"Do you have any children?"
"My daughter lives near Seattle with her husband. She has two grown children, both girls, going to college in Washington. And I have a son who lives in Eugene, and a teenaged grandson as well. They're what attracted me to the university there. I wanted to be near my boys." She sighed. "And you say you have a daughter. Any other children?"
Without going into all the details, Anna explained she was a widow with only one child. Then she stood. "As I was saying, I trust you, Hazel."
"That means more than I can say to me." Hazel stood as well. "And I'm highly appreciative of your hospitality and your time."
"Because I trust you, I'm going to let you see where my grandmother lived."
Hazel looked surprised. "I thought she lived here."
"No, my parents lived here. My grandmother had her own cabin. Would you like to see it?"
"Yes, yes, of course!"
As Anna led Hazel out of the house and over to the cabin, she explained about how Grandma Pearl's first husband, John, built this house for Pearl and her mother. "My grandma's aunt lived in town. Her name was Dora. She was married numerous times. Mostly to white men. My grandma sometimes called white men 'the moving men' because they had moved here from someplace else. She usually called them that when telling stories."
"She told you stories?" Hazel stopped walking, placing her hand on Anna's arm, her eyes lighting up. "Do you remember any?"
"Oh, yes. And my father wrote many of them down." Hazel fanned herself with her handkerchief, almost as if she felt faint. "Oh, my! Oh, my! I feel as if I've just stumbled into a diamond mine."
Anna laughed. "Well, I have heard the town of Florence described as "The Diamond among the Pearls." And the Siuslaw River sometimes sparkles like diamonds. But I'm afraid that's the only diamond mine you'll find in these parts. And even those diamonds have become dulled by all these logs crowding in from all directions."
"As they say, it's all in the eyes of the beholder." Hazel smiled at Grandma Pearl's little cabin. "Oh, my, this is perfectly charming." She touched a rough-hewn log. "Wonderful!"
"I haven't actually been inside since I got here. It might be full of spiders and mice by now."
"Don't worry, I've lived all over and those creatures don't scare me."
Anna reached above the door frame to feel for the key. "My father put the padlock on the door shortly after Grandma passed—it was during the Great Depression and he was worried that transients might try to use it. There had been some incidents in the area." She pulled down the grimy key, wiped it off on the back of her trousers, and then, after several tries, managed to unlock the door. The door stuck a little, but she used her foot to push it open. She went inside first, brushing the cobwebs with her hands, and went to the windows and pulled the threadbare curtains open to let in the light. "It's just a two-room cabin, but my grandma was happy here."
"Oh, it's delightful." Hazel was going around now, examining everything and making oohs and ahs and exclamations over every little detail. "It's like a little museum."
"My father boxed up most of Grandma's things. The things he thought we should save, that is. I think they're still in the attic."
"You have more things?" Hazel looked as if she'd died and gone to heaven.
So Anna explained how her dad had lost his family, and come from Sweden on a freighter. "And family and history meant a lot to him. He was fascinated by Grandma. That's why he was writing down her stories and—"
"You still have those too?"
"As far as I know. But they're hard to read." Now she explained the language problem.
"Oh, don't worry about that. Linguistics is another area of expertise for me. I'm sure I can decipher them." She stopped and turned to Anna now. "That is, if you will allow me to."
Anna felt she'd already made her decision and she felt certain that Grandma Pearl would approve. "Yes." She nodded. "I would like you to record my family's history. I would consider it an honor."
Hazel grabbed both of Anna's hands now. "Oh, thank you, thank you! It is my honor and privilege." She released Anna's hands and was practically dancing now. "Oh, I'm so excited—I hardly know where to begin."
Anna thought for a moment. "I do feel that I should keep everything here—on my property—for the time being anyway. It's not that I don't trust you, Mrs. Chenowith—"
"Please, dear, call me Hazel."
