Didn’t Nowell mention anything to Lonnie about what happened?’

  Dot’s forehead wrinkled. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘It was the day Lonnie left, the same day I arrived.’

  ‘What was?’

  ‘They found a dead body,’ Vivian said, pointing with the knife towards the woods. ‘Practically in our yard.’

  Dot inhaled quickly.

  ‘It was a young girl who lived nearby. Seventeen years old.’

  ‘What happened to her?’

  ‘It was an accident. They did an autopsy and didn’t find anything suspicious. She died from head trauma. She tripped on something and hit her head on a rock.’

  ‘How terrible.’

  Vivian dropped the core of the tomato into the sink. ‘A woman I met here says that she was a wild girl, always in trouble.’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t know why I said that. It’s only gossip.’

  ‘Her family?’ Dot asked.

  ‘Just her mother. She was here the other day, the mother.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘The sheriff brought her. She wanted to see where they found her.’

  Dot groaned.

  Vivian nodded. ‘It was awful.’

  ‘That must’ve been pretty big news for a small town like this,’ Dot said.

  ‘Not really. They ran a couple of stories in the paper, and an obituary, of course. But once they reported that it was an accident, there wasn’t much else to say. Bad things happen everywhere. There was an automobile crash just last weekend, some kids from a neighboring town. They were out partying and one of them, the driver, didn’t make it.’

  Dot took the plate of steaming hamburgers to the table. ‘I guess we think of the country as an escape from all that. Crime, violence, you know.’

  ‘But there are reckless kids everywhere. I’m sure they have their share of domestic problems here, drugs, everything.’

  ‘It was nice of him to stop by,’ Dot said, something implied by her raised eyebrows.

  ‘What?’ Vivian asked.

  They heard the truck rumble up the driveway.

  ‘They’re back,’ Dot said. ‘Perfect timing. I’m famished.’

  15

  Lonnie leaned back in the chair, his hand circling a near-empty bottle of beer. ‘There are people who have physical proof of their abduction,’ he said. ‘Coded messages scratched into their arms, burn marks on their temples, blackouts. Some of them wake up in places and don’t kno
w how they got there.’

  ‘Maybe they’re sleepwalkers,’ Nowell said.

  Dot’s eyes sparkled in the light. ‘You should see this documentary, that’s all we’re saying. There are too many coincidences between these stories. People who don’t even know each other, living in separate parts of the country.’ Her cheeks were blazing and her blondish-red hair was molded against the sides of her face. They were all a little drunk, sitting on the porch after a long dinner.

  ‘Yeah,’ Lonnie said. ‘How could they have the same experiences? Being put on a lab table and having samples taken, or being watched through a monitor in a small room with no windows.’

  ‘Maybe it’s because they’ve all seen the same movies as you,’ Nowell said.

  ‘What movies?’ His eyes widened. ‘There’s proof. Haven’t you ever seen pictures of those big craters where the crafts have landed, or heard from the people who say it happened to them? What proof do you have that there’s no other life out there?’

  ‘You’re asking me to prove a negative thing, which is impossible.’

  ‘Then what’s there to argue about?’

  Nowell laughed. ‘I’m arguing that it’s extremely unlikely that any of these desperate people on your video were abducted from their trailers by aliens and tested. Don’t you think that intelligent life would choose a more diverse and accomplished cross-section of humanity? Scientists, artists, political leaders?’

  ‘Maybe they take what they can get. It would be hard to snatch someone in a big city.’

  ‘Now we’re really getting into mere conjecture.’

  As the yellow porch light softened around her like melting wax, Vivian worked on her fourth beer.

  Dot spoke softly, and everyone turned toward her. ‘I just think it would be nice, wouldn’t it? To know that we’re not alone in the universe, that other types of life are out there.’

  Nowell took a long drink. ‘How would it change anything?’

  Lonnie said, ‘For one thing, we could travel there, set up space stations.’

  ‘You’ve never left the United States,’ Vivian said. ‘What makes you think you’d go to Mars?’