Down the Dirt Road (30 page)

     “Men do some strange things, Jennie girl but its my guess that you made it perfectly clear many times that you were not interested in receiving those letters even before they were written.  You are a strong willed young woman, Jennie and you have suffered a lot of loss.  As hard as you try not to, you wear your heart on your sleeve and it’s my guess everyone in town is wary of you anymore.”

     “Oh Momma!  I didn’t know what to do!  Seeing someone, making time to go on dates, just seemed so…so
selfish when there was so much to do around here and you were…are… so…”

    Momma’s head snapped up and she stepped back to look at her daughter.  “I’m so what, Jennie?”

    “Well, the lupus … and Daddy…”  Her voiced trailed away as Momma’s dark eyes flashed.

     “I want you to listen and listen good, Jennie.  Your father’s death broke my heart and the disease has definitely taken away the best of me but none of that means that you should deny yourself a chance at happiness and a life of your own.”

      “But Momma!”  Jennie swiped at the tears in her eyes as she rose up to stand in front of her mother. “You need me here!  There is no way you could take care of this place on your own!”
    
“Listen here, young lady!  You will not use me or this farm or your Daddy’s death as an excuse to hide any longer!  I sat by quietly when you graduated early, I bit my tongue when you decided to skip going away to college.  It was wrong of me.  I selfishly wanted you to stay nearby, I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you so close to your
father.  But I have options!  I could sell this place, move into town…your uncle Tom has offered to help.  He has plenty of farm hands he could send over.  No, I won’t let you hide behind your sorrow and your fears any longer.”

    Jennie dropped back into the chair again.  “But, don’t you see, Momma?  It’s too late.  Grayson is gone, lost in the Middle East somewhere.  We never had a chance- I made sure of that.  Maybe I had just said yes once, maybe he wouldn’t have left and he would still be safe!”

    “You can’t blame yourself for what has happened to him thousands of miles away.  You have no control over his choices or the events that God has laid out for us.  What you can do is pray.  Pray for Grayson; that God protects and brings him home someday.”

     “I’m not you, Momma.  Prayin’ has never worked out for me.  If it did then Daddy…”

     “It was your father’s time, Jennie.  Prayers can work miracles for sure but if the good Lord decides he wants you home then there is nothing anyone can do about it.  He created us and He has the right to call us home whenever He wishes.”

    “I really hope he isn’t in a hurry to get Grayson Jennings i
nto his kingdom.  I love him
, Momma.  I think I fell in love with him the first time we met.  I was just too …stubborn… to admit it.”

    “Well, then I guess there is only thing for you to do.”  Momma eyed her, daring her to disagree.  “Get on your knees and start begging the good Lord to bring him home.”

    Momma left the room, her once sure and easy gait reduced to an uneven shuffle.  Jennie waited until she heard the door to her mother’s room click closed before she lay her head down on the old table and cried.

25.

     Eyes still stinging from an afternoon of tears, Jennie steeled herself against the freezing chill in the air and headed outside to do the evening chores.  Her car sat in the driveway, a good three inches of snow piled high on the hood and roof.  Uncle Tommy had done as predicted and grabbed the tiny vehicle with his truck on the way to visit Momma that afternoon. 

    It was well past seven in the evening, she was at least an hour late feeding the animals but she didn’t reckon any of them would mind.  They hadn’t been outside in days, layers of energy usually burned off roaming the pasture had been conserved as they stayed barn bound.  If anything the
horses at least were probably getting more bulky with every meal.  In the morning she would have to muck out the stalls and lay fresh hay.  Four days without open land meant pretty messy stalls for sure.

     One of the horses, Daddy’s old quarter horse St. Nick, neighed and nickered quietly as she opened the barn door and closed it as quickly as possible behind her.  As she locked out the relentless winter she found herself curing mother nature once again.  This was the harshest winter western Virginia had seen in decades.

    Every movement was in slow motion.  Her energy reserves had been completely sapped by the heavy conversation with Momma followed by hours and hours of tears and emotional outbursts.  Jennie had never been one prone to temper tantrums or mood swings but in just the space of a few hours she had run the gamut of every feeling on the emotional spectrum.  All she wanted to do was take care of the animals and get upstairs to her room.

     Her breath formed a cloud in the icy air.  The cold wrapped around her spine and squeezed as hard as it could causing a series of uncontrollable shivers.  Her hands shook
as she scooped up a bucket of chicken feed, threw some food in the trough for the pig and laid out fresh grains for the horses.  Wind whistled high in the rafters of the loft and few random snowflakes even made their way in through spaces between the old boards of the walls.

    “Hey, St. Nick, how are ya?”  She rubbed her father’s horse between the eyes the way she had done since she was a little girl.  “It sure is cold out here tonight.  You all keep warm, ya hear? Bein’ that you are the oldest around here, I’m countin’ on you to make sure the others stay warm.  You holler if somethin’ happens.  ‘K?”

    St. Nick whinnied and rub
bed his nose
against her palm.  Slipping a carrot from her coat pocket she fed it to the aging horse with a smile.  She had no qualms about bribing the animal if need be!

     A strong gust of wind whipped up just then, pulling the barn door open and slamming it against the outside wall of the rickety structure.  St. Nick through his head back and whinnied in response.  Jennie ran for the door, grabbed and pulled it closed.  Like clockwork, as soon as the sun had set that evening, the really horrendous storm weather picked
up again.  She really needed to get back to the house before things got too rough.