Anna nodded. "Hazel . . . it's not that I question you. I just feel I'm the protector of these—uh, these diamonds, as you say—and I'd prefer to have them here. Until I have time to figure everything out. Does that sound acceptable?"
"Yes . . . yes . . . I understand and respect that. I suppose I could commute up the river from town each day." She got a thoughtful look now. "That is, unless you'd consider renting me a room . . . or even this little cabin." She looked around the dim room with eager eyes. "Oh, I would be so delighted to stay here—right here where your grandmother lived. It would be such an honor."
"You would stay here?"Anna was shocked. Her own mother wouldn't have stayed in here. She rarely set foot in here.
"Yes, I can understand how you wouldn't be comfortable with that—"
"I wouldn't think you'd be comfortable."
"Oh, yes! I would. I am a wonderful camper. And I would think of this as camping. I would make a fire in the fireplace and—"
"I don't know." Suddenly Anna was unsure. "I really need to think about this. You see, there's my daughter to consider
. . . I left her home . . . and I really only planned to be here for a week or so."
Hazel looked deflated. "I see—"
"But perhaps I can arrange to be here a little longer."
"Oh, could you? I'll gladly reimburse you for any expenses. And I'll pay rent for the use of this cabin."
Anna couldn't imagine charging anyone to stay in the cabin. Not in the shape it was in. But Hazel was walking about the main room now, saying how she'd use the table as her desk, perhaps move it by a window for light. "Oh, I know it needs a bit of cleaning, but I can do that."
"When do you think I could come out and get set up?"
Again, Anna felt overwhelmed. What was she getting herself into? "There's still my daughter . . . and I'll need to go to Babette's to use a telephone."
"You have no telephone in your house?"
Anna made an apologetic smile. "I'm afraid it's quite rustic there as well. There was a telephone in the store, but my mother had it disconnected when she closed the store. She said she didn't need it, but I suspect it was to save money."
"I see."
"And there's no electricity in the house either. Although we do have a reliable generator. And, of course, there's no electricity in here."
"I did notice power poles along the river. I assume it's not difficult to get power, if one wants it."
"Yes . . . if one can afford it. At the time it was being connected my mother felt it was beyond her means."
"If you let me stay, I would gladly pay to have your utilities installed," Hazel said suddenly. "If you didn't mind, that is. It's not that I wish to foist all the modern conveniences of the twentieth century upon you; it's simply that it would make my work so much easier to have some electricity and access to a phone. It's selfish really."
"It is tempting." Anna smiled. "Can you give me a couple of days to figure all this out?"
"Certainly."
"Is there a telephone number where I can reach you?"
"Yes. The Siuslaw Hotel in Florence." She frowned. "But you have no telephone."
"I do have neighbors."
"Oh, yes, of course."
So it was settled. Anna would telephone Hazel as soon as she'd made her decision. But the truth was, Anna felt she'd already decided. She simply wanted to clear things with Lauren . . . and that meant she'd probably have to speak to Eunice as well. She was not particularly looking forward to either of those conversations. However, she felt stronger than ever today, and more like her old sel
f than she'd been in years. Perhaps she would be up to the task after all.
8
Anna returned to the house, got the generator running, washed up the dishes in the sink, cut up an apple and some cheese, then sat down on the front porch of the store to eat. As she ate her miserly lunch, she thought hard. Was she being foolish or impulsive or irrational? Was she shirking her responsibilities at home? Home, she ran the word through her head. Had Pine Ridge ever been home? More like a prison or work farm. Never, after the first year or so, had it seemed like a home.
Finally, feeling like a dog chasing its tail, she pushed her ruminating beyond merely thinking and actually prayed for guidance. This was a big decision and she wanted to make sure she was doing the right thing, and doing so would require divine direction. Or, as Grandma Pearl would say, "A nod from the Spirit in the Sky."
When Anna finally stood up, she felt a rush of excitement, or perhaps enthusiasm, as Hazel liked to say. Whatever it was felt slightly foreign and incredibly good. She was going to do this thing—and she was going to do it right. But first she had to call Lauren.
