Allerton and Axtell

by Gary Lee Martinson

  “Yes,” Gilbert answered nodding his head slightly.

  “What is your name?” The boy asked him.

  “Gilbert Fenny,” he responded proudly.

  “Thank you, Mr. Fenny.” The boy turned and ran off. Gilbert found a seat for the ride to Dubuque. He was fine thinking about things until the train began to chug down the track toward his destiny. His stomach began to turn to mush.

  The spring landscape of Iowa began to pass before him out the window. The train passed Winthrop, Manchester, Dyersville and he knew that it wouldn’t be long before they would arrive in Dubuque.

  The train stopped in Dubuque where Rachel and Robert were waiting to greet him. He gave them his bag and told them he had to go somewhere straight away, before he lost his nerve. Rachel sensed what Gilbert was going to do. Robert started to balk at having to take care of his bag like a servant, but before he could react, Rachel nudged him hard in the belly. Robert kept his thoughts to himself and took Gilbert’s bag. Gilbert was so deep in the thought of talking to Mr. Groober, he didn’t realize how arrogant he was.

  The walk to the Groober’s home was a long one. He felt as if he were crawling as if in a dream and couldn’t move. Eventually, he arrived at the front gate to the Groober home. He stood there for a moment looking over the house. It was different than it had been a few years ago when he visited. All the curtains of the house were drawn shut. It looked dark inside as the day had begun to drift now into late afternoon. He took a deep breath and approached the house. He stepped lightly on the steps leading to the house, and stood in front of the door.

  The curtains on the door were partially drawn, enabling him to see inside. Gilbert could see the hallway was large, dark and empty. It seemed strange that there was no furniture in the entry hall. There was a light from a small lamp in a room just off the entry hall of the house to his left. The door to the room was half open and through that opening he could see a shiny revolver in a mans hand moving upward. The opening was so small he could not see anything, but the revolver and the mans hand.

  Without a thought Gilbert started to pound on the door. As he continued to peer into the house. He saw that the revolver was lowered and placed possibly in a drawer of the table the lamp was on. He could not see who had been holding the revolver. The door to the room opened slowly and Gilbert quickly backed away from the door. He did not want to appear to have been looking into the house.

  The door knob to the front door turned and the door swung slowly into the house. Gilbert now stood face to face with Mr. Groober. Mr. Groober looked glassy eyed and his hair was tuft on the side of his head. His eyes were deep green, like Clara’s eyes when she gets emotional.

  “Mr. Fenny,” Mr. Groober spoke without much excitement. “Clara is not here. Come back later.” He started to close the door.

  Gilbert spoke up quickly, “It is you I wish to speak to Mr. Groober, sir.” He stopped closing the door and stood silent for a moment. Gilbert stood as silent and polite as he could. He thought it was a good sign to be called, ‘Mr Fenny’, and the fact he was invited to come back later.

  “Hmm,” Mr. Groober murmured. He casually looked back into the room he had come out of, as if contemplating something. He turned back to face Gilbert, “All right.” He stepped away from the door leaving it only partially open. Gilbert interpreted this as the best invitation he was going to get. He slowly pushed the door open so he could fit through it. He entered into the entrance hall of the house. From the entrance hall, Gilbert could see that the house was void of the normal furnishings. There was a coat tree near the door in the entry hall. He removed his coat and hung it on the tree. The only other furniture he saw was in the parlor to his right. There were three chairs and a small table with a lamp on it. Mr. Groober gestured Gilbert to his left, toward the room that the lamp was lit. The same room someone had just been holding a revolver. He spoke coldly, “Join me in my study, and we’ll discuss this like men.”

  It was obvious Mr. Groober had a good idea why he was there. Mr. Groober sat down at a desk and gestured for him to sit on a chair across the desk. This room like the others was void of furniture except for the two chairs and the desk they were sitting at. There were patches of discoloration on the walls that appeared to be where pictures had hung at one time. There was a cracked mirror on the wall. There were many bookshelves around the study that looked ominously empty. The shelves however were well dusted. He noticed the house may have been void of furniture, but was well kept. There was a half empty whiskey bottle on the desk. The cork was gone and no glass to be seen.

