The CTR Anthology
Page 24
Father: What’s that smell?
Harry: That’s Jennie an’ her damn lye water, always cleaning. I bet I’ve got the cleanest outhouse the whole parish.
Father: It must burn the hands.
Jennie: (wrings out the cloth, puts bucket back under sink, hangs cloth up) Would you like some pie then?
Father: Like a hospital. It smells like a hospital in here.
Harry: (sits down at his place at the table) Pie’d do good. Don’t sit there in your coat, Father, you’ll get all hot and sweaty and catch your death your way home.
(Harry gets up again, helps the Father out of his coat, and hangs it on back of the third chair. He blows out expansively as he sits down – a long hard night over at last. Jennie starts to cut the pie, then pours milk into the Father’s cup.)
Father: I don’t take milk any more.
Jennie: Oh, sorry. You allus took milk in first before.
Father: I don’t now.
Jennie: (picks up teacup) Well, I kin throw it out.
Harry: I’ll take it, Jen, not to waste it.
Jennie: No, I’ll throw it out. You got your own cup.
(Jennie takes the Father’s cup to the sink, pours it out, rinses it in water, dries it on a tea towel comes back, pours tea into it. Then, she pours milk in Harry’s cup, then tea. Everything is done with a slowness and a sureness – Harry enjoys watching her. The Father watches her with frustration and exasperation.)
Harry: Won’t hafta wait anyways.
Jennie: No, that’s right. Won’t have to wait, (serves Harry a piece of pie)
Harry: That’s one good thing, Father. Won’t hafta wait if the Chinook holds. ’D never feel right going in fer Communion knowin’ ol’ Billy’s out back in the woodshed waitin’ for the thaw, (laughs. Father looks down and cannot speak.) Aw, come on, Father. Old Billy was ready to go.
Jennie: (hovering at the pie plate, ready to serve Father a slice if he indicates he wants one) He was eighty-six, Father.
Harry: ’N if he wasn’t ready, he shoulda bin! (laughs, starts to eat his pie)
Jennie: (indicating big stoneware jug with a wooden spoon standing up in it) There’s heavy cream.
Harry: Heavy cream’d go nice, heavy cream’d go good.
(Jennie ladles the cream onto Harry’s pie. He indicates more. They laugh at each other for their gluttony. Jennie and Harry never overtly touch in this scene, but, in their laughter, we know how alive each is to the other.)
Father: Why was he so afraid to die? He’d done nothin’, nothin’!
Harry: (eating) May be that’s why. I mean, look at it this way, Father, imagine goin’ an’ nothin’ on yer conscience. (laughs, Father looks away.) I mean, what’d there be to talk about! Father, a man without sin ain’t human. Isn’t that right?
Jennie: He wasn’t scared this afternoon. I played Hearts with him all afternoon.
Harry: Eat some pie, Father. Sit down with us, Jen go on.
Jennie: No, my mother never sat down with her men, and I’ll not start. I’ll see to my dough.
(Jennie goes to the warming oven, takes out a bowl of dough, takes it to the kneading table, sprinkles flour, kneads and pokes dough, etc. When she is through, she covers it with a clean tea cloth and puts it back in the warming oven. Conversation continues through the above actions.)
Harry: ’N they say Black Irish is bad. In my house, Jennie, you can sit with the men! God, these Frenchies! I will speak with your mother,
Jennie.
Jennie: She never sat down with her men.
Harry: Have some pie. Father, you got a long drive back. (pause) I’ll clean him up for you first, (to Jennie) You got boiler water hot?
Jennie: Yes.
Harry: (helps Father to a slice of the pie) Eat up, Father. Drink your tea. (pause) Come to think of it, old Billy had lots on his conscience.
Father: Nothin’ venial. Nothin’ mortal.
Harry: You call his singing in choir nothin’ venial, Father? I call old Billy’s voice in choir venial, Father, venial at the least. (Jennie chuckles. An edge of steel in Harry’s voice) Drink up your tea, Father, while it’s still hot.
Father: You find everythin’ amusin’, Harry.
Harry: And you take things too serious, Eddie Fabrizeau, and allus did. (pause) Sorry. I mean, Father. Father, old Billy was old and he was tired and he was bored. It was time.
Father: He died afraid on me!
Harry: (pause) You had to give him his last rites. That’s your job. When a man hears the last rites, he’s bound to get scared. For a bit. It’s nothing you can help.