It was close to three when Anna reached Babette's house and asked to borrow the telephone. She hated to place a collect call, but not as much she hated to charge a long-distance call to dear Babette. "Please reverse the charges," she told the operator. Then, waiting anxiously for the phone to ring, she rehearsed the words one more time. There was a good chance Lauren would be in the house at this hour. Too late for tennis and too early to be out socializing with her friends. But to her dismay Eunice answered, accepting the charges in a pompous tone. "Hello?"
"Hello, Eunice. This is Anna."
"Yes, so I gathered."
"Is Lauren there?"
"She is outside right now. Susan and a couple of the other girls were here for lunch. They are out playing croquet just now. When are you coming home, Anna?" Her tone was now a mixture of agitation and desperation. Quite likely she was not happy to have the household chores to herself. And Anna knew she was too cheap to hire someone else to come in. Not when she could get Anna for free.
"That's why I'm calling, Eunice. I have decided to stay on here."
"What?" Now her tone had moved into aggravation.
"I plan to remain in my parents' home and I would—"
"Have you lost your mind, Anna?"
"No, I feel more sane than I've felt in years and I'd—"
"But Lauren has told me about that backwater place. It sounds barbaric. No electricity or phones or water—"
"I have water. And I'll soon have electricity and a telephone as well."
"How can you possibly afford that? Did your mother leave you money? And if she did, what are your responsibilities to Lauren? Surely, you realize her college tuition is quite expensive and she'll need new clothes and the sorority dues are quite steep and—"
"In answer to your question, no, my mother left me no money, Eunice."
"Then how can you afford to put in those improvements?"
"It's a long story and I realize long distance is costly, so will you please get Lauren so I may speak to her?"
"What do you want to say to her? Perhaps I can give her a message."
"You mean you won't call her to the phone for me?"
"She is busy."
"Playing croquet?"
"What do you want me to tell her, Anna? Please, get to the point. This phone call is expensive."
"I wanted to invite Lauren to come out here and stay with me this—"
"I do believe you have lost your mind, Anna." Eunice laughed loudly. "Are you quite serious?"
"I am. I thought we could spend time at the beach and go fishing and—"
"Fishing? Honestly, Anna, can you imagine Lauren baiting a hook?"
"Actually, I can."
"And perhaps you can imagine her living like a barbarian out in the sticks. I believe Lauren calls your family home the backwater or the backwoods or something backwards." She laughed again. "Oh, I think I'm seeing the picture now, Anna. You want to turn Lauren into an Indian squaw—like you. Perhaps you'll teach her to tan hides by chewing the leather with her teeth. And then you can show her how to string beads and make moccasins. Oh, perfectly delightful. I can hardly wait to tell Lauren the lovely plans her squaw mama has made for her summer vacation."
Anna was seething now, but determined not to lose her temper. "I'm sure if Lauren would give it a chance, she would discover that the natural beauty of the river and the ocean make for a wonderful place. Tourists abound here. People pay to come see it."
"Oh, yes, I'm sure they do. Poor old souls without good sense pay to do all sorts of ridiculous things. No, I'm sure I can speak for Lauren. She is much happier here. And if you want to see her, I suggest you come home."
"I am home."
There was a deadly silence now. "My patience is wearing thin, Anna."
Anna didn't respond. When had Eunice's patience been anything but thin?
"I mean what I said, if you want to see your daughter, Anna, you better come home. And if you want a home to come to, you better pack your bags now. Otherwise, you can consider yourself an unwelcome stranger under my roof from now on."
Anna took in a deep breath. She wanted to tell Eunice that was what she had always been. But more than that, she wanted to exercise self-control. "Thank you for making your position clear to me, Eunice. Please, tell my daughter I called. And tell her I will write to her."
No response.
"And I'm sure you're aware that tampering with another person's mail is a federal offense, Eunice."
"Well, I!"And Eunice hung up.