  “Let me talk before you say your peace.” He demanded Gilbert’s attention.

  “All right,” Gilbert agreed as he sat quiet and anxious to listen.

  “I love my daughter very much. I, like most fathers, hope my child will be more than what they are. Clara is smart and I always expected her to choose a man to spend the rest of her life with, that is worthy of her.” He cleared his throat, “When she was caught with you, a stupid stable boy, with no foreseeable future, I reacted as any good father would react. A father will always protect his daughter and her virtue.”

  Mr. Groober looked around and peered at bottle of whiskey. He noticed that Gilbert had seen him look at the bottle. “Yes, I have been drinking. I am using it to build up my nerve.” He picked up the bottle and swirled it around. “You see, the thing is, you have made a mockery of me. Clara and her mother think I have judged you too harshly. They said you had changed. I know that people don’t change. They can disguise themselves as something they aren’t. You may have Charles Williams fooled, but you don’t have me fooled.”

  Gilbert said respectfully, “I understand.”

  “I’m not finished yet,” he said sternly. “You haven’t really changed, have you?”

  “No, I haven’t changed.” Gilbert sternly.

  “Neither have I.” His voice wavered from stern to shaky, “My circumstances have changed. No longer can I raise my head high as I used too. I have nothing. I have no money, no business, no job, no future.” Gilbert could see that the man sitting before him was very depressed. He wasn’t positive about what he had seen earlier involving the revolver, but he was sure now. He was sure he had interrupted Mr. Groober seriously thinking of suicide. “You are still the little good for nothing bastard.” He slurred out and waited to get a reaction out of Gilbert.

  “Mr. Groober,” Gilbert said firmly, but with great compassion. He felt Mr. Groober was more angry with himself than with him, “There was a time when I had nothing. I had no mother, no father to speak of, no home, no money, no future, just the clothes that I wore. But just as soon as I felt there was no hope for me. A lightning bolt from heaven picked me up and gave me a dreamer’s life. I still had no parents, but I had a job I loved, a great man to work for and a place to stay, and an unlimited future.” He spoke from the deepest part of his heart, “I, too, had not really changed, but my circumstances had.” He paused a moment as he fought for his next words. Mr. Groober was paying close attention to what he was saying without showing any emotion. “We are who we are. You and I are not really all that different. You still have the love of your family and your home. You’re not a stupid man, so you will succeed. Maybe there will be a lightning bolt for you as well. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but someday.”

  Mr. Groober sat in silence as he pondered on Gilbert’s words. It seemed like hours, but it was only a few seconds of silence. Mr. Groober nodded his head slowly. He again looked back at the bottle of whiskey.

  Gilbert took the initiative to speak up again. “The biggest challenges of our lives is not how successful we are, but how we handle the worst times imaginable. It will be this time in your life, that you will show your greatness.”

  Mr. Groober shook his head, then starred at him coldly with his green eyes, “Spare me the pity, boy.”

  “You don’t need my pity nor my help,” Gilbert said f
irmly, “I come here to ask you something, because I respect you.”

  “Get on with it then,” he looked to the bottle again.

  “I love Clara very much, just as you do. I always have. I have never thought of marrying anyone else. It would mean a lot,” Gilbert paused and then continued to speak slowly with great feeling, “to me, if you would give your permission and blessing, for me to ask Clara to marry me.” Gilbert confused himself with his own statement. He hoped Mr Groober would understand.

  Mr. Groober broke a small smile on his face, “Clara could do worse, I guess.” He said softly with a bit of humor to his voice. “She could do better, you know.” He bit at his lip as he nodded slightly.

  “I know,” Gilbert said, “I must be the luckiest man in the world.”

  Mr. Groober had to think for several minutes, which created a torturously silence for Gilbert. Mr. Groober looked at Gilbert noting the fine cloths he wore. He looked at the drawer that contained the gun. He looked at the half empty bottle on the table nearby. He got up and strolled over to the cracked mirror.