    “Good night Old Nick. You watch out for the others and I’ll be seein’ ya in the mornin’.”

     Pulling her hood up over her head, Jennie let herself out of the barn, careful not to let go of the door in the wind.  New drifts of fluffy white stuff had formed while she was in the barn.  Fierce winds almost made her want to turn around and go back into the barn.  She could stay warm
by burying herself in the
hay
just
like the animals.
Hiding wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

    The path to the barn had disappeared.  Her boots created a new one to the house where she planned to go to her room and crawl under the heavy woolen
covers
.  Maybe she would even read some more of Grayson’s letters.

     Yes, that was exactly what she was going to do.

     If only the snow would stop falling.

     Maybe she should send an email to Mother Nature, remind her that this is ridiculous already.  There seemed to be a lot need to write letters these days.  At least she would send hers though.  What was Grayson thinking, holding
onto all those letters while she waited and waited to hear from him?

     Was the whole thing an act of futility?  Why couldn’t she just accept her lot in life?  If God could go to such lengths to keep her alone, keep love from her life than who was she to think she could change the course of fate?

     Bite your very tongue, Jennie!  Momma would pitch some kind of fit if she heard you blaming God for your nonexistent love life!

    Grayson was missing because of the actions of some horrible, terrible men who joined a war and supported a cause that could never truly be victorious.

     A strong gust of wind caught her hood and whipped it backward off her head.  Reaching up to yank it back on over her wild curls, Jennie caught sight of something made her stop and look up. 
Amidst the swirling snow, exactly centered in a break in the heavy clouds was a brilliant white light that shone as brightly as any man made item.  How fitting that here, two days before Christmas, the north star would hang bright and bold and beautiful in the dark winter night’s sky directly over the Marshall home.

     A feeling of peace washed over her as she stood, the wind whipping her hair and snowflakes swirling in a tiny tsunami at her feet. 

    Out of nowhere a snippet of a song from a childhood movie flitted ever so lightly through her mind.  A singing mouse with a hauntingly beautiful voice echoed in her head.

    “
Somewhere…out there…. Love will see us through…”

     Underneath the same bright star...

     Was Grayson Jennings able to see the night sky where he was?  Had he seen the brilliant North Star just as she had?

     How could a God who could erect such striking beauty allow such evil to persist in the world?

    This was not about God.  It was about war.  Grayson was a casualty of war, not the Lord.

    Casualty?  What was she thinking?  Already assuming he was dead when in fact no one really knew.  There had to be hope.  She would hold out all hope until someone came along and could prove to her otherwise.

     She shivered against the chill but marveled at the beauty of the star lit landscape all around her.  Nowhere in the world could she have found such peace.  The city may be full of things to do but what about places not to do anything but just be?

    Her entire life, as long as she could remember had revolved around getting out- going somewhere bigger and better.

   What was that old adage?  The grass was always greener on
the other side of the fence.  As
she stood there in the middle of the snow covered ground surrounded by l
arge, beautiful crystals of ice
and the light of the north star, she couldn’t imagine anywhere else in the world she would rather be.

   Now if only she had someone to share it with.

   Her heart as heavy as her snow caked boots, Jennie made her way to the front porch where
she
stomped hard against the wood planks.
  This day really needed to end.

    It didn’t take long to get out of her wet chore clothes and into warm, flannel pajamas.  Nothing sexy about the men’s style button down shirt and plaid patterned fabric but what
did that matter.  Function over form when it was barely double digits outside.

    Her heavy quilt was cozy; wrapping around her like a butterfly’s cocoon and protecting her from the harshness of reality as she opened the next letter in the stack.

Dearest Jennie,

    We arrived yesterday.  The desert is so …empty.  Noting but miles and miles of sand; heat shimmering into mirages around every bend.  This morning I could have sworn I saw you standing under a tree smiling at me.  The same tree we stood under the last time we saw each other.  But since there are no trees in the desert and that tree in particular is about three thousand miles away I am confident that what  saw was a mere figment of my imagination.  A vision I have tucked away for later use when I am missing all that is American but mostly you.

    I sleep in a tent with a couple of dozen other soldiers.  Michael McKee is here, he unfortunately sleeps in the bunk next to mine.  Even after all this time, when I picture him smiling as he broke your heart I want to pommel him until
he begs for mercy!  I know I can’t do that, not without some time in the brig but I would really take some serious pleasure out of knocking his lights out just once…

    I truly hope that this letter finds you in good health and high spirits.  You are never far from my thoughts.

    Yours,

     Private Grayson Jennings

   United States Army

   Drops of salt water left tiny water marks on the yellowed paper.  Folding the paper in half she held it to her heart as she let the tears flow freely.  She was turning into a real cry baby lately but she just couldn’t help herself.  All the things that had gone unsaid- Daddy had died without her getting to tell him she loved him.  IF Grayson were to die as well….

    
NO!  She couldn’t keep thinking that way!  If Michael hadn’t written that letter, sent the box, she would never have known about what happened to Grayson anyway.  She would have remained positive, happy; waiting for the day he and the others returned.

    So when had she, Jennie Marshall become such a blubbering mess?  She hadn’t cried so much since the day her Daddy had died and now it seemed she was tearing up every time she turned a corner.