Father: But just before, he was jokin’ with you, laughin’ with you.
Harry: Hell, Father, I’m Irish. Here, Jennie, why’n’t you turn on the light. (gets up, goes to switch beside door to hallway, turns on electric light bulb) Here, Father, look at this. (turns it off, turns it on again) Jennie won’t touch it. Scared to get a shock.
Father: Electricity? You got electricity in, Harry?
Harry: Damn right. And it’s indoor plumbing next. I got it in upstairs too, in our bedroom, and the small room. For when it’s needed. (Harry looks at Jennie. She smiles, looks down.) I meant to string it out to the bunkhouse, fer old Billy. But he come in yesterday. I carried him in. He saw it.
Jennie: Oh, he got such a kick, Father. He lay there like a big baby in Harry’s arms. And he did it hisself, he turned it on, he turned it off. He was laughin’! Fit to beat the band.
Harry: He never let up about it all night neither. He kept sayin’, “Where’s the light, Harry?” ’cause see (to Father) I’d promised him electricity out to the bunkhouse and, jeez, he never forgot nothin’, old Billy. “Where’s the light, Harry?” (laughs)
Father: “Where’s the light.” Yes. I heard him. I thought he meant somethin’ else.
Harry: No! He was holdin’ me to my word, see. ’Cause I said I’d string out a wire ta the bunkhouse, “Where’s the light. Harry?” (laughs) Hell, I’ll hafta put a light bulb in the coffin, just for him, he’ll curse me from the grave else. (comes back to the table. Jennie pours more tea. Harry turns the kerosene lamp down, then blows it out.) Don’t need no kerosene no more, Jen. (pause) Here, give us some more a that pie. Nothin’ like a dyin’ to give a man an appetite! (Father puts his face in his hands. Harry, with embarrassment, tinged with disgust) Git the man a handkerchief, Jen.
(Jennie goes into the pantry where the laundry basket is kept, comes back with unironed handkerchief and gives it to the Father.)
Jennie: It’s not ironed. I’m sorry.
(Father puts handkerchief to his face, tries to control himself)
Harry: We kin bury him Wednesday.
Jennie: Yes, and if the Chinook holds, we can get in too, this time. I got a new hat.
Father: (viciously) You got a new hat!
Harry: Here, Father.
Father: And you got electricity. And indoor plumbing next. You’ve done well for yourself, Jennie Delevault.
Harry: Yes, we’ve done good, Father, ever since you married us. Jennie McGrane and me.
Father: Billy White just died in your bunkhouse. I should think you’d have a prayer to say for his soul.
Jennie: Oh I did it already.
Father: (pause) What?
Jennie: I said it already, before I got the pie out.
Father: But you didn’t know then.
Harry: Jennie knew. (reminding her) I’ll have some more a that pie, Jen.
(Jennie cuts more pie, ladles cream, but she is rattled.)
Father: How could she know?
Jennie: Old Billy, he liked the electric light. He said it was warm. He said he could feel it warming his bones. He hated the cold. He was allus so cold, this last winter. I don’t like to think of him in the ground. Will you really, Harry?
Harry: Yes.
Jennie: I mean promise not teasin’.
Harry: I will put a light bulb in Billy’s coffin. (sideways grin at the Father) When no one’s lookin’.
Harry: That’s right, ever since you married us, Jennie’s brought me nothin’ but luck.
Father: The ony luck is the Devil’s luck! The grace a God is not luck, Harry.
Harry: Well, you know, Father, it is a funny thing all right. We’re ony farm you didn’t bless crop on, and we’re ony farm doesn’t get hailed out. Maybe you’re a hoodoo.
Father: What?
Jennie: He’s ony teasin’, Father. Harry teases somethin’ awful.
Harry: (eating his pie) No, but it’s true all the same. Give us another dollop that heavy cream, Jen. There you tuk off, up to that retreat you went to, soon’s you married me and Jennie, and you never gave my crop the blessing. Give ever’body’s else the blessing but not mine. And here I stand, hailstorm all around me, grace a God shinin’ down, right along the concession line. I mean, true to God, Father, you never saw nothin’ like. Old Bailey’s farm? Right acrost barbed wire? Big dark purple clouds. Hailstones big as baseballs, whole wheat field bent flat. I could see it, but my section, sun shinin’ away, grasshoppers hoppin’, birds singin’, like a door in the sky opened up and God said, “save the McGrane place”, and all else damn them to Hell. Good thing I’m not an ignorant Black Irish Catholic, Father, or I’d think you’re a hoodoo.