  Then he turned around and coyly said, “She hasn’t said yes yet, and she can’t say yes unless you ask her.” He walked over to the bottle of whiskey on the table. “Join me in a small drink. I think this will be my last one for awhile.”

  Gilbert had never had a drink, nor had he ever been offered a drink. This was a special occasion, but Gilbert hated his father’s drinking. Mr. Williams had taught him the drink was not a proper thing to do. “Yes, I will join you. This will be our last drink.”

  “Good,” he said as he dug around in a drawer for something. Gilbert guessed he was digging around for some glasses. “I know I had some glasses here,” he mumbled. He looked for a few more minutes. “Oh, hell,” he picked up the bottle. “Straight from the bottle.” He took a big chug of whiskey and handed the bottle to Gilbert. Gilbert took the bottle and chugged a couple of swallows. He felt the harsh liquid rawly burn his throat as it went down. He started coughing uncontrollably. “It’s a bit dry,” Mr Groober laughed.

  “Yes, sir,” Gilbert was able to say between coughs.

  “Damn, we forgot the words,” Mr Groober added, “to both our futures.” He took another chug of the bottle, then handed it to Gilbert to do the same.

  Gilbert had not yet recovered from the first swallow, but in the spirit of the occasion, he took the bottle and chugged another large swallow.

  Gilbert instantly began to choke and cough. “Wow,” he hoarsely squeezed out.

  “Good stuff huh?” Mr. Groober went behind Gilbert and started to beat him on the back to assist with his nagging cough.

  They sat down and began to discuss what plans Gilbert had in his future. Even after a few minutes, Gilbert still had to cough a little. After several more minutes of discussion the front door to the house burst open. Clara and her mother walked through the door laughing loudly. They didn’t notice the two men sitting quietly in the study.

  “You know, I am sure he sold that picture for more than he said he did,” Clara told her mother.

  “Maybe he did, but let’s not dwell on it, dear,” her mother responded.

  Clara started to enter the study to greet her father with a beautiful, happy smile, “I sold some–,” her eyes popped open and her smile faded quickly as she saw Gilbert standing to greet her. She was frozen with a loss of words or action. Her mother stepped up behind her and peeked into the study, unaware of the situation. She also became speechless when she saw Gilbert. The two women noticed the near empty bottle, without a cap, that sat on the desk in front of the two men.

  Mr. Groober quickly got up and stepped over to Clara. “Clara, would you like to take our guest into the parlor. We will get some lemonade and join you shortly.” Mr. Groober lovingly guided his wife out of the study, and headed down the hallway toward the kitchen. There was a flurry of whispers as the two made their way.

  Clara was petrified by the situation. Gilbert took her hand. “Show me where the parlor is.” Clara slowly escorted Gilbert across the hallway into the parlor. She looked straight ahead afraid to look away in case she would see her father.

  Just before they were going to enter the parlor, Gilbert glanced down the hall and saw both Mr. and Mrs. Groober’s heads peering out from the kitchen door. When they saw Gilbert look toward them, they ducked out of sight. Clara closed the double doors to the parlor once they were both in the room. She turned to Gilbert, her face remained bewildered as she spoke, “Are you crazy. What are you doing here?” She sniffed the air noticing the smell of whiskey, “Have you been drinking?” Her eyes bulging with anger and fright.

  “It’s a good thing you came when you did. I think he was about to offer me a cigar.” He said with a silly smile.

  “You don’t seem to understand. My father hates you. He might have killed you. He has a Smith and Wessen revolver in that desk.”

  “But he didn’t.”

  “Not yet. The night is still young.” Her temperament was turning from petrified with fear to a frightened anger.

  “I needed to talk to you,” Gilbert said as he felt strangely dizzy.

  “You should have warned me you were coming, so I could have had a shovel handy.” Gilbert began to chuckle. “It’s not funny, Gilbert.” She took a long deep breath calming her down. “All right, things seem to be calm here, soooo– talk to me.”