"Oh, dear." Anna shook her head as she replaced the receiver in the cradle on the wall with a loud clunk.
"How did eet go, chérie?" Babette called from the living room.
Anna walked in a daze from the kitchen out to where Babette was sitting by the window doing some needlework." Not well."
"I tried not to overhear—" She smiled weakly. "But eet ees a small house."
Anna filled Babette in on the details of the unfortunate conversation." She never even let me speak to Lauren."
"Oh, the evil woman!" Babette tossed her needlework aside." Eef I could get my hands on her!"
Despite herself, Anna laughed. "I wouldn't want to see that. Eunice looks small and wiry, but I've felt her grip. She's strong and feisty like a ferret—and with sharp teeth too." Now Anna told Babette about Hazel.
"Ah, yes, I heard there was a strange woman going up and down the river searching for Indians. She spent some time at the Olsons and then at the Blacks, but apparently did not find what she was looking for."
"Not until now." Anna smiled. "She's a little bit odd, but I like her. And I've invited her to stay on the property with me while she does her research. I'm going to go back and clean up Grandma's cabin." Her smile faded. "I hope it's not too rustic for her. She said it would be OK. But it was pretty grimy in there. Maybe I should let her stay in the house with me."
"No, no." Babette stood. "The cabin will be fine for her. And I will come and help you clean it."
"Oh, I can't ask you to—"
"I want to do it!" Babette frowned. "I am tired of sitting around. Let me come and help."
"If you really want to."
"I know." She stuck a finger in the air. "I will make fresh curtains. And I have extra linens too." She gently pushed Anna toward the door. "You go on home and get started. I will follow."
"But first, may I use your phone again?"Anna asked suddenly.
"Oui, oui, but of course!"
Now Anna called Hazel's hotel, leaving a message that she would be welcome to stay with her while she continued her research. "There," she told Babette as she replaced the receiver, "now I'm committed to doing this. I better get home and get things ready."
"And I will be coming right behind you, chérie!"
Working on the cabin was a good remedy for pushing unpleasant thoughts of the conversation with Eunice from Anna's mind. She start
ed by removing everything from the cabin. First she carefully put anything made by Grandma— items that Hazel could examine more closely later—in a special wooden box. Next she took out all the things that time and critters had destroyed, including the curtains and bedding. She made a big pile that she hoped might burn if she put some dead branches and a dousing of kerosene on it. She'd seen Daddy do that before.
Next she set out all the furnishings, not that there was much besides a few chairs, a small dining table, and a dresser. But before long the cabin was cleared, everything except the hand-hewn wooden bed frame that was strung with rope to hold a mattress. It was too heavy to move. Anna's grandfather had made that from cedar logs, probably more than fifty years ago. Anna also left the kitchen cabinet in place. Daddy had built that from fir and it was attached to the wall, but she did remove the few dishes and pots that were still in it.
She piled all the contents of the house and washed them all down and let them air in the sun. Then she returned to sweep down the cobwebs and scrub down the log walls. She was just attacking the floors when Babette showed up.
"Hallo, hallo," she called as she came into the cabin with a large basket in her arms. "Help is here." She peered inside." Oh, my, chérie, you have already made good progress."
Anna pushed a strand of hair away from her face. "I've had lots of practice in the science of cleaning," she confessed." Although I'm not accustomed to cleaning anything this rustic, the basics of soap and water and elbow grease are universal."
Babette's brow creased. "Universal?"
Anna laughed. "They work everywhere."
"Oh, oui. I comprehend." She reached into the basket and pulled out some red and white gingham cloth. "What do you think? For curtains?"
"Perfect!"Anna nodded eagerly. "Thank you so much!"
"I will measure first then I'll go inside the house and use your mother's machine." As she measured the still-dirty windows, she told Anna that she'd brought over fresh sheets and blankets too. "And a pillow. I set them on the porch for now."
River's Song - The Inn at Shining Waters Series Page 7