Father: That’s blasphemy, Harry McGrane, you’ll confess to blasphemy Friday night. For Easter.
Harry: That’s teasin’, Eddie Fabrizeau, that’s teasin’ get you outa bad mood, (pause) Look, sorry. Father, I mean to say Father. Billy White just died. It’s true he died hard. Sometimes men die hard. But now, look at it this way, old Billy’s gone to heaven, a good man and a good Catholic, but a bad bass, never sang a clear note in church, but bound for the heavenly choir, good pitch and true voice at last!
Jennie: And now poor Tuffy’ll die too.
Father: What?
Harry: His dog. Billy’s dog.
Jennie: Now he’ll die. He’ll mourn and he’ll die.
Harry: (getting up) Well, I guess it’s time. You get the wash basin, girl. (Jennie goes and gets a big wash basin and ladles out the hot water from the boiler in the range. She gets soap and a towel.) Don’t give me nothin’ good, you want to use later. Billy wouldn’t mind.
Jennie: Harry! I’d never.
(Harry puts on his windbreaker and boots as Jennie hands him the basin.)
Harry: You di’n’t put none a yer lye in this, did ya?
Jennie: (laughs) Oh, Harry.
Harry: Wouldn’t want old Bill’s skin burnt off afore he gets to the Judgment Seat. I mean, might prejudice the case, might predetermine the jury.
Jennie: Oh, you’re awful.
Harry: “Here, Billy,” says God, “what’d ya do, take a detour on yer way up? Devil singe yer butt?”
(Jennie and Harry laugh together, a gentle, sad laugh.)
Father: I’ll help you. (does not move from his chair)
Harry: No … you anointed him. Now I’ll wash him. You stay and eat yer pie. Jennie makes a good pie. You eat up, Father.
(Harry turns and goes out. He stands for a moment on the porch, not looking back. Now we see how tired he is and how aware of the two people he has left alone in the room behind him. Now he leaves for the bunkhouse. Jennie and the Father are quiet.)
Jennie: It’s the thought a the grave, I think. So dark and lonesome. And cold. Why he was scared. Sometimes even animals get scared at the end, Father.
Father: We are not animals.
Jennie: (pause) Harry says the best a us got some animal in us somewheres. I’d be scared too. I mean, it’s a dark’n empty hole, in’t it? I wouldn’t like it neither, not without Harry.
Father: You said a prayer before you knew? (pause) What prayer?
Jennie: Oh Father, I’ll get it all wrong, front of you.
Father: What prayer!
Jennie: Domine Jesu Christe, Rex gloriaem libera animas omnium fidelium defunctorum …
(Jennie continues the speech, the same as before until the Father cuts her off)
Father: Close yer robe, woman! (pause) That lye is ruinin’ yer hands. They’re all red ’n cracked.
Jennie: I use vaseline.
Father: They all die afraid on me. And nobody wants me to do the blessing. I never blessed Harry’s crop an’ Harry’s ony one doesn’t get hailed out. It’s a blasphemy. A priest can’t be a hoodoo.
Father: Harry’s only teasin’, Father. Harry’s against superstition.
Father: Harry’s Black Irish, all Black Irish are superstitious. It’s Harry’s been spreadin’ I’m a hoodoo.
Jennie: No. No, truly, Father. No … Harry ony says yer a scourge.
Father: What?
Jennie: It’s a good word, i’n’t it? Harry knows lots of good words. (tastes the word) A scourge. A scourge. It’s what I say now, I go to clean the outhouse. “I’ll scourge you,” I say. (tries a chuckle; pause) See, old Billy didn’t want you, it’s true. But Harry stuck up for you, he says, “No, Billy, we need the priest for dyin’ and bornin’ and marryin’ even if he’s a scourge.” So you see? Harry sticks up for you. Please eat somethin’, Father, you look so peaked.
Father: You poor simple woman.
Jennie: Please, Father, I worry for you, you look so kinda shadowy now. I worry for you without me to do for you.
Father: Mrs Day does perfectly well for me.
Jennie: Mrs Day! Mrs Day’s past her prime, Mrs Day can’t see dirt in front of her, everybody knows Mrs Day’s not clean.
Father: Clean? You dare to talk to me about clean? Close your robe! (pause) Mrs Day does me fine. She’s a good woman.