  “Aren’t you glad to see me?”

  “Yes, of course I am,” She said, “But I’m not anxious to see you killed right before my eyes.”

  “Sit down and I’ll be right back.” Gilbert pulled a chair out for Clara to sit near the lone table in the parlor. He then walked to the door and opened it into the hall. He heard a quick scuffle and saw the tip of a shoe exposed from behind the open door to the parlor. He heard some muffled giggling coming from behind the open door.

  He went to his coat and pulled out a small box. Then from another pocket he pulled out a tiny red satin pillow trimmed in silver braid. There were gold tassels hanging from each corner of the pillow. He opened the box and picked out a beautiful gold and diamond ring. He carefully placed the ring inside a little pouch on the top of the pillow. The pouch covered the ring completely.

  He headed toward the parlor and couldn’t resist looking behind the door. When he peered around the door he found Mr. and Mrs. Groober huddled together with caught-in-the-act-smiles on their faces. Gilbert smiled back at them, giving him the warm feeling of a wonderful family in his future.

  Gilbert partially closed the door to the parlor. He left it cracked open a few inches so her parents could hear better. Clara sat facing away from him as he approached. “Please, close your eyes,” he requested softly. She obliged his wishes and closed her eyes as her breathing began to deepen. Gilbert knelt down in front of her, then clutched her right hand. Clara’s mouth began to quiver slightly, as tears began to fill her eyes. “All right open them.” Clara saw the beautiful, tiny pillow. “Clara, I love you so much. I have never loved anyone else. I never want to love anyone else.” He pushed the ring out of the pouch. “Will you marry me for the rest of our lives.”

  She burst out with tears. Gilbert quickly reached with one hand into his breast pocket, pulling out a clean handkerchief. He dabbed at her tears, that were magnifying her deep green eyes, with one hand, while holding the pillow and ring in the other. She was so overcome with emotion she could not answer. She looked back over her shoulder with great concern to the parlor door. She turned back to Gilbert and started to shake her head very slightly. To combat the appeared negative response, he said to her softly, “He said you could do worse.”

  Clara’s tear-filled eyes expanded and a broad smile beautified her face. “He likes you?” She asked with great excitement.

  “It’s all right, Clara. It’s all right.” Mr. Groober bellowed out from the hall. His voice seemed to crack as if he were near tears.

&nbs
p; Clara looked back at the door, then turned quickly back to Gilbert. “Yes!” Gilbert without hesitation took Clara’s left hand and placed the ring on it. She brought it up close to her face to get a good look at it. “It is so beautiful.” Gilbert stood up and pulled her hand to help her get up. She stood up three inches taller than he. Gilbert looked up into her eyes before he pressed his lips against hers. Their arms found their place around each other in a long loving kiss.

  “I love you,” Gilbert said.

  “I love you,” Clara said. They turned to join her parents as they came into the parlor. They met together in a big family hug. After a few minutes they broke away and the two women walked off toward the kitchen admiring the ring. Gilbert slipped the tiny pillow into his pants pocket.

  Mr. Groober put his arm around Gilbert, “Let me take us all out to eat.”

  “Please,” Gilbert said, “let me get dinner. I’ll let you take care of the gratuity.”

  “Deal,” he agreed as a knock on the front door interrupted the festivities. Mr. Groober went to the door, with Gilbert following. When Mr. Groober opened the front door, a young man stood on the porch with a smile.

  “Telegram for,” he looked at the name listed on the telegram, “Mr. Francis Groober.”

  “Come in son,” Mr. Groober said as he held the door open.

  Mr. Groober signed and received the telegram. He felt into his pockets for any money to give the young man.

  Gilbert quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out a fifty cent piece. “I got it, sir.” Mr. Groober was appreciative of Gilbert. He opened his telegram with a smile, even though he felt the news contained within was probably bad. Something he had been getting a lot of lately. He read his telegram carefully, then he reread it in disbelief.

  Mrs. Groober came into the hall followed by Clara, “Who was that at the door?”