Jennie: Well, her pastry’s never nothin’ like mine. Go on, eat up. I worry for you.
Father: Your hair’s down.
Jennie: (starts to braid her hair in one long braid) Well, I allus took it out at night, Father. ’N I allus braids it up hard’n tight in the mornin’, ony, it gets out, it escapes me, n’matter what I do. Harry says it’s just my nature, my hair leaps out like shining. (small laugh) There. It’s back proper now.
Father: I’m a bad priest an’ all for your sake.
Jennie: But that’s all over now, Father. (pause) You said that was all over.
I confessed and did my penance, so that’s all over. Harry says you got to trust to God’s infinite mercy.
Father: Yes. (pause) You swore you’d never tell. You swore.
Jennie: ’N I never! Ony, at first, you see, I was ascared a bit. I mean, when it was Harry an’ me, it seemed to come over me again, all what’d happened, so I cried at first, and that’s not in my nature, Father. Cryin’ is not in my nature, as you well know.
Father: You was allus singin’.
Jennie: Well, I never knew then, did I?
Father: That terrible winter. I had to make a tunnel to the church. Like an underground cave. I’d go into the church and lie on the cold stone, my arms stretched out like my Blessed Lord on the cross, and through the cave of snow to the rectory, I would hear you. Singin’.
Jennie: So one day, Harry takes me on his knee and he says, “What’s this then, Jen?” an’ I never said nothin’, only what I did say was, I wished I was dead. So Harry hit me.
Father: Hit you?
Jennie: Harry says that was the worst thing a person could ever say and I was never to say it again, it was despair, and that’s the worst sin of all of them. And then (smiles) he said some poem about cows. Just to make me laugh.
Father: God forgive you.
Jennie: Oh he has, Father, and God has too. Well, anyways, what he did was, see, he picked me up and he carried me right out there to the porch. (crosses to the door, looks out toward bunkhouse) An’ he says this poem about cows. (laughs) I kin say part a it, too. See, he picks me up in his arms – good thing Harry’s a big strong man! – an’ he takes me to
the door and he kicks open the door – it was spring then, seeding time, so we ony had screen door on – and he says, “Glory be to God for dappled things.” (laughs) Fer skies as cupple coloured as a brinded cow. That’s a Jersey, I think, Father. A brinded cow’s like a Jersey, the kind they got over to Dora’s Bob’s place. So anyways. I can’t help laughin’ an’ I says. “What kind of a poem is that anyways, Harry McGrane, a poem about cows?!” An’ Harry’ says, “It’s the best kind a poem and I was not ever again to worry no more about sin because what we did together wasn’t no sin and God had blessed our bodies and we was goingta make skies as cupple coloured as a brinded cow together, an’ if he ever heard me measlin’ on again, he’d give me another’d send me to Lumbreck and right over the Crow’s Nest.” ’N he meant it too. (pause) So, anyways I gave it up. I mean, I gave up measlin’, and took back my own nature.
Father: It’s a poem by a priest.
Jennie: Is it? I never knew that. I never knew a priest knew nothin’ about cows.
Father: My father had range cattle. I was born a farm boy. I’d had my dad’s place by now, up to the Porcupines.
(Jennie clears away the Father’s untouched pie and other things. She goes to the pantry, and comes hack.)
Jennie: (nervously) Father? The thing is, I done my penance, and I do trust to God’s infinite mercy, ony nothin’s still happening. So, now I got you here, could I ask, Father, if you wouldn’t mind, I beg your pardon, but see, Father, it’s been a whole year we’re married, Harry ’n me, and nothin’ happenin’ still, and see, I understood, like, when I was doin’ fer you at the rectory, but now it’s Harry, see, and Harry’s my husband. And so, Father, what I got to know is, have you confessed?
Father: What do you mean, you “understand” how it was at the rectory?
Jennie: Well, how nothin’ ever happened. I mean, that was God’s mercy, wa’n’t it?
Father: (bitter laugh) You don’t realize what you’ve done to me, you poor stupid woman. (pause) When I was a boy the priest who came to the Porcupines was like a prince. He came only twice a year. He was like a prince of the Church, like a king. My mother cried when I went away to the seminary. I said, “Don’t cry, Ma, I’ll crown your head with glory.” But Harry’s right. I’m just an old plowhorse, takin’ them down inta death or up inta life, or to the marriage bed. A gelding. My people despise me.